The Mighty Quinns: Callum. Kate Hoffmann
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lose? She was beautiful, intriguing and close at hand, three qualities that he found irresistible.
Cal reached for the key, then stopped. What if he fell in love with her? Still, that wasn’t likely. He’d never been in love before, so he probably wouldn’t know it if it dropped out of the sky and hit him on the noggin. But he did know about lust. And his feelings for Gemma were definitely of the lustful variety.
After she left Kerry Creek, he’d get back to his search for a wife. Cal pulled out onto the street and headed out of Bilbarra toward the station, the groceries forgotten. Unfortunately, the ride dragged on forever. He’d covered the distance between the station and town so many times it had become second nature. He knew all the landmarks and could probably find his way home blindfolded. But now that he had something important to do, every kilometer passed at a grindingly slow pace.
By the time he pulled into the yard, Cal figured he was about an hour behind Gemma. It was nearly time for lunch and if he was lucky, he’d find her sitting at the kitchen table with Mary. He took the steps two at a time and pulled the screen door open. But the kitchen was empty.
A huge pot of mutton stew bubbled on the stove and Mary had freshly baked bread to go with it. Cal decided to use the extra time to clean up. He hung his hat on the peg, then strode through the house to the stairs. He met Mary coming down.
“Oh, wonderful. You’re back. I’m almost out of coffee and I need yeast to—”
“I didn’t get supplies,” Cal said. “Sorry. We’ll call Teague. He can pick them up when he’s in town today. Where is “Gemma Moynihan?”
Mary gave him an odd look. “She’s in the bunkhouse unpacking her things. She drove into town at dawn to get them. She said she had a flat tire on her way back to the station but some bloke stopped and changed it for her.”
“Yes. That was me,” he said.
“So you met her?” Mary asked.
“Not properly. Why didn’t you tell me she was…you know.”
“Young?”
“Pretty,” he said.
“I thought you’d find out soon enough.”
“Did you invite her to lunch?” Cal asked.
“I told her I’d take her out something to eat after the boys were fed.”
“Leave that to me,” he said. “I’m just going to change and I’ll be right down.”
He ran up the stairs and into his room, stripping off his shirt along the way. Though he’d taken a shower before breakfast, he figured another wouldn’t hurt. The road had been dusty and his hair was sticking up all willy-nilly. He only had one chance to make a first impression—or a second impression.
He managed a shower in less than five minutes, then grabbed a towel for his wet hair. Luckily, he’d taken the time to shave off three days of stubble that morning. A splash of cologne was probably overkill, so he set the bottle back on the shelf.
Cal stepped into the hallway, rubbing his head with the towel until his hair was barely damp. But when he pulled the towel away, he found Gemma standing next to the linen closet, a blanket clutched to her chest, her eyes wide. A tiny cry of surprise slipped from her lips as the blanket dropped to the floor.
They both bent to pick it up, Cal getting to it first. He held it out to her as he rose. Gemma straightened, her gaze drifting along his naked body. He struggled to wrap the towel around his waist, but with only one hand, it was impossible to do. It seemed like an eternity before she took the blanket from him.
A long embarrassed silence followed as he tried to come up with a clever line. Of all the scenarios he’d gone over in his mind, this was not the way he’d intended their first meeting to go—him starkers and her all fascinated with his bits and pieces. Cal swallowed hard, realizing there was only one thing to say. “Hello,” he said.
Her gaze quickly returned to his face and a pretty blush stained her cheeks. “Wha-what are you doing here?”
“I live here,” he said. Though this wasn’t exactly the way he wanted it to go, he’d have to make the best of it. “I’m Callum Quinn. Cal.”
Stunned, she slowly took his outstretched hand, her fingers soft against his palm. “I’m—”
“Gemma Moynihan,” he said. “I know. The genealogist. Mary told me.”
She frowned, shaking her head in confusion. “But why didn’t you introduce yourself on the road?”
“I didn’t realize who you were at first. I thought you’d be older—I mean, I just assumed. Mary didn’t say that you—weren’t. Older.”
She looked around, as if searching for the quickest means of escape. “I—I should let you get dressed. Mary just sent me up to fetch another blanket for the bunkhouse.”
“I’m sure she did,” he muttered, wondering at the housekeeper’s motives. “I’ll see you later?”
Gemma nodded. “Right. Later, then. All right.” She turned and hurried back to the stairs, looking over her shoulder once before descending. Cal listened as her footfalls echoed from the lower hallway, then leaned back against the wall.
He’d always been the one who’d struggled to speak around women. It was obvious his lack of clothing had something to do with her unease. Maybe that was the key with this woman? To shed his clothes as quickly as possible whenever the conversation slowed so neither one of them would have to talk?
Fate had dropped Gemma Moynihan into the middle of the outback and he was going to make the best of the opportunity. In reality, she was trapped here, waiting for him to enlighten her about his family history. He’d dole out a few interesting tidbits here and there, just enough to keep her around long enough for him to explore this attraction between them.
But the first thing he’d do was make it clear to every man on Kerry Creek Station, including his two brothers, that Gemma was off-limits. Though he knew she wouldn’t be staying long, he could use the practice. When the right woman did present herself, he wanted to be ready.
“Lunch,” he murmured. He’d get Mary to make up something for them both and then he’d take her on a tour of the station. The more time they spent alone, the better his chances of charming her. And if that didn’t work, he’d just strip down and tempt her with his other attributes.
2
GEMMA RACED DOWN THE STAIRS, her face hot, her pulse pounding. She stopped at the bottom, grasping the newel post and drawing a deep breath. Had she just imagined that entire encounter? She’d spent the drive to Kerry Creek mentally undressing the man she’d met on the road, trying to conjure an image of him without his clothes. Was it any wonder that all came back when she met him again?
“No,” she murmured. He had definitely been naked. She had imagined a good body beneath those clothes, but nothing quite as perfect as what she’d seen upstairs. She took a ragged breath, then continued on to the kitchen, desperate to return to the bunkhouse where she could enjoy her embarrassment in solitude.
“Did you find it?” Mary asked as Gemma hurried through the kitchen.
“Yes, thank you,” Gemma called, shoving the screen door open with her free hand.
Some of the ranch hands were coming in for lunch and they watched her with unabashed interest as she passed. She wondered if her face was as red as it felt. It wasn’t like she’d never seen a naked man before. She had—many times. But what had ever possessed her to stare in such a blatant way?
Gemma walked inside the bunkhouse, then slammed the door behind her. Crossing to the bed, she flopped onto it, facedown into the pillow. An image of Cal flashed in her mind again. Oh, God. He had an incredible body, from top to toe, and the all the interesting