The plush offices she’d be skipping into in a week and her team’s state-of-the-art labs were nothing like the chaotic waiting rooms, crowded concrete corridors, and war zone-like operating rooms she’d endured for the past three years. She sure as hell wouldn’t miss crawling through stranger’s bodies searching for shrapnel or staring into the terrified eyes of drug-addicted children while battling to save their lives. Yet there’d been something fulfilling and almost spiritual in treating the relatively simple day-to-day injuries and illnesses of the eight-hundred-odd townsfolk who’d become friends. Outback doctoring was as unique as everything else out here, yet it would never sate the hunger growling inside her to change the world. But just like everything else about this magical vacation, she’d never forget her time as Baroona’s Doc.
Abi stiffened in her saddle and stopped dead in her tracks. “Don’t make any rash decisions.”
Rash decisions? Olivia had no idea what had caused the concern on her sister’s face.
Abi didn’t give her a chance to catch up before jabbing a finger at her. “Don’t make lifetime decisions with temporary emotions.”
Lifetime decisions? Temporary emotions? If she hadn’t been so confused she’d have reminded her big sister that she and Ryder were the queen and king of making lifetime decisions with temporary emotions.
Abi grabbed her arm. “I’ll love and support you no matter what you want to do with your life. But you’ve worked too damned hard and sacrificed too damned much.”
What she wanted to do? She was getting on a plane and starting the job of her dreams. Sure, there were going to be a few tears shed and gallons of ice cream consumed on the trip home, but she was doing what she wanted to do. What she’d always wanted to do.
Abi clawed her fingers into Olivia’s sleeve and almost yanked her off Delores. “What you want. Not what the town wants. Not what the Harpers want. Not what Ryder and I want. And not what Jarrah wants.” Abi cursed and shook her. “What. You. Want.”
Olivia reared back and sucked in a breath to ask Abi what the hell was going on when she finally noticed what had driven her big sister insane.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Vanquish’s V12 grumbled as Jarrah and Olivia crawled along the highway between his two worlds. Despite the 560 horsepower lurking beneath his right foot, he couldn’t bring himself to set his toy free. With every kilometer drifting by, the cabin grew darker and colder despite the heat mirages shimmering on the horizon and the midmorning sun pouring through the Aston’s windshield.
He forced himself to ease his grip on Olivia’s thigh and focused on the dead-straight line of bitumen leading back to Brisbane. She’d been so withdrawn, so quiet, so…so un-Olivia-like he’d been amazed he hadn’t cut off her circulation in the hour they’d been on the road. The lifeless hand resting on top of his hadn’t so much as flinched as she silently watched the Outback floating past. Christ, they’d spent four weeks together, and this had been the longest they’d gone without speaking. But what the hell could he say? He felt as empty and lost as she looked.
“Does leaving always hurt this much?”
His heart stuttered at the sound of her voice. They were the first words she’d spoken since she’d wrenched herself out of Abi’s embrace and dived into the passenger seat in a blubbering mess. He would’ve loved to tell her it got easier the longer you spent away from your loved ones, that the friends you made away from home and the career you dedicated your life to would fill the void, but she’d learn the truth soon enough and he couldn’t lie to her. He forced a smile and shook his head as he guided the Aston around a rare bend in the road.
She chuckled and slapped the back of his hand. “You’re meant to tease me and tell me to harden the hell up.”
She angled herself in the seat and squeezed his hand while her desolate smile gouged an even-deeper crater in his chest. Christ, she knew him so well. Or was that just his heart trying to convince his brain that what they’d shared went deeper than a holiday fling that would soon become a long-distance acquaintanceship that’d eventually fade into courtesy birthday and Christmas emails? Unable to get his mouth to work, he shook his head and turned up the air conditioning.
“Why do you leave?”
He snapped around to find her resting her head against the seat and studying him while tracing gentle circles on the back of his hand. He had clients to serve, a practice to maintain, and a business to grow. He’d worked his arse off to get to a point where he could choose who he represented and what jobs he accepted. The last thing he should do was take his foot off the accelerator when he should be sucking it up and stomping the gas.
