Tall, Dark & Distant

by Julie Fison

  For my wonderful husband John, a true romantic.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Sneak Preview! Head Over High Heels

  Copyright Page

  It was barely daybreak as Georgia King ran into the national park, and the track was already busy. She usually hated the way the coastal path turned into a highway over the Christmas holidays, but on this particular morning nothing could have annoyed her. It was her first day in Noosa – the start of the summer holidays. Even running into a group of extra-slow walkers wearing matching tracksuits and expensive perfume couldn’t spoil her mood.

  She slowed down at the lookout to put her hair up with a frangipani hair-tie from her wrist. It wasn’t exactly part of her standard running kit – Georgia had just grabbed it as she ran out of the apartment. It was her sister’s, but Alice wouldn’t need it while she was asleep. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

  Georgia ran down through the shady eucalypts, drawing in the view – the water impossibly blue, a string of surfers out beyond the breakers, waiting for the perfect wave. She was scanning the water for dolphins, like she’d done a million times before, when something even more gorgeous came into view. Or rather someone, wearing blue shorts and running towards her.

  She had passed at least twenty people running along the track that morning – some older, some younger, some slower, some faster. A woman with so much make-up that she’d need a bulldozer to remove it. A guy with such bad BO that Georgia had to divert into the bush to find some uncontaminated air. But there had been nothing unusual about those people. They’d just come along the path in a completely conventional fashion – one foot after the other. Breathing in. Breathing out. Somehow this guy in blue shorts (and not much else) was a different prospect altogether. It was like he was running towards her – as if they were the only two people in the universe at that moment. Georgia wanted to stop and stare. But she forced her legs onwards.

  She kept jogging as though everything was completely normal, dropping her eyes to the ground, willing herself to focus on the track. The distance between them grew smaller. Tension built between her shoulders. She felt like there were caterpillars doing a gymnastics routine in her belly. She seemed to be making no progress at all. It was like running in quicksand.

  Try as she might, Georgia just couldn’t keep her eyes on the path. The guy kept drawing her gaze towards him like a magnet. She tried not to stare at his sixpack working away. Instead, she imagined possible rescue plans in case anyone stumbled off the track into Granite Bay. Some people listened to music, but Georgia liked to dream up medical emergency scenarios while she ran. She thought it was a sign of her great potential as a doctor. But not even an emergency plan could distract her from his dark hair and smooth skin for long.

  Georgia snatched another look at his face – unmasked by sunglasses. He was definitely a newcomer to the Queensland sun.

  When he was just metres ahead, she could have taken a sudden interest in something way out to sea, like she normally did when a cute guy ran past. But this time she didn’t.

  Georgia looked straight into his green eyes and smiled. Not just a little up-curl-of-the-lips smile. A proper, teeth-flashing, you’re-gorgeous-and-that’s-why-I’m-smiling-at-you smile.

  Was it a surge of post-exam relief or the liberation of the holiday atmosphere that made her do it? Or was it just a touch of sunstroke? Who knew. All Georgia knew was that it happened, and she couldn’t have stopped it if she’d tried.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said with a smile that hinted at a set of perfect white teeth.

  There was a moment, as his well-rounded vowels made their way from his lips to her ears, when their eyes locked. In that split second, the words good morning seemed so much more than a greeting used before midday. They held endless possibilities – the beginning of a holiday romance, the start of a beautiful friendship, the dawn of a whole new era.

  Then, just as she needed to cement the fledgling relationship, her throat dried up.

  ‘Hello,’ Georgia croaked, in a voice as melodious as a dying cane toad. She fought for saliva to repeat herself. But it was too late. The vision in blue shorts pounded by, taking with him all the possibilities that had seemed so, well, possible only a second before.

  Georgia cursed herself. What was she doing grinning away at a complete stranger? Who did she think she was – a supermodel? A supermodel could smile at any guy she liked, but Hot Running Guy was right out of her league. In fact, she wasn’t even talking leagues here. It was more like parallel universes.

