Читать книгу Breaking The Playboy's Rules - Emily Forbes - Страница 9

SHE had to look up to see him properly. He was tall, at a guess she’d say five inches taller than her, which would make him about six feet three. His eyes were a clear blue, quite striking against his tanned skin, and his hair was thick and dark with a slight curl. His shoulders were broad and he was solidly built but it appeared to be all muscle. He looked like he could muster sheep or cattle, or whatever it was they farmed out here, all day, and still have energy to spare.

She almost sighed with pleasure. Her first glimpse of an Outback man and he was just what she’d imagined, just what her hours of watching Australian television dramas had led her to hope for. He was gorgeous in a ruggedly handsome way.

While she was busy drooling over his gorgeousness she realised he was still staring at her, waiting for her to answer. He probably thought she was in shock.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied.

‘You’ve got blood on your lip,’ he said.

Despite the noise and disorder surrounding them, Emma didn’t need to strain to hear his words. His deep voice carried easily across the small distance that separated them. He was holding a small first-aid backpack and he took some tissues from it and held them out to her.

Emma licked her lip and tasted blood, warm and salty, on her tongue. She must have bitten it when the plane had belly-flopped onto the landing strip. As she took the tissue and pressed it to her lip she was surprised to find that her hand was shaking. Adrenalin was coursing through her system but she hadn’t had time to notice until now.

‘You’ve missed a bit,’ he said when Emma took the tissue from her lip. He delved into the backpack again and retrieved a bottle of water. He poured a little on the tissues. ‘May I?’ he asked.

His clear blue eyes were fixed on hers, drawing her in, relaxing her. The chaos, the noise and the crowd of people around them seemed to disappear into the red dust, leaving the two of them alone on the airstrip. The experience was slightly hypnotic and Emma found herself nodding automatically in reaction to his calming blue gaze.

But when he reached out and cupped her chin with his hand her response was definitely not calm and relaxed, it was something completely different altogether. Her skin tingled under his touch as his fingertips grazed her lip, leaving a trail of heat behind as he wiped the blood from her face.

She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move, she could barely breathe. Her breaths were shallow but it was the best she could manage, and she could feel her heart pulsing in her chest. She told herself it wasn’t him, it was the adrenalin that had heightened her senses. What other possible reason could there be? She didn’t have this kind of reaction to perfect strangers. No one did. Did they?

She needed to sit down and catch her breath. She needed to get some perspective. She just needed a moment to collect herself and then everything would be back to normal. She couldn’t afford to get spellbound by tall, dark and handsome men. By any men. Not right now.

‘Do you want someone to look at that?’ he asked.

His question confused her. He was wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt with epaulettes on the shoulders and on his breast pocket was a logo she recognised, a pair of wings, the symbol of the flying doctors service. Why would he get someone else to look at her lip?

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, aware that her voice was shaky and thin. She sounded as out of breath as she felt.

‘Did you want me to get one of the medics to check it for you?’ he asked.

Emma glanced at the logo on his shirt pocket again before she looked up at him. ‘Aren’t you a doctor?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m a pilot.’

‘Oh.’

A pilot. His answer threw her off course for a moment. She hadn’t expected that.

‘I’ll be okay,’ she said. She was a nurse with a bloody lip, she was sure she didn’t need to take up anybody’s time for that. And then she remembered what she’d been doing before she’d been distracted by the appearance of a handsome pilot in her path. ‘But there’s a girl back here with a broken wrist, I was looking for a paramedic.’

‘Can you take me to her?’

She nodded. ‘It’s this way.’

She retraced her steps and he fell into step beside her.

She watched the ground to make sure she didn’t tread on anything dangerous. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought to put her sandals back on her feet, but it also kept her attention focussed on the job at hand. She’d never realised she could be so easily distracted.

Within moments they were back in the shadow of the plane and the handsome stranger picked up his pace and ran the remaining few steps.

‘Lisa! What happened?’

‘Harry!’

Emma heard the happiness in the girl’s voice even as she registered that her name was Lisa. Lisa and Harry. Lisa knew Harry. Harry knew Lisa. They knew each other.

