“You’re the boss,” Blake said. At least, for now.

He saw Jo’s eyes widen as if she’d heard his unspoken words.

“You don’t have a problem with my taking charge?” she asked.

His shoulders lifted. “Why should I? I’m a sensitive New Age kind of guy.”

“Yeah, right.”

Feigning hurt feelings, Blake’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you’ll let me lead when it suits you,” Jo responded.

Keeping the grin off his face, he said, “I might surprise you.”

The skeptical look she gave him only made him want her more. He would take the greatest delight in breaching her journalistic facade to connect with the woman beneath. She’d be all softness, all warmth and all passion. She was an all-or-nothing kind of lady, his kind.

Live To Tell
Valerie Parv

www.millsandboon.co.uk

VALERIE PARV

With 20 million copies of her books sold, including three Waldenbooks bestsellers, it’s no wonder Valerie Parv is known as Australia’s queen of romance and is the recognized media spokesperson for all things romantic. Valerie is married to her own romantic hero, Paul, a former crocodile hunter in Australia’s tropical north.

These days he’s a cartoonist and the two live in the country’s capital city of Canberra, where both are volunteer zoo guides, sharing their love of animals with visitors from all over the world. Valerie continues to write her page-turning novels because they affirm her belief in love and happy endings. As she says, “Love gives you wings, romance helps you fly.” Keep up with Valerie’s latest releases at www.silromanceauthors.com.

For Tracey and Steve, a truly inspirational couple

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Chapter 1

The disturbing sensation of being watched nagged at Jo Francis. She felt her features tighten as she watched Nigel approach the creek. “This isn’t a good idea. Blake warned us not to camp closer than fifty yards from the creek, and not to get fresh water from the same place every day.”

Nigel shot her a disparaging look. “I’m getting mighty tired of hearing, ‘Blake said…’ every time I want to do something. Maybe you’d rather have him sharing this crazy stunt with you instead of me.”

The words of denial Jo knew he expected from her stalled in her throat. In some ways, she would rather have Blake with her, but not for the reasons Nigel suspected. Living in the Kimberley, one of the world’s last great wildernesses in the far northwest of Western Australia, was proving to be a far greater challenge than she had anticipated, and they’d only been in the outback for three days.

How was she supposed to survive for a month in such a hostile environment, when Nigel thought he knew more than a man who owned the local crocodile farm and had grown up on this land? The bush shelter they were supposed to be moving into tomorrow was barely started because Nigel insisted on doing things his way. Now he was going beyond stubborn all the way to reckless.

“Please be careful,” she implored.

“Blake Stirton isn’t the only man who can handle this stuff,” Nigel threw at her over his shoulder. “Your editor has more faith in me than you do.”

Hearing the censure in his voice, Jo regretted letting Nigel talk his way into sharing this assignment. Nigel was the marketing director at Australian Scene Weekly’s advertising agency and they’d dated until he’d gotten too serious for Jo’s comfort. She knew he was hoping to win her back during the trip, but she was equally determined to convince him that their relationship was over.

Maybe she was out of her mind for thinking she could survive in the wilderness with only the minimum of modern-day amenities, she berated herself silently. Like Nigel Wylie, she’d lived in the city for all of her twenty-six years and had gone camping only on family outings. She’d enjoyed them, but had always been happy to get back to civilization.

Under the harsh outback sun, her fair complexion was a liability, and she was beginning to wish she’d had her long, streaky blond hair cut short before leaving Perth. Even tied in a ponytail, it felt uncomfortably hot and heavy between her shoulder blades.

Her editor, Karen Prentiss, had come up with the idea of sending her feature writer on a survival mission soon after hearing about the discovery of some ancient cave paintings on a cattle property called Diamond Downs in the wilds of the Kimberley region of Western Australia. According to Jo’s research, the property owner, Des Logan, and his late wife had a daughter, Judy, and fostered four sons after they discovered they couldn’t have any more children of their own. The boys were all from problem backgrounds, but Des had managed to straighten them out over time and each was now successful in a different field.

Blake, the oldest of the Logan foster sons, had briefed her and Nigel on what to expect during their stay at Diamond Downs. He owned Sawtooth Park, a crocodile breeding and education center outside Halls Creek, a few miles away.

Thinking of the enormous crocodiles he’d shown them during their orientation, Jo shivered. The scaly throwbacks to the dinosaur era both fascinated and terrified her. She’d taken to heart Blake’s warnings about respecting the wild crocodiles who inhabited the rivers and creeks of Diamond Downs, more than Nigel had done, it seemed.

A fresh prickle of unease lifted the fine hairs on the back of her neck as she watched him steady himself by grasping the branch of a freshwater mangrove, so he could lean over the still water to fill his canteen. They had fresh water at camp, but Nigel insisted it was colder straight from the creek.

The surroundings were idyllic. Around her, majestic pandanus, paperbarks and eucalypti created a cool oasis. The air was fragrant with the sweet scents of the mangroves, tropical orchids, gardenias and grevilleas. An outcrop of large granite slabs protruded into the water, forming a natural jetty. Blake had pointed out a series of worn cavities in the surface of the rocks where, over centuries, the aboriginal people had crushed grass seeds into paste for food.

He had also warned them that death lurked beneath the deceptively tranquil, lily-strewn water.

Her sense of unease grew. “Please, watch out for—”

“Crocodile!” Nigel shouted at the same moment.

In a blur of movement, an olive-colored torpedo surged out of the water, wolflike dagger teeth snapping shut around Nigel’s canteen with the force of a steel trap. She barely had time to glimpse a great dragon head with horned eyebrows and blazing yellow eyes, before the prehistoric creature sank back into the creek, its powerful serrated tail churning the water to foam.

For a horrified instant, she thought Nigel had been dragged in, as well, until she saw him swing himself into the tangled branches. His grip on the tree must have saved him. “Get away from there,” she screamed.

“What the flaming hell do you think I’m doing?” He pulled himself hand over hand back to shore, while she kept a wary eye on the water. The crocodile was nowhere to be seen, but she could sense its fearsome presence lurking in the depths.

Then Nigel was back on land, sheet-white and shaking, rubbing the back of his neck where the strap from the canteen had etched a furrow. The torn leather dangling from his neck told its own story. Angrily, he jerked the strap off and dashed it to the ground. “Blasted man-eater ought to be shot.”

He spun back in the direction of their camp where Blake had supplied them with a .303 rifle for protection. She grabbed Nigel’s arm, barely halting his progress. “You can’t shoot it. Crocodiles are a protected species.”

“Not if they attack humans,” he spat at her.

“It didn’t attack. You invaded its territory,” she said, as shaken by the near miss as he was. “If you injure it instead of killing it, you could make matters worse.”

His scathing look raked her. “Worse than nearly being dragged under and eaten alive?”

She refrained from repeating Blake’s lesson that crocodiles didn’t eat their prey alive. They rolled you over and over until you drowned, then stowed you in an underwater lair to be eaten once you’d softened sufficiently. The very thought made her sick. She had a feeling Nigel wouldn’t welcome the reminder right now. If he hadn’t had such a firm grip on the tree…

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly.

His stare remained wintry. “Are you?”

“Of course I am.”

“Because you care about me, or because you want to get your story?”

“No story is worth a life.”

“No? Then tell your boss what she can do with this assignment.”

She gestured impatiently. “You know why I can’t.”

“Because you need Karen to use her influence with her husband. Isn’t there another way to keep Lauren’s home open that doesn’t involve risking both our necks?”

“None that Karen was prepared to share with me,” Jo said, too shaken to hide her bitterness. Ever since the editor heard about Diamond Downs, she’d had a bee in her bonnet about setting a feature there. Jo would have been happy simply to interview the Logan family, but for some reason, Karen wouldn’t hear of it. “Too predictable for Scene Weekly. Our readers expect an inside story, a sense of being there,” she’d told Jo. That’s when she’d hatched the idea of having Jo live off the land for a month and report on the experience diary-style in each issue.

Nor was Karen above using Jo’s worry about Lauren to gain Jo’s cooperation. “This is the way the world works,” she’d said with a shrug. “You want me to do something for you, you do something for me.”

Karen’s husband, Ron, was the developer whose company wanted to develop the land where Lauren’s home, Hawthorn Lodge, stood. Jo had been Lauren’s surrogate big sister, watching her grow from a shy, introverted girl with a learning disability to the charming young woman she was now. Much of that progress was due to the sheltered environment Lauren shared with seven young people like herself and one understanding set of house parents. Karen knew as well as Jo that Lauren would be lost out in the world, even if Jo took her in. When the home had been extensively remodeled the previous year, Lauren had stopped speaking for over two months, until she adjusted to the changes. Jo hated to think how Lauren might respond if forced to move to a new location.

Nigel read the truth in Jo’s eyes. “You’re not giving up, are you, not even after what just happened?”

Jo wished she could give him the answer she knew he wanted, but she couldn’t. “It was as much our fault as the crocodile’s. We can learn from this and move on,” she said.

“That’s the first true thing you’ve said since we got here. We can learn from this and move on.”

Something in his voice made her blood chill. “I mean together.”

“No, you mean I can learn to do things your way by your rules, as usual.”

“You’re putting words into my mouth.”

“I’m stating facts. Nearly getting eaten makes you see things with crystal clarity. I wanted to do this because I care for you, Jo. I want you to feel the same way about me. But it won’t happen as long as every waking minute is taken up with staying alive.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want you to give this up.”

At the pleading note in his voice, she wavered. Maybe she didn’t have much sense, but giving up wasn’t on her agenda. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, meaning it.

“You can’t do this by yourself.”

“The Logans are there if I need help.”

“Meaning Blake Stirton, I suppose.”

“Meaning the Logan family. This has nothing to do with Blake.”

Nigel pushed his way toward their camp as if he had difficulty making his limbs obey him. Shock was probably setting in, but he wasn’t about to let her sympathize with him, she saw from his shuttered expression. “Nothing to do with Blake,” he sneered. “So I imagined the way you hung on to his every word?”

“Of course you didn’t. Our survival depends on listening to his advice,” she snapped, tired of defending herself. If Nigel had paid more attention to Blake’s briefing instead of being jealous of the other man, they might not be having this discussion now.

