A Wedding At Windaroo. Barbara Hannay

her cooling mug in both hands, she drew circles in the dust with the heel of her riding boot and tried to shake off a crazy sense of disappointment. Of course Gabe didn’t want to settle down and live here. He’d left the bush because he craved adventure.

      Why would he want to live on this rundown property with her when there was an enticing world beyond the Mullinjim Valley? A world of excitement, adventure and sophisticated, sexy women.

      How could she have let herself forget that Gabriel Rivers was a cool, tough Black Hawk hero and a knock-em-dead lady-killer?

      She swallowed the lump of pain in her throat. ‘Your offer is very generous, Gabe, but I don’t really like the idea. I—I don’t want to be a tenant on my family’s land. It would feel all wrong. Can you see that?’

      ‘But I thought you wanted to stay here no matter what.’

      ‘I do, but it would be best if I could find a husband. Then Grandad wouldn’t need to sell the property and it would still be mine. Well…mine and the husband’s, I guess, but at least it would still be in the family.’

      He stared at something way off in the distance. ‘It was just a thought.’

      ‘That’s why I was hoping you could give me some sure-fire hints about how to catch a guy.’

      Slowly his gaze swung back to her, and now he stared at her for ages. For far too long. ‘I’m the wrong man for that job, Piper.’

      She let out a disbelieving little laugh. ‘Oh, come on, Gabe. You’re an expert. I’m expecting a master class from you. Everyone out here knows what a hit you made with the women in the big smoke. We got sick of hearing about your big city reputation as a babe magnet.’

      ‘A babe magnet?’ With a toss of his head he released a wry sound that she guessed was a laugh.

      ‘The stories were flying thick and fast about how those city girls took one look at your country boy swagger and were panting all over you.’

      ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip.’

      ‘I didn’t need to. I saw with my own eyes what happened every time you came home on leave. Remember the “babe pack”? That gang of city girls who followed you out here just to take a look at you doing your cowboy act?’

      With a sigh of irritation at the distasteful memory, she picked up the empty mugs and stacked them next to her backpack.

      As Gabe watched he asked, ‘You haven’t seen any girls following me this time, have you?’

      ‘No,’ she admitted softly, and she bit her lip, wondering if she’d touched a sore point. Whenever she and her grandfather had travelled to the city to visit Gabe in hospital she’d never seen any of the trendy city girlfriends. As far as she could tell, not one of Gabe’s ‘babe pack’ had shown the staying power necessary to see him through the long, painful months of recovery and rehabilitation after the accident.

      ‘You know,’ she said, searching for a change of subject, ‘Grandad reckons it’s his fault I’ve turned into a tomboy. He says he never got around to putting the right finishing touches on me.’

      ‘What kind of finishing touches does he want?’

      ‘He thinks he should have sent me off to the city when I left school instead to letting me come straight back here to start work as a jillaroo. Says I should have gone to university, or overseas on one of those exchanges—some place where I could mix with other young people. He thinks I should have broadened my horizons—the way you have.’

      Gabe nodded. ‘Maybe it’s not too late. You could do it now. If you’re determined to find a husband there are millions of blokes to choose from in cities all along the coast.’

      She sighed. ‘But what use would a city guy be to me? I need a cattleman for a husband not a geeky banker or a computer nerd.’ She kicked at a stone and sent it scudding into the dark. ‘Choice isn’t my problem. There’s no shortage of eligible blokes in the bush. My problem is that I don’t know how to start husband-hunting. I’ve never been into proper girly stuff. Even at boarding school fashion and make-up never interested me. And I’ve never worked out how to—to—’

      ‘Flirt?’ Gabe inserted with a slow smile.

      ‘Yes.’ Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned. ‘You’re so right. Flirting! That’s exactly what I can’t do. Gosh, I don’t have a clue how to start. But that’s what a girl has to do, isn’t it—if she wants to let a guy know she’s interested?’

      Just then a cloud drifted across the moon and they were plunged into darkness. Piper wished she could see Gabe’s face. Was he annoyed with her for bringing up such a personal subject? His voice sounded strangely rough and gravelly when he answered. ‘I don’t think I’m the right person to give you advice. You might learn all the wrong things.’

      Wrong things? What wrong things? She thought of the babe pack again, and her cheeks flamed so hotly that she was suddenly grateful for the dark.

      But next moment silvery moonlight filtered down, and she could see Gabe eyeing her thoughtfully as he leaned back with his weight supported by his hands while his long legs stretched out in front of him. ‘So you want to know how to flirt and how to please a man?’ he asked.

      She gulped. She hadn’t expected that hearing him speak about this would make her feel quite so shivery and nervous.

      Perhaps she should tell him to forget she’d ever raised the subject. She didn’t need his advice. Inexperienced as she was, she’d read enough books, seen enough television and listened to enough campfire boasting from ringers to know the anatomical details of sex.

      In theory.

      But then she remembered the last party she’d been to, when Gabe’s brother Jonno had sidled up to her and asked her to put in a good word about him to Suzanne Heath. It had hit her then that the guys were always doing things like that. They saw her simply as a buddy—a good sport—a fast ticket to an introduction to a girl—but never as the object of their desire.

      Her eyes met Gabe’s.

      ‘I’m sure you don’t need flirting lessons,’ he said softly. He nodded towards the cattle to their left. ‘We’d be better off refining our strategies for dealing with these duffers when they turn up.’

      ‘No,’ she responded, a little too quickly. ‘I’m sure the duffers are cowards and will be easy to frighten. But what you were saying just now—about how to flirt—and how to—to please a man. That’s exactly what I need to know.’

      He scowled. ‘I wasn’t serious.’

      ‘But I am.’

      Releasing his breath in a slow hiss, he shook his head. His laugh, when it came, was soft and almost sad. ‘Are you calling my bluff, Piper O’Malley?’

      ‘I sure am.’

      Oh, man. It was easy enough to sound as if she meant that, but her heart had begun to pound strangely.

      CHAPTER TWO

      GABE cleared his throat. ‘How to catch a man? Well…let’s see.’

      A tawny owl winged its way overhead and he stared after it as it disappeared into the night. ‘To be honest, I’ve never really analysed what goes on when a man gets interested in a woman. It seems instinctive.’ He scratched the side of his neck thoughtfully. ‘But I guess something’s actually happening to our senses. They start reacting long before our brain realises what’s going on.’

      ‘Your senses? You mean sight, sound—that sort of thing?’ She was impressed. This sounded like useful, practical information.

      ‘I think so. I’d say sight would have to be number one for most blokes.’

      ‘Well, there you go. Men don’t even notice