Good, Emma told herself. This handsome stranger was nothing to her. It was just the adrenalin that had caused such an unexpected physical reaction, just the adrenalin that had left her short of breath and made her skin tingle. She could ignore the little flutter of excitement in her belly, the little increase in her heart rate. Even if she’d been in the market for a man, and she wasn’t, it looked like this one was well and truly off limits.

‘I got caught in the wrong position. I wasn’t braced properly,’ Lisa replied. ‘It was stupid of me.’

‘Let’s get you to an ambulance,’ Harry was saying, and before Emma could blink he’d crouched down and scooped Lisa into his arms. He stood up again, lifting her as if she weighed no more than a three-year-old.

‘Thank you for your help.’ He was holding Lisa in his arms but he was talking to her. Emma was surprised—she hadn’t expected him to remember she was there. ‘Do you think you can follow the others to the terminal?’ he asked as he inclined his head to his left.

Emma wondered if she shouldn’t offer to help other passengers. Surely any help would be gratefully received but as she looked around, now that the dust had settled, she could see paramedics attending to those who needed them and there was a line of uninjured passengers making their way across the dirt towards a small building. Things looked to be under control.

She nodded. She was fine. She could walk. She just needed to put her shoes back on. Her sandals were still lying on the ground and as she bent to retrieve them she caught sight of her filthy clothes. In the few minutes that she’d been out of the plane she’d become covered in a layer of red dust. She slid her dusty feet into her sandals and glanced back up at the man standing before her. His clothes were immaculate, clean and crisp and she wondered how he had managed to stay so pristine.

‘Yes, I can,’ she answered as she deliberately straightened her shoulders. She was okay. She could manage. ‘I’m fine. Go, get Lisa to the ambulance. I’m fine,’ she repeated, aware that she didn’t need to monopolise any more of his time.

Emma turned and walked away so that he was free to leave. She followed the crowd towards the terminal and left the gorgeous stranger behind in the red dust, making herself look straight ahead even though she wanted to turn around for another glimpse. No doubt he was already whisking Lisa off to the paramedics and would have no time to give her another thought. She wondered if she’d wake up tomorrow and think this was all a dream. Or if she’d run into him again.

As she entered the little terminal building she couldn’t resist a final glance over her shoulder but he was nowhere to be seen, already absorbed into the throng that remained gathered around the stricken aircraft.

Inside the terminal a representative from the airline was issuing instructions, handing out paperwork and getting details on whether passengers wanted to wait for their luggage or have it delivered. Emma was swept up in a sea of red tape and it was many minutes before she had a chance to wonder where Sophie was.

She searched the area for a familiar face but she couldn’t spot her cousin anywhere. She frowned. With all the drama of the crash landing she would have thought Sophie would be front and centre, waiting to welcome her. Was she in the right place? Was there more than one back of beyond in Outback Australia? God, imagine if she’d crash-landed in the wrong town!

She pulled her mobile phone out of her handbag and switched it on. She was almost certain she was in the right place. There was bound to be a reason Soph wasn’t here. Perhaps she’d left a message.

Sure enough, her phone beeped as soon as it came to life.

So sorry, Em, clinic running late, will be there by six. S xx

Emma shrugged her slim shoulders and sat down to wait. There was nothing else for her to do. She watched the other travellers coming and going, their numbers dwindling as the terminal building emptied out. Everyone else seemed to have someone to meet them or somewhere to go. The ambulances had long since departed and Emma wondered how Lisa was and what had happened to the pilot.

She watched as the fire engines drove away from the scene, leaving the plane stranded in the middle of nowhere. She knew how it felt. She wondered how the plane would be moved and assumed it would be towed somewhere, somehow. It was sitting abandoned. Had the luggage been retrieved? What had happened to her bag?

She frowned and started searching for a baggage carousel even as she realised she hadn’t seen one. She should go and fetch her bag. She stood up. She would need to make some enquiries.

The first person she saw was the ruggedly handsome pilot. Harry, Lisa had called him. He was walking towards her. He walked quickly, his long strides eating up the distance between them, and she expected him to continue on past her as he looked as though he was walking with a purpose, but he came to stop in front of her.

‘Are you still here? Is someone meeting you?’ He assessed her with his blue gaze as his eyebrows came together in a frown.

Emma looked up at him. He towered over her, but his size wasn’t intimidating, in fact she found it oddly reassuring. He gave off a sense that he was a man who could be relied on, a man who would get things done. Maybe it was just the uniform, she’d always seen uniforms as a symbol of order and control, but she sensed that with this man it was more about his personality and less about his attire.