Nigel dragged a pack out of the tent. “Well, not anymore. You can go or stay as you choose. I’ve made my decision.”

He began to stuff clothes and possessions into the pack, making it clear he was serious. She hadn’t doubted it. Nigel always did what he said he’d do. She’d been frankly astonished when he’d volunteered to take part in this experiment. Spontaneous wasn’t in his vocabulary.

She had to try one last time. “You don’t have to leave. I know you had a bad scare and you’re entitled to be rattled.”

He leveled a searing look at her. “Rattled doesn’t begin to describe how it feels to stare death in the face. I’m getting out of here while I still can.”

“I can’t exactly blame you,” she admitted. “I’m sorry I got you into this in the first place.”

He stopped packing long enough to smile fleetingly at her. “I’m sorry, too. I thought we might get back some of the romance we used to have, but it isn’t going to happen, is it?”

“I told you it was over between us long ago,” she reminded him.

He straightened. “You didn’t tell me you were hoping to find some he-man who can swing through trees on a vine and catch your dinner with his bare hands. I’m a bloody good businessman, but that will never be enough for you, will it?”

She couldn’t argue with his assessment of himself. They’d met through the magazine, and she’d been attracted by his good looks and the rapid-fire way his mind worked. “I thought this was about a crocodile attacking you. How did it get to be about us?” she asked.

“You must have known how much I wanted things to work out between us.”

She let a sigh whisper past her lips. “I hoped you would learn something about your own strengths, as well. Isn’t that why people undertake these survival-type challenges?”

“I’ve learned all I needed to. Not only that I don’t want to be around man-eating crocodiles, but that I don’t want to be molded into something I’m not.”

“I never tried to mold you into anything.”

“No? Then why didn’t you listen when I said I thought this project was a bad idea?”

He was right. She hadn’t listened. She’d been too fixated on satisfying Karen. At least that had been the reason Jo had given herself. Now she wondered if Nigel wasn’t right. Saving Lauren’s home had been Jo’s justification for agreeing to undertake the assignment, but she wasn’t the reason Jo was here. At least not the whole reason. “I’ll miss your help,” she conceded.

He didn’t relent. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.” His tone said he wouldn’t hold out much hope.

The snap of a dry twig outside brought her head up. “Someone’s out there.”

His head swung around. “What now, rampaging buffalo?”

“It sounded more like a footstep.” Perhaps Blake had come to check on their progress. The flood of relief accompanying this thought was something she’d have to think about later.

Right now, she wanted to check on the source of the noise. She flung the tent flap aside and strode out.

“Jo, wait for me. You don’t know what’s out there.”

She got outside in time to see a man disappearing into the bushes. From force of journalistic habit, she noted that he had dark skin, a stocky build and was about her height. He was dressed like the stockmen who worked the cattle on Diamond Downs. “Odd that he didn’t stop to say hello,” she said to Nigel, who’d followed her outside. Everyone they’d met so far had gone out of their way to be friendly.

“He could be from a tribe that doesn’t belong here,” Nigel suggested. “Or maybe he’s wary of strangers.”

“He must have seen or heard the croc attack. Wonder why he didn’t show himself before or try to help.”

“The crocodile could hold some cultural significance for him. We could speculate all day and be none the wiser.”

“You’re right.” Shock at Nigel’s near miss was taking a toll on her, too. The thought of someone spying on them didn’t help. Suddenly, she became aware that she would be on her own once Nigel left. Bile rose in her throat, threatening to choke her. She had to fight the urge to pack up and go with him.

He seemed to sense her ambivalence. “Sure you don’t want to come with me?”

No, she wasn’t sure, but she shook her head. “I can’t.”

Can’t or won’t? his expression asked. Just as well he didn’t voice the question, because she didn’t know what her answer would have been.

“I’ll get one of the men at the Logan homestead to drive me to town and bring the rental car back here for you,” he said.

Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, stung when he made no move to respond. What did she expect? “Thanks for giving it your best shot,” she said.

His mouth found hers, hot and hard, the way he knew she liked to be kissed. Normally the touch would have ignited her passion; now, there was only deep regret for what might have been. She kissed him back out of that regret.

A cough made her spring back. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The laconic tone made her blood boil. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to be sure the crocodile didn’t snap off anything vital,” Blake drawled. Another man followed Blake into the clearing. For a moment, she thought it was the man who’d been watching them from the bushes until she realized that this man was taller and had a lighter complexion. The only thing Blake and his companion had in common with the spy was the khaki shirt, pants and battered Akubra hat that seemed to be the uniform for outback males. She couldn’t help noticing how ruggedly appealing it looked on Blake.

“One of the stockmen was across the river when he heard a commotion and saw the crocodile attacking. Evidently, it was greatly exaggerated.” Blake spoke softly to his companion. The other man nodded and moved off toward the water hole. Looking for the crocodile, she assumed. She was about to mention the man she’d glimpsed moments after the event, but Nigel spoke first.

“There was an attack all right, Stirton.” Nigel’s tone was the classic one of alpha male meeting another of his kind in his territory. The fact that he’d been about to relinquish that territory didn’t matter for the moment. Instinct won out.

Jo resisted the urge to step between them, struck again by how much at home Blake was in this environment. He could take care of himself. “Nigel was getting water from the creek when a crocodile lunged out of the water at him,” she said.

“Luckily it only snapped off my canteen, not my head,” Nigel contributed.

Blake frowned. “From the look of you, it was a close call. If you want my advice…”

Nigel gestured dismissively. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Jo felt the beginnings of a headache. “Nigel, please. Blake’s only trying to help.”

“If he wants to help, he or his stockman will grab the rifle and blast that man-eating monster out of the water before someone gets killed.”

She saw Blake’s jaw tighten. Nigel was reacting out of shock and she could hardly blame him, but attacking a man who’d come to help them wasn’t the answer.

“The crocodile isn’t responsible for human stupidity,” Blake said. “And Andy Wandarra is a tribal elder, so you’ll show some respect.”

She winced, wishing he had chosen his words more tactfully. She had a feeling tact wasn’t Blake Stirton’s strong suit.

Nigel wasn’t a small man but Blake was half a head taller, with a cowboy’s rangy build, most of which looked to be solid muscle. He stood with his feet apart, at home in the bush, although she imagined he’d look equally good wearing black tie in a ballroom. Longish hair the color of antique brass, turned up slightly at the collar, gave him a bad-boy aura. His warm hazel eyes were deep-set and creases radiating from them suggested he spent a lot of time staring across vast distances. Right now, his gaze was narrowed on Nigel, and what she saw in his expression wasn’t approval.

She hoped Nigel’s adrenaline-charged state wouldn’t drive him to challenge Blake physically. No amount of loyalty to Nigel could convince her he was a match for Blake in a fight.

Nigel balled his hands into fists. “When the truth about this experience comes out, we’ll see who your readers think is stupid, won’t we, Jo?”

Blake fixed her with a glare that could have melted stone. She was proud of not quailing beneath his scrutiny, but it took some effort. “We were warned not to get water from the same place every day,” she said with scrupulous fairness.

A glimmer of something like surprise flashed in Blake’s hazel gaze. She didn’t like the answering shiver that shook her.

“Crocs are cunning creatures. They wait and watch until they judge they can grab an easy meal,” Blake said in a tone that suggested that this explanation was part of a much-repeated lecture. “You might get away with it the first or second time, but try it a third and you’re history.”

He illustrated the point by extending his arms and crashing his hands together like the jaws of a crocodile, and she saw Nigel flinch.

Instinctively, she moved closer to offer the comfort of her nearness, but he remained coldly aloof. His pride was stung, she thought in amazement. Not only by his brush with death, but by the fact that Blake was right and he was wrong.

“Are you okay?” she asked, pitching her voice low.

Wrong question, she saw as Nigel’s jaw hardened. “I’m fine for someone who was almost eaten.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Blake suggested. “One of our people can drive you to Halls Creek.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me that the sight of a dead crocodile won’t fix. If you can’t handle it, I’ll do something about it myself.”

Nigel turned toward the tent but in a move so fast she barely registered it, Blake put himself between Nigel and the equipment. “There are penalties for killing protected species out here.”

Halted in his tracks, Nigel curled his lip into a sneer. “Oh, yeah. Your brother is a ranger, isn’t he? Between you, you’ve got the Kimberley sewn up. If one Logan doesn’t get me, the other will. Oh, I forgot. You’re not Logans, either of you. You’re a bunch of mongrels Des Logan took in and tried to civilize, without much success evidently.”

Blake didn’t move. “You’re going the right way to get yourself thrown off this land, Wylie.”

“He doesn’t mean it. It’s the shock of the attack.”

Both men turned hard glares on her, but Jo wasn’t about to back down. This was her show, whether Nigel accepted it or not. She needed this assignment. From her research into Des Logan’s situation, he suffered from a heart complaint and was having trouble keeping Diamond Downs going. The discovery of the ancient rock art on the land had started to bring in tourist dollars, but he also needed the substantial fee her magazine was paying to use the site.

Without quite knowing how she knew, she saw the knowledge reflected in Blake’s gaze. He shifted his attention to her. The ferocity of it sent shafts of heat through her, surprisingly difficult to ignore. “I’ll overlook the personal insults this time.” His tone made it clear there would be no second chance. “I still think this is a damn fool stunt. If you were really surviving, you wouldn’t have so many frills. You have no business coming to the outback for the titillation of a few magazine readers.”

She anchored her palms on her hips. “A moment ago, you mentioned respect. Yet you’re not willing to accord us the same privilege even though those magazine readers you dismiss so readily number in the thousands. And my editor is paying your foster father a lot of money for us to be here, correct?”

“Correct.”

She ignored the grudging tone. It was enough that he accepted her right to be here. “Our inexperience in the outback is the whole point of the exercise—to see how well we cope, also correct?”

He nodded tautly. “True enough.”

“Then I don’t see a problem. This isn’t your land. You might have grown up here, but you live at your crocodile farm, don’t you?”

“While we’re playing twenty questions, I have one for you.”

He was entitled. “Go ahead.”

“Why the hell is this so important to you? Surely there are other subjects you can write about without risking your neck?”