  Georgia was so focused on her failed exchange with Hot Running Guy that she didn’t notice her sister’s pink frangipani hair-tie working its way out of her ponytail. It didn’t even register until she felt her hair clinging to her shoulders.

  She stopped mid-stride and patted her head, feeling for the hair-tie. It was gone. It was only a hair-tie, but it was her sister’s. Alice was unforgiving. Georgia spun around, looking back along the path for the pink flower. Her heart skipped a beat. The frangipani wasn’t hard to spot. It was in the right hand of Hot Running Guy. He was a few metres away, running along the track with the special delivery.

  His parallel universe was about to collide with hers, and Georgia was powerless to stop it. She didn’t want to stop it, but she needed some time to prepare for the impact. Instead, she just watched him approach, her heart thumping in her chest. Her mind, normally full of useful information, went completely blank.

  The guy stopped in front of Georgia and held out the hair-tie, the flower dangling between his fingers. ‘You dropped this.’

  Georgia stretched out her hand. ‘Thank you,’ she tried to say.

  But she might have just said, ‘kyou’. She was choking on her nerves.

  Georgia stared at the synthetic flower, trying to make sense of it. Why had this guy chased her down the track to return a hair-tie? Was he just being thoughtful, or was there more to it? There was no clue in the frangipani, so she looked into his face for an explanation.

  He gave her a smile – a small smile that gave nothing away.

  Her eyes scanned his face, taking in his perfect skin. His green eyes – every bit as seductive as the sea on a hot day – pulled her in and locked her there. She could have sworn that the surf stopped crashing on the shore. For a moment the birds lost interest in their morning chorus. Everything that had seemed possible, then impossible, was suddenly possible again.

  Then the guy dropped his gaze. He turned his head and, without another word, took off down the track. Georgia’s dreams of summer romance took off after him.

  He cruised into the distance, leaving her standing on the track. A list of questions filled her head. How had he found her hair-tie when he was running in the opposite direction? Did he just happen to turn round at the right moment and spot the frangipani falling from her hair, or had he been watching her?

  He disappeared around a bend in the track. Georgia knew she wouldn’t get any answers here. There was nothing left to do but move on. She took a breath and headed off towards Hell’s Gates. The world around her came back into focus. But no matter where she looked, Georgia couldn’t shake the memory of those green eyes, and the caterpillars were doing cartwheels in her belly again.

  Geo
rgia’s family was getting ready for the beach when she got back to the apartment. She slipped the frangipani hair-tie onto the bedside table without her sister noticing. Alice was in front of the mirror, wearing a bikini and holding another in her hand. She had the expression of someone facing a serious dilemma. It seemed to be deciding which bikini to wear to the beach. She was wearing her new floral wedges, which obviously made her red-and-white bikini with silver buckles entirely inappropriate. According to Georgia’s sixteen-year-old sister, wearing stripes and florals together was a deadly sartorial sin. Alice's black bikini, on the other hand, went very well with the wedges but apparently made her ankles look fat.

  ‘You can borrow one of mine if you want,’ Georgia offered.

  ‘Um, no thanks,’ Alice said scornfully. ‘Your stuff is so lame I wouldn’t even donate it to a one-legged dog.’

  Georgia could have pointed out that a one-legged dog was unlikely to ever need a bikini, but she said nothing. It was a better way to deal with Alice’s insults than trying to get even. Alice’s flair for nastiness was well known, and the reason that even her friends called her Princess Malice (although only behind her back). Georgia used to let her sister get to her, but now she just tried to ignore her insults.

  ‘I need a new bikini!’ Alice groaned, throwing her red-and-white one at Georgia. She opened her suitcase and began searching through its contents like a potion for eternal beauty was hidden inside. A dress flew in the air. Then a pair of shorts hit the fan. A pink bra, then several pairs of knickers – each flung in a different direction. A white pair landed on the window handle, swinging in the breeze like a flag of surrender.

