Читать книгу The Outback Affair - Elizabeth Duke - Страница 8

WHEN she came into the kitchen the next morning to grab some coffee before the early morning flight to Darwin, Natasha found Aunt Edith, her father’s widowed sister, already there. Edith was going to stay in their flat and look after the gallery and framing business while they were away up north. Since her husband’s death last year, Edith had been helping out in the gallery part-time, and she often popped in to help with the cleaning and cooking, or to join them for a meal.

‘Hi, Aunt Edith.’

‘Good morning, dear.’

There was something about Edith’s usually cheery greeting that alerted Natasha. ‘Is something wrong, Auntie?’ She frowned and glanced round. ‘Where’s Charlie?’ Her father was usually up at the crack of dawn.

‘Oh dear, your father’s come down with the flu, dear. And to make matters even worse, he has gout in his big toe.’

‘Oh, no!’ On the very day they were planning to fly to Darwin! ‘How bad is he? Have you called the doctor?’ Sympathy for her father vied with dismay at what it meant. She’d planned this Kakadu trip so carefully, deliberately choosing this time of year—early May, the start of the dry season, when the grass would still be green and the flowers still blooming. To postpone it, even for a couple of weeks, would upset her carefully-made plans and put her entire working schedule out in the coming months.

Edith grimaced. ‘He wouldn’t let me. He said the doctor would only tell him to stay in bed, and he’s already in bed. Luckily he has tablets for his gout.’ She seemed to hesitate. ‘He demanded his mobile phone so that he could make some phone calls—the last thing he should be doing, the state he’s in.’ She sniffed her disapproval.

‘I’ll go and see him.’ Chewing on her lip, Natasha darted off.

She expected her father to be sitting up in bed, propped up on pillows, or in an armchair with the mobile phone clamped to his ear, but he was lying in bed huddled under the blankets, with only the silvery top of his head showing and a big cage-like mound at the foot of the bed protecting his gouty foot. Her heart sank.

‘Dad…’

He peeked up at her. ‘Sorry, love, I’m sick. Really sick.’ His voice was thin and wavery, his normally lively blue eyes half closed, as if it were an effort to keep them open. ‘But you’re not to worry, I’ve arranged everything. You’re still to catch the plane at nine.’

‘Oh, Dad, how can I go without you? I can’t go camping for two weeks in Kakadu Park on my own! And at this late stage there’s no one else I—’

‘Love, I’ve fixed it, I said,’ Charlie insisted weakly. ‘I’ve contacted a safari tour company—’

‘Dad, I’m not going on one of those organised tours—even if it’s in a four-wheel-drive with only a handful of people. I want to be able to go where I like, when I like, and take as long as I need to get the shots and the sketches I want, and do the painting I want.’

‘You’ll still be able to do all that, love. The tour boss himself is going to take you—personally. I’ve checked him out and he’s thoroughly reliable and highly regarded throughout the Top End. He’ll take you wherever you want to go—and he’ll see to all the food and help you put up your tent and lift any heavy gear for you and protect you from the crocodiles…’ A weak smile flickered.

‘Charlie—’

‘He’ll be waiting at Darwin airport to meet you, love, holding up a sign with your name on it. His name…now what was it? Cannon…something like that. He’ll be wearing an insignia on his shirt and hat in the shape of a magpie goose, he said, with the name Wild-Goose-Chase Tours woven into it.’

‘Wild-Goose-Chase Tours?’

‘Neat name, huh? Attention grabbing. I told him you were a gorgeous blonde and that you’d be wearing a T-shirt with Monet waterlilies front and back. So make sure you’re wearing it.’

‘Oh, Dad.’ She sighed. Sick as he was, Charlie appeared to have thought of everything. Luckily, her Monet shirt was clean. It was a favourite, and she’d already planned to take it with her. She would change into it after she’d finished her coffee. If she decided to go…

‘Dad, you might be better in a couple of days…’

‘I won’t…and don’t come near me! You don’t want to catch it.’ He waved her away with a feeble hand. ‘Even if this rotten gout gets better in a few days, the flu’s bound to develop into a shocking head cold, with an ear infection—it always does with me—and I won’t be able to fly for weeks. But don’t worry, I’ll be fine, love,’ he assured her hastily. ‘Edith will look after me.’

‘Dad—’

‘You don’t have to do a thing, love. I’ve already cancelled the four-wheel-drive we were planning to hire in Darwin. The tour company will provide one, as well as a tent and camping gear and all your food, etc. You just have to turn up. Now off you go and get ready.’

