“I’d say your work’s cut out for you.” Dillon tipped his hat. Then, before the sergeant could respond, he opened the door and strode out to the street.
Evening had come suddenly, as it so often did in outback Australia. The sky was still an artist’s palette of scarlet and gold, but in minutes the only light illuminating the streets would be man-made. Crows perched on power lines, cawing their goodbye to the day, and three pink and gray galahs circled overhead, flashes of color to rival the sunset.
With little to block the magnificent panorama, sunset was Coober Pedy’s consolation prize, the one time of day when even the most skeptical couldn’t believe God had forgotten this remote corner of the world.
Tonight Dillon hardly noticed the sky. He felt an odd restlessness that had nothing to do with fiery sunsets or even his conversation with the police sergeant. A lame attempt to blame it on Jake’s misfortune didn’t work, either. He was forced to admit that his restlessness had more to do with Jake’s daughter.
Kelsey Donovan, whose gut-twisting mixture of flash, innocence and temper were like the opal he’d given his life to. Kelsey Donovan who at this moment was probably sitting in her motel room, hungry and too proud to admit it.
Dillon never would have realized Kelsey’s predicament if he hadn’t happened in to the Miner’s Store. One short conversation with the clerk had educated him quickly. As the man had humorously repeated Kelsey’s joke about a limp being cheaper than boots, Dillon had recalled the expression on her face at the pub as she had counted out money for her meal and the chair she had broken. Mix one joke, one pained expression and one denial that she needed to bring lunch to the mine, and you ended up with one young woman who was trying desperately to hang on to what money she had until her father could see her.
One hungry young woman.
None of that was his concern. Dillon tipped the brim of his hat a little higher and started down the street. If Kelsey got too hungry, she would go back to the States, where she belonged. She would be spared whatever was brewing around the Rainbow Fire, spared facing a father who would probably hurt her again, spared the fever that seemed to infect every person who had ever mined for opal.
And Dillon himself would be spared the onslaught of desert-brown eyes and sunset hair.
He needed a woman, any woman. His growing fascination with Kelsey Donovan was nothing more than a man’s need for solace and sex. He muttered the two words as he strode down the street, knowing as he did that he no more believed them than he believed that Jake had thrown himself down an abandoned mine shaft.
He was in front of the motel before he realized where he had been heading. His ute was parked at the pub, where he had intended to grab a meal and a cold Foster’s, so why was he standing in the motel parking lot like a bloody drongo? And why, now that he realized where he was, wasn’t he moving off up to the hill?
Muttering expletives against men who made fools of themselves over opals and women, he started across the lot.
* * *
THERE WERE TWENTY-ONE piles of bills laid carefully in rows up and down Kelsey's bed. Some part of her had demanded visible proof that she could stay in Australia for three weeks. She had the proof in front of her now. She could stay in Australia if she either quit eating or quit sleeping in a bed. There was no way she could do both.
The news wasn't good, but then she had known that before she had methodically built twenty-one piles. Now it was indisputable and her choices clear. Either she limited her stay to two weeks, or she found cheaper accommodations.
The problem was that the only cheaper accommodation in' Coober Pedy was a cave cut into the side of a hill where tourists camped. She wasn't too proud to stay there, but she had no sleeping bag, no pillow, no mattress to cushion the hard rock floor. She had priced those items at the Miners' Store, and, as Dillon would have said, they were dear—a peculiar word for something that didn't seem dear at all but absolutely "un-dear" to her way of thinking. If she bought what she needed, paid the camping fee, paid for the use of the showers behind the cave and paid for all her meals, she would still be short the money she needed.
And there it was again. Self-pity. The ugly emotion that seemed to have sprung to life in the Australian sunshine.
Sweeping the piles into one neat stack, Kelsey deposited the bills back in her wallet. There were two empty places inside her that were fast merging into a boundless hole. One was the result of hunger, the other of discouragement. There was nothing to be done about the first, but the second might respond to some positive action.
She was still sitting on the bed racking her brain for one positive idea when someone began to pound on her door.
