Matilda, the Adventuress

by Iris Johansen

  “But you don’t understand. I can’t—” The rest of her sentence was lost as the Jeep roared to life. “I have to stay here. There are reasons …”

  The Jeep jumped forward as he pressed the accelerator. A few seconds later he’d driven several yards down the road.

  “You weren’t very polite,” Brent drawled. “You didn’t introduce me, and I got the distinct impression that something about the lady annoyed the hell out of you. Pity. She could have been very entertaining to have around. You could have thought about my convenience, Roman. You drag me out here in the wilds with an all-male cast, forbid me to seduce any of the women on your production crew, and then send packing the only alluring woman who crosses our path. How inconsiderate can you be?”

  “I’m sure you’ll survive. Besides, she wasn’t all that pretty.”

  “You don’t think so? Personally, I prefer the unconventional type.”

  “Too thin.”

  “But magnificent breasts.”

  Roman didn’t want to think about her full breasts pressed against the thin white cotton of her T-shirt. The memory aroused the same physical response he had experienced when he had looked at her a few moments before. Damn! What the hell was wrong with him? He was scarcely sex-starved. The night before he had been provided with innovative erotic entertainment by a call girl who had enjoyed her work as much as he had enjoyed it. She had used him, but at least she had been honest about it. He could tolerate a mutually gratifying exchange of favors. In fact, he preferred it to the hypocrisy to which he’d been subjected during the past few years. He knew he was no Adonis. What he couldn’t stand was a woman who tried to manipulate him into doing what she wanted by using sex as a weapon. Manda Delaney was obviously a woman who was skilled in the use of that particular weapon. At last he said, “I didn’t notice her figure.”

  Brent glanced sidewise at him, and then smiled. “Oh, yes, you noticed all right. Is it okay if I go after her and offer her my sympathy, my magnificent body, and anything else she’ll accept?”

  “Why should I care? She’s nothing to me.” Roman’s hands tightened unconsciously on the steering wheel. “Though I don’t think it’s worth your while. She’ll be gone tomorrow, and that doesn’t give you much time to lure her into your bed.”

  “Long enough. Haven’t you heard I’m irresistible? All my press clippings say so.” The amusement was abruptly gone from Brent’s expression. “If you want her yourself, I’ll back off, Roman. My role in your film means too much to me to jeopardize our professional relationship over a woman.”

  For the briefest instant Roman was tempted to tell him to back off, to keep away from her. The instinct was as brutally primitive as the hardening between his thighs. Lord, what had gotten into him tonight? There was no way he was going to involve himself with Manda Delaney even to obtain a temporary sexual release. Her appearance in his life had been entirely too coincidental, and her reluctance to tell him the purpose of her business in the opal field was distinctly suspicious. She could be anything from a hooker on the make, to one of the paparazzi out to get an exclusive interview. He forced himself to relax, and his moment of insanity passed. He shrugged. “Do what you like. She doesn’t appeal to me. I’ve never cared for women with that color hair.”

  “Oh, dear!” Manda was disappointed as she gazed at the Jeep moving swiftly up the track. “He’s going to be very difficult. I really didn’t need this. Not now.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me why you’re out here in the middle of the desert?” Dennis drew her to the side of the road as the caravan of trucks began to rumble after the Jeep. “You’re not prospecting by any chance?”

  “No.” She changed the subject. “What are you doing in a truck, for heaven’s sake. Where’s your Cessna?”

  “The engine needed an overhaul. They’re going to test-fly it out here to the location in a few days.”

  “You’re still a professional pilot?” She held up her hand to stop him from answering. “Of course you are. What a stupid question. I know you’d never give it up. How long have you worked for Roman Gallagher?”

  “Nine months this time. I was also his private pilot several years ago when he was making documentaries, but he’s been back in Australia for only a little over a year.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “I don’t know what you want from him, but I’d advise you to be very careful, Manda, my love. Gallagher has been the target of every starlet in Australia and the United States since he won the award for directing Fulfillment. He’s a hell of a lot more cynical now than when I knew him in the old days.”