Not subjects her editor was passionate about, she thought. She still wasn’t sure why Karen had been so determined to send her on this assignment. Jo knew why she herself wanted to be here, but Blake didn’t need to know. “I have my reasons,” she said evenly.

Blake jerked his head toward Nigel, standing at Jo’s shoulder, fuming but, for the moment, having the sense to keep quiet. “And your friend here?”

“I’m here because I refused to let her carry out this crazy assignment alone,” he supplied.

So much for keeping quiet. “Our motivations are none of Blake’s business,” she demurred, not wanting to argue with Nigel in front of the crocodile man. “Part of the deal is for Blake to teach us how to survive in the outback, not to interfere.”

The reminder didn’t sit well with Blake, she saw, as his gaze darkened. He must feel strongly loyal to his foster father to have agreed to be part of a scheme he plainly opposed. “There’s not much point in me giving you advice unless you have enough sense to take it.”

The gibe was clearly aimed at Nigel and she felt him bristle at her side. “You can stop worrying, Stirton. I’ve had it up to here with this insane project. When you turned up, I was packing to leave.”

“It didn’t look like that to me.”

Blake’s reminder that Nigel had been kissing her when he’d arrived brought heat surging into her cheeks. “Again, none of your business,” she insisted. “Nigel, I know the attack was a shock, but you can’t mean to throw in the towel? It’s only been three days.” Two, if she didn’t count the orientation day spent with Blake.

“Three days when I’ve been bitten to death by mosquitoes, sunburned gathering materials to build a stupid shelter when there’s a perfectly good tent standing there and had my life threatened by a man-eater that Stirton thinks has more right to live than I do.”

Blake’s mouth thinned. “The crocodile was only defending its territory.”

Was something similar going on between him and Nigel? “Why did you recommend we set up camp here if you knew it was dangerous?” she asked.

“I didn’t know,” he said surprising her. “We’ve had no problems with crocodiles in this area for years. I don’t know why it happened now.”

“So you admit you don’t know everything,” Nigel gibed, ignoring the warning pressure of the hand she placed on his arm.

“I never said I did,” Blake responded mildly, but his hazel eyes flashed fire. “I assume after what’s happened, you’re both leaving?”

She moved a few feet away from Nigel in what she recognized was a symbolic gesture. “You assume wrong. Until the agreed-upon month is up, I’m not going anywhere.”

Nigel flashed her a look of disbelief. Had his packing been an attempt to manipulate her into going with him? “You can’t stay here alone,” he said, reinforcing her suspicion.

Blake settled his hands on his hips. “She can’t stay here at all. This wasn’t part of the deal between Des and the magazine.”

She folded her arms. “As I recall, neither were you, except as technical consultant.”

Blake’s eyes flashed fire. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You have no authority to throw me out if I choose to remain.”

“Des Logan does, and he will if I recommend it for your safety.”

“For my safety or for your convenience? From the moment I arrived, you’ve made it clear you don’t want me here.”

“Surviving in the outback is not a game.”

She nodded. “It won’t be reported as such. My editor wants me to faithfully record our experiences for our readers.”

“To achieve what, exactly?”

“If even one person is stranded in the outback and applies something they’ve learned from my articles, the series will have served a purpose.”

Nigel pulled the straps of his backpack tight and looked around the camp. “Are you two going to argue the point all day? I have everything of mine. The rest of the gear belongs to the magazine. Can I get a ride to Halls Creek with you, Stirton? I don’t want to leave Jo without a vehicle.”

“You don’t have to leave at all,” she said. “Why not give yourself a little more time before you decide?”

“I have decided. I only agreed because I thought this wouldn’t last more than a couple of days, then you’d see sense and we could get back to civilization.”

Her mouth dropped. “You expected me to fail?”

Blake gave a humorless smile. “Charming.”

Nigel shot him a look of irritation. “Of course not. Damn it, Jo, the only reason I agreed to be part of this is because I care about you. It’s important to you, so it was important to me until I found myself staring death in the face.” He jerked his thumb toward the now-tranquil creek. “We don’t belong in that monster’s territory, and I’m getting out while I still can.”

She shuddered involuntarily, having no comeback. If the same thing had happened to her, would she feel like bailing, too? But it hadn’t and she couldn’t give up now, even though the memory of the crocodile leaping out of the water would haunt her for a long time. “I’m sorry.”

Nigel’s hand rested on his backpack. “Me, too. Look, I’ll stay if you agree to my condition.”

Her hopes rose but with them, a quiver of uncertainty as she guessed what he was about to say. “Nigel, don’t. And besides, I don’t need a caretaker,” she said, annoyed that both men seemed determined to cast her in the role of a dependent. She was the youngest in her family, and her two older brothers had tried to do the same. Had she jumped at this assignment as much to prove them all wrong as for any other reason? At the same time, she knew there was more to her reluctance to accept Nigel’s proposal, but this wasn’t the right time for self-analysis. “I’ll be fine on my own,” she insisted.

“You won’t be on your own,” Blake intervened. He actually sounded pleased that she hadn’t accepted Nigel’s offer. Was that because he hoped it would get rid of her sooner? She couldn’t imagine that his interest was in the least personal. “I may not be able to insist that you leave, but I can stick around and make sure you get through this in one piece,” he said.

“Even if I don’t want your protection?”

“It isn’t a suggestion.”

She gave vent to a sigh of frustration. “I can hardly throw you off your family’s land, but you’d better not get in my way. I’m the one supposed to be learning to survive out here.”

“You’ll learn all right. I don’t intend to make things easy for you.”

If anything, he was going to make her task more difficult, she thought, and not only when it came to outback survival. He attracted her far more than she wanted him to. After her experience with Nigel she didn’t plan on getting hot and bothered over any other man for some time to come.

Aware that hot and bothered barely covered the way her blood pressure soared every time Blake came near her, she looked from one man to the other. Talk about a rock and a hard place. Nigel’s face was set in an expression that she knew only too well—it meant he wouldn’t change his mind. And Blake didn’t strike her as the type to back down, either. What was it about the outback that turned men into Neanderthals? “Seems like I don’t have a choice,” she demurred.

“None at all if you want to stay. So you’d better get your things together.”

“Why, if I’m not going anywhere?”

“Until Andy and I find out why that croc attacked, you’re not staying here alone. I have to meet my brother at the airport, so we can drop Wylie off at the same time. Then I’ll come back with you and make sure everything’s secure here.”

“Sounds reasonable,” she conceded.

His expression didn’t alter. “I’m glad you approve.” His tone said he didn’t care one way or the other.

Before she could think of a suitable response, Andy Wandarra emerged from the bushes. “I found fresh tracks along the river bank. This was buried not far from the tracks. I disturbed a wild pig digging it up.” He held up a handful of bloody entrails.

The rancid smell assaulted her senses and she recoiled. “I thought you said crocodiles drag their food into the water?”

Andy threw the mess into the creek where it sank leaving only bubbles. “They do. Whoever made the tracks must have dropped it.”

Nigel swore colorfully. “I assume that wasn’t the remains of the intruder’s lunch.”

“More like the crocodile’s. If someone has been feeding the croc from the landing, it would explain the attack.”

Nigel moved closer to her side. “The only person we know who wants us out of here is you, Stirton.”

“He wouldn’t,” she protested, appalled at the suggestion.

Nigel made a slashing motion. “How can you be sure? You don’t know him, yet you’re prepared to put your life in his hands. I only hope you know what you’re doing.”

“She’ll be safe with me, because I intend to get to the bottom of this,” Blake vowed. He turned to Jo. “Did you see or hear anything around the time the crocodile attacked?”

“I caught a glimpse of a man hanging around in the bushes.”

Blake nodded. “Did you see what he looked like?”

“Like Andy,” she said. “When the two of you arrived I thought he was the same man, but the other man was younger and his skin was a darker color.”

Andy and Blake traded looks. “Eddy Gilgai?” Andy said.

Blake nodded. “If it’s Eddy, that means Max Horvath is involved in this.”

“They’re employees of your father’s, I suppose,” Nigel said.

Blake gave him a withering look. “Max Horvath is a neighbor who has designs on Diamond Downs. Max hired Eddy after Des sacked him for misconduct.”

She didn’t try to hide her confusion. “How would feeding a crocodile help your neighbor get his hands on your father’s land?”

“Crocs don’t have much in the way of brains but they’re creatures of habit. You can train them to expect food at the same place and time. If Eddy taught this one to come in close to the landing, he could have had only one motive. He hoped to send you packing.”

“Fine with me,” Nigel said. “For you, too, if you have any sense, Jo.”

He was probably right, but instinct wouldn’t let her turn her back on what was shaping up to be quite a story. She couldn’t wait to learn more about the neighborhood feud from Blake and his family.

“Don’t power up your laptop yet,” Blake said, as if sensing her interest. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“If it’s meant to scare me away from Diamond Downs, it does.”

“We’re only guessing that was the explanation for the attack. Wylie could simply have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But your theory fits the facts as you know them,” she said. “It also explains some of the disturbances I’ve heard around the river since we set up camp here.”

Blake’s interest sharpened. “You didn’t mention any disturbances.”

“I don’t know what’s normal for the outback. For all I know, the sounds in the bushes could have been dingoes or one of those wild pigs.”

“Or someone setting me up to be eaten by a crocodile,” Nigel added. “Why the devil didn’t you say something sooner, Jo?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t, but it doesn’t help now. It’s more important to find out if your Max Horvath is behind this, and stop him before somebody gets hurt.”

Blake shook his head. “Don’t you get it? That someone could be you. I’m putting both of you on the next plane back to Perth.”

She and Nigel spoke at the same moment.

“Good idea.”

“The hell you are.”

“You can throw me off Diamond Downs, but you can’t make me leave the Kimberley until I’m ready,” she asserted.

Blake’s expression conceded reluctant defeat. “Then you’re better off where I can keep an eye on you. If you carry on with your assignment as if we don’t suspect anything, Horvath might get cocky and give himself away.”

“And both of you could wind up dead.”

“We won’t. Blake knows what he’s doing.” At least she hoped he did.

Blake picked up Nigel’s pack. “We’ll take your car back to town. Andy, you take the jeep and see if you can find any more signs. We’ll meet back at the homestead later.”