Kelsey realized there was no one she didn't want to see. Even Serge's presence would have taken her mind off her stomach and her problems. In a moment she had thrown the door open.
Dillon stood on the threshold, his arm still raised.
Kelsey hadn't expected Dillon. More, she hadn't expected this rush of excitement.
She hid it well. "Checking to see if I got scared and left?"
"Got smart and left," he corrected. "I knew better."
She didn't move out of the doorway. "What can I do for you then?"
The answers that burst into his mind were not repeatable. He cleared his throat. "I thought maybe you'd let me take you to dinner."
Kelsey's stomach rumbled in anticipation even as her brain made a different decision. "Thank you, but I don't think so."
Dillon had anticipated her refusal. He admired her pride as he worked his way around it. "Do you like Greek food? Italian?" He ignored the way her head bobbed from side to side. "Barbecue? Continental?"
"You're shattering my fantasies of the wild, wild west."
"We're quite a civilized lot."
"Too bad the man who pushed my father down the shaft didn't know that."
"Seafood?"
Kelsey shook her head again, sorry she hadn't gotten a rise out of him. He was impossible to put on the defensive. "Nothing."
"Then come with me while I eat. I want to talk to you about the accident."
She had been steeling herself to close the door. Instead she frowned and stepped a little closer to the threshold. "What about the accident?"
"I haven't been completely honest."
"Tell me now."
Dillon shook his head. "Over dinner. Where we can talk comfortably."
Kelsey tilted her chin a notch. "I've eaten."
He knew she was lying. He had heard exhibit A—a voracious rumble that rivaled a Northern Territory road train. "Then come watch me and have a drink. My shout."
She wasn't sure she could sit across a table from Dillon, nursing a drink while he ate. There was no guarantee she wouldn't snatch the food off his plate. Still, she owed it to her father to find out everything she could. "Where shall I meet you? I have to change."
"There's a little place up near the hotel that makes a pizza smothered with everything." He tried not to smile as he tormented her. "Anchovies, capsicum, pineapple, ham, pepperoni, mushrooms," he paused, then drew out the next word. "Prawns."
Kelsey schooled herself to nonchalance. "The name of this place?"
"Gero's Pizza Palace."
"I'll meet you there in a few minutes."
He nodded, retreating a few steps before he turned back to her. Kelsey was just closing the door. "Italian sausage," he added. "Did I forget to mention the Italian sausage?"
The door banged shut. Dillon whistled all the way to Gero's.
Kelsey didn't know why she had bothered with dressing up. Maybe it was because her wheat jeans were dirty and her blue jeans too disreputable. Maybe it was because even with air conditioning, the night was stultifyingly hot and not made for pants at all. Whatever the reason, she was fully conscious of the admiring stares that followed her as she walked down Hutchinson Street to meet Dillon. She found the restaurant with her nose before she located it with her eyes. One good sniff told her that he hadn't exaggerated about t
he quality of the pizza. The second sniff almost made her turn around.
Dillon was at the counter chatting with the dark-haired woman behind it when Kelsey opened the door. She listened to the tinkle of a cowbell and watched as he turned to investigate.
His eyes swept up her slender figure, resting seconds too long on the bare expanse of leg exposed by her short skirt, then continued up to her breasts covered by cotton jersey the color of goldenrod.
"Come meet Anna." Dillon turned back to the woman at the counter. His mouth was suddenly dry, and he took a large swallow of his beer to moisten it.
Kelsey joined him at the counter. "Hello, Anna. I'm Kelsey Donovan."
"I know who you are," Anna said, a grin distorting the well-cushioned contours of her face. "You're the girl who breaks chairs with her hand. Could you teach me to do that? I've got a chair or two I'd like to break."
"Over Gero's head?" Dillon asked.
Anna poked him playfully. "How did you know?"
"A lucky guess." Dillon turned to Kelsey. "What will you have?"
"A Coke."
