скачать книгу бесплатно
“Brave lady,” Cade murmured, sounding impressed. “You must tell me more about this assignment. Maybe I can help.”
Blake’s irritation flared into full-blown jealousy. “I’ve agreed to show Jo the ropes. She doesn’t need two guides.”
Cade withdrew to the back seat, symbolically conceding the turf to his older brother. Amusement rang in his voice as he said, “I knew I should have caught an earlier flight.”
“I still have to clear the change with my editor,” Jo said, sensing the unspoken communication between the two men. Annoyed because she also sensed it concerned her, she sharpened her tone. “Blake may have too much experience to make the story work.”
“I don’t have anything like his experience,” Cade said coyly.
Blake’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “We’re talking about bush craft.”
“What did you think I meant?”
Enough was enough. “Will you two either cut it out, or let me in on the joke?”
“No,” both men said with one voice.
“I’m glad you agree on something.” She pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed Karen’s number. The editor’s secretary put her straight through. As if dictating a story, Jo reported the day’s events and Nigel’s abrupt departure. She was aware of Blake and Cade silently absorbing her account.
The editor expressed horror at the near miss with the crocodile, but said nothing about Jo aborting the assignment.
When she reached the part about Blake offering to help out in Nigel’s place, Jo found herself crossing her fingers. Not that she wanted to work with the crocodile man. She just didn’t want to be pulled off a story that instinct told her had the potential to grow far beyond the original assignment.
“You’re sure it’s Blake Stirton you’ll be working with?” Karen asked.
Jo’s glance flickered to him. He controlled the car with easy movements, and his fingers had relaxed on the wheel, but his posture suggested a tension that made her curious. “Is there a problem?”
The vehicle swerved very slightly. Blake may have been dodging a rough patch in the road, rather than reacting to her words. She couldn’t tell. “Would you like to talk to him yourself?” she asked Karen on impulse.
“No. Don’t put him on.” As if realizing how strange she sounded, Karen moderated her tone. “I’ll take your word that you can work with him on this. The deal will be the same as we agreed with Nigel Wylie.”
“Great. I’ll tell him. Thanks.” Confusion had reduced Jo’s speech to monosyllables. The editor had reacted like a scalded cat at the prospect of speaking with Blake. What was going on here?
She flipped the phone shut and replaced it in her bag. “My boss is happy for you to help me complete the assignment.”
Blake looked doubtful. “She said that?”
“Not in so many words. But she didn’t pull the plug on the story.” She shimmied sideways as far as her seat belt allowed and addressed Blake. “Have you ever met Karen Prentiss?”
A frown furrowed his brow. “Not as far as I know. Why?”
“When I offered to let her talk to you, she reacted as if I’d arranged a personal introduction with the devil.”
“Maybe she’s the mother of one of your old flames, Blake. Your sinful reputation precedes you,” Cade suggested unhelpfully.
Jo caught her lower lip between her teeth, not enjoying the tightening in her stomach that went with picturing Blake and his old flames. “Karen doesn’t have children. After a few drinks at last year’s office Christmas party, she told me she and Ron couldn’t have any.”
Cade grinned. “Then she must be jealous of you teaming up with a world-famous crocodile expert.”
“World-famous in the Kimberley,” Blake said ruefully. “You probably caught her at an awkward time, that’s all.”
She let a sigh escape, wondering why the idea of working with Blake held so much appeal. “You could be right.” But the puzzle nagged at her all the way back to Diamond Downs. Karen wasn’t usually the hysterical type. Something about Blake’s involvement in the project had shocked her even more than hearing about the crocodile attack. Jo wished she knew the reason.
Chapter 3
Half the people in the region had to be at the engagement party, Jo decided, surveying the rows of trestle tables groaning with food, much of it contributed by the guests themselves in the best outback tradition. Festooned around the homestead, ribbons of fairy lights competed with the impossibly starry night. Until coming to the Kimberley, she’d never known so many stars could be visible from Earth. They spilled across the inky blackness like countless diamonds on a jeweler’s cloth, seeming close enough to touch.
“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” came a softly accented voice.
Lost in wonder, she hadn’t heard the other woman approach. She immediately recognized Tom McCullough’s fiancée, Princess Shara Najran. On arriving at Diamond Downs, Jo had met Tom and his royal bride-to-be who were not long back from visiting her father, King Awad of Q’aresh to obtain his blessing on their marriage.
Any family would be lucky to have Tom in their midst, Jo had decided. He was as easygoing and charming as he was good-looking. In contrast to Blake’s intensity, she thought, her gaze automatically seeking him out and finding him a little apart from the crowd, leaning against the veranda railing. Nobody would call him easygoing. From the little she knew of him already, he expected a lot from people, but even more from himself. Charming didn’t fit, either. Her writer’s mind sought out a more appropriate word, finally coming up with compelling. He was the kind of man she instinctively knew would complicate her life, but who nevertheless attracted her like iron filings to a magnet.
When their eyes met, she recoiled, as if she’d been punched. The feeling was so blatantly sexual that her breath stalled in her throat and she had a hard time wrenching her attention back to the princess.