  Dennis’s assessment was no surprise to Manda. Cynicism was imprinted on Roman Gallagher’s face for anyone to see. It was visible in the lines grooving his lean cheeks and the glittering darkness of his eyes. She had found herself staring at the filmmaker in helpless fascination, watching his expressions change, listening to the deep timbre of his voice. Something crazy and totally unexpected had happened. She had never felt an instant emotional leap of response and empathy toward a man before. It couldn’t happen so quickly, could it? She had always laughed at the idea of love at first sight. Sexual attraction at first sight she could believe with no problems, but love?

  It couldn’t be love. The feelings of tenderness she was experiencing had to be an illusion brought upon her by weariness and lack of sleep. The man had been rude, bitter, and unrelenting. The next time she saw him she would probably realize how idiotic she was being. Still … “I need some information, Dennis. Will you help me?”

  “Why not? You always did manage to make things interesting. I think I’d like to keep you around for a while.”

  “Tell me about Roman Gallagher. Is he married?”

  “No.”

  “Women?”

  “He’s no celibate, but he didn’t bring a woman with him from Sydney. He doesn’t allow anyone or anything to interfere when he’s working.” He studied her curiously. “Do I detect a personal note of interest?”

  “Maybe. I’ll let you know later when I sort out my emotions. Right now I feel as if I’ve been struck by lightning.”

  He gave a long, low whistle. “I think this job may prove a tad more intriguing than the usual. As I remember, you were always the Sheila dealing the lightning.” He grinned. “I guess I should have expected the unexpected from you. Tell me, did you happen to notice the other man in the Jeep?”

  “No.” She hadn’t been able to take her eyes from Roman Gallagher. He had seemed to occupy the entire horizon. “Was he someone special?”

  “Several million of his fans think so, and I’m sure they’d be most insulted that you didn’t think him important enough to deserve your attention. He’s Brent Penrose, the American movie star.”

  “That’s nice,” she said vaguely. She touched her hair. “Does he like women with this color hair?”

  “Penrose?”

  “Of course not. Roman Gallagher.”

  “I have no idea. I’ve seen him only with brunettes.”

  “Rats.”

  “You’re really serious about this,” he said thoughtfully. “I never would have believed it in a hundred years. You ignore America’s heartthrob and lose your head over Gallagher. He’s not even what you would call a pleasant-looking bloke.”

  “No, he isn’t.” When she had first caught sight of him, she had thought him quite unattractive. None of his features seemed to go together. His long nose and heavy-lidded eyes were a little Oriental-looking, and his lips were a firm, hard line. His left cheek was marred by a jagged white scar that zagged from his temple to the corner of his mouth. She supposed his most attractive feature were his marvelously expressive dark eyes. No, that wasn’t true. His sable-black hair was really quite beautiful, thick, lustrous, and wavy. She wished she could remember other physical details about him. She guessed he was at least six foot five, but she had been too absorbed by the sheer impact of the man to notice anything else in detail. “I wouldn’t believe it either.” She sighed. “And
it’s the wrong time, dammit. I don’t want this. It’s crazy. Maybe it’s just a temporary infatuation that will go away as quickly as it came. Lord, I hope so.” “What if it doesn’t?”

  She turned to look at him in surprise. “Well, then I’ll just have to make him care for me too. What else can I do?”

  Dennis chuckled and gave her an affectionate hug. “What else?” he repeated. “You’re the most honest woman I’ve ever known, Manda. I’d forgotten how direct and single-minded you can be. If you want something, you just go after it.”

  Troubled, she frowned. “You make me sound like a heartless bitch. Am I really like that, Dennis?”