‘Yes, but they’re running late,’ she replied. ‘I’m just going to look for my bags while I wait. Do you know where the baggage carousel is?’

‘First time in Broken Hill?’ he asked.

He was smiling and by the expression in his bright blue eyes she could tell he wanted to laugh. At her. She couldn’t imagine what there was to laugh about but whatever it was that amused him he at least had the good grace not to laugh out loud.

‘Yes, why?’

Harry watched as Emma straightened her slim shoulders and lifted her chin and he knew she was just daring him to make fun of her. He wasn’t about to take the mickey out of her, not when she’d just had a less than stellar welcome to the Hill, but he always found it amusing to see how first-timers coped with Broken Hill. Listening to her English accent, he imagined that in her case it would be a vastly different experience from anything she’d had before. He wondered what she was doing here, this English girl in the middle of the Outback. She didn’t look like the average backpacker and she appeared to be travelling alone. What could possibly have brought her here? Who was she waiting for?

‘There is no carousel,’ he explained. ‘Your luggage will be outside on the trolley. It’s this way.’ He could have directed her to the trolley, it wasn’t difficult to find if you knew where to look, but he wasn’t in a hurry and he’d never been able to resist a damsel in distress, especially not a pretty one.

He’d seen her again the moment he’d entered the terminal and he’d kept one eye on her even as he’d helped get other passengers sorted. Technically, sorting out the chaos from the crash landing wasn’t his job but in a town like Broken Hill, where everyone knew everybody else, or at least that’s what it felt like, many hands made light work. Particularly in situations like this, when things had gone haywire, it was the country way to pitch in and do your bit. But he’d made sure he’d done his bit while keeping an eye on the tall, willowy brunette.

The terminal was almost empty now. Most of the passengers had been taken care of and only a few remained. She was one of them.

He’d half turned away from her, towards the exit and the baggage trolley, waiting for her to follow him, but she wasn’t moving. She was standing still and frowning. A little crease had appeared between her green eyes and she was fiddling with the end of her ponytail.

A moment later she appeared to come to a decision. She flicked her hair back over her shoulder and he watched as she stowed her mobile phone in her handbag. Her wrists were brown and slender, her fingers slim with short, polished nails, and her movements as she slung her bag over her shoulder were fluid and graceful. Even though her white cotton dress and silver sandals were covered in red dust, she still managed to look elegant.

Her outfit alone was enough to convince Harry she wasn’t a local. Not too many people were brave enough to wear all white in the country’s red centre.

But it wasn’t her outfit that had told him she wasn’t from around here. Neither was it her English accent. Even before she’d spoken one word or asked the question about her luggage Harry had known she wasn’t from the Hill. He knew he’d never seen her before. He would have remembered.

‘Did you want to come with me to the trolley?’ he asked, eager to prolong the encounter. His offer was rewarded with a smile that made him catch his breath. Her green eyes sparkled but it was the twin dimples that appeared on each side of her mouth that made him do a double take. At first glance there was no denying she was an attractive woman but when she smiled she was spectacular.

She reminded him of the wildflowers that suddenly appeared after the desert rains—stunningly beautiful and completely unexpected—and he wondered if, like the native flowers, she would appear fragile yet turn out to be resilient.

‘Thank you,’ she said without protest. She didn’t tell him she’d be able to find the luggage trolley on her own; she didn’t tell him she didn’t need his help.

She simply fell into step beside him and made him feel good about himself for helping. He watched the reaction of the remaining passengers as they walked through the terminal. He was used to being with beautiful women but it seemed as though every person in the building was looking at them and he didn’t flatter himself that he was the one who’d captured their attention. It was most definitely the willowy brunette they were watching.

He felt like the schoolboy who’d caught the attention of the prom queen. He knew that was ridiculous and fanciful but that made no difference—it was how she made him feel and the sensation was unexpected but not unpleasant.

The half-laden luggage trolley sat just outside the terminal doors.

Emma reached up to grab a large duffel bag from the top of the pile.

‘Here, let me get that for you,’ he offered. ‘It looks heavy.’

