Page 72 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

Monet stared at him. “I thought you were just a cowboy.”

The bottle paused an inch from his lips. “A what?”

She crossed her arms. She wasn’t sure why she was flustered, but she was. “You know what I mean. I didn’t know you were a multi-millionaire.”

Dylan lowered the bottle—a Miller Lite, Monet noticed—and studied her. “Not sure where you got that idea, love. I told you my family owns a cattle station.”

“Kerrie just informed me your ranch is enormous.”

He burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the now near-empty gallery. “Monet, Farpoint CreekisAustralia’s second biggest cattle station and one of its most successful. Yes, our stock is worth a fortune, a bloody fortune, and in a good year, when the drought doesn’t kick our arse, when we don’t have to go out and shoot starving cattle to keep others alive, when the banks don’t vulture us with high interest slugs, Farpoint makes enough to cover all running costs.

“But me personally? Nope. I draw a wage from the station’s profits. A pretty small one, in fact. I don’t need money, love. I’ve got my dog, Farpoint and the endless skies of the Outback.”

He smiled, took a mouthful of beer and immediately winced, holding out the bottle to read the label. “This is pretty bloody terrible. What are the odds of me getting a Tooheys Dry around this place?”

“Mon cher?” Kerrie’s call shot through Monet like a bullet and she jumped. “It’s done and dusted, my darling. Everyone’s gone.” He appeared beside her, slipping an arm around her waist to bestow a kiss on her cheek. “As usual, you have wowed the art world with your amazing talent and made us both disgusting amounts of money. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Kerrie,” she answered back. And still she couldn’t take her stare from Dylan. She’d never met a man like him. She didn’t know if she had it in her to stay in his company. He was too…

Australian?

“Now,” the curator pulled away, pinched her on the cheek and winked, “I leave you in the more than capable hands of your stockman.” He turned and fanned his face with his hand, grinning at Dylan. “And I do meanman.”

Dylan laughed. “Kerri, my mate. I thank you for the beer.”

Kerrie smirked. “No you don’t. But I thank you for being dreamy and making my girl here positively glow.”

Monet’s heart, only having just thought about returning to her chest, leapt into her throat again. Glow? Oh God, was it that obvious?

Dylan’s gaze roamed over Monet. “She’s a bit all right, isn’t she?”

“That she is,” Kerrie was saying, but Monet barely heard him. Not when Dylan was looking at her with such smoldering hunger. Such undeniable want. She swallowed.

It took a long stretch of silence before she realized the curator had left them. Where he was, she didn’t know. She licked her lips and looked around the gallery, seeing two years of her art life on display. The exhibition had been meant as a statement on desire’s place in society, its control on people’s lives. Who knew she’d be a victim to that very control herself?

“Can I ask a question, love?”

She swung back to Dylan, her pulse quickening when she found him standing before her. His hat was low on his head, his eyes shaded by the brim. She drew in a swift breath, the subtle scent of clean soap and a hint of eucalyptus doing nothing to settle her turbulent state.

“Does how much money I have make a difference?”

“To who?”

“To us.”

“There’s an us?”

His nostrils flared. “Bloody oath, there’s anus.”

She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t make a difference. When we first met I thought you were just a cowboy, that’s all. I didn’t realize you were some über-successful ranch owner. It just…threw me a little is all.”

“The same way you’ve thrown me, Monet? Like I have no idea which way is up and if it’s night or day?”

“Should I say sorry?”

“No.” He moved closer. “You shouldn’t. You should let me kiss you.”

His lips crushed hers, fierce, demanding. Dominating. It was nothing like any kiss he’d given her before. It wasn’t playful. It was primitive. Powerful. It made Monet’s pussy constrict, aching to be stretched, filled. She whimpered into his mouth, her hands sliding up his chest, her hips pressing to his.