by Fiona Lowe
Busy was good. She’d learned about keeping busy from the age of twelve—it meant less time to think. ‘Right. I’ll be ready.’
Diana reached out and touched her gently and briefly on the arm. ‘I was teasing you about the working hard. Emergencies excepted, we’ll ease you into things, including teaching you about the Aussie sense of humour.’
The friendly touch surprised her. In England even when a colleague had known you for years they rarely touched you, and the women in the sub-continent had been either shy or cool. But Australians, it seemed, didn’t have the same reserve. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’
Diana smiled. ‘You better go and catch Jack or he’ll leave without you, because nothing is going to stop him getting away by four.’
And that’s probably a good thing. Jack Armitage was a temptation she wasn’t certain she could withstand or wanted to withstand for very long. Still, she only had to follow him to his house, receive the key and wave him goodbye. She ignored the jab of disappointment that her body gave her and walked briskly out through the ambulance bay where the mid-afternoon heat hit her like a brick wall. The black asphalt of the car park was sticky, partially melted by the heat, and the bright, white glare of the sun made it difficult to see. She immediately shielded her eyes with her hand and squinted towards a group of four-wheel-drive vehicles all clearly marked with the Barragong Health logo. She couldn’t see Jack.
A moment later the roar of an engine made her jump and she swung around to see Jack’s long leather-clad legs astride a sleek silver-and-black European machine—pure motorcycle luxury. He revved the engine, flicked up his helmet visor, raised one dark brow and then winked at her.
Instantly, her legs turned to rubber and she locked her knees in an attempt to stay standing. Stop it, stop it, stop it. So, he’s gorgeous and he flirts; big deal. He’s leaving town.
And that makes him perfect for you!
Sophie puffed out an indignant breath. She’d been desperately trying to ignore the goddess of free love who’d come out to play the moment she’d laid eyes on Jack Armitage. The goddess embraced life, specialised in spur-of-the-moment decisions, and Sophie had locked her down two years ago after her life had become complicated and she’d unwittingly inflicted pain on a good man.
I’ll never forgive you, Sophie. She was never going to risk hurting someone again, and since Simon she’d only dated men who were upfront about what they wanted—fun, good times and the short term. She didn’t do long term—couldn’t do long term—and that was why bad boys fitted the bill. It was the only safe way. But even her definition of ‘short term’ had never been as short as a few hours.
The engine’s roar calmed to a low thrum and Jack held out a helmet. ‘Have you got a jacket of some description?’
Sophie had managed to tear her gaze away from the man in black and realised her rucksack was strapped on the back of the bike. She glanced from Jack to the four-wheel-drives and back to him, confusion pounding at her. ‘Are we going on this? I thought I was following you in the vehicle I’m being supplied with while I’m here.’
He nodded in agreement. ‘You’re being provided with a four-wheel-drive, but it’s out at my place. Hop on; it’s only a short fifteen-minute trip and you can cuddle up behind me if you get cold.’
The goddess beamed. Now there’s an offer you can’t refuse—cuddling the gorgeous Jack before he leaves. She almost said, ‘Shh,’ but somehow she managed to stay silent, probably because her mouth had dried so fast at the thought of her chest tucked up firmly against his broad muscular back that her tongue had stuck to the roof of her mouth.
She didn’t trust herself. For six months she’d lived and breathed extreme caution and coming to Australia was part of her not having to second-guess every move to avoid a mine blowing her up. If she wrapped her arms around Jack, she was pretty certain she’d give into the ever-growing need to throw caution to the wind.
‘Hey, Sophie, hurry up. I’ve got a date with my departure, so hop on.’
‘Sorry, I seem to be in the habit of holding you up.’
She jammed the helmet on her head, adjusted the chin strap and reached out her hand. Her palm connected with the hard muscle of his shoulder and the tingling that shot up her arm made her stumble. Somehow, her foot found the foot-peg and with a practised swing she swung her leg up over the high touring seat, careful not to touch the exhaust pipe. A moment later her bottom hit the seat, and she no longer had an excuse to keep her hand on his shoulder, but it took a Herculean effort to pull it away.
