Outback Temptation

by Valerie Parv

  It was like talking to a man of stone. ‘It is, naturally. Not that you’ve done badly out of it yourself.’

  ‘There’s nothing in this for me.’

  His look scorched her, then swept on to David like a bushfire, laying waste to everything in its path. ‘Isn’t there?’ was all he said before storming into his study.

  Stunned, she stood her ground until David nudged her elbow. ‘What was that all about?’

  Her hand went to her mouth. ‘I don’t know.’ But she was afraid she did. Bryan thought that the project had brought her and David back together. It wasn’t true, but why should he care anyway, when there was no room for her in his life?

  David wasn’t a journalist for nothing. ‘I think my presence has something to do with it, and not because of the story.’ He turned towards the door. ‘My gear’s in Christa’s car. She’s dropping me off at the hotel, then bringing me out to the picnic races tomorrow. It should be a good place to get some local colour. Will I see you there?’

  ‘Probably. I don’t know.’ She sounded distracted. Bryan had mentioned it, but she didn’t know if the doctor would sanction her going. She was desperate to go to Bryan and clear the air about David.

  ‘Then I’ll see you at the race-track.’

  ‘All right, fine.’ Anything to get him on his way so she could speak to Bryan.

  When the door closed behind David, she slumped against it, feeling drained. Why was it so important to make Bryan understand the truth about her and David? She only knew that it was.

  She didn’t bother to knock on his study door. He was working at his computer when she came in. His back was to her and he seemed to slump over the screen. ‘Bryan, we need to talk,’ she said softly.

  He didn’t turn around. ‘What about?’

  She steeled herself. ‘It isn’t how it looks. David and I are—’

  ‘Just good friends, I know.’

  ‘Then why are you so angry?’

  He spun around, his face so ravaged that she gasped. ‘Because you deserve better.’

  Why should he care? ‘It doesn’t matter; he’s married anyway,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Divorced.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘On her trip to Europe, his wife found herself an Italian count. She came back long enough to divorce Hockey, then high-tailed it back to Naples, so Christa informs me.’

  It was poetic justice, and she couldn’t help the smile which teased the corners of her mouth. How David must hate being the one discarded. Given his attitude towards women, it wasn’t before time.

  Bryan misread her smile. ‘So you see, the coast is clear for you now. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.’

  He turned back to his computer. Dismissed, she had little option but to leave him alone. Her thoughts churned. No doubt it suited Bryan to pair her off with David. There were fewer loose ends. But he was totally wrong. David’s divorce didn’t alter her conviction that he was the wrong man for her. His new status wouldn’t change anything.

  Bryan worked in his study for the rest of the day. Christa smugly informed Jill that David would be joining them at the picnic races tomorrow.

  ‘You are coming?’ she asked when Jill demurred.

  ‘The doctor didn’t object when I asked him, but I’m not sure. I don’t really know anyone.’

  Christa swept aside her objections. ‘Nonsense. Bryan and I will be there, and Fred and his wife from the hotel. And, of course, your David.’

  ‘He isn’t my David. He’s here on assignment, nothing more,’ she answered more sharply than she intended. Christa’s behaviour was getting on her nerves.

  ‘All right, don’t bite my head off,’ Christa protested. ‘What else am I to think when he drops everything and rushes to your side?’

  ‘That he scents a good story,’ Jill said, then dropped the subject. Protesting was only strengthening Christa’s determination to get them back together. ‘How was the wedding in Perth?’ she asked instead.

  As if she had pushed a button, Christa launched into a dress-by-dress account of her friend’s wedding and her own shopping spree in the city afterwards.

  ‘Speaking of clothes, what does one wear to a picnic race day?’ she asked.

  Christa thought for a moment. ‘You’ll see everything from big city fashions to casual clothes.’ She made a face. ‘The men don’t bother, though. They turn up in their working clothes.’

  ‘Who attends the races?’