She knew he’d only get upset if she stood around arguing. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She gave him a rallying smile. Sick as he was, he’d tried his best to put things right for her. The least she could do was sound grateful. ‘I’ll take my mobile phone to Darwin with me so we can keep in touch.’

He grunted. ‘Don’t waste your time making calls back home. You’ll be out of range most of the time anyway. Besides, Edith says she’s taking my phone away.’ He sighed, a wavery sound. ‘Sorry, love…I’m so tired.’

‘Then go to sleep, Dad. And make sure you get Aunt Edith to call the doctor if you feel any worse.’ She gave her father a pat—carefully avoiding the area of his feet. ‘You take good care of yourself, Charlie. Get better soon.’

She couldn’t believe that she was agreeing to go, that her father was actually urging her to go—to go careering off into the Australian wilds with a complete stranger. But if Charlie was happy for his daughter to go off on a two-week camping tour with a tour operator neither of them had met personally, he must be confident that the man was absolutely trustworthy.

This Cannon character, being the boss, and presumably the owner of Wild-Good-Chase Tours, was probably a mature, older man, married most likely, and he should at least be dependable and well experienced in the bush.

Besides, she had to go…people were depending on her. If she didn’t come up with the paintings of Kakadu that she’d promised to produce by early spring, she might never be invited to exhibit in Sydney again! She’d be seen as unreliable, and her reputation in the art world would suffer.

She hurried back to the kitchen to grab a much needed cup of coffee.

As soon as she stepped out of the packed aircraft after the long flight north, the humid warmth in the air, the casual surroundings, and the people milling round the terminal in shorts and skimpy tops, confirmed that she was in Darwin. This was a city where things happened at a slower, easier pace, where people relaxed and enjoyed life.

Where most people relaxed, that was. Unless they were waiting to meet a complete stranger. A stranger who was going to be her close companion for the next two weeks—not in a civilised city with other people around, but alone in the bush, exploring Australia’s largest, wildest and most exciting national park.

She gulped hard, and looked around for a man carrying a sign with her name on it. She could only see two people carrying signs, an elderly man and a young woman, and neither of their signs said Natasha Beale. And they weren’t wearing insignias bearing the name Wild-Goose-Chase Tours.

She wasn’t sure whether to wait, or go ahead and pick up her luggage. Maybe she’d find him there. She could always call the tour company. As the boss he—

Her eyes widened. Her heart crashed against her ribs. A man was heading her way. A tall broad-shouldered man in knee-length khaki shorts, a dark shirt with an insignia on the pocket, and an Akubra hat with a similar badge…in the shape of a magpie goose, with the words Wild-Goose-Chase Tours clearly visible.

The man wasn’t holding a card with her name on it. He didn’t have to. He knew precisely who she was. Just as she knew who he was.

‘Tom Scanlon,’ she breathed in disbelief. With an effort she managed to stop her legs crumbling beneath her. That insignia on his cap…on his shirt…No, it wasn’t possible! She could feel herself plunging into a nightmare. A nightmare her own father must have had a hand in!

Cannon, Charlie had slyly—cunningly—called him. Scanlon…Cannon…how devious.

‘Natasha…how was the flight?’ Tom held out both arms, as if about to grasp her shoulders and give her a welcoming kiss on the cheek—or on the lips!

She jerked back, out of his reach. ‘What in the world do you think you’re up to, Tom Scanlon? What sick game are you playing this time?’

‘No game. I’m answering a call for help,’ he said mildly. ‘Your father’s fallen ill, I was sorry to hear, and can’t travel with you—and he appealed to me to come to your rescue.’

Her eyes flared, then narrowed. ‘He knew you were working up here in Darwin?’ Her head was still spinning. She could barely think.

‘I mentioned it to him yesterday. Did he tell you I bought one of your paintings?’

If he thought he was going to soften her up that way, he was sadly mistaken. ‘If you imagine I’m going anywhere with you, Tom Scanlon—’

‘Look, you’d better pick up your luggage. We can argue on the way. Can I carry something for you?’

She had a tote bag and her camera slung over her shoulder. ‘I can manage, thanks.’ She had to think! She had to get out of this ghastly mess.

‘If you say so.’ He actually had the nerve to take her arm as he steered her away. She shook it off.

‘I’m going back on the next plane,’ she bit out. And when she got home she’d give her father a piece of her mind, sick or not. How dare he hire Tom Scanlon to look after her—and be so underhand about it! The last man on earth she’d ever go on a camping tour with. Go anywhere with.

