Beneath Outback Skies

by Alissa Callen

  Chapter Sixteen

  She’d tackle a mallee bull over make-up any day.

  Paige frowned at her reflection and placed the mascara onto her dressing table. It’d taken half an hour to apply the bare essentials of make-up and another five minutes to coat her unco-operative lashes. Too afraid to now blink, she stared at the mirror.

  Was it really her? She turned sideways, her frown deepening. Used to seeing herself in big shirts and ripped jeans, she had no idea whether the strapless, high-waisted dress Tait had chosen suited her or not. All she knew was the bodice had better stay up because she didn’t own a strapless bra to wear underneath. She reached behind her to again pull up the zip. But no matter how much she wriggled or contorted she could only manage to tug the zip to the middle of her shoulder blades.

  Frustrated she raked her fingers through her freshly washed hair and risked blinking. She usually didn’t take so much time to get ready, let alone care what she looked like. It was just a ball. Tait was just a city guest. All the reasons for why she shouldn’t be going to the community event still applied. And if the way she’d lain awake around the campfire last night listening to the sound of Tait breathing in his swag was any indication, she’d even more of a reason not to go. In the battle between her hormones and common sense her hormones were winning hands down.

  She picked up her cosmetic case and ignored the bottle of ruby-pink nail polish. She wasn’t going there. The mascara had caused her enough grief. She dug around to find a lipstick, removed the lid and puckered her lips.

  A knock sounded on her bedroom door. Her hand slipped. Tait. Shit. Surely it wasn’t time to go?

  ‘Come in,’ she called, quickly rubbing away the crimson smudge she’d drawn on her chin.

  She swung around. And forgot to breathe. Dressed in a black suit, Tait stood at the doorway. All she could do was stare. In his dusty work gear he was mouth-watering, but dressed in a killer suit he was every teenage girl’s dream.

  She smoothed her palms down the satin of her dress. Just as well her teenage days were long behind her and she had more than the word ‘hot’ in her vocabulary – unlike Angelica’s giggling friends.

  ‘You look …’ she paused, ‘nice.’

  His grin flashed as white as the shirt beneath his dark jacket. ‘Thanks. I don’t travel anywhere without a suit but,’ he crossed the room and adjusted his blue and gold tie, ‘it does feel weird wearing a tie again.’

  He halted in front of her and gave her a once-over. A muscle worked in his suddenly tight jaw.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ She touched her chin. ‘Have I still got lipstick over me?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

  ‘Then why are you frowning?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Yes you are.’

  He nodded toward her loose, half-zippered dress that skimmed the tops of her breasts. She slammed a hand to the bodice. From where Tait stood he’d see clear down to her belly button. Warmth singed her skin.

  ‘More zipper problems?’ he asked, a raw note in his voice.

  ‘Just two short arms.’

  Tait set the pair of sandals she’d only just noticed he was carrying onto her bed and his fingers grazed her bare shoulders as he spun her around.

  ‘Just as well I’m a dress expert.’

  She dug her teeth into her lip to stop herself from trembling. One brief touch of Tait’s hands and her core temperature had shot three degrees higher.

  He gently gathered her long hair into a ponytail that he then draped over her shoulder in order to see the zip.

  ‘Breathe in,’ he said, as he tugged the zip closed.

  She turned to face him.

  He nodded. ‘Much better. No cleavage.’

  His fingers brushed her chest as he tested the top of her now-tight dress to make sure it would stay in place.

  ‘Not that I’m complaining,’ she said in an attempt to distract herself from the way his fingers lingered on her skin, ‘but I’ll be the only female under fifty with no cleavage.’

  ‘That’s fine by me.’ His hand skimmed her collarbone, traced the line of her neck before cupping her jaw. She couldn’t contain a shiver.

  ‘I’m all for your cleavage showing.’ The corner of his mouth kicked into a grin. ‘But for my eyes only.’

  Paige opened her mouth to say she could show her cleavage to whoever she wanted, thank you very much, but the caress of his thumb across her jaw bone and the look in his eyes held her silent. His hand left her jaw and threaded through her long curls. He let the dark strands slip through his fingers. ‘What are you doing with this?’