  ‘Practically everyone within a thousand-mile radius. Last year a couple came from Melbourne. The local politicians have their photos taken with the stockmen, and the bookmakers come from as far away as Sydney.’

  David was right about the local colour. ‘Does the McKinley Pastoral Company breed some of the racehorses?’

  Christa laughed. ‘All the owners enter horses and they all want to make the best showing possible, but breeding hardly comes into it. The jockeys are mostly station hands riding their own mounts.’

  ‘I have a lot to learn,’ Jill admitted. And not only about how picnic races were run.

  The next day dawned hot and clear. The racetrack itself was a few miles from Turuga Homestead. Bryan was to drive them there, picking up David from the hotel on the way.

  Christa contrived to have Jill sit in the back seat with David, which added to the tension in the car. Even Christa’s bright chatter was hard put to it to dispel the chill in the air.

  To lift her flagging spirits, Jill had dressed in a smart pair of stone-coloured bermuda shorts and white cotton T-shirt with matching linen pinafore over the top. A pale straw hat and Hermes scarf completed her outfit. As she got into the car she was conscious of Christa’s scrutiny, but there was no reaction from Bryan.

  The only reaction she noted was a tightening of his mouth when David wolf-whistled his appreciation. ‘I’d forgotten what great legs you have,’ he said as he settled himself beside her.

  Christa looked cool and feminine in a floral dress with wide shoulder ruffle, drop waist and shirred full skirt. The pastel wildflower design flattered her blonde colouring.

  ‘My legs could stand some admiration,’ she said pointedly to Bryan at the wheel.

  He kept his eyes on the road. It was left to David to say, ‘I noticed them, Christa, and you two will be the best-looking fillies at the track.’

  Their arrival at the race-track was heralded by flocks of hawks and wedge-tail eagles circling the canvas settlement spread for some distance round the track. The only permanent structures were the yards and fences, a bar and a ramshackle building where food and drink were being set up alongside a windmill and water tank. There was also a demountable amenities block, a bookmakers’ ring and judges’ box.

  Beside the race-track, a paddock doubled as an airfield for the day. By the time they arrived it was crammed with light planes and groups of horses.

  Jill sniffed the fragrance of the drying grass. The brilliance of the light, the endless blue canopy above and the boundless plains around them stirred something deep inside her. She was in love with more than Bryan McKinley, she realised with a shock. During her short stay at Bowana, she’d fallen in love with his wide brown land.

  As if drawn on an invisible string, she turned to look at him. He was casually dressed in a pale blue shirt, open at the throat, with the sleeves rolled up above muscular forearms. Narrow-legged moleskins were held up by a carved leather belt, and he wore the inevitable elastic-sided stockmen’s boots and broad-brimmed Akubra. Her breath tangled in her throat. He looked as much at home as the eagles wheeling overhead.

  And just as inaccessible.

  She made a determined effort to enjoy the day, and was surprised by the number of locals who greeted her as an old friend. There was no shortage of men willing to show her how to bet on the sometimes chaotic events on the card.

  When at last she wearied of the races, she retired to the corrugated iron shed where meals were served in a seemingly endless stream. Tonight,
she was told, it would be dressed with streamers and balloons for a dance which would continue throughout the night.

  Someone brought her a cold shandy and she sipped it appreciatively as she watched the action swirling around her.

  David had landed on his feet, she noted acerbically. Trust him to find one of the moneyed young women partying with joyful enthusiasm. She was probably a station owner’s daughter, and from the way she was laughing up into David’s eyes she would be his willing partner for the night’s festivities.

  Mentally she superimposed herself and Bryan over the couple. What wouldn’t she give to make it so?

  ‘Why so sad? Oh, I see.’ In one breath Bryan had asked and answered his own question as he followed her gaze to David and the woman in his arms. ‘It’s a shame you had to see them.’

  ‘As you pointed out, David’s a free agent. He can date whom he pleases.’

  ‘He could at least be discreet about it, damn him.’