  ‘Does it really matter if your sandals don’t match your bikini?’ Georgia knew she was on very loose ground, but she was hoping for an end to the textile bombardment. She needed to get into their shared bedroom and change out of her sweaty running gear – she couldn’t move on from her moment with Hot Running Guy if she was still connected to it by a smelly T-shirt. ‘Won’t you take off your wedges when you get to the beach? Probably doesn’t matter if they match your bikini, does it?’

  There was a brief break in hostilities as Georgia’s point was considered. ‘As if you’d know,’ Alice mumbled. But apparently Georgia did.

  Alice fished her red-and-white bikini top from behind her bed, grabbed the bottom half and began changing. She picked up a cotton dress from the mess on the floor, slipped it over her head, and then began working on her hair.

  ‘Why do I have to have the thick ankles?’ Alice snarled in Georgia’s direction. Georgia ignored her sister and opened the wardrobe. She grabbed the first top on the rack and started to put it on when a sudden thought struck her. What if he was on the beach?

  Georgia had to be looking her best, just in case Hot Running Guy appeared. She had to make a good impression. But what was she going to wear? She reached for a blue T-shirt, but it had Love Angel written on it. Totally bizarre. Georgia flicked through her clothes. Black top – not very summery. Grey one – too drab.

  Green one – too green. Red one – definitely too red. Then another horrific thought crossed her mind. She was turning into her little sister! Obsessing over clothes was something Alice did, not Georgia.

  Georgia grabbed a bikini and the blue T-shirt and headed for the bathroom. ‘Love Angel coming through,’ she mumbled.

  Did it really matter what she wore to the beach? She’d just be taking it off when she arrived anyway.

  ‘Don’t wait for me,’ Georgia shouted, closing the bathroom door. ‘I’ll see you at the beach.’

  ‘We’ll be at Little Cove,’ her mum called back. ‘We’re meeting the Simms and the Monktons there. We’ll be easy to spot.’

  Georgia walked along the boardwalk to Little Cove a short time later, excited about the chance of seeing Hot Running Guy. She wanted to thank him properly for returning her sister’s hair-tie, saving Georgia from a long lecture on respecting other people’s possessions and probably several nasty pinches. But would she be able to manage more than a cane-toad croak if he strolled past her on the boardwalk? There was no guarantee.

  Georgia walked down the stairs to the beach feeling optimistic, a towel over her shoulder and a new copy of the medical bible Gray’s Anatomy under her arm. What greeted her, however, wasn’t a boy with dreamy eyes, but the catastrophe of kids, parents, balls, towels and noise that was her annual family holiday with their family friends, the Simms and the Monktons.

  The Simms made up much more than their fair share of the group. In fact, the four Simm brothers were almost a crowd in their own right. By the time they had joined forces with Georgia’s brother, various fathers, mothers and several other unidentified kids, their game of cricket took up most of the beach. Add to that Ella Simm, Mei Monkton and Georgia’s sister, and there was not much of the beach left at all. Her mother had been right – Georgia certainly couldn’t miss them. Her heart sank a little as she realised she wasn't going to see him. The hottest guy in Noosa would stay as far away from this group as possible.

  Ella was tossing her blonde mane about, engaged in what appeared to be a hilarious conversation with Mei.

  ‘Georgia!’ Ella shouted, a little louder than necessary. ‘What’s happening?’

  Georgia threw her towel on the sand beside her friends. She gave them a hug and a brief rundown on her end-of-year exams before the conversations turned to the inevitable.

  ‘I can’t believe you missed schoolies,’ Ella said.

  Georgia sighed. ‘I know, right. Pneumonia and a week in hospital – great timing!’

  It was painful to recall how Georgia had missed out on the week-long beachside party, when thousands of school leavers from all over the country descended upon coastal Queensland to celebrate the end of their schooling lives.