The other man grinned. “Tom will be dying of curiosity by then.”

“Tom’s my brother and Andy’s honorary clan brother,” Blake elaborated. “His engagement party’s tonight.”

He must be the ranger who was marrying the princess, she assumed. Quite a family. “Do I get to meet him?”

Blake pushed his Akubra hat back on his head. “According to Des, under your editor’s rules, you’re only supposed to come to the homestead in a life-and-death emergency. I guess a crocodile attack qualifies. If you happen to be there for the party, it can’t be helped. Until we know more, I don’t want you staying out here on your own.”

Nigel shifted impatiently and she nodded, feeling the familiar surge of excitement that told her she was on to a big story. Far bigger than Karen, her editor, had guessed when she dreamed up this assignment. “You’re on.”

Chapter 2

Are you crazy? Blake asked himself as he drove to Halls Creek. Nigel sat stony-faced in the back seat clutching his pack. Jo was in front beside Blake, staring thoughtfully out the window. Blake couldn’t force Jo to leave, but what could she do if he dumped her in town and refused to return her to Diamond Downs? Once he knew the facts, Des would back Blake’s position. So why didn’t he?

Because from the moment she’d turned up at his croc farm expecting him to teach her how to survive in the bush, she’d caught his attention. What red-blooded man wouldn’t be attracted to someone who moved as enticingly as she did? Neither athlete nor vamp. More like a woman with a mission. She had a compact, curvy shape that raised Blake’s temperature on sight, and her unusual blue-green eyes reminded him of the semiprecious gem New Zealanders called greenstone. The last few days in the open air had kissed her milky skin with roses. His fingers itched to release her streaky blond hair from its ponytail for the pleasure of watching the breeze catch the strands.

Her refusal to be scared away by the crocodile had earned his grudging admiration, although he believed her confidence was misplaced. She didn’t belong in the outback. The whole idea of a survival-type scenario was bull. But he couldn’t deny that his foster father needed the fee her magazine was paying. Some money was coming in from visitor interest in the recently discovered rock art on the land, but there was a long way to go before tourism replaced the dwindling income from raising cattle.

Blake, his foster brothers and Des’s daughter Judy helped as much as they could, but she was a bush pilot with people depending on her. Tom had responsibilities as the shire ranger. And Blake had the croc farm to run. None of them could give Diamond Downs as much money, time and attention as it needed. Yet Des wouldn’t consider selling up. The land was in his blood and he wanted to leave it for Judy and her kids, and theirs after that.

The other fly in the ointment was Max Horvath’s greed.

What a piece of work he was. He’d been an unpleasant child, taunting Blake and his brothers about their lack of pedigree. Max had been thirteen when his parents’ marriage ended and his mother took him to live in the city. He’d come back for vacations and had developed a huge crush on Judy. Too soft-hearted to reject him out of hand, Judy had gone on occasional dates with Max, only breaking off the relationship when Max became serious. Now Blake wondered if her rejection of Max’s marriage proposal had sown the seeds for this dangerous feud.

Unbeknownst to the boys, Des Logan had borrowed heavily from Clive Horvath, Max’s father and Des’s best friend, to keep the station going. After Clive was killed suddenly in a riding accident, Max had inherited their place and the mortgage Clive had intended to tear up. His son wasn’t so forgiving. Since taking over, Max had been pressuring Des to repay the debt or forfeit Diamond Downs to him.

Blake thought he knew which option Max preferred. According to family folklore, Des’s grandfather had found a fabulously rich diamond mine on his land. The location had been lost when he vanished without a trace. The belief that Des’s ancestor’s spirit guarded the site had kept the indigenous people from revealing what they knew about the mine’s location. As boys, Blake and his siblings had tried without success to find the mine, eventually giving up and deciding there was no substance to the legend.

Max wasn’t so easily convinced and had made no secret of wanting to find the mine. First, he had to claim ownership of Diamond Downs, and that wasn’t going to happen while Blake had breath in his body to prevent it.

He steered the car into the airport parking lot, cut the engine and swiveled toward Nigel. “Your stop, Wylie.”

The other man ignored him and looked at Jo. “Last chance to change your mind.”

Against his better judgment, Blake decided to do the gentlemanly thing. “I’ll give you two a few minutes to say your farewells.”

He stepped out of the car and closed the door. He tried not to listen but overheard when Jo’s voice rose in protest. Evidently she was still resisting Wylie’s entreaties to return to Perth with him. After a couple of minutes, the other man slammed out of the car and headed for the terminal without a backward glance. Jo got out more slowly, her gaze troubled.

Blake couldn’t help himself. “Is the love affair still on?”

“I’m not in love with Nigel, not that it’s any concern of yours.”

Blake was surprised by the sunburst of satisfaction blooming through him. If she’d been his woman, nothing could have made him walk away. He resisted the childish urge to yell “and stay out” after Wylie, instead switching his focus back to Jo.

As his gaze collided with hers, he felt a slam of sexual awareness unlike anything he’d experienced in a long time. His breath whooshed out and he felt his knees flex, if not exactly buckle. Suddenly, working with her didn’t seem like such a bright idea. He might not have liked Wylie, but at least he’d served as a buffer zone between them.

Now there was only the two of them and a lot of time alone in the bush ahead.

“What now?” she asked, sounding strained.

He shrugged off the urge to hold her and soothe away some of the strain. “Now we meet Cade’s flight.”

“Cade Thatcher, your youngest foster brother,” she supplied.

His brows winged upward. “You’ve done your homework.”

“A good journalist does,” she said. “And despite what you think of me, I am a good journalist.”

“I never said you weren’t. Only that you’re a novice in the outback. From what I’ve read of your articles, they’re well researched and written.”

She hadn’t expected the endorsement, he saw from the surprised look she gave him. The pleasure lighting her gaze sparked an answering surge in him. He was really going to have to watch himself around her.

Between the scars he carried from his past love life, and his foster father’s troubles, Blake didn’t need any more complications in his life right now. That certainty sharpened his tone as he said, “Let’s get inside out of the heat.”

Heat was on Jo’s mind, too, but not in the way Blake meant, she decided as they approached the terminal. Through the glass, she saw Nigel standing at the check-in desk. He saw her but he didn’t react. His parting words had convinced her he accepted it was over between them. Shouldn’t she feel upset instead of relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders?

Later would do to examine that, she decided as a tall, raven-haired man spotted Blake and strode out of the terminal to meet them. He was almost rail-thin and moved with the unconscious grace of a man at home in his body, as he gave Blake a back-thumping greeting. “About time you got here.”

“Jo Francis, meet my no-manners foster brother, Cade Thatcher.”

Cade’s smile broadened. “Jo Francis? You’re a writer with Australian Scene Weekly, aren’t you?”

She nodded, finally placing him. “And you’re the wildlife photographer.”

“I was.”

He didn’t say what he was doing now, and she didn’t feel she could ask at first meeting. Blake grabbed the other man’s well-worn leather bag. “Car’s this way.”

In the parking lot, Cade regarded the vehicle with interest. “What happened to your Jeep?”

Blake put Cade’s bag into the back seat, then held the front passenger door for Jo. “This is Jo’s rental car. Andy’s using the Jeep. Jo’s staying on Diamond Downs on a writing assignment for the next month.”

Cade climbed into the back. “Are you coming to Tom’s wake tonight, Jo?”

“I thought it was an engagement party.” Then she caught on and smiled. “Looks like it.”

Cade nodded. “The more, the merrier. I haven’t met the bride yet, but I hear she’s beautiful and royal to boot. She should soon straighten Tom out.” Then he grew serious. “How’s Des?”

Blake steered the car onto the highway. “Not good. He’s moved up the waiting list for a transplant but the way things are at home, he’s not keen on having the operation even if a donor heart becomes available.”

Cade rested his forearms on the seat back between her and Blake. “Can’t say I blame him. He values his independence.”

A trait he’d passed on to his foster sons and natural daughter, she’d already noticed. She couldn’t imagine Blake willingly depending on anyone. “Is Max Horvath the reason Des doesn’t want to be away from Diamond Downs?”

Cade’s fingers drummed a tattoo on the seat back. “You’ve heard about him?”

She nodded and Blake said, “We think Max put Eddy Gilgai up to feeding a big croc to lure it closer to Jo’s camp. Earlier today, it attacked the man she was with.”

“Is he okay?”

“He wasn’t harmed, but he’s on his way back to Perth right now.”

A taut smile ghosted over Cade’s features. “Do you plan on following him?”

“I’m staying,” she said, her tone daring either man to argue. “My assignment is to report on what it’s like to survive in the outback, not to turn tail at the first sign of danger.”

“Brave lady,” Cade murmured, sounding impressed. “You must tell me more about this assignment. Maybe I can help.”

Blake’s irritation flared into full-blown jealousy. “I’ve agreed to show Jo the ropes. She doesn’t need two guides.”

Cade withdrew to the back seat, symbolically conceding the turf to his older brother. Amusement rang in his voice as he said, “I knew I should have caught an earlier flight.”

“I still have to clear the change with my editor,” Jo said, sensing the unspoken communication between the two men. Annoyed because she also sensed it concerned her, she sharpened her tone. “Blake may have too much experience to make the story work.”

“I don’t have anything like his experience,” Cade said coyly.

Blake’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “We’re talking about bush craft.”

“What did you think I meant?”

Enough was enough. “Will you two either cut it out, or let me in on the joke?”

“No,” both men said with one voice.

“I’m glad you agree on something.” She pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed Karen’s number. The editor’s secretary put her straight through. As if dictating a story, Jo reported the day’s events and Nigel’s abrupt departure. She was aware of Blake and Cade silently absorbing her account.

The editor expressed horror at the near miss with the crocodile, but said nothing about Jo aborting the assignment.

When she reached the part about Blake offering to help out in Nigel’s place, Jo found herself crossing her fingers. Not that she wanted to work with the crocodile man. She just didn’t want to be pulled off a story that instinct told her had the potential to grow far beyond the original assignment.

“You’re sure it’s Blake Stirton you’ll be working with?” Karen asked.

Jo’s glance flickered to him. He controlled the car with easy movements, and his fingers had relaxed on the wheel, but his posture suggested a tension that made her curious. “Is there a problem?”