‘After your father’s gone to all this trouble for you?’ Tom’s eyes, deeply blue against the rich tan of his face, reproached her. ‘Charlie told me he was desperate and didn’t know who else to turn to. It was only natural he’d appeal to me—someone he knows—having learned only yesterday that I run adventure safaris out of Darwin…which I’ve been doing for the past year.’

He had? He couldn’t have stayed long in Sydney…

‘But you didn’t have to volunteer to take me!’

‘Sorry, ma’am, but I was the only operator available at such short notice. And your father was very relieved that you’d have someone you both know to take care of you—someone he can rely on.’

‘Rely on? You?’ She turned scathing eyes to his. When had she ever been able to rely on Tom Scanlon to take care of her? ‘Oh, this is too much!’ she burst out. ‘You’ll have to find someone else to take me—I don’t care where from. I’m not going anywhere with you!’

‘You’d prefer to go with a total stranger?’

‘I thought I was going with a total stranger.’

‘Ah, but your father knew that you weren’t. He knew you’d be safe with me. You will, Natasha,’ Tom assured her seriously. ‘This is a business arrangement, pure and simple. I’m just your driver…your guide…your minder, if you like. I’ll be there to give you a helping hand and generally watch over you. This trip’s obviously important to you. Let’s make the best of it.’

The best of it? How could there be any ‘best’ about it, if he was involved? She inhaled a fraught breath. She could feel a net tightening around her. But she wasn’t going to meekly give in. ‘You can answer some questions before I even think about it!’

‘By all means…but we’d better grab your luggage first. Can you see your bag?’

Luggage was already revolving on the carousel, with people dashing forward to retrieve their bags.

Natasha spied her battered suitcase. It had been on many trips with her, usually around Queensland in her father’s sturdy four-wheel-drive. If they’d had the time to spare they would have driven all the way to Kakadu instead of flying, but it would have added days, or even weeks, to the trip.

And what if her father had fallen ill on the way? It would have been a disaster!

‘It’s that one.’ She dashed forward to snatch it up, but Tom was there before her, lifting the bag with ease. She had to admire his strength. The suitcase held not only heavy boots and all the clothes and toiletries she’d need for two weeks, but a first aid kit, a torch, films and equipment for her camera, her sketching and painting gear, and maps and compasses.

‘Anything else?’ Tom asked.

‘A sleeping bag.’ She’d decided to bring her own. ‘There it is!’

He was there before her again, grabbing the rolled-up sleeping bag and slinging it over his shoulder. ‘That it? Right. My four-wheel-drive’s in the car park. I’ve already stocked up on food and drink. Anything else you want before we head off?’

He was assuming she’d already given in. Had she?

‘I’ll want a tent.’ The answer popped out. If she was going to go anywhere with Tom Scanlon, she intended to have a tent all to herself. A two-man tent for reasonable comfort. Tom could provide his own tent—or sleep under the stars.

‘No problem. I’ve a tent in the car.’

‘I’ll want a tent to myself.’

‘You can have it. I always sleep out—except in the wet season, when I usually bunk down in the back of the four-wheel-drive.’ He swung round, heading for the exit, expecting her to follow.

‘Wait!’ She didn’t move. ‘You said you’d answer some questions first.’

There was one question in particular that she had to know the answer to before she took another step.

‘Sure.’ He paused, turning his head. ‘Fire away.’ His eyes were unreadable under his slouch hat.

‘Did you tell your girlfriend that you intend to go on a camping trip with your ex-fiancée?’ She kept her tone cool, her expression as inscrutable as his. ‘Or is she your wife now?’

It seemed an age before he answered. The answer came with a shrug. ‘That didn’t work out.’ There was no emotion in his voice…no regret, no sadness, no relief—nothing. Just a coolly impassive statement of fact.

If he’d shown some feeling…

Bitterness rose like bile in her stomach. ‘She left you? Or did you leave her? You’re good at that. Leaving the women in your life.’ She could have bitten out her tongue the second the bitter words were out. If he thought she still cared…still reacted to him…still had feelings for him…

I don’t! she told herself, tossing back her head, her eyes turning to glinting ice. ‘Forget it, I’m not interested.’ But under her cool-eyed unconcern, her mind was reeling, her insides churning. So the irresistible femme fatale who’d struck him ‘like a bolt out of the blue’ was no longer in the picture. It hadn’t worked out.

So much for his grand passion.

Her lip twisted. Had he tired of her, the way he’d tired of his fiancée after an engagement of only two weeks? He’d called her the light of his life once! She scowled. Had he suffered cold feet all over again at the thought of settling down? At the thought of marriage?

She flounced past him. She didn’t want to think about it! ‘Well, come on. Since I’ve little choice, let’s go.’