  She shrugged, knowing she should move away. But, like a magnet adhered to metal, it was as though a force anchored her to Tait. ‘I’ve no idea. You know I’m not a girly girl.’

  ‘Well for a non-girly girl, you do scrub up all right. But we need to do something with that hair.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yes, we.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me, not only are you an expert on wardrobe disasters, you also know your way around a hairdressing salon.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say I should be let loose with scissors, but I didn’t sit through all of Angelica’s dance eisteddfods for nothing.’

  He rifled through Paige’s open dressing table drawer. ‘Have you got anything in here besides …’ he pulled out a pair of small purple pliers, ‘tools.’

  She took hold of the pliers. ‘Hey, I’ve been looking for those.’

  Tait continued searching through her drawer. ‘Anything at all hair-related?’

  ‘I do have bands but it’s probably bobby pins you’re after.’ She limped forward and opened a second drawer. ‘Here.’ She pulled out a small plastic container filled with hair pins. ‘Who says I’m not a girly girl?’

  ‘I’m not saying a word.’ Tait took the pins out of her hands. ‘Brush?’

  ‘That might be pushing it.’

  ‘Come on, you have a brush, I know you do. The second time we went to town your hair had been brushed.’

  ‘Yeah, with my fingers.’

  He shook his head, rummaged in the second drawer and pulled out a wide-toothed comb. ‘Close enough. No complaints if I find any dreadlocks.’

  ‘Never!’ But her word ended in a wince and then another as Tait found a huge tangle in her hair.

  ‘Stop moving.’ Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the smile in his voice.

  ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Liar.’ She winced again and folded her arms.

  ‘All done.’

  She closed her eyes as his fingers glided over her scalp to collect her hair into a loose knot on top of her head.

  ‘You will need to open your eyes to see what I’m doing,’ he said into her left ear, his warm, mint-scented breath feathering over her cheek.

  Her eyes snapped open and she realised the mirror would have revealed every wince and every micro expression of bliss. Heat flooded her cheeks.

  She frowned her best frown. ‘Whatever that is, that looks fine.’

  ‘Okay.’ He released her hair and it danced around her shoulders. ‘Stay still then,’ he said, brushing her hair to the side.

  But the more she tried, the more she fidgeted. Tait was too close and her self-preservation too fragile.

  ‘Stop moving. You’re worse than a text-deprived teenager.’ He passed her a handful of bobby pins. ‘Hold these.’

  She took the pins and forced herself to focus. ‘I really do think we need some ground rules for tonight.’

  ‘Why?’ He slid a pin into the middle of her hair.

  ‘I’d feel more comfortable, that’s all. As the district’s newest couple, everyone will be checking us out.’

  ‘Fair enough. If rules will help you relax, fire away.’ He slid another pin a little higher into her hair.

  ‘First rule, no touching.’

  ‘What like this?’ he
asked as his hand slid around her butt and squeezed.

  She elbowed him hard. ‘Hands off, city boy, or I’ll aim lower next time.’

  ‘Come on,’ he said with a groan, ‘we’re supposed to be a couple. If we really were, I wouldn’t keep my hands off you.’

  ‘No touching.’

  ‘Not even something like this?’

  Before she knew what he was doing, he dipped his dark head, nuzzled her neck and kissed the sensitive curve below her ear. Her senses swooned. As he tasted her skin again, her head tipped back. A glimpse of their reflection silenced the sigh gathering in her throat. The woman she saw with parted lips and longing in her eyes couldn’t be her. She wasn’t supposed to be falling for Tait and opening herself up to more heartache.

  She pulled away.

  ‘Paige?’ His voice rasped in the silence.

  ‘Please, no more games, not tonight,’ she whispered. ‘This is the community I live in, these are my friends we’re deceiving, don’t make it any harder than it already is.’

  ‘Okay, rule number one, no touching.’ He took a pin from her hand as though they were discussing nothing but cattle prices. ‘Next rule?’

  ‘Avoid Mrs Jessop. She has a memory like a hard drive and a curiosity that would rob a cat of its nine lives.’