Yet with every slow circle of her finger, she erased each of his pathetic arguments until all he had left was the truth.
“No freaking idea.”
Once upon a time he’d known exactly what he’d wanted and how he’d get it. He’d wanted security for his family and the resources to buy not only what they’d needed but what they’d desired. He’d dreamed of giving his brothers and sisters the opportunities to do whatever they’d wanted without the burden of wondering about their mother’s well-being. And most of all, he’d wanted to prove to the world that an indigenous kid from the Outback could make it. Now there was only one reason he was going back, and that was to wage war with Carter fucking Industries.
He captured her hand and brought it to his lips before inhaling her scent. He’d been drifting aimlessly for years. He had fooled himself into thinking he cared about the success of his business and had used his client’s dreams as surrogates for his own. But he’d finally figured out what he wanted. The only problem was he had absolutely no fucking idea how he was going to get it without hurting the woman who’d stolen his heart.
…
The Aston’s voluptuous curves burned Olivia’s rump while she waited for Jarrah in front of the gas station they’d pulled into fifteen minutes ago. Yet she barely felt the scorching sheet metal amid the joy and grief warring for control of her emotions. Eight hours and five hundred miles had passed since she’d exchanged last insults and way too many damned tears with the horde of people who’d trekked out to Wingarra to say good-bye. And she missed them already.
She’d prepared for the Harpers and a few of the mustering crew to hang around to make sure she and Jarrah actually left. She’d never expected the hundred or so Baroona locals who’d practically dragged her off Delores and passed her around like a Yankee stress ball. She and Jarrah had already said farewell to the town the previous night at a going-away party that must have come close to shaking the Grand Hotel to its foundations. That obviously hadn’t been enough for the strangers who’d become friends in just four short weeks. She smiled despite the ache in her chest. She had no idea what involvement, if any, her in-laws or Mayor Charmichael had in organizing their surprise bon voyage. But if Helen or the Harpers had wanted to leave a lasting impression on her and Jarrah they’d sure as hell left their mark.
Jarrah eyed her as he pressed the phone that hadn’t stopped pinging for the last two hours to his ear and prowled the shade cast by the gas station’s roof like a caged panther. She returned his fake smile with one of her own before he turned and stalked back toward the pumps. Her smile faded the instant she relaxed and the memories she’d tried so hard to ignore flooded back.
Despite her best efforts to cling to a few shreds of dignity, she’d melted into a pathetic puddle of snot and tears in front of her new friends and family. And judging by the abuse hurled Jarrah’s way while she’d sniffed and hiccupped her final good-byes, her man hadn’t survived much better. By the time she’d been manhandled through the mosh pit and dumped in front of the Harpers, she’d been a mess. Saying good-bye to the family who’d all but adopted her had hurt more than she could’ve imagined. But it had been Naya’s final words as she’d broken free of her embrace that had torn open her heart.
You’re part of this family now, and you have a home here whenever you need it.
Olivia wh
ispered the words to herself as she slowly lowered the arms she hadn’t realized she’d been hugging herself with and slapped at the tears leaking down her cheeks. Sagging against the Vanquish’s passenger door, she watched Jarrah through blurry eyes as he alternated between slouching and standing to attention like he was riding an emotional roller coaster of his own. She had no idea who he’d been talking to while she’d gone to the bathroom to scrub some life back into her face. Judging by the tightness of his features and the hand shoved into his hair, she had no doubt it had to do with Carter Industries’ newest fuckery.
He’d brushed off her concerns with the same fake bravado he’d tried reassuring his family with. His mouth was as convincing as always and he promised that Manningham’s most recent bid for Wingarra was even dumber and more desperate than his last, but he couldn’t hide from her.
Every nervous glance he flicked her way shot another dose of guilt into her already overdosed system. While she’d drowned in an ocean of first-world self-pity, he’d been figuring out how to save his family’s home.