  The ferocity in Bryan’s voice shook her. ‘I’m not involved with David, so it doesn’t matter,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster. If it didn’t suit Bryan because he preferred to think she was David’s, then that was just too bad.

  Her eyes smarted as she looked away. ‘I’m going to watch the next race. Dr Brennan helped me to place a bet on the Turuga entry,’ she said, putting her glass down.

  First she had to do something about her stinging eyes. It wasn’t because Bryan’s insistence on pairing her with David had upset her, she told herself. It was the vast amount of dust being churned up by the races. Nothing more.

  She slipped into the makeshift ladies’ room and splashed tepid water on to her face. A voice floated through the thin corrugated iron walls. It was Christa, talking to someone outside.

  ‘What does Suzie Mitchelmore think she’s doing with David Hockey? He’s supposed to be with that Jill Richter.’

  At the sound of her own name, Jill’s interest sharpened involuntarily. She heard another woman’s voice murmuring a reply, then Christa’s impatient rejoinder.

  ‘I don’t know what’s wonderful about it. He’s supposed to take that interfering bitch back to Perth with him. How was I to know he’d really want to write about a dusty old crater?’

  So much for Christa’s helping hand, Jill thought ruefully. It sounded as if her scheme had backfired. She should let them know they were overhead, but Jill couldn’t help waiting a few more seconds.

  ‘You can have all the tourists you want, once I’ve convinced Bryan there’s no future here,’ Christa went on. ‘I thought it was in the bag after I sent that awful column to his partners overseas and pointed out a few other home truths to them.’

  There was a nervous giggle. ‘You sent it to them? I heard the project was on hold. Imagine you being behind it. If Bryan finds out, he’ll kill you.’

  ‘He isn’t going to find out, is he? But now I’m back where I started from. He still thinks this hellhole has a future, and there’s no way he’ll take me away from here as long as his plans are going ahead.’

  The room tilted crazily around Jill. Christa was the one who had sent the damning column to Bryan’s overseas partners. What other mischief had she used to make them pull out of the deal?

  She sounded pleased about her role. Didn’t she see the damage she was doing, not only to Bryan, but to the townsfolk, who were desperate to establish a future for their children?

  Now she understood why Christa had brought David back with her. He was supposed to carry Jill herself back to Perth out of Christa’s way.

  A small smile of satisfaction turned up the corners of her mouth. Christa hadn’t expected David to be so enthusiastic about the crater. He was supposed to see it as Christa did—as an uninteresting hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere.

  He had also thwarted Christa’s plans by flirting with every woman at the races except Jill.

  This thought caused Jill not the slightest regret. She was well and truly over David, able to work with him, although she was well aware of his flaws.

  If only she could get over Bryan so easily. But he dominated her thoughts in a way David had never done. Her senses ran riot at the very thought of him, until she ached for his touch, the sensation dragging at her like a physical pain.

  With an effort, she marshalled her thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think of herself. She had to alert Bryan before any more of his plans were sabotaged.

  Would he listen to her? She had no proof beyond what she’d overheard. It was hardly evidence.

  David.

  Colour flooded her cheeks as she went in search of him. He was chatting to the station owner’s daughter, their heads close together. With a muttered ‘Excuse me’, Jill took David’s arm and towed him away to a private corner.

  ‘Hey, I was making progress there,’ he protested.

  ‘Sorry, I need to talk to you. Was Christa enthusiastic about the crater story when she first came to you?’

  He scratched his head. ‘She said you had a story for me, but in her opinion there wasn’t much to it, so I suppose she wasn’t.’

  ‘Would you tell Bryan that?’

  ‘If you want me to. What’s all this about?’

  ‘I’ll tell you soon. Good luck with your lady friend.’ She gave him a playful push on his way.

  When she turned around, Bryan was watching her from across the shed, his expression thunderous.

  Pushing her way through the throng, she reached his side. ‘We have to talk.’

  ‘Settling for second best?’ he drawled.

  Momentarily confused, she shook her head. ‘What?’