He turned, surprise on his face. ‘You’ve done this before?’
‘A year spent in Asia and the sub-continent, and bikes are pretty much your only transport choice.’
That’s not how you flirt. The goddess rolled her eyes and took over. ‘And I’ve always been a sucker for a motorbike.’
‘And the men who ride them?’
The question combined casual enquiry with overt sexuality and Jack’s eyes deepened to the vivid violet of a desert sunset.
Oh, God. She’d fought her own desire from the moment she’d met him. She’d told herself she imagined his attraction to her but, despite how surreal this all felt, she knew without a shadow of a doubt he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She swallowed hard, her resistance taking a severe battering. ‘That’s been known to happen too.’
He smiled, inclined his head ever so slightly and then faced forward, switching on the ignition.
The bike revved up and moved out of the parking lot. She’d handled a 125CC bike herself, but nothing prepared her for the throbbing, low, rumble of the powerful 1200CC engine that vibrated through her, building on the simmering rafts of desire that had been part of her from the moment she’d met Jack. Like a match igniting a fuse, fire raced through her, driving pure pleasure around her body and awakening it with a jolt like a shot of caffeine.
The bike sped up as it shot onto the open road. Red, black, grey, brown, green, blue and purple—the bold and tough colours of the outback flashed past in a melange. Everything was different. Colours beamed more vividly, sounds had more range and the warm desert air caressed her skin like a trail of seductive kisses. Her blood pounded faster, her thighs throbbed and her nipples pebbled as the wind pinned her flimsy top against her like a second skin. She became one with the bike, giving in to the movement, allowing the slip and tilt of the leather seat to move her forward until her inner thighs contoured snugly against Jack’s legs.
It felt amazingly right.
The ever-present fear of death and destruction that had ruled her life in a war zone spiralled out of her. The goddess broke loose from her chains. You’ve survived and this is your life, so live it. You know life can end in a heartbeat. He wants you and you want him. Live for the moment, because you know for certain you can’t depend on tomorrow.
Jack pulled off the asphalt at the bright-yellow forty-four-gallon drum that acted as a letterbox, remembering how he and his dad had created it as a father-son project when he was eight. As the bike bounced along the olive-tree-lined, five-hundred-metre gravel track, otherwise known as ‘the drive’, he grinned as he felt Sophie’s arms tighten around his waist and her breasts press even more firmly against his back.
Her wild spirit had circled him from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but when she’d leaned up hard against him when the bike hit top speed it had streaked into him, humming through his veins. It had been a long time since a woman had wrapped her arms around him, clung to him, and he realised with a gut-churning rush how much he’d missed it.
Life in a small town didn’t throw up many opportunities to meet new people nor did it lend itself to casual affairs. ‘Casual’ meant not being the butt of town gossip or running into the person you’d slept with one night every day at the bakery for the next thirty years. Since Mary, ‘casual’ was what he specialised in, and big cities were casual’s domain. Each year he took a few short trips, including the four-day hedonistic party that was th
e Melbourne Cup Carnival, and he caught up with female friends who welcomed him with open arms, all care, no strings and certainly no spooning. The rest of the year, being Barragong’s only doctor kept him firmly and responsibly in town.
This holiday was as much about being himself as it was about escaping from work.
The bike negotiated the final, bone-shuddering corrugations created by the heavy spring rain which was now a distant memory, and Sophie’s arms tightened even more. All too soon they crossed the cattle grid and the rambling homestead came into sight. He entered the circular driveway and as he killed the engine Sophie dropped her arms. With a swift and practised kick, he shot out the bike stand and turned the front wheel to the left, stabilising the bike. He removed his helmet, pushed himself up and off the bike and immediately unzipped his jacket, no longer needing it.
