by Valerie Parv
Except that she did.
As he had reminded her, this wasn’t a vacation. She drank the coffee and washed her plate and the cooking utensils in a bucket using the last of the hot water. Apart from not wanting to pollute the pristine waterways with detergent, there was the little matter of the crocodile. No way was she washing dishes at the riverbank ever again.
When she’d finished, Blake washed his breakfast things. “Ready to start on the shelter?” he asked. He seemed immune to her sudden coolness. Or didn’t care.
“First, I want to add to my video diary,” she said. Avoiding him wasn’t the issue.
He used the dishwashing water to douse the fire, making the rocks surrounding it sizzle and pop. “Video diary?”
“As well as writing notes for the magazine, I decided to record my impressions on tape for myself. There could be a documentary in this experience. I’d like to film your comments, as well.”
“No,” he said.
“Don’t tell me you’re camera shy?” Not with his film-star looks and powerhouse personality.
“I already told you no interviews.”
“How do you promote the crocodile park?”
“I manage. I don’t usually talk about myself.”
Given how much he’d done so to her, this came as a surprise. “You don’t have to talk about yourself. You can talk about surviving in the outback, what a klutz I am in the bush, anything you like.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You want me to go on record saying you’re a klutz?”
If it got him in front of her camera she could cope. “Whatever.”
“Somehow I doubt you’d appreciate such frankness,” he said dryly. “I’ll leave the on-camera stuff to you.”
“I have plenty of tape if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
No, he wouldn’t. He was a man of his word, she thought as she went into the tent to get her camera. Single-minded pretty well summed up Blake Stirton. Single-minded and determinedly single.
Now where had that thought come from? She was determinedly single herself. She and Blake were evenly matched in that regard.
The hot, airless atmosphere inside the tent made her catch her breath. The undisturbed camp stretcher reminded her that she was short one night’s sleep. Before she gave in to temptation and stretched out on the bed, she pulled her pack onto the stretcher and rummaged inside for the camera.
She pulled her hand back with a cry of alarm. Coiled in the pack was the largest snake she had ever seen.
Backing carefully away, she nearly screamed as she came up against Blake. “What’s the matter?”
Her voice had deserted her so she pointed a shaking hand at the writhing pack.
Disturbed, the snake was slowly flowing out of the pack, giving her a good look at its golden-tinged head and shining scales patterned in dark cross-hatching.
“It’s a king brown, one of the most deadly of all snakes,” he murmured. “Do you have a stand or tripod for your camera?”
Her tone mirrored her disbelief. “You want to take its picture?”
“I want to get it out of here. The stand?”
Hardly daring to move, she gestured toward a spindly aluminum contraption resting against the bed. “Can’t you shoot it or something?”
“If you want your worldly goods spattered with snake brains.” When she shuddered he added, “I don’t believe in killing for the sake of it. You can also get bitten by a dead snake.”
If he wasn’t kidding, she didn’t want to know. By now, the snake had flowed over her pack and onto the bed, revealing a body eight feet long and as thick as her wrist. The snake’s forked tongue flicked in and out as if tasting the air. She almost forgot to be frightened until Blake moved her to one side.
If she had any sense she would get out of the tent now, in case whatever he had in mind didn’t work. Instead, she found herself watching in fascination, wishing she’d been able to retrieve the camera. Since she hadn’t, she let her mind become the camera, storing away as much detail as she could.
With the camera stand held in front of him, Blake approached the snake. She marveled at his calmness and air of confidence.
Keeping the legs of the camera stand bunched together, he got closer. As if sensing danger, the snake lifted its head and partly flattened its neck into a hook shape. Instinctively, she recognized the snake’s position as a kind of warning before striking. She almost called a warning to Blake but forced the cry down, afraid of distracting him.
In a lightning move he brought the camera stand down so the tangle of legs gripped the snake behind its head, pinning it to the stretcher without injuring it.
Without looking back, he said, “In the Jeep you’ll find a burlap sack. Get it for me.”
She flew. The bag was on the back seat and she snatched it up. Everything in her rejected the idea of going back into the tent but she did it anyway. Blake was there. She handed him the bag.
“You might want to wait outside now,” he said, his concentration never leaving the pinned snake.
“I’ll stay,” she said. If he was bitten, he’d need her help. What she could do if the snake got loose she didn’t know, but she wasn’t moving until she knew Blake was okay.
He didn’t argue but transferred the bag and camera stand to his left hand. A cry escaped her lips as he used his right hand to grab the snake behind the head. Between his fingers she could clearly see the gaping mouth and glistening fangs. So beautiful. So deadly.
No longer needed, the stand dropped to the floor. He released the snake into the bag, gave the top a few deft twists and held it clear of his body. “Now will you get out,” he said tautly.
This time, she had no compunction about complying. The writhing bag seemed more threatening than the snake when it was slithering on her cot.