Shara’s generous smile emphasized her pearly teeth and lovely café au lait skin. She was dressed in what looked like a traditional Eastern costume of cream silk trousers, caught at the ankles by gold embroidery, and a billowing blouse cinched at the waist by a gold circlet, with more embroidery at the wrists.
Beside her, Jo felt positively plain in the uncrushable teal linen pants and matching sleeveless vest she’d insisted on changing into at camp before letting Blake deliver her to the homestead. Although her assignment hadn’t allowed for socializing, she had brought this suit for traveling and felt it fitted the occasion better than jeans and a T-shirt, although there was a scattering of both among the party guests.
“It’s a lovely night,” she agreed. “Thank you for letting me share your engagement party, Shara.”
Jo felt odd calling the princess by her first name, but Shara had insisted when they first met, saying she’d had enough of titles in her own country to last a lifetime. “My pleasure,” Shara said. “Are you recovered from your close call with the crocodile this morning?”
Jo suppressed a shiver. “It was terrifying, especially for Nigel, but thank goodness he wasn’t hurt.
“I’m relieved to hear it, although I understand he decided to return home as a result.”
Jo nodded. “I can’t say I blame him, can you?”
Shara smiled. “Perhaps not. I’m relieved that the crocodile didn’t drive you away, as well.”
Tom came up carrying a tray of drinks. The waves of love carried on the look he and Shara exchanged pierced Jo with unaccustomed longing. What must it feel like to know you were so totally loved?
Shara retrieved a glass of wine for Jo and one of mineral water for herself, her fingers trailing over Tom’s gripping the tray. The two of them looked as if they couldn’t wait to be by themselves. When he moved away, the princess’s gaze lingered on him.
“You must love him very much,” Jo observed.
Shara took a sip of her mineral water. “Is it so obvious?”
“Only to every eye in the gathering.” Smiling, Jo raised her glass. “May you and Tom always feel the way you do tonight.” She drank to the sentiment, then remembered the backgrounder she’d read on the family. “I understand it was you who discovered the ancient cave paintings that are helping to put Diamond Downs on the map.”
Shara lowered her lashes. “The Uru civilization is a passion of mine. Tom and Blake actually found the cave when they were children.”
“But you recognized the paintings on the walls as the work of the Uru and caused an international sensation. After the wire service picked up the story, my editor couldn’t wait to send me up here to do a feature.”
Shara’s interest piqued. “Is your editor a fan of ancient history?”
Jo shook her head. “Oddly enough, she hates history. But when she read about Des Logan and his special family, Karen was determined I should come to the Kimberley. She was the one who dreamed up the survival scenario.”
The only thing that would have surprised Jo more was if Karen had announced she was undertaking the assignment herself. Her editor was the archetypal city girl, surgically attached to her cell phone and PDA. Jo could have sworn her boss had been itching to go, but had stopped herself for some reason. She had made Jo promise to report every detail of her experiences, holding nothing back. The request had almost offended Jo, and she’d reminded Karen that she knew how to do her job.
The princess made a face. “When you arrived you told me you have a list of tasks to undertake and report on your progress. How will you manage alone?
“I’ve already started on the shelter.” If gathering a heap of raw materials could be termed starting. She’d probably have made more progress if Nigel hadn’t insisted he knew how the job should be tackled. “Blake has offered me some guidance,” she added.
Shara smiled. “You’re very brave.”
“Not brave, persistent. I hate giving up on a challenge.”
Shara gave her a conspiratorial look. “You may find Blake a greater challenge than dealing with the outback.”
Jo felt warmth seep into her face. “I don’t have to deal with him. All he’s doing is helping me complete the assignment, nothing more.”
Shara excused herself to mingle with the other guests. Jo was grateful to have a few minutes to herself. She hoped the others didn’t all think she was interested in Blake. He was a means to an end, that was all.
Wasn’t he?
Blake rested his forearms on the homestead veranda railing and watched Jo move gracefully among the guests. Every time she turned that high-voltage smile on one of the male guests and the man melted into a puddle at her feet, Blake wanted to head over there and drag her away. An odd impulse, considering he was avoiding romantic entanglements for the time being.
After Rhonda Saffire, he’d believed it would be a long time before a woman interested him again. Rhonda had worked as a receptionist at Sawtooth Park and their relationship had meandered along for a few months without any real sparks, until they’d gradually stopped seeing each other. Then she’d come to tell him she was pregnant and that he was the father. Not physically impossible, just unlikely, considering he usually took the proper precautions. On the one occasion when he’d slipped up, she’d told him she was protected. She also knew that Blake’s experience of being unwanted until Des Logan took him in meant he wasn’t going to let any child of his grow up without a father.
They’d have made it all the way to the altar if a friend of Blake’s hadn’t tipped him off that he’d been drinking with a man who claimed he was the father of Rhonda’s child. When Blake confronted the man, he’d confessed that he loved Rhonda but was scared of taking on a family. Given the choice between answering to Blake and facing his responsibilities, the man had chosen the latter course. Surprise, surprise, thought Blake.