  His palm reached up to caress her cheek. No, there was nothing heartless about Manda. She was impulsive and headstrong, but there was no lack of caring in her emotional makeup. He had sometimes thought she would be better off if she didn’t care quite so much. She would give away anything she owned without thinking twice. It was ridiculously easy to prey on Manda’s sympathies. He had done it quite shamelessly himself on a number of occasions. “You’re not so bad, mate,” he said gruffly. “At least you manage to keep a man amused.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Thanks at heap. I’ll know better than to come to you for any testimonials.” She stepped back. “Come on over and say hello to Jacto.”

  “He’s still with you?” Dennis’s brows rose in surprise.

  “We couldn’t get along without each other. We’re two of a kind. No one else understands …” She trailed off as she turned away. “He’ll be glad to see you. I think he always liked you, Dennis.”

  “Did he? I’m glad to hear it. I sure couldn’t tell. Jacto isn’t exactly talkative.”

  Manda laughed and the silvery sound floated back to Dennis as she preceded him across the road toward the place where Jacto sat waiting with his legs crossed like a serene Buddha. “Jacto may not talk much,” she said, “but he always manages to make himself understood.”

  Dennis could second that statement. The old Aborigine could express more mocking amusement with his blank stare than anyone he had ever met. Somehow Jacto had always made Dennis a little uneasy. Those glowing dark eyes of his seemed to see entirely too much. As far as he could tell in the moonlit darkness, Jacto had changed very little since he had last seen him. The old man’s cropped hair was still a grizzled gray, and his worn dark trousers and checked shirt hung loosely on his tall wiry body. Dennis couldn’t make out the expression on Jacto’s thin face, but he’d bet his Cessna that it contained the same mockery he remembered.

  Manda stopped in the middle of the road, her gaze on the caravan which had left the road and was bumping over the rough ground on the eastern perimeter of the opal field. Some of the trucks had already stopped and she could see people jumping out of the vehicles and starting to set up the camp.

  The desert was no longer tranquil, and her entire situation was now fraught with complications. Yet, as she stood there looking at the energetic bustling of the production crew, she felt a familiar shiver of excitement.

  Change. Things were changing, events were going to occur, people would act and react. How she loved adventure and change, and this time it had the potential to be more exciting than ever before. Because Roman Gallagher was somewhere in that crowd of men and machinery, and, perhaps, he might be the greatest adventure of all.

  “Manda?” Dennis was standing beside her. “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head and her cinnamon-gold hair shimmered in the moonlight. “I don’t think so.” She started toward Jacto again. “I think it’s possible that everything might be very right indeed.”

  Two

  Manda took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and then knocked firmly on the metal door of the small mobile home.

  “Roman’s not there. I think he went out to scout locations with the assistant director. Will I do?”

  She turned to face the man who was strolling toward her from the direction of another mobile home a few yards away. His handsome features were familiar. Brent Penrose. She would have recognized him at once last night except his modishly cut golden hair had seemed darker in the moonlight.

  She smiled. “Not unless you can give me permission to stay here at Deadman’s Ridge. Do you have any influence with Mr. Gallagher?”

  “Not much.” He leaned lazily back against the metal door of the mobile home with his thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans, and studied her. “You clean up quite nicely. Not that you weren’t appetizing enough before.” His glance wandered slowly down her body to her long, tanned legs, which were shown off to advantage by her khaki shorts. “I almost wish I could claim to be able to sway Roman. Would it help my case if I told you how rich and famous I am?”

  “Your case?”

  “Bed.”

  She laughed with genuine amusement. “You’re very blunt. No, I’m afraid it wouldn’t help. I don’t make sexual bargains.”

  “Well, I thought it was worth a try. No offense?”

  “No offense.” It would have been difficult for her to take offense at Brent Penrose. There was something very appealing about his smile and she appreciated the honesty of his approach. “I suppose I should be flattered. You must have your pick of bedmates.”

  “Not out here in the wilds,” he said with engaging frankness. “There’s no one to impress on Deadman’s Ridge but the dingos. It’s going to be a long stretch of celibacy.” He arched a brow inquiringly. “Unless you’d care to change your mind?”