She followed Blake into the bush well away from the campsite, to a cluster of rocks where he tipped his burden out and jumped clear in the same movement. Not quite quickly enough as the reptile reared back and struck out at his hand. He let out a salty oath.
Her heart jackknifed into her mouth. “Did it get you?”
“Stay back, I’m fine.”
She couldn’t see how the snake had missed. Wanting to go to him, she held her ground until she saw the reptile slither between the rocks and away.
Then he came to her. Still not believing he’d survived the encounter unscathed, she grabbed his hand and turned it over, fully expecting to find puncture marks on his wrist. “I told you I’m fine,” he said, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his free hand came up and grazed the side of her face. “I have done this before.”
“So I gather,” she said, annoyed at sounding so shaken.
“In spite of their fearsome reputation, most snakes don’t attack people. They’d much rather escape before you know they’ve been there,” he assured her. “No need to look so alarmed.”
She forced sound out of her throat. “I wasn’t until I thought you’d been bitten.”
His expression softened. “So all this concern is for me?”
She tried to bluff it out. “If I lose my guide now, my project is at an end.”
“And that’s all you were worried about?”
“Of course.”
“Liar,” he said softly. With his index finger he skimmed her top lip. “You shouldn’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”
She nodded. Her chest felt tight. “After all, you wrestle crocodiles for a living.”
His gaze never left hers. “I try not to put myself in the position of having to wrestle them.”
“Whatever.” He took risks she didn’t want to think about. And didn’t want to think about why she didn’t want to think about them.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said softly, pushing strands of hair out of her eyes, the gesture heart-stoppingly intimate. “A lot of women would have dissolved into hysterics.”
“I was too busy being glad you didn’t hurt the snake.”
“I’d rather not cause harm if I don’t have to.”
Did he mean to the snake, or her? His hand had moved around to her nape, the caressing action sending shivers down her spine. His mouth was a tantalizing few inches away.
Amazed that she was actually doing this, she lifted herself to meet his mouth.
Dimly, she heard him let the sack fall. His arms came around her.
There was nothing gentle about his kiss, and she had no one to blame but herself, knowing she had invited whatever came. His mouth on hers felt hot. Need poured through her, and she felt answering tremors wrack him. Unlike the snake, they couldn’t be caught and held. Nor denied.
How could any man make her feel so needy with only a kiss? As he released her and her shaking subsided, she shook her head as if to clear it. She didn’t want this. Already it was becoming far too necessary, like breathing.
She pushed herself away from him, trying to pretend she had only kissed him back out of relief. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she said to strengthen the impression, trying to convince herself as much as him. “Are you always this resourceful?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “You’d be amazed how resourceful I can be.”
Her thoughts ran riot, refusing to be corralled. She was glad when he picked up the bag and led the way back to camp. He collected the fallen camera stand and propped it against the tent. “This makes a pretty good pinning hook.”
Not as good as the man operating it, she thought. “I’ll keep it handy for next time we get a snake in the tent,” she said. Trying to match his matter-of-fact tone, she asked, “How do you think it got in? Apart from when I went in to get the breakfast things, the tent was sealed tight.” During orientation, Blake had drummed into her the necessity of keeping the tent secure.
He massaged his chin between thumb and forefinger. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
And reached the same conclusion she had. “Eddy Gilgai.”
Blake nodded. “He could have planted the snake in your pack while we were watching the sunrise.”
“Why?”
“The same reason he’s feeding the crocodile.”
She brought her chin up. “He’ll find I’m not so easily scared away.”
Blake tossed the burlap bag into his Jeep. “Perhaps you should be. Being bitten by a King Brown is no picnic. The venom is deadly unless you get the right antidote in time.”
Thinking of how close they’d both come, she felt herself turn pale. “Max Horvath must really want to get his hands on Diamond Downs if he’s willing to kill for it.”
Blake poured two mugs of water from their supply and handed one to her. She was pleased that her hands shook only a little as she took the drink and sat down at the folding table. It was bad enough that someone wanted to sabotage her assignment; she hadn’t bargained on it turning deadly.
Blake swung a chair around and straddled it. “Still want to see this through?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I’d feel better if you packed up and went back to Perth.”
“Even though your foster father needs the fee my magazine is paying to have me here?”
“No fee is enough to justify this kind of risk. We’ll get by.”
She had seen enough of Des Logan and his family not to doubt it. “That isn’t the point. I want to find out why Horvath would go to such lengths to drive me out of here.”
“Only one reason makes any sense. He has a lead on Great-grandpa Logan’s lost diamond mine and is afraid we’re going to find it before he does.”
She thought for a moment. “Could we?”
“Possible, but not likely. Others have looked for the mine over the years. As kids, we searched a lot of this country without success.”
“You didn’t find the Uru rock art and it was right under your noses, off a cave you were using as a hideout,” she pointed out.
“True, although at that age we didn’t have much interest in art. Finding lost treasure was more our idea of adventure.”
