“We eat dinner at six this time of year. I’ll come and fetch you.”

“That’s all right,” Payton said. “I’ll find my way.”

He turned and walked out of the stable. Payton folded her hands over the end of the pitchfork and watched his retreat. Her girlfriends had always told her how hot Sam was and she’d never quite understood what they meant. Sam was handsome, but Brody Quinn was hot. He oozed masculinity from every pore.

She tried to imagine him without the T-shirt, without the jeans, without any clothes at all. A shiver skittered down her spine and she felt her pulse quicken. Sleeping with the boss was never a good thing. But was Brody her boss or was Callum?

Payton made a mental note to find out as soon as she could. For now, she had a bed and free meals and something to occupy her time-along with a man who made her heart race and her body tingle. What more did she need?

LIKE EVERYONE ELSE at Kerry Creek, Brody had worked the station from the time he’d been able to walk. He’d started in the garden with his mother, then moved to the stables and on to working with the stock as soon as he could ride. But he’d spent most of his teen years in the city, and once he’d signed his first pro contract, he’d made only occasional visits to Queensland, stopping in before a holiday spent surfing or diving on the Great Barrier Reef.

His brothers teased him, insisting that city life had made him soft. Maybe it had. But now that he was living on the station again, it was all coming back to him. He’d spent the afternoon repairing fences with the newest jackaroo, a kid named Davey Thompson, who’d wandered in a few months before to join his older brother, Skip, on the station.

Davey had kept up a constant stream of chatter, moving from women to music to cars and back again. One thing was quite clear. He was glad to have moved up in the pecking order, his stable job handed off to Payton, who was now the lowest in seniority.

“That new girl, she’s a pretty sheila,” he said as he picked up a roll of barbed wire. “She has nice hair. All long and curly.”

“You just steer clear of her,” Brody warned.

“What? She’s your girl?”

“As far as you’re concerned, yes,” Brody said. “She’s my girl.”

“No worries,” Davey replied with a grin. “But does she have a sister? If she does, I wouldn’t mind an introduction.”

They worked until sunset, hauling their gear with quad bikes rather than on horseback. Since his father had left the station to join his mother in Sydney four years ago, Callum had taken steps to modernize the operation and his ideas had made the work at least a bit more enjoyable.

Brody and Davey unloaded the gear from the ATVs, then headed to the big house for dinner. Mary fed everyone at the large table in the kitchen, preparing the heartiest meal at the end of the workday. Brody took time to wash up at the outdoor sink before going inside.

He’d expected to see Payton there, waiting for him, but she wasn’t seated at the table. The other new arrival was the genealogist from Ireland. He’d expected some gray-haired lady with sensible shoes and little reading glasses perched on her nose. Instead, he found himself smiling at a woman almost as beautiful as Payton.

“Gemma Moynihan,” she said in a lilting Irish accent. “And you must be Brody. I can see the family resemblance.”

“Gemma,” Brody repeated. He glanced over at his brother Callum, only to find him staring at them both, a tense expression on his face. It was easy to see why Cal had been on edge. His oldest brother had always been obsessed with the station. But the choice to work or to spend time with Gemma the genealogist was probably causing him to seriously question his work ethic.

“Have you met Payton?” Brody asked, suppressing a grin.

“Yes, I have,” Gemma said.

“Is she coming in to eat?”

“I don’t know. She was lying in her bunk when I left. She looked knackered.”

“Maybe I should take her something,” Brody suggested, stepping away from the table.

This brought amused glances from the rest of the stockmen, but Brody didn’t care. He grabbed a plate and loaded it with beef and potatoes, covering the entire meal with a portion of gravy. Grabbing utensils and a couple of beers, he headed out to the ladies’ bunkhouse.

He found Payton curled up on her bunk sound asleep. He set the meal on the floor beside the bed, then pulled up a chair, straddling it. Reaching out, Brody brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. Her lashes fluttered and she gazed up at him.

“Morning,” he said.

Payton pushed up on her elbow looking worried. “Is it morning already?”

He laughed. “No. I brought you some dinner. Are you all right?”

She sat up, wincing as she moved. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m just not used to shoveling horse poop for four hours.” She groaned, rubbing her shoulder. “I was just going to lie down for a minute, and I must have fallen asleep.”

“Come here,” Brody said, swinging the chair around and patting the seat.

When she was seated, he handed her the plate, then stepped behind her and began to massage her sore shoulders. “Oh, that’s nice,” she said, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Her silky curls fell across his hands. “Right there.”

He rubbed a little harder at her nape, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Here?”

“Mmm,” she said.

“Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

She glanced down at the plate, then scooped up a forkful of beef and potatoes. “This is good,” she said as she chewed. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Don’t you want some?”

“You eat,” he said. “I’ll go back and get another plate.”

She reached down and grabbed a bottle of beer, then attempted to twist off the cap. When she couldn’t, she handed it to him. “What did you do today?”

“Repaired fences,” Brody said.

“What time does work start in the morning?”

“The stockmen are usually up at dawn. But you could probably sleep later, if you like. The stables aren’t going anywhere.”

“No, I’ll get up with everyone else.”

“I don’t reckon Cal expects you to put in stockman’s hours.”

“What else is there to do except work and eat and sleep?” Payton asked.

Brody bent over her shoulder and sent her a devilish grin. “I can think of a few things,” he whispered.