The vehicle swerved very slightly. Blake may have been dodging a rough patch in the road, rather than reacting to her words. She couldn’t tell. “Would you like to talk to him yourself?” she asked Karen on impulse.

“No. Don’t put him on.” As if realizing how strange she sounded, Karen moderated her tone. “I’ll take your word that you can work with him on this. The deal will be the same as we agreed with Nigel Wylie.”

“Great. I’ll tell him. Thanks.” Confusion had reduced Jo’s speech to monosyllables. The editor had reacted like a scalded cat at the prospect of speaking with Blake. What was going on here?

She flipped the phone shut and replaced it in her bag. “My boss is happy for you to help me complete the assignment.”

Blake looked doubtful. “She said that?”

“Not in so many words. But she didn’t pull the plug on the story.” She shimmied sideways as far as her seat belt allowed and addressed Blake. “Have you ever met Karen Prentiss?”

A frown furrowed his brow. “Not as far as I know. Why?”

“When I offered to let her talk to you, she reacted as if I’d arranged a personal introduction with the devil.”

“Maybe she’s the mother of one of your old flames, Blake. Your sinful reputation precedes you,” Cade suggested unhelpfully.

Jo caught her lower lip between her teeth, not enjoying the tightening in her stomach that went with picturing Blake and his old flames. “Karen doesn’t have children. After a few drinks at last year’s office Christmas party, she told me she and Ron couldn’t have any.”

Cade grinned. “Then she must be jealous of you teaming up with a world-famous crocodile expert.”

“World-famous in the Kimberley,” Blake said ruefully. “You probably caught her at an awkward time, that’s all.”

She let a sigh escape, wondering why the idea of working with Blake held so much appeal. “You could be right.” But the puzzle nagged at her all the way back to Diamond Downs. Karen wasn’t usually the hysterical type. Something about Blake’s involvement in the project had shocked her even more than hearing about the crocodile attack. Jo wished she knew the reason.

Chapter 3

Half the people in the region had to be at the engagement party, Jo decided, surveying the rows of trestle tables groaning with food, much of it contributed by the guests themselves in the best outback tradition. Festooned around the homestead, ribbons of fairy lights competed with the impossibly starry night. Until coming to the Kimberley, she’d never known so many stars could be visible from Earth. They spilled across the inky blackness like countless diamonds on a jeweler’s cloth, seeming close enough to touch.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” came a softly accented voice.

Lost in wonder, she hadn’t heard the other woman approach. She immediately recognized Tom McCullough’s fiancée, Princess Shara Najran. On arriving at Diamond Downs, Jo had met Tom and his royal bride-to-be who were not long back from visiting her father, King Awad of Q’aresh to obtain his blessing on their marriage.

Any family would be lucky to have Tom in their midst, Jo had decided. He was as easygoing and charming as he was good-looking. In contrast to Blake’s intensity, she thought, her gaze automatically seeking him out and finding him a little apart from the crowd, leaning against the veranda railing. Nobody would call him easygoing. From the little she knew of him already, he expected a lot from people, but even more from himself. Charming didn’t fit, either. Her writer’s mind sought out a more appropriate word, finally coming up with compelling. He was the kind of man she instinctively knew would complicate her life, but who nevertheless attracted her like iron filings to a magnet.

When their eyes met, she recoiled, as if she’d been punched. The feeling was so blatantly sexual that her breath stalled in her throat and she had a hard time wrenching her attention back to the princess.

Shara’s generous smile emphasized her pearly teeth and lovely café au lait skin. She was dressed in what looked like a traditional Eastern costume of cream silk trousers, caught at the ankles by gold embroidery, and a billowing blouse cinched at the waist by a gold circlet, with more embroidery at the wrists.

Beside her, Jo felt positively plain in the uncrushable teal linen pants and matching sleeveless vest she’d insisted on changing into at camp before letting Blake deliver her to the homestead. Although her assignment hadn’t allowed for socializing, she had brought this suit for traveling and felt it fitted the occasion better than jeans and a T-shirt, although there was a scattering of both among the party guests.

“It’s a lovely night,” she agreed. “Thank you for letting me share your engagement party, Shara.”

Jo felt odd calling the princess by her first name, but Shara had insisted when they first met, saying she’d had enough of titles in her own country to last a lifetime. “My pleasure,” Shara said. “Are you recovered from your close call with the crocodile this morning?”

Jo suppressed a shiver. “It was terrifying, especially for Nigel, but thank goodness he wasn’t hurt.

“I’m relieved to hear it, although I understand he decided to return home as a result.”

Jo nodded. “I can’t say I blame him, can you?”

Shara smiled. “Perhaps not. I’m relieved that the crocodile didn’t drive you away, as well.”

Tom came up carrying a tray of drinks. The waves of love carried on the look he and Shara exchanged pierced Jo with unaccustomed longing. What must it feel like to know you were so totally loved?

Shara retrieved a glass of wine for Jo and one of mineral water for herself, her fingers trailing over Tom’s gripping the tray. The two of them looked as if they couldn’t wait to be by themselves. When he moved away, the princess’s gaze lingered on him.

“You must love him very much,” Jo observed.

Shara took a sip of her mineral water. “Is it so obvious?”

“Only to every eye in the gathering.” Smiling, Jo raised her glass. “May you and Tom always feel the way you do tonight.” She drank to the sentiment, then remembered the backgrounder she’d read on the family. “I understand it was you who discovered the ancient cave paintings that are helping to put Diamond Downs on the map.”

Shara lowered her lashes. “The Uru civilization is a passion of mine. Tom and Blake actually found the cave when they were children.”

“But you recognized the paintings on the walls as the work of the Uru and caused an international sensation. After the wire service picked up the story, my editor couldn’t wait to send me up here to do a feature.”

Shara’s interest piqued. “Is your editor a fan of ancient history?”

Jo shook her head. “Oddly enough, she hates history. But when she read about Des Logan and his special family, Karen was determined I should come to the Kimberley. She was the one who dreamed up the survival scenario.”

The only thing that would have surprised Jo more was if Karen had announced she was undertaking the assignment herself. Her editor was the archetypal city girl, surgically attached to her cell phone and PDA. Jo could have sworn her boss had been itching to go, but had stopped herself for some reason. She had made Jo promise to report every detail of her experiences, holding nothing back. The request had almost offended Jo, and she’d reminded Karen that she knew how to do her job.

The princess made a face. “When you arrived you told me you have a list of tasks to undertake and report on your progress. How will you manage alone?

“I’ve already started on the shelter.” If gathering a heap of raw materials could be termed starting. She’d probably have made more progress if Nigel hadn’t insisted he knew how the job should be tackled. “Blake has offered me some guidance,” she added.

Shara smiled. “You’re very brave.”

“Not brave, persistent. I hate giving up on a challenge.”

Shara gave her a conspiratorial look. “You may find Blake a greater challenge than dealing with the outback.”

Jo felt warmth seep into her face. “I don’t have to deal with him. All he’s doing is helping me complete the assignment, nothing more.”

Shara excused herself to mingle with the other guests. Jo was grateful to have a few minutes to herself. She hoped the others didn’t all think she was interested in Blake. He was a means to an end, that was all.

Wasn’t he?

Blake rested his forearms on the homestead veranda railing and watched Jo move gracefully among the guests. Every time she turned that high-voltage smile on one of the male guests and the man melted into a puddle at her feet, Blake wanted to head over there and drag her away. An odd impulse, considering he was avoiding romantic entanglements for the time being.

After Rhonda Saffire, he’d believed it would be a long time before a woman interested him again. Rhonda had worked as a receptionist at Sawtooth Park and their relationship had meandered along for a few months without any real sparks, until they’d gradually stopped seeing each other. Then she’d come to tell him she was pregnant and that he was the father. Not physically impossible, just unlikely, considering he usually took the proper precautions. On the one occasion when he’d slipped up, she’d told him she was protected. She also knew that Blake’s experience of being unwanted until Des Logan took him in meant he wasn’t going to let any child of his grow up without a father.

They’d have made it all the way to the altar if a friend of Blake’s hadn’t tipped him off that he’d been drinking with a man who claimed he was the father of Rhonda’s child. When Blake confronted the man, he’d confessed that he loved Rhonda but was scared of taking on a family. Given the choice between answering to Blake and facing his responsibilities, the man had chosen the latter course. Surprise, surprise, thought Blake.

Later, a radiant Rhonda had shown him her engagement ring and apologized for lying to him. She admitted that she’d turned to him in panic after the real father of her child had let her down. Her fiancé hadn’t told her what had changed his mind, Blake gathered. To his surprise, he’d felt disappointed, having discovered he liked the idea of fatherhood a great deal. He missed that more than he missed Rhonda.

Romance might not be high on his agenda for now, but it didn’t mean he was dead from the waist down. Or that he couldn’t appreciate Jo’s lithe, feminine movements and the enticing way her long hair rippled when she tossed her head.

She was talking to Shara and he saw her laughing about something; then she looked up and saw him watching her. He felt the connection as a jolt of current stronger than one he’d received after accidentally touching an electric fence at the park. This also shocked him to the toes of his boots, but there was no cutoff switch, no way to short-circuit her effect.

He could practically follow the sizzling bolt of energy as it arced between them. Her reaction came a split second later, as she rocked back on her heels, her eyes going wide with amazement until she dragged her gaze away.

Blake had heard all the old chestnuts about eyes meeting across crowded rooms, but this was the first time he’d experienced the effect. The prospect of showing her around the outback suddenly seemed less like a favor to Des, and more of a no-holds-barred challenge.

At least Blake could protect Jo from some of the dangers of the outback. Had she gone to the creek instead of Wylie, she might not have been strong enough to stop the crocodile from pulling her into the water.

At the idea, he went cold from head to foot. Not long ago, an American model had been taken along Prince Regent Sound in the Kimberley, making headlines around the world. Blake had no business thinking of Gilgai’s actions as anything but a crime. In some countries, it was illegal to feed wild crocodiles. It should be in Australia, he thought. Then both Gilgai and his puppet master, Max Horvath, could be arrested for attempted murder. Since they couldn’t, Blake would have to make sure they didn’t harm Jo on his watch. From what he’d seen of her, she wasn’t the type to welcome a protector, but for himself, he found the prospect thoroughly appealing.