A spirit he still possessed. “Maybe we can both get what we want, and get Horvath off your back at the same time.”
His gaze narrowed. “You mean look for the mine? If I’m right about Horvath being behind these incidents, he won’t sit still while we search. I can’t let you take the chance.”
“You can’t stop me,” she said. “We agreed I’m the boss.”
“Unless you’re about to put yourself at risk.”
“Life is a risk. You have a choice—either back me up or go home to your crocodiles.”
He looked infuriatingly amused. “You’re firing me?”
She could try. “You bet.”
“That’s rich, considering you didn’t hire me in the first place. I only stayed to keep an eye on you.”
She stood up, thinking that his eye on her was way too distracting for her own good. “I’ll be fine from here on.”
“What if there’s another snake?”
“I have my camera stand and I’m not afraid to use it.”
“You really would stay out here alone, wouldn’t you?”
In many ways, she would find it easier than dealing with the disturbing way he made her feel. But the thought of him leaving wasn’t comfortable, either. Make up your mind what you want, she told herself.
“If we get anywhere near the mine, Horvath will turn up the heat,” Blake warned her.
A feeling of triumph flooded through her out of proportion to the victory she sensed she’d won. Blake was not only staying, he was going to help her find the lost mine. She’d have the story of her career.
She would also have to deal with the attraction simmering between herself and Blake. Anything Horvath threw at her was likely to seem tame by comparison.
“I can handle it,” she said, wishing she could be sure which challenge she was referring to.
Chapter 6
Jo swore as her careful arrangement of bush materials collapsed in a heap. Again.
She hated to think Nigel had been right when he said she’d never turn this mess into a viable shelter, despite following the directions in her survival handbook. The tent that was only supposed to be a temporary home, was looking cozier by the minute.
Blake glanced up from the hunting knife he was sharpening. “Having trouble?”
She fired a what-do-you-think look at him and returned to her puzzle. After a few minutes, he put the knife down and came to crouch beside her. “Want some help?”
Unable to look away, she let her gaze slide to his wide, mobile mouth. Passion lodged there. And desire. And satisfaction. On the verge of swaying toward him, she caught herself and took refuge in irritation. “So you can keep the city girl humble?”
His smoky look negated her defensiveness. “So I can earn her undying gratitude and she’ll let me kiss her again.”
His idea of a joke, she told herself. No harm in playing along. “Show me how to make something useful out of this, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
She didn’t want him to kiss her. She only wanted something other than failure to write about when she filed her first article from the Kimberley at the end of the week. Jo believed that when Karen Prentiss heard about the snake encounter, the editor wasn’t likely to pull Jo off the story because she feared her reporter couldn’t cope. If anything, Karen would think the adventure made the story. Jo was the one who wanted to accomplish more. She was hoping the isolation and focus on simple survival would help her get to the bottom of the fears that plagued her whenever she stated getting too close to someone.
Blake reached for a tall forked stick but Jo stayed his hand, pulling back when she was tempted to let her fingers linger on his wrist a fraction too long. “You can show me, but I want to do the work myself.”
“A good survival strategy requires that the leader assess what skills are available to the group and put them to the best use,” he said.
His abilities were all too obvious, and not only in
matters of survival, she suspected. She cleared her throat. “And my skills would be?”
He gathered together a bundle of sticks. “I’ll let you know after I collect my reward.”
A shiver of anticipation took her, hastily quashed. “I didn’t say when I’d make the payment. After the shelter, there’s a whole list of survival tasks to be done.”
“Helping you work through your list has got to be worth more than a kiss.”
Her imagination ran riot picturing what his price might be. “Don’t you think I can survive without you?”
A look as soft as velvet, as rich as a promise, greeted the question. “I’m sure you can, but from my point of view leaving you on your own would be a terrible waste.”
While he worked on the shelter she ducked into the tent, letting the flap obscure her view of him. Golden light filtered through the canvas walls and she was assailed by breath-robbing heat. A plastic window with a rolled-up awning gave her a blurred view of Blake at work, his assured movements in startling contrast to her fumbling efforts. Many more of his backhanded compliments and she’d start believing he was really attracted to her, she thought.
Why was it easier to think of herself as a thorn in his side than a woman in his arms? Because the first didn’t require anything of her, she knew. The second involved feelings and responses she resisted instinctively without really knowing why. She only knew they were too deep, too dangerous to explore.
She grasped the tent frame to steady herself. Was that the reason she’d felt so comfortable with Nigel? He’d also floated contentedly along on the emotional surface of life, never taking her anywhere she didn’t want to go.
Unlike Blake.
From their first meeting, she’d sensed that his energy sprang from a deep inner wellspring. Nothing about him was ordinary, from his start in life to his choice of profession. And Jo guessed he wouldn’t be an ordinary lover, either.
Not that she intended to find out, she assured herself, gulping the torrid air. She might—just might—let him kiss her again in fun, to keep her end of their bargain. But that’s as far as she would let things go.