  She shook her head as a smile tugged at her lips. “I believe you’ll survive. Why did you come out here if you felt that way?”

  “Because Roman is giving me the chance to prove I’m not just a pretty face.” His smile faded. “I hit it big in a couple of adventure films that were blockbusters, and now the powers that be in Hollywood have me typecast. I can act dammit, but no one will give me the chance to prove it.”

  “I’m sure you can act,” she said quietly. “I’ve never seen one of your films, but I know Mr. Gallagher’s work. I don’t think he’d entrust the lead in one of his movies to someone he couldn’t count on for a top performance.”

  “No?” For an instant there was a shadow of uncertainty on Brent’s face before he smiled. “You can see I have my moments of insecurity. You’re very good for my ego, Manda. A woman who doesn’t want my money, my body, or the cachet of saying she slept with Brent Penrose, and yet is still willing to offer faith and encouragement. Perhaps I’d better try to keep you around to bolster my sagging confidence in times of need.”

  She grinned back at him. “I’ll be glad to enlist all the help I can get. I don’t think I impressed your Mr. Gallagher much last night.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I had the distinct feeling he was very impressed.” A curious smile touched his lips. “Some men aren’t as uncomplicated as yours truly. Roman can be very … stubborn.”

  She made a face. “Darn it, I didn’t want to hear that. Oh, well, I can be pretty determined myself when it comes to locking horns.”

  He reached out and gently tucked a shining strand of hair back from her temple. “I’m not about to endanger my part in this picture, but outside of that, I’ll help all I can. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she agreed softly.

  “If you’re through making your ‘arrangements,’ Brent, I’d appreciate it if you’d move your butt and let me into my trailer.” Roman’s tone was filled with sarcasm. They both turned to look at him in surprise as he appeared at their side. He was dressed in tight moleskin trousers in a pale shade of beige, brown suede desert boots, and a khaki bush shirt. He looked warm, exasperated, and definitely on edge. “I’ve been wandering around for the last four hours in this damn hundred-degree heat setting up my story board, and I need a cold shower and a long drink.”

  He glanced at Manda and she felt a little shock at the cold ferocity she saw in his face. The man obviously had a savage temper, and a good deal of his fierceness was being aimed at her. “Since you came t
o an ‘agreement’ with our little trespasser, why don’t you take her along to your own trailer?”

  “I’d be delighted, but the lady has business with you.” Brent’s bright blue eyes were suddenly glinting with mischief as he added, “First.” He turned away. “Just knock on the door when you’re through, Manda. I’ll be waiting.” His tone was intimately husky. “Very impatiently.”

  Manda gave him an exasperated glance. It appeared Brent had a puckish sense of humor, but she wished he hadn’t chosen to display it at this particular moment. Roman Gallagher was in a bad enough mood already. “He’s right. I have to talk to you. I won’t keep you long.”

  “I’m sure you won’t.” Roman’s lips twisted as he opened the heavy metal door. “We mustn’t keep Brent waiting.” He motioned for her to precede him into the mobile home. “After you. We should be able to get this over fairly quickly.”

  He meant it would take very little time to say no, Manda thought ruefully. Well, he was going to be surprised.

  The mobile home was more spacious than it appeared to be from outside and was composed of a small kitchenette, a living room, and, to her left, a door which presumably led to the bath and sleeping quarters.

  He gestured to a beige- and tangerine-flowered couch across the room. “Sit down. Drink?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He shut the door and suddenly she felt uneasy. The confines of the room made her acutely conscious of Roman’s virile physical presence. Her gaze clung in fascination to the slide of muscles of his long back, outlined beneath his khaki shirt. As he walked toward the refrigerator, he exhibited a loose-limbed grace that reminded her of the way Jacto moved, but the resemblance ended there. Gallagher was neither thin nor wiry. The powerful muscles of his thighs and calves were clearly distinguished by the moleskin trousers he wore. She found herself wondering how those muscles would feel beneath her palms. Would they be smooth or heavily corded …