She filled a fork with food, then held it up to him, and he took a bite of her dinner. “Other than that, what do you do with your free time?”

“We’re five hours from the nearest movie theater in Brisbane, but we’ve got DVDs to watch. Cal favors westerns, I like gangster movies and Teague prefers science fiction.” He paused. “We’ve got a pool,” he added. “Sometimes we go swimming when the weather is warm.”

“I didn’t see a pool.”

“It’s not a swimming pool, more like a watering hole. And Cal put in a hot tub out back. That’s nice now that the nights are a bit cooler.”

“Oh, that sounds like heaven,” she said.

“Finish your supper and we’ll go for a dip.”

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“You won’t need one,” Brody said.

“I’m sure that will create a good impression,” she replied.

To his surprise, she finished the entire plate in ten short minutes, then drank her beer and his. Through it all, she asked questions about the station and he did his best to answer. She’d just assumed he’d worked the station his whole life, and he wasn’t going to tell her differently, at least not yet.

He had his secrets, but Payton Harwell had her own. When he asked for details about her life in the States, she always gave him some airy-fairy answer. After fifteen minutes of questioning, he realized he didn’t know much more than he’d learned on their ride to the station. But the more beer she drank, the more forthcoming she became.

“Let’s go,” he said, anxious to spend some time in a location more conducive to seduction. “The hot water will make you feel better.”

“Later,” she said. “I just want to lie down for a bit.” She crawled back into her bunk and patted the spot beside her. “Just for a minute. Then we’ll go.”

Brody crawled into the tiny bunk, and he had to wrap his arms around her just to keep from falling on the floor. He smoothed his hands over her hair and she looked up at him and smiled. “Who are you, Payton Harwell?” he murmured.

“I don’t know,” she said with a soft sigh. “If you figure it out, be sure to fill me in.”

He bent closer and kissed her, this time allowing himself to relax and enjoy the experience. His hands roamed over her body, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans to cup her backside. Brody pulled her beneath him, his shaft growing harder as the kiss deepened.

His hips pressed into hers and he slowly began to move, creating a delicious friction. He remembered the first time he’d done this with a girl and the rather surprising results. But thankfully, he’d managed to acquire a bit more self-control over the years. Still, the feel of her beneath him, her leg pulled up alongside his, teased at that control. Brody knew Gemma might be back at any second, but he didn’t care.

Payton slipped her hand beneath the hem of his shirt. She smoothed her palms up his chest, then trailed her fingertips down his belly. He groaned softly when she slid her hand lower, across the front of his jeans, then back again. Somehow, it all seemed more intense, more pleasurable, with clothing between them and the chance of discovery.

He pulled her shirt over her shoulder, exposing a delicious curve of flesh. Pressing his mouth to the base of her neck, he slowly worked his way down, to the tops of her breasts, left exposed by her lacy bra.

He slid lower along her body, his lips teasing at her nipple through the lace and satin. Payton furrowed her fingers through his hair and he sucked gently, until she moaned in response.

He fought the urge to strip off all their clothes, knowing they didn’t have much privacy in a shared bunkhouse. Perhaps Gemma would be occupied with Callum for the rest of the evening. Maybe she’d choose to spend the night in his bed instead of her own. But their privacy was cut short when he heard the front door open.

“Sorry,” Gemma called. “I’ll come back later.”

When the door closed behind Gemma, he drew back and looked into Payton’s eyes. She forced a smile. “Maybe you should go,” she said.

“Maybe you should come with me,” he suggested. He curled up against her, nuzzling his face into the curve of her neck. “I have a very large bed in my room. And a strong lock on the door. We won’t be disturbed.”

“We won’t get any sleep, either,” Payton said.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

She sighed softly and he waited for her decision. But after a minute or two, Brody realized that she’d fallen asleep. Her breathing had grown soft and even and the arm resting on his hip had gone limp.

He bit back a curse, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. She stirred for a moment, her eyes fluttering. “I’m going to go. You need your sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Morning,” she sighed.

Reluctantly, he untangled himself from her embrace, rolled off the bed and tugged his shirt down. He turned to look at Payton, her dark hair fanned out over the pillow, her hand curled over her face.

If he wasn’t such a gentleman, he’d pick her up, carry her to his bedroom and make love to her all night long. But he had time. And when it happened, they’d both be awake and completely aware of what they were doing. It would be good between them. Maybe better than it had ever been with any other woman.

For that, Brody was willing to wait.

PAYTON GRABBED the hoof pick, then pushed the horse up against the side of the stall with her shoulder. Lifting the gelding’s front leg, she held its hoof between her thighs and began to clean out the debris between the frog and the bars.

Unlike the horses she rode for show, the horses on the station didn’t spend much time in the stable. They were brought in after a day’s work and then quickly groomed and sent out to a large paddock where they were fed. The ground was dry and the stable kept clean, so there was no need for a farrier and horseshoes.

The Kerry Creek horses were a sturdy lot, most gentle and accommodating-the furthest thing from the pampered, high-spirited show horses she’d learned to ride. Brody had informed her that the stockmen were responsible for the daily care of their own mounts, but she was expected to care for the remainder in the paddock and the stables-nearly forty by her count.

These included mares that were in foal and the colts who were yet to be broken, along with at least ten extra stock ponies. She’d also spend part of each day in the tack room, keeping the stockmen’s saddles and bridles in good working order. And with what time was left over, she’d turn her attention to mixing feed and keeping the stables tidy.