‘No more questions?’ As he caught up with her, in a couple of long strides, his body language appeared more relaxed than it had been a second ago. She’d seen how he’d tensed under her lashing scorn, flinching as she’d taunted him about leaving the women in his life.

‘I haven’t taken up with anyone else, if that’s of any interest,’ he assured her with the glimmer of a smile.

She shot him a look of searing contempt. ‘It isn’t. Your business is yours and mine is mine.’ She kept her tone clipped, her eyes remote. ‘Let’s keep it that way.’ If she was going to go on this camping trip with him, she had to keep it on a strictly business footing or she’d never survive a day with him, let alone two weeks. ‘As you pointed out, this will be purely a business arrangement. Simply that.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

They reached his huge dust-covered four-wheel-drive without any further verbal clashes, sticking to safe subjects such as food, drinks, and other camping needs, all of which Tom had already packed into the vehicle. He appeared to have thought of everything.

‘Have you had lunch?’ he asked as he unlocked the big four-wheel-drive and heaved her suitcase and sleeping bag into a rear seat. With two rows of spare seats behind the two front seats, there was ample storage space.

‘Yes, thank you, I had it on the plane.’

‘Good, then we can head off straightaway. We’ll reach Kakadu Park by late afternoon.’ He waved her in.

As she hauled herself up into the front passenger seat, she noticed an aluminium boat on the roof-rack above. An excited quiver ran through her. Having a boat at her disposal when they reached the Kakadu wetlands would give her far greater flexibility than a tourist boat cruise could ever provide.

But they’d have to be careful! Crocodiles abounded in the Yellow Water Billabong and the Alligator River system.

She smiled at the misnomer. She’d been reading up on Kakadu and knew that the South, West and East Alligator Rivers had been mistakenly named, since there were no alligators in Australia! The original explorer had seen the smaller freshwater crocodiles and mistaken them for the alligators he’d seen in North America. He’d obviously never seen a mighty twenty-foot-long man-eating saltwater crocodile!

‘That’s better,’ Tom commented from the driver’s seat.

Her head swung round. ‘What’s better?’

‘You’re smiling.’ His lip quirked. ‘At least you were,’ he drawled as her smile vanished, her eyes clouding.

‘I’m just keen to get going,’ she said fractiously. ‘I can’t wait to see Kakadu.’ She had to concentrate on that—on her reason for coming on this trip—and put everything else out of her mind!

‘You’re the boss. Like a drink of water before we set off?’ Now that they were out of the comparatively cool terminal, the May sun was scorching, the humidity oppressive. ‘It’s important not to get dehydrated up here. It’ll be even more vital once we hit Kakadu.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’

Tom reached behind him to delve into a battery-operated refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to her. While she was sipping, he grabbed another bottle for himself and gulped down several huge swallows.

‘Ah, that’s good,’ he muttered, wiping a hand across his lips.

Her eyes widened. He’d once been a soft drink addict who always had a can of Coca-Cola or Pepsi in his hand, seldom plain water. Or if not a soft drink, a cold beer. Water’s boring, he’d said, adding with a cheeky grin, like most things that are good for you.

She glanced away, compressing her lips at the memory. He must have found her boring too. He wouldn’t have walked out on her otherwise…

‘Keep your water bottle handy,’ Tom advised, ‘and take a swig as you need it.’ He tucked his own bottle into the gap between the seats.

As they sped east along the Arnhem Highway, Natasha sat tensely, staring straight ahead—not just to avoid Tom’s eye, but because she was keen not to miss a thing, even though it would be another two-and-a-half hours before they reached Kakadu.

With light traffic and no speed limit in the Northern Territory, the big four-wheel-drive barrelled along the excellent bitumen highway. After a while she settled back in her seat, but she didn’t relax. She couldn’t. She was still trembling with anger and shock at the impossible situation she’d found herself in. If Tom had been safely married, or had still been with his girlfriend—still devoted to his girlfriend—she would have known how to treat him. She might even have been able to relax a little, knowing the past was well and truly buried and that she was safe from him.

But he was still free. Still unmarried.

Still the roving-eyed Romeo?

She steeled her heart. If he even thought of making another play for her after what he’d done to her already—if he dared try anything at all—she would push him into the nearest river and leave him to the crocodiles!

As they crossed the Marrakai Plains and the Adelaide River, Tom gave a running commentary, pointing out anything of special interest. Determined not to show any reaction to him, she buried her antagonism—for now—and asked the occasional question, even offering a few coolly interested comments. But as the kilometres rolled by, she couldn’t prevent a sigh slipping from her lips.