She could have managed to lift her bag and find the trolley, she’d just needed to know where it was. But she didn’t tell him she could manage because she found him fascinating and she was more than happy to let him help her. So she stepped back to let him past her.

As he retrieved her bag from the trolley his biceps bulged, straining against the fabric of his shirt. She’d bet her last pound that his muscles came from physical work, not from lifting weights in a gym. He looked vibrant, healthy and solid, totally male. He seemed a far more masculine version of the men she was used to in England.

Maybe it was the tougher environment out here, maybe it was the sun, the fresh air or the physical activity, but, whatever it was, someone had definitely got something right when they’d made him.

‘You’re staying in town for a while?’ he asked as he hefted her bag and slung it over his shoulder.

He was grinning and once again she had the feeling that he was doing his best not to laugh at her. She knew her bag was heavy, even though he made it look light.

When she’d packed she hadn’t really known what she’d need and as usual she knew she would have brought far too many pairs of shoes. She’d already noticed that everyone in the airport wore no-nonsense sturdy shoes or flip-flops and she hadn’t seen one pair of sparkly shoes on anyone over the age of thirteen.

She knew her bag was bulging at the seams and she knew she might not need the three pairs of strappy stilettos she’d packed, or even the two pairs of ballet flats, but surely she didn’t have to sacrifice her fashion sense completely just because she was in the middle of nowhere?

‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. Her plans hadn’t evolved at all past getting on the plane and arriving in town.

‘What brings you here?’ He was frowning as he carried her bag into the terminal.

‘I’m visiting my cousin.’

‘Is that who’s running late?’

She nodded in reply.

‘How late?’ he asked.

Emma checked her watch and felt his eyes follow her movement. ‘About an hour. She sent me a message, something about the clinic running late.’

‘The clinic?’ he queried. ‘What does she do, this cousin of yours?’

‘Do you always ask this many questions?’ she countered, wondering if it was the country manner to be this direct or just his manner.

‘Yep,’ he answered, with a smile that made his blue eyes sparkle.

‘Sophie’s a physio at the hospital,’ she told him, realising she’d tell him just about anything he wanted to know provided he was smiling at her.

‘You’re not talking about Sophie Stewart, are you?’

‘Yes, do you know her?’

He was nodding.

Just exactly how small was this town? Emma wondered. First he’d known Lisa and now Sophie. But it was good news for her as it meant she was in the right place after all.

‘She’s out on a clinic run with the flying doctors,’ he said. ‘There’s a storm out over Innamincka that’s delayed their return.’

Emma remembered Sophie mentioning something about the allied health hospital staff sometimes working with the flying doctor service. Her eyes flicked to the logo on his shirt pocket, the wings of the flying doctors. Soph got to work with this man? No wonder she’d said she planned to stay in Broken Hill for a while.

‘I’m a pilot with the flying doctors,’ he said when he saw the direction of her gaze. ‘I’m Harry Connor …’ he extended his hand ‘… and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophie’s cousin.’

‘Emma. My name is Emma Matheson,’ she replied, as she reached for his hand.

And there it was again. That same tingle that made her catch her breath. The feeling that he was taking all her oxygen and causing her light-headedness. Only this time she couldn’t blame adrenalin. That had had plenty of time to settle while she’d been sitting waiting.

‘So, Emma Matheson, what do you plan to do now?’ he said as he released her hand.

She wasn’t big on plans but fortunately Harry hadn’t finished. He continued speaking and gave her some options. ‘Did you want to hang around here? Or you could wait at the flying doctor base or I could drop you off at Sophie’s place.’

‘I don’t have a key.’

He laughed. Out loud this time and it was such a pleasant sound, deep and full and it resonated through her. It was so genuine she couldn’t find it irritating, even though she knew it was at her expense. ‘I doubt the house is locked and if it is I know where the key is hidden.’

Did he and Sophie have history? And what about Lisa?

He read her mind. ‘Don’t look at me like that. It’s all perfectly innocent. And I promise I’m completely trustworthy.’

She doubted very much that he was innocent but she wanted to believe she could trust him. Jeremy’s behaviour had shaken her faith in men but she had a good association with men in uniforms. Besides, she’d seen how he treated Lisa and he knew Sophie. She wanted to think he was a man who could be trusted, and with a laugh like that, one that reached right into his bright blue eyes, how could he be anything but nice?