Anna went to the refrigerator case behind the counter and pulled out a familiar-looking bottle, setting it in front of Kelsey. "The pizza, it'll be out in a minute." She touched Kelsey's arms before she could follow Dillon to a nearby table. "Dillon and you, you're friends?"
"I wouldn't say that exactly." Kelsey watched Anna nod anyway.
Anna lowered her voice. "I watch over him, you know, like a mama. There's no woman in his life. There should be." Her eyes narrowed as she assessed Kelsey. "Yes."
Kelsey had the sinking feeling that "yes" meant trouble. "Maybe you know my father. Jake Donovan?"
"Jake, he's your father?" Anna's eyes narrowed a fraction more. "No, you're nothing like him. You look like your mother?"
"I'm told I do." Kelsey didn't want this opportunity to pass without pumping Anna for a little information. "Dillon says that he and my father were very close."
"Mates."
Since she had never heard the word said with an Italian accent before, Kelsey had to smile. "Then they seemed like friends to you?"
"Come for dinner tomorrow. By yourself. I'll make you lasagna, and we'll talk. No one's lasagna is better or cheaper." Anna winked.
Kelsey's mouth watered. "I'll come."
Dillon watched the women's exchange from a table near the dust-streaked window. Or rather, he watched Kelsey's bare legs and the graceful way her skirt brushed her thighs as she shifted her weight. He had seen Melly in skirts shorter than Kelsey's— Melly of the long, thoroughbred legs and the flawlessly trim ankles. Kelsey's legs were slender, too, but their perfect curves had been enhanced by superb physical conditioning. They had the subtle strength of a dancer's legs, and he admired that strength almost as much as he admired the sweep of her calves.
There were other things to admire about Kelsey Donovan. Entirely too many, in fact.
Kelsey came to the table and slid her Coke to the spot farthest from Dillon before she took a seat. She hoped the pizza would arrive after he had finished telling her about Jake's accident. Then she could make a quick exit before the torture began. "So, what did you want to tell me?"
"No chatting first? No, 'well, how was your afternoon? Weather's awfully hot, wouldn't you say?'"
"I chat with my friends." Kelsey took a sip of her soda and relished the jolt of sugar and caffeine on her empty stomach. "By no stretch of the imagination are we friends, Dillon."
"No worries. We can fix that. Tell me about your afternoon."
Kelsey tried to stifle her frustration. Dillon would reveal his thoughts when he was ready and not a bite of pizza before. "There's nothing to tell." She waited, but he just smiled. She took another sip, then another. "Oh, all right," she said, wishing she could wipe away his smile and the one shallow dimple that accented a freshly shaved cheek. "How was the rest of your day?"
"Just fine."
"Now will you tell me what you dragged me here to tell me?"
That entirely masculine dimple deepened. "Dragged you here?"
Her angry retort was smothered by the spicy aroma of pizza just out of the oven. Anna set it on the table between them. "I'll be back with your plates. You might need a bigger table." She winked and left.
Kelsey had never seen a pizza like the one that was inches from sliding into her lap. It was gigantic, and there wasn't a spot on it that wasn't loaded with toppings. "I told you I wasn't eating," she said, trying not to inhale as she talked.
"Too right. I'll just take the leftovers home for tomorrow's dinner." He waited until Anna had set plates and forks in front of each of them before he spoke. "Sure you won't have a slice?"
Kelsey could cheerfully have strangled him. "I couldn't eat one bite." And she couldn't. One bite would lead to another, and another, and. . .
"Then you don't mind if I dig in?"
"Mind? Why should I mind?" She finished half her drink in one gulp.
Dillon shook her head. "There's just one thing wrong with this pizza."
Kelsey couldn't imagine what it could be. The pizza looked perfect to her.
"I forgot to tell Anna to leave off the prawns. I can't say they're my favorite." He pried a large prawn from under the mozzarella and Parmesan layering the surface. Dangling it in front of Kelsey, he wrinkled his brow. "You wouldn't mind if I put them on your plate, would you? No other place I can see."
"Help yourself." Kelsey watched as the succulent-looking prawn was joined on her plate by six equally as succulent specimens.