Later, a radiant Rhonda had shown him her engagement ring and apologized for lying to him. She admitted that she’d turned to him in panic after the real father of her child had let her down. Her fiancé hadn’t told her what had changed his mind, Blake gathered. To his surprise, he’d felt disappointed, having discovered he liked the idea of fatherhood a great deal. He missed that more than he missed Rhonda.
Romance might not be high on his agenda for now, but it didn’t mean he was dead from the waist down. Or that he couldn’t appreciate Jo’s lithe, feminine movements and the enticing way her long hair rippled when she tossed her head.
She was talking to Shara and he saw her laughing about something; then she looked up and saw him watching her. He felt the connection as a jolt of current stronger than one he’d received after accidentally touching an electric fence at the park. This also shocked him to the toes of his boots, but there was no cutoff switch, no way to short-circuit her effect.
He could practically follow the sizzling bolt of energy as it arced between them. Her reaction came a split second later, as she rocked back on her heels, her eyes going wide with amazement until she dragged her gaze away.
Blake had heard all the old chestnuts about eyes meeting across crowded rooms, but this was the first time he’d experienced the effect. The prospect of showing her around the outback suddenly seemed less like a favor to Des, and more of a no-holds-barred challenge.
At least Blake could protect Jo from some of the dangers of the outback. Had she gone to the creek instead of Wylie, she might not have been strong enough to stop the crocodile from pulling her into the water.
At the idea, he went cold from head to foot. Not long ago, an American model had been taken along Prince Regent Sound in the Kimberley, making headlines around the world. Blake had no business thinking of Gilgai’s actions as anything but a crime. In some countries, it was illegal to feed wild crocodiles. It should be in Australia, he thought. Then both Gilgai and his puppet master, Max Horvath, could be arrested for attempted murder. Since they couldn’t, Blake would have to make sure they didn’t harm Jo on his watch. From what he’d seen of her, she wasn’t the type to welcome a protector, but for himself, he found the prospect thoroughly appealing.
Midnight had come and gone by the time the party started to wind down. “Ready to go back to your camp?” Blake asked Jo as she sipped coffee and watched some of the guests dancing to recorded music. The dancers’ movements were slow and desultory, and in some cases downright stumbling, thanks to the effects of a much-depleted bar.
She suppressed a yawn. “I should have called it a night long ago, but it seemed a shame to break up the party.” She didn’t add that she was reluctant to exchange the cozy atmosphere of the homestead for an isolated camp where danger lurked around every corner. She’d told Blake she was seeing the assignment through, and she wouldn’t back down now.
He glanced around. “Some of this mob will still be here for breakfast. In the outback, you stay or go according to your own schedule.”
She placed her coffee cup on a table, stood up and stretched. “How come you’re so bright-eyed and bushy tailed?”
He winked, sending a jolt to her insides. Probably the result of too much late-night caffeine, she decided. “Years of staying out all night catching crocodiles,” he said.
She shuddered at the thought of meeting one of the prehistoric monsters in the dark on their own territory. “Sooner you than me.”
The Jeep stood waiting on the edge of the lighted circle. “Would you like to drive?” he asked.
Her tired smile told him she appreciated the choice, but she shook her head. “I haven’t driven one of these before.”
“In daylight, I’ll give you lessons. Or we can take your rental car if you prefer.”
“I’ll leave it here as we agreed. Your vehicle is better equipped for this terrain.” And she was almost out on her feet, so she’d probably run them off the dirt roads into a creek, whatever they were driving.
She was blearily aware of joining Blake in making their farewells, and then they were driving away from the homestead into the star-studded blackness. The Jeep rocked in sync with the corrugated road and she was soon nodding.
“Are you asleep?” he asked when she had been silent for some time.
She forced her heavy lids open and lifted her hair off her nape with two hands. “Are we there yet?”
He laughed, the luxuriant sound resonating through her. “You sound about thirteen.”
Her tone was husky as she said, “You’re half-right.”
“You’re twenty-six?”
“Twenty-seven next month. I was speaking figuratively.”
“You’ll have to tell me what day and we’ll celebrate.”
“Most men don’t bother remembering such details.”
“I’m not most men.”
Tell me something I don’t know, she thought. Out loud, she asked, “So when’s yours?”
“I don’t know.”
She gave a start. “How can you not know your birthday?”
“It’s a long story.”
She straightened. “You started this, and we don’t have anything else to do right now.” Nothing they should be doing, at least. What the late hour and the isolation suggested, she was better off not thinking about.
His voice reached her out of the darkness. “To know your birthday, you need to know where and when you were born.”
The Jeep tilted forward as it topped the rise. “I get it. You don’t know because you were left on a stranger’s doorstep when you were only a couple of weeks old,” she said, quoting her research. Thirty years ago, his story had been front-page news.
“If you know so much, why ask me?”
Recoiling from the resentment in his voice, she said, “I wasn’t sure if your mother ever got in touch with you again.” Her research hadn’t been able to confirm that detail.
“If she tried, I wasn’t there to meet her.” The harshness in his tone rejected any possibility.
“By then, I suppose you’d moved to the outback?”