Midnight had come and gone by the time the party started to wind down. “Ready to go back to your camp?” Blake asked Jo as she sipped coffee and watched some of the guests dancing to recorded music. The dancers’ movements were slow and desultory, and in some cases downright stumbling, thanks to the effects of a much-depleted bar.

She suppressed a yawn. “I should have called it a night long ago, but it seemed a shame to break up the party.” She didn’t add that she was reluctant to exchange the cozy atmosphere of the homestead for an isolated camp where danger lurked around every corner. She’d told Blake she was seeing the assignment through, and she wouldn’t back down now.

He glanced around. “Some of this mob will still be here for breakfast. In the outback, you stay or go according to your own schedule.”

She placed her coffee cup on a table, stood up and stretched. “How come you’re so bright-eyed and bushy tailed?”

He winked, sending a jolt to her insides. Probably the result of too much late-night caffeine, she decided. “Years of staying out all night catching crocodiles,” he said.

She shuddered at the thought of meeting one of the prehistoric monsters in the dark on their own territory. “Sooner you than me.”

The Jeep stood waiting on the edge of the lighted circle. “Would you like to drive?” he asked.

Her tired smile told him she appreciated the choice, but she shook her head. “I haven’t driven one of these before.”

“In daylight, I’ll give you lessons. Or we can take your rental car if you prefer.”

“I’ll leave it here as we agreed. Your vehicle is better equipped for this terrain.” And she was almost out on her feet, so she’d probably run them off the dirt roads into a creek, whatever they were driving.

She was blearily aware of joining Blake in making their farewells, and then they were driving away from the homestead into the star-studded blackness. The Jeep rocked in sync with the corrugated road and she was soon nodding.

“Are you asleep?” he asked when she had been silent for some time.

She forced her heavy lids open and lifted her hair off her nape with two hands. “Are we there yet?”

He laughed, the luxuriant sound resonating through her. “You sound about thirteen.”

Her tone was husky as she said, “You’re half-right.”

“You’re twenty-six?”

“Twenty-seven next month. I was speaking figuratively.”

“You’ll have to tell me what day and we’ll celebrate.”

“Most men don’t bother remembering such details.”

“I’m not most men.”

Tell me something I don’t know, she thought. Out loud, she asked, “So when’s yours?”

“I don’t know.”

She gave a start. “How can you not know your birthday?”

“It’s a long story.”

She straightened. “You started this, and we don’t have anything else to do right now.” Nothing they should be doing, at least. What the late hour and the isolation suggested, she was better off not thinking about.

His voice reached her out of the darkness. “To know your birthday, you need to know where and when you were born.”

The Jeep tilted forward as it topped the rise. “I get it. You don’t know because you were left on a stranger’s doorstep when you were only a couple of weeks old,” she said, quoting her research. Thirty years ago, his story had been front-page news.

“If you know so much, why ask me?”

Recoiling from the resentment in his voice, she said, “I wasn’t sure if your mother ever got in touch with you again.” Her research hadn’t been able to confirm that detail.

“If she tried, I wasn’t there to meet her.” The harshness in his tone rejected any possibility.

“By then, I suppose you’d moved to the outback?”

Blake gave a hollow laugh. “Eventually. After my first foster parents found out they were having their own child and I became surplus to their requirements. I decided if I was that unlovable, I may as well act the part, getting myself chucked out of a succession of foster homes.”

She swore colorfully, earning an answering murmur from him. “My thoughts exactly. Then I came up against Des and Fran Logan, who refused to give up on me.”

His voice held no trace of self-pity so although her heart ached for him, she felt bound to match his steadiness. “Des is a good man.” He’d made Blake into a good man, too, when the outcome could so easily have been different.

“Now it’s your turn,” Blake said.

She shifted uncomfortably. Turnabout was fair play, but she hated talking about herself. It was probably why she’d become a journalist—so she could probe other people’s histories without revealing too much of her own. “Not much to tell. Father and mother, both doctors, currently working on a research project in Vanuatu. Two older brothers, one a computer whiz kid, the other a money market expert. They’re married with kids, but they still think it’s their mission in life to protect me from absolutely everything.” They’d been horrified when she told them about this assignment and had tried to talk her out of coming; they backed off only when they saw her resolve hardening instead of weakening.

“Because you were abducted from a public event when you were six,” Blake put in.

She strove to keep the aversion out of her voice. “How did you find out?”

“Like you, I believe in doing my homework. I wanted to know why a city girl would voluntarily maroon herself in the outback for a month.”

“It’s my job,” she said, sounding defensive despite her best efforts. “Your research must have told you I was with my abductor for all of five hours before the police found me and took me home. The poor old woman had dementia and thought I was her little girl, who had to be in her thirties by then. While I was with her, we watched cartoons and she fed me ice cream. I thought it was pretty cool.”

“The way I thought being left on a doorstep was cool,” he commented.

“Maybe I do want to show my family they don’t need to protect me all my life. So what?”

Blake drove into the camp and cut the engine. The sound was immediately replaced with the buzz and rustle of nocturnal life. He let his hands slide off the wheel and turned to her. “First rule of handling a new species—find out what makes them tick.”

A sensation of raw need coiled through her, urgently pushed away. “For the record, I’m not a new species, and there’s going to be no handling involved.” The very idea made her throat feel dry and her hands go damp. Blake’s unexpected substitution for Nigel had thrown her, she told herself. Yet Nigel’s words had never made her heart beat this fast.

Thinking of what Blake might do with more than words drained the last of her strength. If she hadn’t been sitting in the car, she’d have sunk to the ground. Lifting her into his arms, Blake would have found her mouth, and the needs she’d been tamping down all evening would have flared into fiery passion.

She blinked hard, struggling back to full wakefulness. What was she doing, imagining herself in Blake’s arms? Just because she hadn’t found Mr. Right yet didn’t mean she was ready to fall into the arms of the first man who came along, even if he was a walking, talking female fantasy.

The fantasy unfastened his seat belt and reached into the back to retrieve his holdall and tropical sleeping bag. He’d collected both from Sawtooth Park after meeting Cade at the airport. At first, the prospect of his company had reassured her; now, she wondered if having him around was such a smart idea, given the way he made her feel.

“Out here, city girl is an introduced species,” he continued. “You’re checking out the new environment and uncertainty is making you defensive. You’ve spotted a promising male and you’re instinctively making overtures to attract his attention, but you’re uncertain if it’s the right thing to do.”

Was he reading her mind now? Her fingers froze on the seat belt release.

“Puh-lease. Next thing you’ll have us sending out mating signals.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing all evening? Humans are no different from animals. We dress up our mating rituals in fancy clothes and expensive restaurants, but the objective is the same—survival of the species.”

Because he was uncomfortably close to being right, she took refuge in sarcasm. “Good grief, I’ve walked onto the set of the Nature Channel.”

“We live on it. All humans do.” His tone warmed. “You felt the pull between us the second we met.”

A pulse jumped in her neck. “In your dreams.”

“That, too,” he said without missing a beat.

She got out of the car but kept a hand on it as if braced for flight. “I suppose having driven off your rival, you’re now staking out the female?”

“You’re getting the idea.”

Anger swirled through her, although some of it was at his perceptiveness, she recognized. She had picked up the signals flashing between them, and her responses were as primitive as his animal analogy suggested. Arousal stronger than anything she’d ever felt. Annoyance that he could read her so easily and completely.

And fear.

Blake Stirton was exciting but dangerous. He saw life in far more basic terms than she did. Thinking she should be scarred by her childhood experience, for example, when it was no more than a glitch on her life’s radar screen. Assuming because the sparks were there, she intended to act on them.

He was wrong on all counts. The outback might be his world, but hers was the city, with its nonstop excitement and shops where you had more than one choice of everything. The crocodile hunter and his habitat were an assignment, nothing more.

He came around to her side of the car and she tensed, but he brushed past on the way to the tent. One tent. Why hadn’t she asked him to set up another so they wouldn’t have to share? At least there were two cots, and he’d brought his own sleeping bag. Zipped up in hers, she’d have more to worry about than arousal. Like how to go to the bathroom without getting eaten by a crocodile.

And how to be around Blake for a month without falling for the crocodile hunter and becoming his prey.

Chapter 4

The phrase sleeping with the enemy kept popping into Jo’s head as she washed herself with water from a bucket behind the tent. The night was hot and sticky, and she’d give a lot for a proper shower before bed. A swim would have been wonderful but after this morning’s experience, she wasn’t going anywhere near the creek.

And Blake wasn’t the enemy. He was a lifesaver; his presence made it possible for her to stay and write her series. So why did she have such confusing feelings about him?

She finished swabbing her face and neck, wrung out the damp cloth and pressed it against the back of her neck. He was only trying to scare her away with his talk of mating signals between them. If she was sending any such things, surely she would know.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” she said, carrying the empty bucket around to the front of the tent for him to refill with clean water from their supply.

She stopped in her tracks. He had stripped down to khaki shorts and boots and nothing else. In the flickering light of the lantern, his flexing muscles gleamed as if oiled as he set the camp to rights for the night.

She watched, fascinated in spite of herself. Nigel had been happy to leave things where they dropped and had teased her for trying to keep order, calling her Miss Efficiency.

Now she was watching Mr. Efficiency as he began to get the campfire ready for next morning. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll do it tomorrow,” she said, her conscience nagging. He was supposed to be assisting her, not doing the job for her. Not that he was tough to watch, she thought.

“Old habits die hard,” he said mildly. “Leaving things lying around camp is asking for trouble in the outback.”

“Nigel didn’t think so.”

Blake lifted his head. “Missing him already?”

“What do you think?” she asked, avoiding answering his question.

He finished hooking the billycan over an arrangement of sticks he’d placed across the fire then speared her with an unnervingly direct look. “I think you haven’t given him a thought since he flounced off at the airport.”

Since she couldn’t defend herself, she felt bound to defend Nigel. “He didn’t flounce. He left because he was almost taken by a man-eating crocodile.”

“Hardly a man-eater,” Blake corrected.

