Bare for You: Outback Skies, Book 3 Read Online Free PDF Page A

known for his modulated reactions and almost Zen-like calm. No matter how often his policies were mocked by the opposition when Parliament was in session, Jeremy took each in his stride, more often than not turning the argument’s flaws back on the attacker with an unruffled decorum the press decreed mesmerizing to witness.
    He was an articulate, educated man who’d risen through the political ranks without the need for dramatics or vitriol. The only slight, as it were, against his personality was his perceived affection for the ladies, as one news program so delicately put it, and the fact some of the older voters considered him a tad too…hipsterish.
    And yet now here he stood, in the middle of the Outback, his hair a mess, his cock hard and his control shattered by just one man.
    Just one fucking man.
    “Fuck,” he burst out again, watching as the chopper carrying that one man disappeared from sight in the night sky.
    Letting out a ragged breath, he pulled his iPhone from his hip pocket, woke it up and tapped out a text message to Linda.
    I need a personality profile on Ryan Taylor. ASAP.
    JC.
    He stared at the message, wondering what the hell he was doing. What would his assistant make of such a request? What would she think?
    Chest tight, throat tighter, he hit send.
    “Fuck,” he muttered for the third time, before shoving his phone back into his pocket and striding back into the homestead.
    By the time he walked through the front door, he was—he hoped—the epitome of outward calm.
    In the brief time he’d spent inside earlier with the mayor, he’d met the resident staff. Now, two of them—the chef and the housekeeper—waited inside the opulent foyer for him.
    “Is there anything we can help you with, Minister?” the housekeeper said. “Would you like some supper? Tea? Coffee?”
    Jeremy shook his head with a smile. “I’m fine, thank you. Why don’t you two call it a night? If I get hungry later, I’ll find something in the kitchen.” He let his smile turn cheeky. “I’m actually quite adept at making toast.”
    The homestead’s chef laughed. The housekeeper tittered. Both, Jeremy could tell, approved of his relaxed attitude.
    Personable and highly vote-able, that’s me.
    “What time will Ryan Taylor be collecting you in the morning, Minister?”
    At the chef’s mention of Ryan’s name, Jeremy’s throat tightened. So, unfortunately, did his semi-hard cock.
    “Six,” he answered, instantly unsettled. Damn it, if this was how his body reacted at just the sound of the heli-musterer’s name, what was going to happen when they were face-to-face again?
    The chef nodded. “Then breakfast will be ready at five am.”
    “Have a good evening, Minister,” the housekeeper said.
    He smiled once more, praying to hell he appeared just as outwardly calm as he had a mere moment ago. “Please, call me Jeremy.”
    Ten minutes later, after roaming the luxurious homestead and trying to absorb himself its serene silence, Jeremy gave up on the ridiculous notion of having a good evening.
    He’d have no hope of a good evening until he exorcised Ryan Taylor out of his system. The only way he could when he was in a house alone.
    With his hand.
    Tugging his tie from his neck with savage frustration, he stormed through the living room and into the master bedroom.
    Standing at the foot of the king-size mahogany bed, he yanked his shirt from his body and threw it aside. His belt and pants came next. Followed by his socks and then his boxers.
    His cock, once again harder than a steel pole, sprang free, slapping against the flat plane of his stomach.
    He glared down at the organ.
    Damn it, he’d come to the Outback to open an art gallery. He hadn’t come to the Outback to get a hard-on. It was highly inconvenient.
    In fact, everything about Ryan Taylor was inconvenient. The way he looked in faded denim jeans, the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and wide chest. The way the stubble on his jaw and