  ‘Noted.’

  ‘And final rule, enjoy yourself. Just because I can’t dance doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun.’

  ‘Noted again.’

  She risked a glance at his expression in the mirror. Apart from the tightness of his mouth, he appeared the picture of relaxation as he twisted her hair and then secured the twist with more pins.

  ‘We’re done,’ he said. ‘I’m sure my French twist isn’t up to Angelica’s ballet teacher’s standards, but if I must say so it isn’t half bad.’

  He stepped forward, tucked a loose strand behind her ear and then stepped away again to look at her feet.

  ‘Now for the moment of truth, show me your shoes.’

  ‘My shoes?’

  ‘Yes, I know you have a broken foot but there’d better not be any boots under there.’

  ‘It’s either boots or thongs. You know they’re the only things I can get on my foot. Besides,’ she glanced at his feet and the new pair of dress boots he’d bought, ‘what’s the problem? You’re wearing boots.’

  ‘You heard Mrs Jessop. No boots with dresses.’

  His large hands encircled her waist before he picked her up and settled her onto her bed. Her pulse leapt as her fingers gripped his broad shoulders. From the wicked gleam in his eyes she was certain he’d press her back into the bed and kiss her. But then his hands left her waist and cooler air replaced the heat of his touch. She smothered her disappointment and released his shoulders. She was the one who’d insisted on ground rules. She couldn’t be the one to break them.

  Tait lifted the hem of her dress. ‘Well, well, what do we have here?’

  ‘I’m not saying a word.’

  ‘Luckily Anne was on the job. She found these on the internet.’ He slid the black sandals closer to Paige. With a low, wedged heel and with straps that would criss-cross in the middle of her foot they would leave her broken toe uncovered.

  Tait took hold of Paige’s good foot and slipped off her boot. He then very carefully removed the old boot he’d cut the toe out from. He read the black lettering running down the side of her long, hot-pink socks. ‘VIP. Very Important Princess.’

  ‘You bet. Needless to say these are my favourite socks.’

  Brows raised, he peeled off the socks and tossed them onto the floor with her discarded boots.

  ‘Right then, Cinderella,’ he collected a sandal, ‘let’s try these on for size.’

  ‘I can put them …’

  All protests died as he slid the shoe onto her uninjured foot. Her fingers dug themselves into the bed quilt to stop her toes from curling. Was there any part of her not immune to Tait’s touch? Forget about ground rules. What she needed was a bloody cold shower.

  Tait’s hand hovered in the small of Paige’s back in case she stumbled on the two steps leading to the Balgarry local hall. When she reached the doorway, she gave him a smile of thanks before she stepped into the noise of the ball. Faces lit up with welcome while appreciative male glances looked her up and down, but oblivious to all the attention she glanced over her shoulder to check he was behind her. As usual, when her eyes held his, he had trouble thinking straight. Paige Quinn wasn’t merely beautiful, she was unforgettable, and with every day that passed it was becoming harder to keep from spilling who he was. He didn’t want there to be any more secrets between them. He gritted his teeth. Paige should have added not looking at him to her damn ground rules.

  ‘You go,’ he said, ‘I’ll wait for Anne and Connor.’

  Paige picked up her skirt as if to turn and head down the steps, when Sarah from the Glenalla grocery store enveloped her in a hug. Paige wouldn’t be coming out of the hall any time soon.

  Hands deep in his pockets, he moved away from the pool of light spilling from the doorway and the sound of laughter. His eyes probed the shadows to see where Anne and Connor were. To the right of a line of utes and four-wheel drives, he saw them. Anne, looking years younger in a vibrant blue dress and with her long, grey hair loose, grasped Connor’s arm as they walked from the Jaguar. Leaning heavily on his cane, Connor had left his wheelchair folded in the boot of the car. Tait had parked as close as possible to the hall’s entrance after Connor had refused to allow him to drop him off at the doorway. Even though Connor’s slow gait spoke of his pain, the frequency of his smile towards the woman beside him told Tait that Connor was doing just fine.