He went to extend his hand to help Sophie off the bike and his arm stalled, followed by the rest of his body. He felt like he was watching a slow-motion advertisement for shampoo as Sophie pulled off her helmet and shook her head, sending her thick and lustrous hair out in an arc of tight curls. Her cheeks glowed pink like an English rose, her pupils gazed at him—wide, round black discs against a back drop of sparkling Kahlua-brown irises—and her full lips parted in a broad smile. She glowed, radiating arousal like a beacon.
I’ve always been a sucker for a motorbike.
And the men who ride them.
Her shining eyes met his and she held out her hand. ‘Now that was totally brilliant.’
His palm slid against hers and she gripped his hand as she slung her leg over the seat until she sat side-saddle. Then, with her hand still holding his, she slid off the bike, her feet coming to rest between his size twelves.
Some strands of her wild, untamed hair brushed his cheek and his nostrils flared, detecting a hint of sweet sandalwood mixed in with the scent of woman. The combination demolished his barely held-together restraint and for the second time in three hours he swayed towards her as if physically tugged. An all-encompassing heat tore through him, firing infernos of need like ember attacks, before draining most of his blood to his groin.
‘That good, eh?’ His voice sounded strangled as his brain failed to compute under the assault of eyes that told him she was on fire with the same burning need.
Her eyes darkened to the burnished honey-brown of toffee and her palms rested flat on his chest. ‘More than good. I haven’t felt this alive in months.’
Neither had he. Her heat burned into him. Her breath brushed his face and he saw the flutter of a pulse beating in the delectable hollow at the base of her throat. Then her eyes widened to the point where base desire conquered every other emotion—rational or otherwise—and perfectly mirrored the collision of their thoughts.
‘God, you’re gorgeous.’
‘So are you.’
Her eyes held his and he did what he’d wanted to do from the moment he’d met her. He lowered his mouth, his lips seeking hers, and an explosion of taste met him: the spices of the exotic east, the heat and dust of the desert, feminine desire and something tantalisingly elusive that he couldn’t quite pin down but reminded him of long-lost summer evenings.
What are you doing? You’re leaving town.
He pulled back, stroking away a titian curl from her cheek, only to have it wind itself around his finger like a clinging vine. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. This timing totally sucks, because you’re absolutely dazzling but I’m leaving today for a minimum of three months.’
Her clear gaze didn’t waver, nor did it look offended. ‘And would you have pulled away from the kiss if you weren’t leaving?’
He shook his head. ‘Hell, no.’
She smiled. ‘So you would have kept kissing me, and then what?’
He hadn’t expected that question but then again he’d never met a woman quite like her. ‘Are you asking me what my intentions were?’
Her hands rested gently on his chest. ‘Would you have wined and dined me before inviting me into your bed?’
He prided himself on the way he entertained women. ‘Of course I would. But after the meal I’d have shown you the glory of the outback night sky, devoid of rocket fire, and then introduced you to the southern constellations and the Southern Cross.’
She sighed. ‘No sounds or sights of war. That sounds brilliant. And then? Would we spend a few weeks having fun before we both parted amicably?’
He blinked at her refreshing candour. ‘Fun sounds perfect, because I’m not looking for anything permanent.’
The shadows scudded past, dark against her milk-chocolate eyes. ‘Neither am I.’
He groaned at the way the universe was thumbing its nose at him. The perfect woman who didn’t want a long-term relationship and only wanted fun had just walked into his life, and he was leaving. Every part of him wanted her and every part of her seemed to be vibrating the same message back at him.
Even if you weren’t leaving you’re still in Barragong. He ran his hand through his hair. ‘This is insane. We’ve just met but this thing between us, it’s—’
‘Like a force field.’ She bit her lip and blinked before raising her eyes to his, the dusky traces of shadows hovering. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before in my life either, but I’ve just walked out of a horrendous half year where I’ve seen more horror than anyone should witness, and I know nothing is permanent. Tomorrow may never come.’
He needed her to understand. ‘I can’t promise you anything, Sophie.’
‘I don’t want or need promises—my life doesn’t work that way.’ Her fingers traced across his chest. ‘Sometimes we just have to take the good things when they come. I’ve just come out of a war zone, you’re leaving on a much-needed holiday and perhaps this thing between us exists so strongly because we both need it. Maybe we each have what the other needs right now, just for today.’