‘Now, where can I take you?’ he asked, obviously deciding she’d had enough time to make up her mind.

‘If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to go to Sophie’s. I need a shower and a change of clothes.’

‘Done.’

‘But aren’t you supposed to be working?’

‘Nope. My shift’s over. I came across to the airport when I heard the distress call. I have clearance to be on the airport apron and I thought I might be needed. Turns out I am.’ He grinned and Emma’s insides skittered. She wasn’t about to complain about his presence. It did feel as though he’d been sent to help her.

‘Come with me,’ he invited. ‘Send Sophie a text and let her know I’ll drop you at her place—that way you know I’ll have to get you there safely,’ he added as Emma still hesitated.

‘That’s not …’ Emma was about to protest and say it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him but she knew that was exactly the issue. And Harry knew it too. She nodded—it was a good suggestion. She pulled her phone out and sent Sophie a message even as she decided to consider this one of those times when things were going to unfold without her input. A pilot, in uniform, who’d already helped her and Lisa. If she was going to learn to put her faith in people again, this was as good a place as any to start.

Harry waited for her to put her phone away before he headed for the exit. Emma had to hurry to keep up with his long strides as he walked through the terminal. Not even the weight of her bag, which he still had slung over his shoulder like a beach towel, slowed him down. Not that his strength should have surprised her considering how easily he’d lifted Lisa earlier.

Harry loaded her bag into the boot of a large four-wheel drive and held the passenger door open for her. As they left the airport he pointed out the sights as he drove across town.

Normally Emma would have debated whether what he was showing her qualified as ‘sights’ as in her opinion the best thing she could see was Harry and she was more than happy to keep him in her view. But she didn’t want to appear rude so she tried to look interested as he showed her another sight—a huge pile of dirt in the centre of town.

According to him, this was the old mine and the reason for Broken Hill’s existence. The town had been founded on the back of a mining boom when lead, zinc and silver had been found in the area, but Emma found it hard to get excited about a heap of dirt, although she did agree that it made a useful landmark.

Emma tried to remember what Sophie had told her about the town as Harry negotiated the streets. She knew it was first and foremost a mining town but there was also a thriving artists’ community and it was a popular location for movie-making. Looking around, Emma couldn’t imagine why but apparently the surrounding country was quite spectacular. Sophie had told her there wasn’t enough in the town itself to keep her occupied for the three months she planned to stay, which was why she’d spent the first month in Sydney with the rest of Sophie’s family. Soph had popped back for a weekend, which had given them time to catch up, but Emma was looking forward to spending more time with her cousin. Sophie was always like a breath of fresh air and Emma needed that.

Sophie’s house was on one side of the mine and the airport was on the other, but even so it took less than twenty minutes to arrive at the house. It was a large, old, single-level, double-fronted stone building with a wide veranda and iron roof, and Emma remembered that Sophie shared the house. It was much too big for one person.

‘Sophie shares with a girl called Grace, is that right?’ Emma asked, as she followed Harry along the driveway. She’d expected him to try the front door but instead he was walking down the side of the house and entering through the back. Just as he’d predicted, the door was unlocked.

‘Yes, she’s a flying doctor,’ Harry replied, as he led Emma through a casual living room and up the hall. ‘She was on the clinic run today with Sophie. This is their spare room,’ he said, as he opened a bedroom door and deposited her bag. ‘If you’re okay, I might call past the hospital and check on Lisa. Will you be all right here on your own?’

Lucky Lisa. Emma nodded. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll have a shower and a cup of tea. Thanks for the lift.’

‘No worries.’ Harry’s responses were as easygoing as he appeared to be, and Emma was sorry to see him go. She was suddenly aware of how big and empty and quiet the house was now that she was alone so she headed for the bathroom and the comfort of a hot shower, wanting to keep busy until Sophie got home.

She had showered and changed into shorts and a strappy tank top and was sitting at the kitchen table with a pot of tea in front of her when Sophie exploded in through the back door. There was no other way to describe it, Soph only ever seemed to have one pace and that was full steam ahead.

‘You made it! I can’t believe you’re actually here,’ she squealed. ‘I heard about the plane trip. Thank God it didn’t crash.’

Emma didn’t know what else you’d call it when a plane dropped from the sky and slid along a runway on its belly instead of its wheels, but she agreed it could have been worse, much worse, so she wasn’t about to argue.

