Beneath Outback Skies

by Alissa Callen

  She unzipped her jeans and stepped out of them. Then, stealing a look at Tait as he swam through the water towards her, she made her way across the coarse sand to the water’s edge. She was yet to determine what he was, or wasn’t, wearing.

  ‘You do know you still have your singlet on?’ Tait said, as he stopped and stood in the waist-high water.

  To her relief she glimpsed the low waistband of what appeared to be red and white boardies.

  ‘Exactly. Plus sunscreen. I’m being sun smart, which is more …’ she followed the slow path of a rivulet as it slid down his golden chest, ‘than I can say for you.’

  She walked into the billabong, sucking in a sharp breath as the chill seeped into her skin. ‘I thought you said the water was perfect.’

  Tait’s smile flashed. ‘It is. And the UV burn index I heard on the radio this morning gives me at least ten minutes before I need to put my shirt on.’

  She continued wading until the water bit into the sensitive skin at the back of her knees. She frowned. ‘It seems colder today.’

  ‘Maybe because you’re taking your time getting wet. A snail would move faster than you. Just dive in.’

  She glanced at him. His tone had sounded a little raw. Maybe he should have had his second coffee before swimming.

  Too late she saw the cheeky glint in his eyes and his right hand pull back. Water exploded over her chest as he splashed a mini tsunami toward her. She opened her mouth to tell him off but all she did was swallow water. She dived into the billabong making sure she’d surface behind him. If Tait wanted to take her on, more fool him. This was war. She came up to breathe, ready to jump on his shoulders and push him under the water. But as he spun to face her, all thoughts of pay-back evaporated like moisture in the midday sun. Mischief no longer danced in his gaze, only unmistakable hunger.

  He closed the gap between them. His hands tangled in her hair and his lips secured hers in a slow, deep kiss that seared her far more than the flames from any campfire.

  Shock gave way to her own hunger. Defences tumbled. She moulded herself against him, tasting him as though the hint of coffee on his breath contained the elixir for eternal life. Her fingers took ownership of his back, sculpting, kneading, relishing.

  Tait’s hands descended her spine with inexorable slowness, his fingertips savouring every curve and every hollow. Through the wet cloth of her singlet, the heat of his touch burned like a brand. His hands dipped beneath the water to cradle her hips. Restless, she moved closer. The ache in her breasts dissolving into delight as they pushed against the warm hardness of his chest.

  His mouth left hers to trail pleasure along her jaw until he found her sweet spot behind her ear. Her fingers dug into his back as she closed her eyes against the bright sunlight.

  Urgent and demanding, his mouth reclaimed hers. She matched his appetite with her own. Then, through the haze of sensation liquefying her limbs, she realised the muscles beneath her touch had locked. The possessive hands bracketing her hips were edging her away. She froze. Her eyes snapped open. A reality far colder than the water temperature slapped sense into her. What had she done?

  She pulled out of his arms and held the back of her hand against her throbbing, just-been-kissed-senseless lips. For a brief, bittersweet moment, she’d forgotten who she was. She’d forgotten about the drought. But most especially she’d forgotten Tait would soon be gone.

  ‘Paige?’ His hoarse voice was almost unrecognisable. He took her hand and pressed a kiss into her trembling palm. ‘Don’t look like that. Like you already regret what just happened.’

  She snatched her fingers away from his mouth and then out of his grasp. ‘Well, I do. Just like you obviously do too.’

  He groaned. ‘Believe me, the only thing I regret is having a poor excuse for self-control.’

  ‘My self-control is no better.’ She swung away, her cheeks hotter than hell. ‘It will never happen again.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ Tait said as he caught her waist, spinning her to face him. ‘Never is a long time.’ He cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing her skin.

  She fought the instant buckle of her knees. She’d never have believed the touch of a man’s hand could make her feel so tremulous or so cherished. Tait moved her in a way Chris never could.

  ‘I might have tried to slow things down but that doesn’t mean I wanted the kiss to end.’ His eyes swept over her face, lingering on her mouth. If he kissed her again, like a spark to dry summer grass, she’d be lost. And like the aftermath of a bushfire, she’d be left with nothing but cold ashes and black regrets.