‘The bushland along here is pretty monotonous, I’m afraid,’ Tom murmured, noting her sigh and mistaking it for boredom. ‘Everyone finds the long drive to Kakadu a bit tedious. After being in the air all morning and driving all afternoon, I guess you’ll be wanting to crash into bed early tonight.’

Bed! Heat flamed along her cheekbones. She wasn’t ready to spend a night alone in the wilds with Tom Scanlon! She wasn’t ready to camp out in the solitary bush with her ex-fiancé, sharing meals and an intimate camp fire, with no one else within miles, perhaps. She gave a faint shudder. But what choice did she have? She’d committed herself now.

‘How does the idea of a real bed sound?’

Her head whipped round, her eyes wary. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘We have to go to the park headquarters at Jabaru to pick up our permits. How about I book us into the Crocodile Hotel just for tonight? My shout. We can have a good dinner there too. I think you deserve one civilised night before we trundle off into the wilds for two weeks.’

She inhaled a deep breath. It was tempting…if only to put off the inevitable. A comfortable night’s sleep in the privacy of her own room would help to steel herself for the long nights she’d be camping out under the stars with her ex-fiancé—and the long days she’d have him breathing down her neck.

‘Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t let you pay for me,’ she hedged. ‘A night at the Crocodile Hotel, with dinner, would cost you a fortune.’ Tom had never splashed his money around. He’d saved it. At least he had…once. ‘If I did agree to stay there, I’d pay for myself.’ Luckily she’d brought a credit card with her.

‘Let’s find out if they’ve a room available first. Sorry—two rooms,’ Tom corrected as her horrified gaze flew to his. He was swinging the big vehicle off the road as he spoke. ‘I’ll let you stretch your legs and take a close-up look at those giant ant-hills over there while I put a call through. And you’d better have some water—you’re not drinking enough.’ He’d been taking regular swigs from his own bottle, she’d noticed, as they’d been driving along.

She felt his eyes on her as he killed the engine. Glancing round at him as she took a few gulps from her water bottle, she saw a crooked smile on his lips.

‘Very nice,’ Tom murmured, an approving gleam in his deep blue eyes.

Her breath hissed in sharply, her eyes snapping in disbelief. He was staring—staring openly—at the swell of her breasts!

‘Nice?’ she echoed icily. If he was going to start making sleazy comments, she was off! She would hire another four-wheel-drive and another guide—from somewhere. Jabaru, maybe. Any stranger would be preferable to this—this—

‘Your T-shirt,’ Tom said glibly. ‘Very pretty. You like waterlilies?’

Her breath puffed out, her cheeks flaming as her anger deflated. He was admiring her Monet T-shirt!

‘Yes, I…they…they’re beautiful,’ she stammered, feeling a complete fool.

‘That they are.’ His gaze was still on her T-shirt—quite unnecessarily now, she thought, her flush deepening. ‘Well, you’ll see plenty of water lilies on the flood plains,’ he drawled. ‘At Yellow Waters and other billabongs.’

‘Yes…’ she swallowed. ‘I know. I intend to paint them.’

‘I guessed you would.’ He looked amused, damn him. He knew what she’d thought! ‘We’ll take our own boat out, rather than joining one of the tourist boats, and you’ll be able to take all the time you like.’ He pulled out his mobile phone. ‘Well…I’d better make that call.’

It was a relief when his gaze left her burning face.

Grabbing her camera, she stepped out, taking a few hefty gulps of air as she turned away from the vehicle. The heat and humidity were intense but she barely noticed, her artist’s eye captured by the huge rock-hard termite mounds standing like ancient fortresses in the drying grassland beside the road.

‘Wow,’ she whispered. To think that tiny ants had built these giants! They were awesome—worthy of a painting. She took photographs from various angles, then pulled out a small notebook and made a few pencil sketches, with notes.

Tom joined her a few minutes later. ‘We’re booked in,’ he said, and paused, his eyes dancing. ‘So now you can relax.’ The corner of his lip quirked, as if he’d sensed her apprehension and was tickled by it. ‘You’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep.’

‘Great.’ She intended to. ‘Well, are you ready to go? The sooner we’re there, the sooner I can get to—’ she nearly said bed, but prudently avoided the word ‘—to sleep!’

Once back in the car and on their way, she realised she actually did feel more relaxed. Staying overnight at a civilised hotel would be a welcome reprieve.

An extravagant reprieve, she thought with a faint twinge of guilt.

Well…what the heck? What was a little extravagance, once in a while? She’d always wanted to see the famous hotel that was built in the shape of a crocodile.