‘I’m so sorry I was late. Are you really okay?’ Sophie looked her up and down.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’ve got a bit of a fat lip.’

Emma touched her lip self-consciously. It was tender but it was hardly a catastrophe. She started to stand but Sophie had enveloped her in a hug before she could get out of her seat. ‘I’m fine, really. All in one piece and delivered safe and sound to your door.’

‘I can’t believe you’ve met Harry already. How did he know who you were?’

‘He didn’t at first. He was on the landing strip when we were all evacuated from the plane. He sort of appeared from nowhere through the dust—’

‘Did you collapse into his arms and make him carry you to the terminal?’

Emma shot her cousin a withering glare. ‘No.’

‘Pity,’ Sophie said with an exaggerated sigh. ‘That would have been so romantic.’

Emma ignored that comment. She happened to agree with Sophie but it would have sounded ridiculous to say so. ‘He had his arms full already.’

‘With what?’ Sophie asked.

‘With a nurse called Lisa,’ Emma said, keen to see Sophie’s reaction to that bit of news.

‘A short, curvaceous, blonde?’

Emma nodded, unsurprised that Sophie knew her. She was fast realising that anonymity was hard to find in this town.

‘What happened to her?’

‘She broke her wrist. Harry carried her off to the ambulance. He asked if I was okay and sent me to the terminal by myself.’ Emma left out the part about the tingles and the light-headedness as in her opinion it was far better to play down the events of the afternoon. ‘But when I was waiting for you, and the terminal was just about empty, he came and helped me again.’

‘I still think it would have been better if he’d swept you off your feet instead of Lisa but never mind—isn’t he fabulous?’

Gorgeous, Emma thought, but she wasn’t going to say that until she had more information. She knew from experience that things were not always as they seemed. ‘He seems nice.’

‘Nice! He’s better than that. If I wasn’t madly in love with Mark, I’d chase after him.’

‘He’s single?’ That surprised her. In her experience men who looked like that weren’t often single. ‘What about Lisa?’

‘They’re just friends. Harry’s single but he’s never single for long. He has a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. Luckily for him, Broken Hill is a very transient place, which means lots of the women with broken hearts are just passing through and don’t stay around to cause him grief. It seems to suit Harry. I’m sure his motto is “plenty more fish in the sea”. I bet he’d be happy to help you get over Jeremy.’

‘I don’t need help. Distance is all I need. I think I’m done with dating for a while.’

‘We’ll see.’ Sophie laughed.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I’ve never known you to be without a boyfriend for more than a few months and it’s been, what? Four months now?’

‘Five.’ Not that she was counting. But Sophie was right. She was never single for long and didn’t actually like being on her own. She’d spent too much time on her own as a child and because of her nomadic upbringing she’d never really had a chance to form close female friendships that stood the test of time so boyfriends had filled that gap. But Emma did intend to take a break from dating.

She needed time to find out who she was and what she wanted, without any complications. ‘I’m not looking for a boyfriend.’

‘That’s okay,’ Sophie said, refusing to be put off. ‘I doubt Harry’s looking for a girlfriend but if you have an itch that needs scratching, he’d probably be happy to help you out.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Emma replied, even though she knew she had no intention of getting romantically involved with anyone for a long time, no matter how gorgeous they were.

Not even if his touch had sent her hormones into overdrive?

Surely that was only because it had been so long since she’d had sex. Five months was a very long time so was it any wonder her hormones were a little crazy? But before Sophie could make any more helpful suggestions, their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Sophie’s housemate.

Grace was a petite woman, short and fine boned with jet-black hair cut in a bob. She was almost the perfect opposite of tall, blonde, Nordic-looking Sophie, and seeing them standing side by side as Sophie introduced her made Emma smile.

Grace’s arrival was closely followed by Harry’s reappearance and as he let himself in through the back door and despite her vows of celibacy, Emma found herself wishing she’d changed into a slightly more attractive outfit. She had an enormous bag stuffed with pretty clothes and she’d gone for comfort over style. But at least her hair was freshly washed and blow-dried and she was no longer covered in red dust.