  He gestured to where David was once more engrossed with the grazier’s daughter. ‘Couldn’t tempt your friend away from Suzie, could you?’

  ‘I didn’t even try. This is more important. It’s about the tourism project,’ she said impatiently.

  ‘Let’s go outside.’

  The races were over and a small army of volunteers were filling pens with cattle and horses for the rodeo events.

  Bryan steered her behind the catering shed, away from the crowd. There was no escaping the noise and dust.

  ‘Now what’s this all about?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘By accident, I found out who sent my column to your overseas partners. It wasn’t the only damaging material she sent them.’

  His eyes glinted warningly. ‘She?’

  ‘I overheard her telling a friend about it just now. Oh, Bryan, I’m sorry but it was Christa.’

  Bryan folded his arms across his chest, his expression grim. ‘Was it now? How convenient for you.’

  The unexpectedness of his response stunned her. ‘I don’t understand. Why should it be convenient for me?’

  ‘You’ve lost Hockey. You can’t have me as long as Christa stands in your way.’

  He thought…oh, lord, he thought this was a scheme to come between them. Disappointment as sharp as a knife cut through Jill. What a low opinion he had of her, to believe she would stoop to such a lie. ‘How can you think such a thing?’ she asked, her voice reedy with the tears which threatened to burst through at any moment.

  ‘I’ve seen you breaking your heart over your old flame. When I surprised you watching him earlier, the look on your face would have melted stone.’ His lips tightened into a thin line of disapproval. ‘But I won’t have you using Christa to get your own back.’

  Anger exploded through her mind until she wanted to throw herself at him and rake his handsome features with her long nails. Instead she clasped her hands under her opposite arms, pressing tightly to hold in her pain and frustration. The words she was so good at using in her job deserted her. She stood mute, trembling with reaction, as he regarded her with lazy insolence.

  ‘Are you lost for words now I’ve nipped your little scheme in the bud?’

  Her head came up and she felt her eyes brim, blinking hard. She would not give him the satisfaction of reducing her to tears when the toughest of editors had failed.
‘There’s no scheme,’ she said carefully. ‘I was trying to help you.’

  ‘By slandering an innocent woman?’ His dark gaze raked her. ‘I expected better of you, although God knows why I should, after the way you treated me in print.’

  The tears fled, leaving her eyes gritty and aching. She forced her lips into a cynical smile. ‘I didn’t libel you at all in my column. It was all true. Especially the part about being a dictator. For all I know, you are over-rated as a lover as well.’

  She had gone too far, she saw the instant his face changed. Determination blazed in his dark eyes and a muscle worked in his jaw as he moved with the speed of a panther to close the distance between them.

  Corralling her against the shed wall, he claimed her mouth with such ferocity that she could barely breathe. His tongue thrust inside her mouth, demanding and receiving a response she was powerless to withhold. Held tightly against him, she felt her senses reel until she could hardly assimilate the barrage of sensation he forced upon her. Crushed against his chest wall, her breasts felt exquisitely sensitised, their peaks pearl-like. Where his hips pinned her against the wall, she felt a flaring of desire so overwhelming that her knees would have buckled if he had permitted her room to fall.

  If not for the sudden, desperate reminder to herself of who and what he was, her surrender might have been complete. Somehow she managed to utter a faint denial.

  ‘No?’ he echoed in a drawling parody. ‘Maybe next time you’ll get your facts right before you resort to insults.’

  Without a backward glance, he rejoined the crowd, his rejection so total that she felt numb.

  If he had made love to her on the spot she couldn’t have felt more devastated. Her slur against his manhood had provoked him, she knew, but nothing had prepared her for her own uninhibited response. He had wanted her to regret her reckless attack, and it had worked far more effectively than even he knew. How could she doubt his skill as a lover now? He had made her eat her words in a way which left her feeling shaky and weak at the very memory.

  It galled her to think of how much she wanted him, how much she loved him, when he refused to believe her about Christa. Without trust there was nothing. And nothing was what she had with Bryan McKinley, all she would ever have.