  She pulled away and, despite the muscle flexing in his cheek, he let her go.

  ‘We need to get home.’ She risked a look at his chest. ‘Your ten minutes must be up. You’ll fry like a chicken if you don’t put your shirt on.’

  She turned to head to shore and heard him close behind her. They dressed in silence, until she took three attempts to slide her jeans over her wet thighs.

  ‘You know I could help you with that,’ Tait said with a grin as he sat on the log to pull on his socks and boots.

  ‘I’ve got it.’ She tugged hard, not caring she was in danger of losing the top layer of her skin. The jeans caught and then scraped over her hips like sandpaper.

  ‘Ouch. That had to have hurt.’

  ‘No,’ she said, securing her jeans button and belt buckle in record time. She then thrust her arms through her shirt. Dressed and with her hat once again on her head, all she needed were her boots and she’d be back in control. From now on the only Paige Quinn that Tait would see would be an in-control country girl. There’d be no more kisses, no matter how much her senses continued to hum and her eyes kept straying to his lips.

  Tait stood and picked up the picnic basket, his jeans draped over his arm. His smile told her he knew very well how much her grazed thighs continued to smart.

  She sat on the log, reached for her boots and eyed off the dripping boardies and elastic-sided footwear that he now wore. ‘I wonder what Mrs Jessop would say about your own boot look?’

  ‘I’ve no doubt she’d tell me I don’t have the legs to wear boots with a dress.’ The smile in his eyes faded. ‘Paige, come to the ball. No one would really care if you wore your boots.’

  She pulled on her first scuffed boot and shook her head before he’d even finished talking. ‘Just not going to happen.’

  ‘Come with me to the ball.’

  She stopped tugging on her second boot. He looked deep into her eyes. She steadied the quivers in her nerve endings, finished putting on the boot and came to her feet.

  ‘Tait, it wouldn’t work. I’m not a one-roll-in-a-swag type of girl. I’ve responsibilities I just can’t abandon, even for a night. And you’re a self-confessed workaholic. Not to mention you’ll soon be out of here.’

  He curled a lock of her wet hair around his finger. ‘I know all of those things.’

  She turned her head, so her hair unravelled from his grasp. ‘You said Bronte wanted more than what you offered and here you are, the furthest place you could be away from her. Can’t you see I’m hard-wired to want more than what is on offer too? No matter how tempting a week of hot sex with a very pretty city boy might be.’ But her frivolity failed to lighten the darkness in his eyes.

  ‘I am who I am, Tait,’ she continued. ‘And you are who you are. We can’t let what happened happen again, just like I can’t go to the dance. End of story.’

  The watch on Tait’s wrist beeped, signalling it was three in the morning but he didn’t close the laptop before him. Now Paige had finally confirmed where she saw Banora Downs heading, he could put the business plan behind him and be free to focus on his personal reason for being in the outback. But as he scrolled through the paragraph he’d written he knew staying awake had nothing to do with work and everything to do with avoiding dreaming.

  As soon as he lay down, images of Paige in her bikini and wet singlet would haunt him. He lifted his arms above his head and leaned bac
k in his chair. Lace and long black boots hadn’t been his downfall. Just Paige walking into the billabong, so slowly he could see the water inch up her endless legs, a path his hands were desperate to travel.

  Then there was her kiss. The passionate, mind-blowing way her lips had fused with his. Never again would he be able to hold a woman without remembering how right it felt to have Paige moulded against him. Even now, after a shower, he could still smell the scent of apples, still feel the imprint of her hands on his skin.

  He stared at the computer screen until it blurred before him. It didn’t matter how much his testosterone cursed, he had to agree with Paige that there shouldn’t be a repeat kiss. But it wasn’t Paige wanting more than what was on offer, or his city life, stopping them being together. The dreams that called to him at night like a fine-tuned supercar didn’t feature concrete skyscrapers or designer ties. It was the truth that stood like an insurmountable wall between them. He lowered his arms, rubbed at the back of his stiff neck and closed the laptop lid. A truth that said everything Paige believed about him was a lie.