Not that Harry even seemed to notice, he was too busy regaling Grace with his version of the drama of the plane crash while Sophie played hostess. Somehow Harry managed to make the plane crash sound almost exciting and if Emma hadn’t been intimately acquainted with the events of the day she would certainly now feel as though she’d lived through it. He was an entertaining storyteller and Emma imagined that anyone listening to his version would be sorry they hadn’t seen it for themselves, Harry made it sound as though it had been something not to be missed.

Grace asked Emma a few questions and Emma added her comments as best she could, but she was no match for Harry’s engaging style and she preferred listening to him while they waited for delivery of the take-away pizza Sophie had ordered.

‘Lisa’s broken wrist is a complication we don’t need at the moment,’ Harry said as he munched his fourth piece of pizza. Emma wasn’t surprised that a man of his size had a hearty appetite.

‘Why is that?’ Sophie asked.

‘She’s supposed to be taking a locum position with the flying doctor service while Kerri is on maternity leave. She was due to start next week but she’ll be out of action now.’

‘Why don’t you do it, Em?’ Sophie said. ‘Emma’s a nurse,’ she added for Harry and Grace’s benefit.

‘A hospital nurse,’ Emma clarified.

‘You’re trained in emergency work, though,’ Sophie added.

‘Are you?’ Grace asked, and when Emma nodded her face lit up. ‘Do you think you’d be interested?’

‘What, in working with the flying doctor service?’

‘Yes,’ Grace replied.

‘I’m here on a tourist visa. I’m not allowed to work,’ Emma said, thinking that surely Grace’s comment was just one of those off-the-cuff remarks people made without any real intent behind it.

‘I think you can do volunteer work,’ Grace said.

Emma shrugged. ‘I’m not sure I’m qualified to work with the flying doctors.’

‘If you’ve got emergency training, you’ll be fine.’

‘Yes, but I’m trained to work in a hospital, not out in a field in the middle of nowhere,’ she protested. She didn’t know the first thing about nursing outside a hospital environment and she hadn’t even done that for four months. Grace must be mad to think it was something she could do.

‘Technically it won’t be a field.’ Sophie laughed. ‘Out here we call them paddocks and the chances are you’ll just be in the dirt in the middle of nowhere, but it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You couldn’t get enough of that flying doctors show when we were teenagers; imagine getting to do the real thing.’

‘I’m sure it’s hardly the same.’ She had loved that television series but to hear Sophie say it, in front of people who actually did it for a living, made her sound like a crazy groupie.

But Sophie wasn’t going to give up. ‘Are you kidding? It’s brilliant! I reckon you’d love it.’

Harry caught Emma’s eye. He was grinning at her and suddenly the proposition seemed quite appealing. Maybe it would be fun.

‘You don’t need to decide today. You’ve probably had enough to deal with,’ he said, coming to her rescue once again. ‘But why don’t you come out to the base and have a look around? You can’t judge the job on an ancient television drama.’

‘That’s true,’ Grace added. ‘We work harder and we’re not all as good looking.’

‘Don’t scare her off, Grace,’ Harry said, laughing, and Emma relaxed. That was a sound she could get used to.

‘At least go and have a look, Em,’ Sophie encouraged her. ‘It’s not like you’ve got any other plans. You said you thought you’d stay for a while.’

Emma nodded. Soph was right, she wasn’t in a hurry to go home. There wasn’t anything to hurry back for. Her family was there, what was left of it, but they’d still be there whenever she returned. She’d left her job and she didn’t have another one waiting. She definitely wasn’t planning on going back to her old job, there were too many people there who knew her business. She was here for two more months and she didn’t intend to go back to London before that, which meant she really did need to come up with another option. And hadn’t she promised herself that if she survived the crash landing she’d look at returning to nursing?

‘You might as well have something to keep you busy.’ Sophie’s words echoed Emma’s thoughts.

‘It could be the perfect solution,’ Grace added. ‘Why don’t I get Irene to check out the volunteer situation? I’m sure there’s a loophole there somewhere.’

‘And in the meantime you could drive out to the base tomorrow to have a look. You’ll show her around, won’t you, Harry?’ Sophie sounded innocent enough but Emma recognised the gleam in her eye.

She chose to pretend not to notice. It seemed as if her life was being organised for her, at least for the next few weeks, but as she had no firm plans of her own there was nothing to argue about.

‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. After all, what harm could there be in just looking?