His lack of feeling was as infuriating as her own overabundance of it. “The beast leaped out of the river and attacked him. In my book, that makes it a man-eater. Or don’t you count near misses? Perhaps you’d prefer to see actual blood.”

Blake straightened. “You’re overreacting. That crocodile has lived in this river system for fifteen years without bothering anyone. Ask the indigenous people. They’ve swum in this creek for years.”

“Maybe it only eats nonindigenous people,” she responded.

“And maybe someone has been feeding it from the landing, luring it in.” His gaze narrowed. “Crocodiles only recognize food and nonfood. To them, there’s no difference between a piece of meat and the hand holding it. All this animal has learned is that anything a human holds out from the rock landing is food.”

Her palms felt icy and she rubbed them together although the night was warm. “You think Eddy Gilgai deliberately taught the crocodile to feed close by so it would attack humans?”

“His presence in the area, coupled with the rotten remains Andy found, make the theory seem likely. The difficulty will be in proving anything.”

“Did Andy find any more clues after we left for the airport?”

“Plenty of tracks, but nothing that would hold up in court.”

“If he had found something, would you still be here?”

In the flickering lamplight, his eyes gleamed. “Why don’t you ask me outright why I decided to stay?”

Annoyance rippled through her, although she wasn’t sure if it was at him for being so smug or at herself for caring what he thought. “I know why you stayed. You think I’m an incompetent city type who can’t be let loose on her own in the bush. If I get into trouble, it looks bad for Diamond Downs.”

His wide shoulders lifted and fell. “You said it, I didn’t.”

“You’re wrong about me,” she snapped. “I was a news reporter before I joined the magazine. I’ve investigated crime, drugs, you name it, without falling apart. I’d already started building a shelter before you showed up.”

His gaze went to the bush building materials she’d piled on the camp fringe. “So I see.”

“I wasn’t counting on a crocodile trying to eat my partner.”

“From the look of things, your partner wasn’t much help anyway.”

“We’d barely settled in.”

Blake braced an arm against the tent frame. “This isn’t a holiday camp. If it was a real survival test, you wouldn’t have the luxury of settling in. You’d get moving and do what you must to keep yourself alive.”

She tried not to be distracted by muscles she couldn’t remember seeing outside a gym and rarely enough inside it. His body had been sculpted by hard use rather than vanity, she thought. With his build, he’d make a great male model, although she couldn’t imagine Blake being willing to pose for hours. “I intend to survive,” she assured him.

His gaze leveled. “I think you will.”

She brushed aside the glow his approval brought. “I won’t have much choice, since I’ll be on my own after tomorrow.” She was grateful that he’d interrupted his routine to help her tonight, but she couldn’t monopolize his time indefinitely.

No matter how appealing the idea, a traitorous inner voice insisted.

“Anxious for me to leave, Jo?”

“Yes. I mean no. Yes and no.”

He leaned closer, the warmth of his body enveloping her in a masculine glow. “Make up your mind.”

“This project is my responsibility. You have the crocodile park to run and your foster father to worry about.”

“I can keep a better eye on Des from here than from the park. And my deputy is accustomed to running the show when I’m away rounding up rogue crocodiles. He can consult with me by phone if he needs to.”

Her throat felt dry. “You can’t be planning to stick around for the whole month?”

“Depends.” He lifted a hand and brushed his finger lightly down the side of her face. Whispers of need coiled through her, hot and urgent, until she almost leaned into his hand.

Shaken by the strength of the temptation, she stiffened her spine. “On what?”

“On what you want.”

She found her voice with an effort. “I want to prove I can survive out here, so anything you can teach me is welcome.”

“Oh, I think we have plenty to teach each other.”

“I was talking about bush survival.”

“That, as well. Have you heard of the code of the outback?”

She shook her head.

“My brothers and I dreamed it up when we were boys. The code says you don’t give up and you don’t back down. You also stand by your mates.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“All of it. There is something between us, Jo. You felt it the moment we met. Under the code, we don’t back away from what we feel, and we don’t give up if what we feel is right. What I feel for you is very, very right.”

“This isn’t why I came to the Kimberley.” Why she had come, she couldn’t readily answer, but it couldn’t have been for this.

“Maybe not, but it’s why you’re staying.”

He made it sound like forever, which was impossible. He was right about the attraction. It wasn’t going to go away. Neither was he, she understood. Which left her where? Previously, when men had disturbed her emotional balance, she’d ended the relationship. But she couldn’t dismiss Blake while she needed his help with the assignment.

Things had been fine between her and Nigel until he’d told her how important she’d become to him, she thought. Instead of being flattered, she’d started to pull away, not wanting to have to live up to his expectations. So what did she want from a man? Spending this time in the outback, she hoped to find some answers.

She stuck her hands into her pockets. “If we’re going to work together, we need some ground rules. And I don’t mean that code of yours.”

“It works for me, but go ahead.”

She began to tick points off on her fingers. “First, you don’t mollycoddle me. I need to make my own mistakes and learn from them.”

“I guess bringing coffee to you in your sleeping bag in the morning is out?”

He sounded almost disappointed and she shook off the urge to smile. “Be serious. I’ll get up when you do and pull my own weight in everything.” If it killed her, she thought. Remembering the crocodile, she wondered if she should have stuck with Blake’s code of the outback while she was ahead.

“Sounds reasonable so far,” he agreed. “Anything else?”

This was the tricky part. “This is my show. I’m in charge.”

The muscle she saw working along his jaw told her he didn’t like the condition. He was probably used to being the leader, calling the shots. Well, not this time. The silence stretched as he thought.

“I can live with it,” he conceded, his easy tone belying his tense body language. “With one exception.”

She watched him warily. “What?”

“If I see you doing something that could get you injured or killed, I’ll step in and take over with no arguments from you. Agreed?”

The condition was reassuring and she nodded her acquiescence. “In that event, I’d be a fool to argue. Do we shake hands on the deal, or what?”

“Or what,” he said.

Releasing his hold on the tent, he stepped closer and his hands closed around her shoulders, pulling her against him. She should have expected this. He’d warned her he was attracted to her. And heaven knew, she was attracted to him. Still, she was unprepared for the onslaught of sensations as his lips found hers. Her mind reeled.

The mouth that she’d dismissed as hard and uncompromising was anything but, she discovered when his lips teased hers apart. His were firm and sensuous, tormenting her with featherlight forays to the corners, then claiming her whole mouth as if to share air. Not an unpleasant act, she discovered, breathing in the masculine scent and taste of him as her reason threatened to slip.

She was out of her element, exhausted. How else could she explain her sudden bout of weakness, as if her limbs had turned molten? Desire bubbled up, making nonsense of her claim to be in charge. The night didn’t help, dizzying her with a thousand pinpoints of starlight so that she had to cling to Blake as her world spun.

His breathing sounded fast and shallow. His fingers massaging her shoulders made her shift restlessly, as if to steer his hands to more intimate places. Eyes closing, she dropped her head back and allowed him access to her exposed throat. His lips lingered on the pulse she could feel fluttering like a trapped bird.

Somehow, she managed to find her voice. “Blake, this isn’t a good idea.”

His cheek nuzzled hers, the beginnings of a beard rasping against her softness. The contrast felt wonderful. “You make it sound as if we have a choice,” he murmured.

Strange how hard it was to argue. “There’s always a choice.”

He kissed the hollow at the base of her throat. “Between?”

A moan struggled to break free. The fog in her mind resisted logical thought, but she made a valiant effort. “What we’re doing and—not doing it.”

He was planting kisses along her collarbone, pushing aside her top to worship her sun-kissed flesh. Shivers rippled. Needs clawed. Trying to blame the late hour, the alien surroundings or the stresses of the day seemed pointless. The only reason she was in Blake’s arms was because she’d fantasized about it all evening. He was right about the lack of choice. The only question had been when she would find herself in his arms. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought it would be so soon.

Too soon. She felt as if she were falling into a bottomless pit, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. “We barely know each other,” she tried.

He traced a finger down the cleft between her breasts, her answering shiver almost ending the argument there and then. “I thought we were about to remedy that.”

She twisted away, the effort almost too much. “You’re assuming I want to.”

His smile deepened and desire glinted in his eyes, echoing her own. “I know you want to. But until you’re ready to acknowledge the truth of it, I can wait.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

She shook her head. “No woman likes to be predictable.”

“That’s the wonder of you, Jo. You’re not in the least predictable.”

Except in this, she thought, astonished to be having the discussion with Blake at all. It had nothing to do with kissing or lovemaking. This was Shakespeare’s “marriage of true minds” and Blake was taking her to that place of unbelievable intimacy at a speed that terrified her. She didn’t want to feel this way about any man.

There was no logic to feeling threatened by closeness, but the fear had haunted her for as long as she could remember. She assumed she was afraid of losing someone she loved, although that didn’t explain the sense that being special to someone was somehow dangerous. She’d tried getting help to fight the fear, but so far, nothing had worked.

“It’s late,” she said before she said anything more revealing.

He looked up at the sky. “Actually, it’s early. Do you want to sleep, or watch the sun come up over the plains?”

If she had any sense, she would crawl into her sleeping bag and hope for oblivion. But she sensed that Blake would be in her mind no matter what she did. In her dreams, if she managed to fall asleep. Strangely, she felt wide-awake now. “As long as you don’t expect me to function too well later, I’d like to watch the sun come up,” she said. “I need to finish that shelter today.”

“There’s more to the outback than survival,” he pointed out. “There’s savagery no city person can imagine, and beauty almost beyond bearing.”

Her wide-eyed look met his. “I didn’t know you were a poet, too.”

“You can’t live in the outback without becoming poetic. Not if you have any soul at all.”

He had one, she didn’t doubt. She had been on the verge of misjudging him, she realized. Writing him off as a muscle man who was happiest chasing through the bush with a gun slung across his shoulders. She hadn’t allowed for all the times he would need to be still, to read the signs around him and make sense of what had happened or would happen. The patience to wait sometimes for days until a crocodile lost its fear of the unknown and approached a trap he’d set for it, so it could be moved without harm to safer territory.

All this and a mouth that threatened to command her soul, she thought. What had she gotten herself into?

The experience was all Blake had promised and more.

While she’d changed her shoes and grabbed a jacket, he had put on his own shirt and collected a torch from the car.