Prior to Charlie’s early-morning bombshell, the endless calls had never seemed to bother him. He’d wait for the rare moments he wasn’t working or being abused by his family before disappearing into a quiet corner to take care of business. She’d often followed him and simply watched in awe and shameless pride as he calmly did his thing. Judging by the tension stiffening his shoulders and the free hand slashing through the 110-degree air, something had gone very, very wrong.
She pried open the fingers that’d curled into fists and stared down at the hand that had spent most of the day entwined in his. Calloused yet soft, strong but gentle, calming and absolutely terrifying all at the same time, his hand was the perfect reflection of the man it belonged to, and, like her heart, her fingers felt cold without his touch. They’d driven all day, stopped for gas and food so many times she’d lost count, and whenever they’d been within range, their hands had unconsciously found each other and their fingers automatically locked.
It should’ve freaked her out. At the very least it should’ve felt weird. They were just friends with benefits who’d enjoyed one hell of a vacation fling. And yet the effortless way her hand nestled inside his somehow felt more intimate than the unforgettable nights they’d spent coiled around each other. She flexed her fingers and lowered her hand before turning around to watch the setting sun ignite the Brisbane skyline. One more night before she’d kiss him good-bye and end the fairy tale.
She felt him before she heard him, a weird cocktail of peace and fear that flowed through whenever he was near. Turning, she found the cocky player had vanished and been replaced by a worried man who looked like he was about to ask out his crush. While she struggled to correlate the wide-eyed male chewing his bottom lip with the walking orgasm machine who’d overheated every part of her, he sighed and slowly extended his arms. While her own wide eyes toggled between his clenched fists and nervous face, he turned his hands over and slowly opened his fingers.
Two of the peanut M&Ms she’d bought at their last gas stop in a desperate attempt to cheer them both up sat in his palms, one blue, the other red. Her first instinct was to grab both and shove them into her mouth because God knew she needed the sugar hit. Yet the stress dragging on his features froze her in place and had her mind racing to catch up.
An image formed in her head. A dark room, a red leather chair, a bald man in an ebony trench coat holding out two pills, one blue, the other red. With each thud of her heart, the vision sharpened until she saw herself reflected back in the mirrored lenses perched atop Morpheus’s nose. Only this wasn’t the Matrix, Jarrah wasn’t Laurence Fishburne, and she definitely wasn’t Neo.
“You eat the blue one, we spend one last night together before ending whatever we have going on and returning to our real lives.”
She lifted her gaze from the blue M&M resting in the center of his palm and lost herself in his eyes. “And the red one?”
The lines creasing his forehead eased and some of the tension drained from his shoulders. “You eat the red one, and we forget who we are, where we live, and what we do. We forget reality for a few more days and go walkabout.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
A hint of chocolate lingered in Olivia’s mouth as she gnawed her bottom lip and clawed her fingers into the Aston’s passenger seat. The Vanquish snarled at the traffic that appeared to stand still on the expressway and launched past the exit to the city before rocketing toward Brisbane airport. “W-where are we going?”
Jarrah released her hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek all while obliterating the speed limit. “Relax, we’re officially on walkabout.”
Relax? How the hell was she meant to relax? When she’d inhaled the red M&M, she’d assumed their walkabout would be a little more comfortable than roughing it out in the desert. She’d never dreamed air travel would be involved in their search for enlightenment. “I start work in six days.”
“I know.” He captured her hand and brought it to his lips.
She couldn’t figure out what scared her more: her own temporary insanity, his sudden channeling of Michael Schumacher, or the devious smile that hadn’t left his smug face from the instant he’d hurled that blue M&M away in his haste to bundle her into his toy.
“What about Carter Industries?”
His smile evaporated. “Fuck Carter Industries. Their time’s coming.”
“But I can’t afford to fly anywhere.”
