The Wild One Read online

  "Rachel?" her mother-in-law said before Rachel could identify herself.

  "Rose. What's wrong?" Rachel's fingers tightened on the receiver. Had something happened to the children?

  "Nothing's wrong, my dear. Stop being such a worrywart," said Rose Danielson. "I'm just ringing to tell you that you don't have to drive up to collect the children on Friday night. Charlie and I are coming down to see the new grandson, so we'll drop them off and save you the trip."

  "Vicki's had her baby?" Rachel asked with a smile, and Rose chuckled.

  "Just this morning. A boy. Eight pounds. Both well. And everyone's ecstatic."

  "I can imagine. Of course, I don't know how the little guy is going to cope with having four big sisters," Rachel added.

  "That's what Charlie said. But he's just thrilled to bits.

  It's only his second grandson. Although you know he adores the girls."

  "I know. All what? Eighteen of them, isn't it?" Rachel laughed. "That must be some sort of record."

  "Probably. Anyway, we're coming down to see them on Friday, and we thought it would be easier for you if we dropped Fliss and Adam in to the garden center after we've been to the hospital. The children want to see the baby too. Is that all right with you?"

  "That's fine, Rose. Thanks. Oh, and give my congratulations and best wishes to Vicki and Tim when you see them."

  "I will. Good-bye, my dear."

  Rachel put down the receiver and smiled at Quinn. "That was my mother-in-law. A couple of years ago Rose married Charlie Danielson, from Daydawn Farm. They were both widowed, and" — Rachel shrugged — "anyway, Charlie's son and his wife have just presented him with his twentieth grandchild."

  "Twentieth! It must be bedlam when the whole family visits."

  "It is." Rachel laughed. "Add mine to Charlie's twenty, and you can forget a football team. We're heading for an entire football game."

  "You have children?"

  "Yes. Two, would you believe? Felicity's ten and Adam's eight."

  "I've got a daughter myself," Quinn said, and Rachel was more than a little surprised.

  "You have?"

  "Katie." Quinn's expression softened. "She's just five. Starts school in the New Year." Quinn's smile widened. "Katie's, well, she's a great kid."

  Rachel smiled too, wondering if the child's father had come back with Quinn. The idea filled her with a mass of conflicting emotions.

  They were both silent for a moment.

  "Did your, did Katie's father . . . What does your husband think of your hometown?" Rachel was horrified to hear herself ask.

  Quinn looked down at her hands. "Katie's father and I aren't together any more."

  "Oh. I'm sorry."

  Quinn nodded. "It didn't work out." Her fingers worried at the crease in her jeans. "So you married Rob Weston?"

  Rachel sobered. "Yes. Nearly eleven years ago."

  "I didn't think you liked him when he pursued you in high school."

  "You remember that?" Rachel shrugged. "I guess he improved with time," she said as lightly as she could.

  "And his persistence paid off."

  Rachel grimaced. "I don't know about that."

  "He was always keen on you, although, as I said, I didn't think his ardor was reciprocated."

  Rachel shrugged. "We had a good marriage," she said carefully. Quinn glanced away again.

  "Becky told me he was killed a couple of years ago."

  "Yes."

  "That must have been hard for you."

  Rachel nodded. For some reason she didn't want to discuss Rob with Quinn. It made her feel almost guilty somehow. She pulled herself together and picked up Quinn's resume again. "So. Where were we?"

  "I was just about to beg you for this job," Quinn said lightly, and her low teasing tone unsettled Rachel again.

  "Oh no. Please don't. I hate to see a woman beg." Rachel tried to match Quinn's lightness.

  Quinn laughed and stood up. "Me too. Especially when it's me." She walked over and looked out the door at the garden center. "You have a great setup here. Old Dave showed me around the plant nursery here yesterday, and he told me you have gardening supplies next door and also a landscaping company as well."

  "Yes, we do. Ken Leeson runs that part of the business, and we're short of staff there too, so part of the job may include having to help out with Ken as well. It's very physical, I'm afraid."

  "I'm pretty wiry, and I'm willing to learn."