  Tait filled his lungs with the warm outback air and looked up at the darkening sky. Victory was within reach. In the corrugated tin hall beside him, someone held the key to him fulfilling his mother’s final wish. The whole Glenalla district was gathered and someone would know who owned the Three-M Pastoral Company. Purpose filled him. He had a ball to attend, a property to buy and the past to put behind him.

  Two beers in hand, Tait cast an eye over the pink-and-white floral table arrangements he’d had Cheryl ship from Sydney. The flowers sat beside small glass jars, in which tea lights flickered. On the far side of the white-covered trestle tables a bar had been set up, and on the other side a sound system was only just visible through the packed dance floor. Above the bar a large Digotech banner had been strung. He’d been happy to pay for the catering without advertising until Mrs Jessop insisted that the ball committee keep their end of the sponsorship bargain.

  He nodded to a group of farmers he’d met at the get-together and raised his beer in a toast toward Mrs Jessop’s daughter Laura. She toasted him in return and from the radiance of her smile he suspected there was more of her favourite Bundy rum than Coke in her plastic cup. He made his way around the edge of the dance floor, sidestepping a tuxedo-wearing youth who was busting some impressive dance moves.

  With a sigh, he sank into the spare seat beside Paige and passed her a beer.

  ‘The things I do for a drink. It’s dangerous out there.’

  Paige smiled. ‘The fellow who almost knocked your beers flying is Jake Lewisham. Until you arrived, he was the district’s pin-up boy.’

  ‘And now I am?’

  ‘You sure are. Two o’clock to your right. That group of teenagers haven’t taken their eyes off you since you walked in the door.’

  ‘Well, three o’clock to your left, here comes Mrs Jessop.’ He took a quick swallow of beer before standing.

  ‘Oh, young man,’ Mrs Jessop enthused as she planted a loud kiss on his cheek. ‘You are so to be congratulated. The menu is divine. And as for the oysters …’ She leaned forward as if she were going to kiss him again but instead squeezed his arm. She looked sideways at Paige. ‘Paige Quinn, don’t you dare let this one go.’

  Releasing Tait’s arm, she covered her mouth with her hand and said, ‘I might need the name of your internet dating site fo
r Laura.’

  Then with a royal wave she headed to the next group of chairs, where Connor and Anne were seated.

  Tait sat as the heavy scent of Mrs Jessop’s perfume faded. Paige leaned over and wiped the lipstick imprint of Mrs Jessop’s kiss from his cheek.

  ‘I thought ground rule one was no touching?’ he said.

  ‘It is.’ She leaned back in her seat, eyes serious. ‘Oysters? You ordered oysters?’

  ‘Yes, I wanted to give everyone a night to remember.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you, but you’re allergic to seafood.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’ve been to other functions where there’ve been oysters and prawns. Besides I’ve two EpiPens in the Jag’s glove box.’ He smiled to lighten the tension in her wide eyes.

  ‘That’s right, I have your permission to jab you with a sharp object if I need to.’ A smile curved her lips. ‘So where am I supposed to stick this very pointy needle?’

  He placed her hand on his thigh and then covered it with his own. ‘Right there. And hold for ten seconds.’

  Mischief shone in her eyes. ‘Right here?’

  He nodded.

  She dug her nails into his thigh like she’d done at the get-together.

  He pried her hand from his leg with a grimace. ‘You know that didn’t hurt quite as much when I wore jeans.’

  Her smile was unrepentant. ‘Wuss.’

  He took a swig of beer, conscious that she continued to stare at him.

  ‘You know,’ she said, words soft, ‘I never thanked you for getting Grandpa’s Jag up and running for the ball.’

  ‘No worries. Your father and I replaced the water pump and it now runs like a dream.’

  ‘Hello, Paige,’ an elderly woman’s voice spoke to their left. Tait glanced up and looked into a pair of shrewd grey eyes. His grip on his beer bottle firmed. Trouble.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Jones,’ Paige smiled. ‘Mrs Jones, this is Tait. Tait, this is Mrs Jones.’

  He got to his feet and shook the small hand the woman offered.