The frustrated yet terrifyingly determined look he shot her had her scrambling to figure out just how much money was left on her card. Her meager credit had been her last line of defense against zombie apocalypse. Yet the reality of what she was willing to sacrifice for more time with him was far more life threatening. Not only had he transformed her into a crazy woman, he’d also turned her into a desperate junkie. Cursing herself and her traitorous heart, she sucked in a breath to tell him just what he could do with the grin returning to his face when the Vanquish’s onboard computer chimed and flashed up an incoming call from Charlie.
She hadn’t thought it was possible, but his cocky smile grew even cockier as he silenced her with a finger to her lips and answered the call.
“I take it the good doctor swallowed the red pill?” Charlie’s voice filled the cabin and somehow made the handcrafted walnut inlays and leather upholstery feel cheap.
He completely ignored Olivia’s scowl and patted her knee like she was something straight out of a fifties how to be a good little woman instructional film. “We’re heading to the airport now.”
“And Dr. Williams has agreed to your plan?”
His smile faltered for a split second. Olivia shot out her hand and slammed it over his mouth. “No, Dr. Williams has not. What the hell’s happening with Carter Industries?”
“Fuck Carter Industries. Their reckoning can wait a few more days.”
Jarrah’s smile widened beneath her palm as one smug eyebrow rose. She cursed and squeezed his mouth harder. “Where the hell’s he taking me?”
Charlie’s laughter flowed through the cabin like waves of sunshine. “I’m sorry, love. You have no idea how much this hurts to say, but the arrogant smart-ass sitting beside you is innocent. Plus, it’s been so long since he’s done anything this crazy he wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
Jarrah winked at her before exiting the expressway. The secret phone calls every gas stop, the nervous looks, the concern twisting his features. He may not be guilty, but he sure as hell wasn’t innocent.
“Exec Air Flight 645’s waiting. Domestic terminal, Gate 12. The hostess has your accommodation details.”
Exec Air? Hostess? Olivia’s hand fell from his mouth as Charlie’s words filtered through the chaos in her mind and the imaginary cash register inside her head exploded.
“Doc, I’ve canceled your original flight back to L.A. You’re now flying out on Saturday morning. That gives you the weekend to get over your jet lag and forget about your
lapse in judgment before starting that fancy new job of yours. Now, you kids have a good time, and remember, use protection.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I’m guessing walkabouts don’t normally kick off with private jets and end up on tropical islands in the middle of the Great Barrier Reef?”
Olivia’s voice was more rotgut moonshine than single-malt whiskey, but at least she was talking to him. The three hours since they’d left Brisbane had been as frustrating as they’d been unforgettable. No matter how much Jarrah enjoyed driving her crazy, he was running out of time. And time was the only thing he couldn’t escape on this island paradise. He slowly released the salty night air he’d just inhaled before turning to face his former holiday fling and future God-only-knew-what.
Olivia’s wet hair cascaded over her bare shoulders as she hitched up the towel tucked under her armpits and glared at him. It’d taken all his self-control not to strip off and join her in the outdoor shower adjoining their villa’s master suite as soon as their driver had disappeared. However, if the coral atoll Charlie booked for them hadn’t improved Olivia’s mood, the sight of him balls-out naked sporting a rabid hard-on would’ve probably gotten him killed. Turning his hips back toward the ocean to hide the bulge in his jeans, he clung to the driftwood railing encircling the villa’s deck to stop himself from charging her and swallowed the fist lodged in his throat. “How was the shower?”
She hit him with the same death stare she’d beaten him with whenever their hostess on the two-hour flight from Brisbane hadn’t been looking and crossed her arms over her chest. Either she had no idea what her posture did for her cleavage or she knew exactly what she was doing. Either way, he was powerless to prevent his jaw dropping and his eyeballs popping out of his head like a damned Looney Tunes character.
Her scowl softened ever so slightly as her glare raked down his body before she raised her fists into the air and cursed loud enough to scare the shit out of the resort staff on the other side of the island. With another whispered growl that sounded more like a groan, she dropped her chin to her chest and shook her head. “It was perfect.”
A Choice of Fate Page 21