  Rachel couldn't prevent herself from letting her gaze move quickly over Quinn's tall body. She did look strong and fit. And . . . Rachel swallowed quickly. "Yes, well, most of your work would be here. We're looking for someone to work with Ken full time, but we haven't found anyone suitable yet. Unless you know someone else who wants work?" she asked half jokingly.

  Quinn frowned slightly. "Actually I do. My nephew, Kerrod. Johnno's eldest. He's just turned seventeen and finished high school this year."

  "He's not interested in the family business?" Rachel asked.

  "No. And Johnno's pretty good about it. I think he's pinning his family business hopes on his second son, to go into the trucking business. I could see if my nephew's interested if you like."

  "Okay. Ask him to give me a ring." Rachel looked down over Quinn's resume. Her references were glowing. No prospective employer could doubt that. But Quinn Farrelly had spent time in prison.

  "The contact numbers in there are all current, and any of my references would be pleased to talk to you about my work. Or if you just want to check any of it," Quinn said.

  Rachel nodded, flushing slightly, feeling as though Quinn had read her mind. There was no reason why Rachel should be hesitating in giving Quinn the job. She was more than qualified. But. . .

  "I hope my jail time isn't a problem," Quinn said then, and Rachel looked up at her.

  "No. No, of course not." She turned another page, knowing her flush was deepening. Rachel knew her reservations had nothing to do with Quinn's prison record. They went far deeper than that, were far more confidential.

  And if Quinn knew that Rachel's reticence had nothing to do with her prison record . . . Yet, in fairness, Rachel knew she couldn't jeopardize Quinn's job chance because of her own personal confusion all those years ago.

  Rachel made herself concentrate on the words on Quinn's resume. "You have a Bobcat license?" she asked in surprise.

  "Bobcat. Forklift. Loader." Quinn shrugged. "I'm a woman of many talents."

  "You can operate the loader over in the supplies yard?"

  "I'm sure I could."

  "And coming from a trucking background, I don't suppose our delivery truck would be a problem?"

  Quinn grinned. "None at all."

  "Now this is impressive." Rachel smiled. "I guess that settles it. When can you start?"

  Quinn's grin widened, and she crossed back to stand in front of Rachel's desk. "How about tomorrow?"

  "Fine." Rachel stood up, and when Quinn held out her hand Rachel automatically reached across the desk.

  Quinn's handshake was firm, and Rachel was very aware of the warmth of her fingers, a warmth that lingered after Quinn had released her.

  Chapter Five

  "There are stacks of forms to fill out," Rachel said quickly, turning away to open a filing cabinet behind her desk. Her heart was thundering away inside her chest, and she took extra time collecting the papers to regain her composure.

  "What would we do without all the bureaucratic red tape?" Quinn said as Rachel handed her the forms.

  "Have a much less stressful life. I would, anyway. The paperwork around here is the bane of my life. Want to fill the forms out now?"

  Quinn shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

  "Oops! Nearly forgot." Rachel handed Quinn another form and explained about ordering her uniform. They all wore dark green shorts in summer with a light green tailored shirt, and slacks and a jacket in winter.

  "We provide the uniforms, so there's no expense to you involved and our supplier will
have the shirts personalized with your name in a couple of days." She pointed to the breast pocket of her own shirt where her name was embroidered in dark green above R & R Landscaping. Quinn's gaze settled on Rachel's breast and, although Rachel knew Quinn's interest was innocent reflex action, Rachel felt the tingle of awareness in the pit of her stomach. Hastily she pulled herself together.

  "Why not sit around here at my desk?" she added quickly. "It will be easier to do the paperwork. When you're finished, come outside and I'll give you a more extensive tour than Old Dave did yesterday."

  "Sure." Quinn smiled again, and Rachel turned and hurried out of the office and into the garden center, her mind a whirling mass of chaotic confusion.

  "Sorry I forgot to remind you about the interview." Phil materialized beside Rachel and she shrugged. "So?" he prompted eagerly. "What do you think? Will she do?"

  "I think so," Rachel replied carefully. Phil was more than a little enthusiastic. She glanced sideways at him. He was an attractive man, as Rachel's cousin, Sandy, repeatedly reminded Rachel. He was divorced and, also according to Sandy, husband material going to waste. "She can start tomorrow."