  ‘It was awesome,’ Mei said. ‘It was unbelievably awesome. It was awesomely unbelievable.’

  Georgia’s chest swelled with jealousy. ‘Don’t!’ she groaned, covering her ears.

  Ella winked. ‘It wasn’t that great. It’s just that Mei’s got a new boyfriend.’

  Mei showed off the wallpaper on her phone – a picture of a sweet-looking guy in a pink polo shirt flashing a slightly goofy grin.

  Ella stared at the picture for a few moments. ‘He’s a keeper.’

  For as long as Georgia could remember Ella had been an oracle on boyfriend matters. Ella opened her mouth to elaborate on her assessment, but her commentary was interrupted by a tennis ball smashing into the side of her head.

  Ella squealed like a puppy. ‘Who the hell …’ she began, looking around wildly. Her eyes settled on the cricket game. Her brother Dim swung his bat in a half-hearted apology, then waved more enthusiastically with his free hand at Mei and Georgia.

  They smiled back.

  ‘Douche bag.’ Ella rolled her eyes. ‘As if that was an accident.’ She picked up the tennis ball and hurled it into the water.

  Dim put up his arms as if to say, What was that for?

  ‘Dim by name, dim by nature,’ Ella said.

  ‘Aw, that’s a bit harsh,’ Mei said.

  Ella gave her a shove. Mei had always had a soft spot for Dim.

  ‘It’s not his fault he’s got a dumb nickname,’ Mei said.

  It wasn’t entirely true – Dim could definitely be dim. He completely lacked common sense and he was convinced that all the girls loved him, which made him look a bit stupid. But the name had been coined a few minutes after he was born. He arrived in this world looking like a yellow dumpling, and his dad couldn’t resist – he nicknamed him Dim Simm. Dim might have grown up since then, but the nickname had stuck.

  Ella smoothed her hair. ‘What were we talking about before my deranged brother hit me in the head …? Oh yes, schoolies.’

  Georgia let the conversation wash over her. She was still disappointed about being in hospital while everyone was having so much fun at schoolies. But that was only half the reason she missed most of the conversation. She was also distracted
, watching the beach for dark hair and green eyes.

  She peered at surfers. She studied swimmers. Every time a group of people descended the stairs to the beach, she craned her neck to see if Hot Running Guy was among them – hidden behind a surfboard or obscured by a sun shelter.

  ‘Don’t you think, Georgia?’ Ella asked as Georgia squinted to get a better look at a guy swimming across the bay. He was wearing a yellow cap. It was unlikely to be Hot Running Guy, but she wanted to make sure.

  ‘What do I think about what?’ Georgia asked. She’d completely lost track of the girls’ conversation.

  ‘Are you even listening?’ Mei asked. ‘You can’t stop fidgeting.

  What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m listening, I just missed the question,’ Georgia lied. ‘Hey, would you swim out to save someone if they were attacked by a shark?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Mei said.

  ‘It’d depend who it was,’ Ella replied.

  ‘How about a complete stranger?’ Georgia said. ‘Would you help a complete stranger?’

  Ella looked at Georgia with a confused expression. A stranger was well and truly off her rescue list.

  ‘People do it,’ Georgia said, shrugging. ‘Remember that woman last summer who just dived into the water when she saw a kid in trouble? Blood in the water and the shark still out there. It didn’t stop her. She saved him.’

  ‘So you’d rescue a stranger?’ Ella asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Georgia nodded, reddening slightly as she imagined Hot Running Guy in the jaw of a shark. ‘I think I would.’

  ‘This game is not normal, Georgia,’ Mei said. ‘It’s one thing to spontaneously dive into the sea in the heat of the moment. It’s another thing entirely to actively plan it, in case a random stranger needs your help.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Ella said slowly, narrowing her eyes at Georgia. ‘This isn’t some random stranger we’re talking about here – is it? This is some particular stranger who has his leg in the mouth of a bull shark and is screaming for help. And you’re planning to rescue him.’