  Chapter Twelve

  A fading flag of red dust along the driveway drew Paige back to the homestead earlier than she’d planned. Banora Downs must have a visitor and as much as she hated to admit it, she could do with some company.

  Apart from Tait helping her feed the cattle this morning, she’d barely seen him in a day and a half. It was as though after their kiss they’d reached a mutual decision to stay out of each other’s way. When she had bumped into him in the hallway, he’d smiled but didn’t stop to chat. Then while feeding the cows he’d been a poster-boy for efficiency and for making mundane small talk.

  Paige climbed the back kitchen steps, took off her Akubra and slapped it against her leg to remove the dust that had collected while she’d drenched the cattle. Even in the big dry it was important to keep what was left of their breeding herd healthy because it would be on the backs of their scrawny hides that one day Banora Downs would recover. She swiped a hand over her aching forehead. One day. An eternity away.

  She pushed open the kitchen screen door and stepped into another world filled with cool air and laughter and where the careworn lines on her father’s face seemed to have lessened.

  She focused on the woman seated in front of her father at the table and not on how gorgeous Tait looked as he smiled at her from over the top of his newspaper. ‘Hi, Anne,’ she said, ‘this is a lovely surprise.’

  The librarian stood and they exchanged hugs. ‘I know, but I had the day off and thought Bella might like to have a run with Dusty.’

  ‘So that’s why he didn’t come to greet me when I drove in.’ Barking erupted from outside the kitchen window. ‘And here I was thinking he was getting soft in his old age and preferred the shade to a pat.’

  Anne laughed. ‘I don’t think Dusty’s quite ready to lie around yet. Even if he was, I doubt Bella would let him.’

  Paige followed Anne to the window where Bella raced beside Dusty nipping his neck as if to say ‘chase me’. Paige shook her head. ‘Where do they get their energy from?’

  Tait came to her side and handed her a tall glass of iced water. ‘Why don’t you take a break? Anne has some things for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She accepted the water with a slight frown. ‘But you don’t need to wait on me.’ She took a long drink then placed the almost empty glass on the bench behind her. She glanced back at Tait. ‘Things?’

  ‘Yes, they’re in the drawing room.’

  ‘Okay.’ She considered the red fingerprints she’d left on the sides of the glass. ‘I’ll wash my hands and come and take a quick look. I’ve got five minutes.’

  As she moved to the sink, she could have sworn her father and Anne exchanged a meaningful look. But as she half-turned to check, Anne had her back to her and was following Tait out of the room. Spider-senses tingling, Paige dried her hands on a tea-towel.

  Connor nodded toward the door. ‘After you.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, not moving.

  ‘Anne has bought you some of her old dresses for the ball,’ he said a little guiltily.

  ‘I’m not going to the ball. It’s an early night I need, not a night out dancing.’

  ‘I know that, and you know that, but Anne went to so much trouble to bring you the clothes, why don’t you go and take a look?’

  Tait appeared in the doorway. ‘Coming into the drawing room?’

  Her father spoke first. ‘Yes, we’re on our way.’

  Tait might appear relaxed but his wide-legged stance communicated he was combat-ready. And the only person his eyes were fixed on was her.

  Game on. Head high, she marched past him and down the hallway. She entered the drawing room and heard the rustle of lush, expensive fabrics as Anne pulled dresses out of a box. A second box rested at her feet.

  Arms full, Anne’s sheepish gaze met hers. ‘I must confess to having had a slight obsession with evening dresses when I was younger.’

  Paige couldn’t stop her eyes from widening. She hadn’t ever seen Anne wear anything but muted browns, greys and her trademark black and white. Even when she’d attended the Damn-the-Drought Ball last year she’d worn a plain black dress. She reached out to catch a pink gown as it slipped from Anne’s grasp. The cool silk draped her fingers like a caress.