  "She can?" Phil grinned. "That's great. Has she had any experience in this type of work?"

  Rachel nodded. "Oh yes. And she can drive the loader and the truck."

  "Really?" Phil's grin widened. "My god! She looks like that and she knows how to drive a truck? She could be the find of the century."

  Rachel glanced at Phil again. He didn't usually make sexist comments. Did he fancy Quinn Farrelly? Why wouldn't he? she asked herself wryly. Quinn was striking. Tall. Attractive. She radiated a healthy physical fitness. And a sensuality that even Rachel was aware of.

  Something unidentifiable shifted inside her, a feeling she refused to examine, or admit she'd felt before, and she berated herself. It was none of her business who Phil took a fancy to. Or Quinn Farrelly either.

  Rachel pulled herself together and made herself laugh. "Looks like that and can drive a truck too? Was that a sexist remark, Phil Stevens? Why can't a woman be attractive and drive heavy machinery?"

  Phil held up his hands in surrender. "Nothing sexist intended, I swear. You know what I mean."

  Rachel suspected she did. More than he could know. But she wasn't about to let herself explore her own motives now, any more than she'd allowed herself to all those years ago.

  "Let's hope this time we've got the right person." Phil was saying. "After that last yobbo, I'm afraid to trust my own judgment."

  "I know the feeling," Rachel conceded. "Anyway, Quinn also has some experience landscaping so, at a pinch, she'll be able to help Ken out."

  Phil put his hands on his hips. "She sounds too good to be true. But we're desperate, aren't we? I don't think we should look a gift horse in the mouth. What do you say?"

  Rachel hesitated. Should she tell Phil about Quinn's prison record? It was common knowledge around here after all. But he would have been in the Navy when it all happened, and if anyone had told him about it he'd obviously forgotten. Rachel remained silent. It was Quinn's business. She'd paid for her mistake, and that was it as far as Rachel was concerned.

  "You know, I don't think we should let her go work with Ken though," Phil said, and Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What happens if he wants to keep her? We'd be right back where we started."

  Rachel chuckled. "You mean we should do an I'm-all-right-Jack! and keep her to ourselves?"

  "Exactly." Phil said with mock seriousness. "Better keep her for the Garden Center only."

  They laughed and both turned as Quinn joined them. Quinn's narrowed gaze went from one to the other. Rachel wondered what the other woman was thinking, but she could glean nothing from her expression.

  "I was just telling Phil we'd found a new staff member at last," Rachel said quickly. She turned back to Phil. "And actually, Quinn has a nephew who's looking for a job. She's going to ask him if he's interested in working with Ken."

  "Is he as experienced with heavy machinery as you are?" Phil asked easily, and Quinn seemed to relax.

  "Well, he's young, but I think he'd like the physical work."

  A customer claimed Phil's attention, and he hurried off to attend to him.

  "Finished all the paperwork?"

  Quinn nodded. "I left it on your desk."

  "Great. Come on then, I'll show you around." Rachel led the way, pointing out the various sections in the plant nursery, unaware of the sparkle in her eyes as she warmed to her subject.

  She had basically talked Rob into starting the business. While her husband had been far more knowledgeable about horticulture than Rachel was back then, he had needed someone to organize the business side, to encourage him and keep him motivated. It wasn't until he was killed that Rachel realized how much of her energy had gone into that.

  Once Rachel had showed Quinn the layout of the garden center, they moved through the gate into the landscaping supplies area.

  A rugged man leaned against the bonnet of a battered utility, a misshapen roll-your-own hanging from his lips. He straightened as Rachel and Quinn approached.

  "Jeez, Old Dave is moving faster these days. I expected I'd have to wait half an hour." He grinned toothily and handed Rachel a docket. "Two meters of number eight, Thanks, Rach. You going to load me, love?" He roared with laughter at what he considered a huge joke.

  Rachel grinned. "You know that beast of a machine hates me, Jock." She turned to Quinn. "They all think it's excruciatingly funny when I climb aboard that monster. All because I had one small accident way back when we first opened."

  "One small accident, was it?" Jock laughed again. "It was touch-and-go as to whether the insurance company was going to write Mick's ute off."