His body craved hers like the sun-parched desert craved water. ‘Are you totally certain about this? I don’t want to hurt you, Sophie.’
Faint lines appeared on her forehead. ‘I don’t want to hurt you either.’
He’d never felt so torn. ‘I’m leaving in an hour.’ Shut up, Dr Jack.
Her hand cupped his jaw. ‘I know you are and that gives us plenty of time. Consider me your first “holiday treat”.’
The word ‘holiday’ banished Dr Jack and released Jack the man. He circled her waist with his hands, pulling her hard against him. ‘In that case, consider me your Barragong welcome-basket.’
She tilted her head back, hooking his burning gaze with one of her own. ‘That works for me, Jack.’
It was all he needed to hear.
His lips sought hers again, his mouth playing over the lush softness of her lips, his fingers dragging through the thick tangles of her hair, liberating the aroma of tangerine and more sandalwood. He inhaled deeply, revelling in the way the scent released a sense of freedom in him he’d never known.
He heard himself sigh and then her mouth opened under his, inviting him in, hauling him in as her tongue met his with the same eager strokes that he was using. He devoured her touch, her taste, her scent, the blissful sounds from her throat, completely oblivious to the heat of the sun until the harsh screech of a flock of birds flying overhead startled her, and she abruptly broke the kiss, her head turning sharply.
‘What was that?’ The words tumbled from the sexiest mouth he’d ever encountered.
‘Galahs. Get used to the sound, because they’ll wake you at dawn.’ He swung her into his arms and, taking two steps at a time, bounded up to the front door. ‘Time to bring this inside. I’ve no plans to compete with what to you is exotic wildlife.’
As they passed through into the hall, she swung an arm around his neck, her fingers massaging the back of his head. ‘So you can’t do wild?’
His groin ached and his hands tightened around her as he kicked opened his bedroom door. ‘Sweetheart, I can do whatever you want me to.’
Sh
e laughed, a sound of pure delight, as he dropped her gently onto his bed. Her hand reached out and clasped around the waistband of his trousers, pulling him forward. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’
Keeping his gaze fixed firmly on her eyes, eyes bright with thundering need, he leaned sideways and reached into a drawer, hoping a stray prophylactic was there because it had been a very long time since he’d had sex in this bed. He almost laughed with relief when his fingers gripped the familiar square foil and he held it up like a well-earned trophy. With the roar of pure, base, untainted lust in his veins he joined her on the bed and opened himself up to the unparalleled ecstasy of holiday sex—casual, no spooning and no strings attached.
CHAPTER THREE
SOPHIE dreamed her cheek was being brushed by fine black stubble and soft lips. A blissful sigh rolled through her as she gave herself up to the deepening dream and let it take her to a place filled with a tranquillity and joy unlike anywhere she’d ever known. The scream of rocket fire shattered the serenity and she sat up fast, sweat beading on her brow and her hand tightly clutching the sheet.
Adrenaline jetted through her, and she frantically glanced around, looking for safety. Double bed, large polished-redwood wardrobe, a wicker laundry-basket and her old blue rucksack. Her brain engaged, her held breath released in a whoosh and everything fell into place.
Jack’s room. Jack’s house. The roar wasn’t rocket fire at all—just the sound of his motorcycle engine’s ignition and fast acceleration. Jack had just left on his holiday.
She fell back onto silky-soft, high-thread-count cotton sheets and sprawled out across the bed just because she could, loving the luxury of having a queen-size bed to herself after the narrow confines of camp beds. She breathed in deeply and the fragrance of Jack rushed through her, making her thighs tingle just like he had, and then some.
The sheets smelled of Jack, her pillow smelled of Jack and she grinned, remembering how he’d generously treated her to a smorgasbord of himself, making sure she was completely replete before he left. Wild, sexy and with a mouth that had touched parts of her that had grown dusty from lack of use, she didn’t regret for one minute letting the goddess loose again and running with the bad boy.