"Shame I don't like them." Dillon shook his head regretfully. "Shame I don't like mushrooms, either." He heaped the offending mushrooms on top of the prawns. "I shouldn't think you've ever had a pizza with pineapple on it, have you? Never can find one when I'm in the States. Yanks don't know what they're missing." He speared a pineapple chunk and held it to her lips. "Can't have you going home without trying this."
Obediently, Kelsey opened her mouth like a baby bird and let Dillon feed her the pineapple. She chewed slowly, savoring every bite. "Dillon, what were you going to tell me about my father's accident?"
With infinite patience, he coaxed a slice of pizza off the pan, lifting it high so that the mozzarella stretched into finely spun strands. "A beautiful sight, isn't it?" With a sigh, he took his first bite. "No one makes pizza like Anna. I've been to Italy, and it's no better there. Different, but not better. But then, Australian pizza's the best in the world."
She opened her mouth to disagree only to find Dillon's fork at her lips again.
"Try this sausage and tell me what you think. Anna'll want to know your opinion. She told me she's purchasing this from a new supplier."
The sausage was in Kelsey's mouth before she could refuse. As she chewed she watched with annoyance as Dillon took the remaining slices of sausage off the pizza and transferred it to the growing mound on her plate, shaking his head.
"About Jake's accident," he said while she was still chewing.
Kelsey swallowed the sausage along with her protest. "It's about time."
"I haven't been all-up straight with you."
"Is this where you tell me you really did try to kill my father?"
"You wouldn't be saying that so often if you really believed it was true. You'd like to believe it, because it's an easy answer. If I didn't do it, there are no other leads as to who might have." Dillon wiped his mouth and reached for another slice. "No other leads you know of, anyway."
Kelsey wondered if he were right. Dillon was a convenient target for her frustration. But did she really believe he was capable of trying to murder Jake? Everything she had been taught about real character denied it. "What do you mean, no leads I know of?"
"I've a theory I haven't told anyone else." Dillon watched with satisfaction as Kelsey fingered a slice of sausage. She was so absorbed in their conversation that she didn't even realize what she was doing. He forced himself not to smile when she popped it into her mouth.
"What's your theor
y?" Kelsey reached for another slice of sausage and came up with a prawn instead. She chewed it with reverence.
"You've got to promise me that this stays between us," Dillon warned as another prawn followed the path of the first down Kelsey's throat.
"I promise."
Between his own bites of pizza, he watched her start on the mushrooms. "There's no easy way of telling you this, so I'm going to be blunt. Your father is a bit of a boozer and storyteller."
She waved aside his apology with her third prawn. "I've figured that out. I didn't expect a saint. A saint would have dropped me an occasional postcard."
"Jake's a good man in his own way." Dillon momentarily wished that Jake's own way had included his daughter. "But when he drinks, the yarns get bigger."
"And more outrageous?"
He nodded. There was something colorful and almost admirable about a flamboyant storyteller. There was nothing admirable about the other term for the same thing. Liar. He would spare Kelsey that much. He had a feeling it was one of the few times anyone had spared her anything.
"This isn't the best place for a storyteller," he went on. "Especially if the story revolves around opal."
As she finished the prawns Kelsey tried to understand. "In other words, you think my father might have told someone he'd found opal when he hadn't?"
He admired her perception. "It's not that he hadn't found opal. It's that what he found wasn't the beginning of something bigger and better. I heard him shooting off his mouth a time or two, and we fought about it. He'd had too much to drink at the time, and we fought about that, too. If Jake exaggerated and told someone that he had made a big hit, then it's not hard to believe this bloke might have wanted him dead so he could help himself to the Rainbow Fire's opal."
"Why? You're alive. Wouldn't they know that you'd continue mining?"
"Right-o. They would." He watched her finish the last of the mushrooms. The sausage was long gone. He lifted a slice of pizza onto her plate and let his next words still her protest. "But, you see, I think someone's tried to kill me, too."
Chapter 7
Rainbow Fire Page 9