  "Well, Rachel, here's a chance to kill two birds with one stone," Quinn put in. "I'll load the truck, and you won't have to do it. And you can check my credentials at the same time." She held out her hand. "Got the keys?"

  Rachel pulled her keys from her pocket, picked out the one that operated the loader, and handed it to Quinn. "Go to it."

  "Heaven save us from women drivers," appealed Jock as Quinn strode over to the loader and swung herself up into the cabin.

  They watched as the loader roared to life. Quinn expertly dug the bucket into the gravel, backed away, and headed over to the truck.

  "Who's that?" Jock asked over the roar of the engine.

  "Our new staff member, Quinn Farrelly."

  Jock turned to look at Rachel, his eyes screwed up as smoke wafted upward from his cigarette. "Will Farrelly's kid? The one that was in the slammer?"

  Rachel nodded as Quinn emptied the bucket of gravel onto the truck, barely spilling a pebble.

  "How long's she been out?" Jock asked as Quinn settled the load expertly with the lip of the bucket.

  "About seven years I think," Rachel replied as Quinn parked the loader and switched off the engine.

  Jock looked at the load on his ute, glanced across at Quinn, and silently passed Rachel the docket for her signature. He muttered noncommittally, climbed back into his truck, and drove away.

  Quinn walked back to Rachel and grinned as she handed Rachel back the key. "So. Did I pass?"

  "With flying colors. You left Jock speechless," she added dryly.

  Quinn pulled a face. "No mean feat, if I remember rightly. Jock worked with my father and Johnno years ago."

  They walked back to the office.

  "Don't forget to stop by the supplier and order your uniforms," Rachel reminded Quinn.

  "Sure. And what time do you want me to start in the morning?" she asked.

  "Eight-thirty. We have a roster, so I'll organize a new one by then so you'll know when your time off is. Oh, and we're flexible about that too, within reason."

  "Fine. Well." Quinn inclined her head. "I'll see you in the morning."

  "Yes. Welcome aboard." Rachel smiled. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

  "Me too." Quinn smiled again and turned a
nd walked away.

  Rachel stood watching her, hoping desperately that she hadn't made a mistake. And Quinn's prison record was the furthermost thing from her mind.

  Chapter Six

  Rachel drove toward the Garden Center, humming to a sixties tune on the car radio. She'd just dropped by the job site to see how Ken was faring with his new offsider, and Rachel could see he was really pleased with Quinn's young nephew. Ken had told Rachel as long as the weather stayed fine, and allowing for the Christmas-New Year break, he should have caught up with their jobs by the middle of January.

  And Ken had just discovered that young Kerrod had worked for a paving specialist during his last school vacation. Ken assured Rachel that the young man was so proficient they would be finished with their present job a week ahead of time.

  It seemed she had made the right decision giving Kerrod Farrelly a chance. He was working well with Ken, just as Quinn was working out fine at the Gardening Center.

  Rachel smiled. Only yesterday Old Dave, usually taciturn, had remarked that he didn't know what he'd done without Quinn's help in the supplies section. And Phil was constantly singing Quinn's praises.

  Rachel's smile faded a little. The only shadow over the whole thing was her cousin, Colleen's, attitude the day before at their bridge club meeting. And Colleen's disturbing bombshell.

  Their fortnightly card game had been held at Colleen's house yesterday, and Rachel had arrived early for the first time in ages.

  "What's this?" Colleen had feigned enormous amazement. "Rachel's here before we've dealt the cards. I don't believe it."

  Rachel glanced at her wristwatch. "I'm only five minutes early. Hardly worth mentioning."

  "Just the fact that you're early is surprise enough," Colleen remarked.

  "Now don't give me a hard time, Col," Rachel protested lightly. "You know I haven't meant to be late. It was just work."

  "But not today for our last meeting," Sandy said cheerfully. "And a very good way to end the old year."

  "Right." Rachel smiled. "And another good way to end the year is to be able to say I'm pretty well caught up with my paperwork, mainly because my staff problems have been solved."

  "You found someone at last?" asked Rhonda as Rachel sat down at the card table. "That's great. When did this happen?"