  ‘They’re all so beautiful, Anne, and such lovely colours, but I couldn’t possibly wear any of them.’ Paige shifted on her feet. ‘You know I’m not good with dresses. I’d either stick a heel through the hem or rip the skirt on a fence.’

  ‘Perhaps that might have something to do with you climbing over fences and feeding the chooks when you’re wearing them,’ Anne said with a smile.

  Paige noted the swing tags still attached to many of the dresses, including the pink one in her arms. Anne had bought all these special dresses but after her young husband had died Paige guessed Anne had never had the heart to wear them. Paige couldn’t now trash what had once been part of Anne’s dreams.

  ‘Thank you but I can’t accept these,’ Paige said, her voice firm.

  ‘Nonsense.’ Anne deposited the dresses onto the chaise longue beside her. ‘They’re just sitting in my spare room cupboard gathering dust.’ She opened the second box and pulled out shoes and a large jewellery box. She sorted the shoes into two neat rows, her fingers lingering on the satin strap of a red pair of heeled sandals. ‘Dresses weren’t the only things I liked collecting.’

  Paige draped the dress she was holding over a nearby winged chair. The gilded oval mirror above the white marble fireplace reflected the silk’s vivid colour. Whichever way she looked or turned, all she could see was a seductive rainbow of colour and textures.

  Anne opened the jewellery box. Vintage silver, gold, pearls and rhinestones all winked up at Paige. She ignored the sudden yearning to lift a string of crystals to the window and watch the light reflect their sparkling brilliance. She didn’t want to cause Anne any more hurt but she simply couldn’t accept what she offered. Paige slowly closed the jewellery box and looked around for moral support. But the two people who’d been so keen for everyone to move into the drawing room hadn’t joined them there.

  ‘I really appreciate you bringing all of these things out for me, Anne. I really do. But I can’t go on Friday.’

  Anne took her hands in hers. ‘Remember I asked if you needed to borrow a dress last ball and you said you were fine, maybe next year?’

  ‘I do, and you’re so kind to remember but …’ She stared at the formal dresses that called for her to try them on and feel their opulence against her skin. ‘Heaven help us if we’re still in drought, but can I have a raincheck until next ball?’

  ‘No.’ Tait’s denial sounded from the doorway. He moved aside to let Connor pass, then followed him, carrying another box.

  ‘Please, no more dresses, Anne. I already feel so bad saying no.’

  ‘It’s okay, there are no more dresses.’ The librarian smiled at her before moving
to Connor’s side.

  The box in Tait’s grasp appeared to wobble as he stopped before Paige. His blue gaze was flint-hard.

  ‘No,’ he repeated, ‘you can’t have a raincheck. You’re going to the ball to have some fun. The decision’s unanimous.’

  She tilted her chin. So that’s why Anne and her father had exchanged those looks. All three had conspired to have her attend the ball. She might be a lone voice, but she would stand her ground the longest.

  She shook her head. The very reason why she wasn’t going to the district’s biggest social event stood in front of her. She couldn’t keep misleading the community by pretending she and Tait were a couple and yet the truth couldn’t come out. No one must know Tait was at Banora Downs as a paying guest. Also, thanks to their kiss, there was now the very real danger she simply wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off him.

  She. Could. Not. Go. To. The. Ball.

  She blinked. This time she was sure the box in Tait’s hands moved.

  ‘Well, if you don’t go,’ he said, his voice deceptively lazy, ‘you’re not getting what’s in this box.’

  ‘What if I don’t want what’s in the box?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll want what’s in here. Trust me.’

  Connor sat intensely still as he watched the power struggle play out between his daughter and Tait. Tension spiked within his chest. Tait had called Anne to ask about ball dresses and discovered she had a wardrobe full that would fit Paige. When she’d volunteered to deliver them, he’d also asked her to bring out some cuttings from her garden, as well as collect various boxes and a crate from the nursery. Even though nothing had been said, Connor had seen the potted garden taking shape outside the kitchen’s back door. There mightn’t be life growing in the paddocks or the garden but when he looked through the screen door he could see the thriving herbs and flowers that were as pink as the dress that had draped from Paige’s hands.