Cattle Baron: Nanny Needed by Margaret Way Page B

low, that’s my advice. You know you’ve got a champion in me.”
    She gave him a forgiving smile. Paddy had to obey directives like everyone else. “Thanks for trying. You’ve been a great boss.”
    “Lemme work on it.” Paddy escorted her to the door, genuinely upset. Taking Amber Wyatt off air just went to prove that no one, however popular, was indispensable. It was a tough game.
     
    Stepping out of the lift as Amber was stepping in was the man himself, Jack Matthews.
    “Hi, there, if it isn’t the beauteous Ms Wyatt!” He greeted her with his trademark toothy smile. “Getting your sorry little ass out of here?”
    No point in losing it. “No sound as sweet as your own voice, Jack.”
    “Good luck, anyway.” He sketched a sardonic salute as the lift doors began to close. “You’ve no future in the television industry.”
    “Good to have an unbiased opinion, Jack.”
    There was something deeply satisfying about getting the last word.
    Except that didn’t happen.
    “I’ll miss you,” Jack called.
    Hang tough!
     
    She was barely back in the apartment when someone pressed her door buzzer hard. Australia Post? Flowers and a sympathy card signed by the entire Channel? Maybe a get-out-of-town type delivery, hopefully not one that exploded. She checked the image that came up on the tiny video screen. Good heavens! The Cattle Baron. Erskine’s grandson. Never forget that vital point.
    “Didn’t we agree you’d stop following me?” she said into the receiver.
    “I’m not following you.’
    Even over the crackle, he sounded good. “Never thought to phone ahead?”
    “Took a chance with the visit. I’m here with a plan.”
    She rubbed her aching forehead. “Few things more un-workable than a plan, Mr MacFarlane. Please go away.”
    “You don’t need help?” It was a challenge.
    Common sense came to the rescue. “Lucky for you, I need all the help available. Does this plan involve travel?”
    “How did you guess?”
    “So long as it’s not outer Mongolia.” She released the security door. This guy had mesmerized her. The way he kissed. The way he talked. The way he looked. One hundred different warring sensations were assailing her all at once.
    His sheer physicality was nigh on overwhelming within theconfines of her small entrance hall. He was wearing a crisp blue and white checked shirt in fine cotton, great-fitting jeans, a beige linen bomber jacket over the top. He could have posed for an ad for Calvin Klein. “You’ve got ten minutes. The clock’s ticking. I take it you know I’ve been shunted?”
    “The news was broken to me. Rather roughly, as it happens. I did warn you. Dire consequences usually accompany rash deeds.”
    “Words to live by.”
    “At least you know what’s coming.” He followed her into the living room. The sun was pouring over the balcony, the reflected light setting the tulip painting on the wall ablaze.
    She turned to face him with a coolness bordering on hostility. He was a member of the Erskine family. “So what are you doing here? Boredom, filling in time before take-off?”
    “Take-off is tomorrow first thing. I had an early morning visit from my grandfather.”
    “Trying to rein you in?”
    “He’s given up on that. But he wanted to make it quite clear that he’s not pleased with me. He’s not pleased with you . But that we know.”
    “Fancy that!” she said sarcastically. “Well, you know what they say—No good deed goes unpunished.”
    “Oscar Wilde.”
    “Certainly attributed to him. And didn’t he get it right! It’s also one of the primary rules of physics. Every force begets an equal and opposite force.”
    “So why don’t we listen?” He let his eyes roam over her with pleasure. She hadn’t changed out of her city clothes. She was wearing a very smart ensemble—a short black and white jacket cropped at the waist over a white silk blouse with some sort of ruffle down the front. The black skirt was tight and short, showcasing legs