The torch was almost superfluous, the starlight illuminating the path to a grassy hilltop overlooking a spiderweb of rivers and creeks on one side and the immense plains on the other, ringed by mountains that would have looked at home on the moon. On her own, she would have been terrified of meeting a hunting dingo or wild buffalo, and the distant coughing sound that Blake told her was a crocodile would have frozen her blood. With him at her side, the sounds exhilarated more than they frightened.

Instinctively she dropped her voice, not wanting to intrude on the timeless landscape. “It would have been a sin to sleep through such beauty.”

His heated gaze told her they wouldn’t have been sleeping, and she shivered. The predawn chill seeping into her bones made her glad of the jacket. Nor did she object when Blake’s arm slid around her shoulders, and he brought her closer to him. She told herself the sudden fast beating of her heart was due to the spike in her body temperature. Nothing to do with being in his arms.

Dawn came as a spill of dusky coral across the cobalt sky. One by one, the stars winked out, replaced by a glow that slowly stained the darkness with orange and pink threaded with turquoise. Her breath caught as orange fire lit up the sky. The sunrise as she had never seen it before. No wonder early civilizations had convinced themselves that the sun was a god, prostrating themselves before it in awe.

She turned toward the first rays, letting them steal the chill from her face. “Do you make a habit of this?” Do you bring many women up here to watch the sunrise?

“When I’m out catching a croc, I work more by night than by day, so I’m often around to see the sun come up,” he said, answering only the question she’d asked. His arm tightened around her. “You’re a big improvement on a team of unshaven, unwashed men.”

Laughter bubbled up. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“It’s meant to be.”

At least they weren’t other women, she thought on a glow of satisfaction she didn’t want to feel but couldn’t seem to dispel. She settled her back more comfortably against him and found herself watching him as much as the sunrise. His head and shoulders were silhouetted against the sky as he leaned against the outcrop, totally at ease.

What was he thinking? she wondered. Of the sunrise or her? Annoyed with herself, she swung her gaze back to the vast plains, distracting herself by trying to identify the birds flying in to feed off the lush grasses and the insect life thronging the waterways. There were parrots and magpie geese and wild ducks, long-legged jabirus and clouds of budgerigars flocking to the water below their vantage point. A lone wedge-tailed eagle soared on thermal currents high above.

Thinking of the concrete canyons where she normally spent her days, she felt an instinctive tug of resistance. How could she be happy shut away indoors when so much beauty and freedom were here for the taking?

She felt rather than saw Blake tense. “What is it?”

He made a shushing sound and pulled her to the ground with him. From his pocket, he took out a pair of compact binoculars and trained them on a distant cluster of paperbark trees.

She dropped her voice to a whisper, although no one could possibly hear them. “What do you see?”

He handed her the glasses. “Movement at twelve o’clock.”

Positioning herself to face the direction he indicated, she adjusted the powerful glasses to her vision. A lone man in khaki clothing jumped into focus. He had a sack slung over his shoulder and was retreating into the trees. “It’s the man I saw watching our camp,” she murmured. If he’d been visiting the creek again, his intentions—whatever they were—had been thwarted because she was up and about instead of sleeping.

Blake nodded confirmation. “Eddy Gilgai. Take a good look so you’ll know him if you see him hanging around again.”

She did so, then lowered the glasses. “You sound as if you expect to see more of him.”

“If Max put him up to this, we will. Max isn’t the type to give up easily.”

“Shouldn’t we try to catch Eddy now?”

“That stand of trees is farther away than it looks. By the time I get there, he’ll have melted into the bush. One of his clan could track him but I doubt that I could. And besides even if we did catch him, we couldn’t prove he was up to no good.”

“Even though Des asked him to leave?”

“Visiting his relatives isn’t a crime, and that’s what he’d claim to be doing.”

“If feeding a wild crocodile isn’t illegal and you can’t arrest him for trespassing, how will you pin anything on him?”

His mouth tightened. “Tom’s the lawman. I have my own methods.”

Not entirely orthodox, she deduced. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“No reason you should. None of this need concern you, provided you stay well clear of the creek.”

A vision of a prehistoric killer rearing out of the water made her shiver. “Don’t worry, I intend to.” She wasn’t sure about taking the rest of his advice.

His dark gaze told her he suspected what she was thinking. “I’ll be around to make sure you do.”

“I don’t need a minder.”

“No? Then show me the direction that takes us back to camp.”

She stood up and looked around. “Should be easy enough. We climbed up here from that side.” A network of creeks bordered their location. And all the clumps of trees looked alike. Surely there should be a glimpse of the tent from here? A faint track gave her more confidence. “That way,” she said, pointing.

He looked amused. “The trail does lead to a camp, but it’s about three times as far away as yours and only used at cattle mustering time.”

“Smart-ass,” she muttered under her breath. Then remembered her resolution and folded her arms. “Okay, Crocodile Man, how do I work it out?”

In a fluid movement, he uncoiled from the ground and picked up a stick. Pushing it vertically into the ground, he placed a stone at the end of the shadow cast by the stick. “Now we wait twenty minutes.”

She was intrigued. “For what?”

“Patience,” he counseled.

Easy for him to say. She wasn’t known for patience. She wondered if he knew it and was testing her. She decided not to give him the satisfaction of being right and schooled herself to remain still, although her awareness of him grew to agonizing proportions.

He stood statue-still, his gaze on the far horizon. How could he be so at ease when her muscles twitched with the need for movement? The twenty minutes seemed like an eternity.

When her watch indicated the time had passed, although he hadn’t even glanced at his watch, he placed another stone at the slightly changed angle of shadow cast by the stick, then drew a line from the first stone to well beyond the second.

“This line runs west-east.” He turned her until the shadow stick was behind her and she was standing with her left foot halfway between the stones and her right foot on the line the same distance again past the second stone.

Warmth flooded through her from his touch, and her concentration wavered. His breath was hot on her cheek, his smell invitingly masculine. She dragged in a steadying breath. “Now what?”

“Now you’re looking north, in the direction of the camp.” Hunkering down he drew a line at her feet bisecting the first line, indicating north-south, she assumed.

When she said so, he nodded. “This is how you make an earth compass.”

Trying not to focus on the luxuriant spill of his hair, or give in to the temptation to run her fingers through it—an entirely new temptation for her—her brows knit. “How would this help us at night?” They had climbed the hill before dawn.

He stood up, standing a fraction too close to her for comfort. “The earth compass works in moonlight, too. Once you decide in which direction to travel, you stand on the compass and face the way you intend moving. Look for a bright star, or better still, a group of stars in that direction and move toward them.”

Follow your star, she thought. Was there a message here? “Won’t the trees get in your line of sight?” she asked, annoyed at the husky way her voice came out.

He nodded. “Good thinking. You don’t choose stars that are right on the horizon, or you’ll lose sight of them behind the trees. You also need to remember that stars move east to west at about fifteen degrees an hour, the same as the sun. I’ll show you how to measure degrees using your hand span.”

He took her hand and the world lurched again. Much more of his touch and she would be in his arms again, not answerable for the consequences. She tugged free, feeling heat flood into her face. “Show me later. I think we should get back to camp and make sure Eddy hasn’t disturbed anything.”

Blake saw the telltale color stain her cheeks and felt an inner swell of satisfaction. She would be his before this adventure was over. She might not be sure if she wanted him, but he had no doubts. What happened after that was up to fate, although he had ideas about that, too.

“You’re the boss,” he said. For now, at least.

He saw her eyes widen as if she’d picked up his thought. “You don’t have a problem with that?”

His shoulders lifted. “Why should I? I’m a sensitive new-age kind of guy.”

“Yeah, right.”

Feigning hurt feelings, he stuck out his lower lip. “You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you’ll let me lead as long as it suits you.”

Keeping the grin off his face, he said, “I might surprise you.”

The skeptical look she gave him only made him want her more. He’d take the greatest delight in breeching that tough journalistic facade to connect with the woman beneath. She’d be all softness, all warmth, all passion. An all-or-nothing kind of lady. His kind.

But first he’d have to win her trust and make her want him as much as he wanted her. Then he’d see who led and who followed.

He couldn’t stop himself. He brushed his thumb along her jawline and saw her shudder. Dark, potent desire leaped into her gaze and he watched her master it with an effort. Or thought she had. She would never know how tempted he was to show her how thin her veneer of control really was. He knew because his own wasn’t much better. The awareness was in his gruff tone as he said, “Let’s get back to camp.”

Chapter 5

Blake’s survey of their campsite showed no signs of disturbance, although he frowned when he spotted fresh footprints near the perimeter. “Unfortunately, they don’t tell us anything except that someone was here.”

“And we already know that,” she said, setting the ingredients for the bush bread called damper out on a folding table.

In the middle of starting the fire, Blake paused. “Don’t take this too lightly. What Eddy’s doing has more than nuisance value. If I had my way, feeding wild crocodiles would be illegal in Australia.”

She mixed flour and water, plunged elbow-deep into the sticky mix and began to knead. “It’s already illegal in countries like the United States, but it’s popular with tourists.”

“Who have no idea of the risks involved,” he said. “Teaching crocodiles to jump creates an association between people and food. When they do what they’ve been trained to do and eat someone, the same people training them will be baying for their blood.”

She kept kneading, sprinkling extra flour over the ball of dough as she worked. “I’m starting to feel sorry for the crocodiles.”

The fire flared to life and he stood up, dusting off his hands, a hunter in his element, performing the most primeval of tasks. “I’ll make an outback woman of you yet.”

A twinge shot through her as sharp as a knife thrust. She masked it by slamming the dough into a cast iron pan ready to cook in the coals when they were hot enough. “No way. This lifestyle is strictly temporary.” Was she protesting too much? She didn’t really want to spend more than a month living in the Kimberley, did she?

He didn’t seem troubled by her certainty. “That’s what they all say.”

“All your lady friends?” she asked, carrying the pan to him.

He took the pan from her. “How did you learn to make bush bread?”

He hadn’t answered her question, she noticed. “I looked the recipe up when I was doing my research.” At his look of surprise she added, “I told you I do my homework. I also know how to make tea in a billycan by covering the tea leaves in boiling water and swinging it around my head to help it brew.”

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