The Outback Affair. Elizabeth Duke

the roving-eyed Romeo?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      CHAPTER THREE

      THEY made one more stop on their way to Kakadu, to have afternoon tea at a rustic roadside café. Natasha chose an iced cinnamon bun from a selection of pastries and cakes, and a cup of tea. Tom surprised her by ignoring the cakes and buying a rosy red apple for himself.

      As she watched him take a bite a question leapt out. ‘You’re eating apples now? You always hated apples. Chocolate bars were more your thing.’

      She coloured, mentally kicking herself. Damn! Why had she reminded him of the past—their past together?

      Tom shrugged, his lips curving in the kind of grin that had once melted every bone in her body. ‘I never realised how delicious apples were until I tried one.’

      She twitched a shoulder and turned away, tightening her lips as she headed for a table, wondering who’d managed to persuade him to try his first apple. The woman he’d ditched her for? She set her cup down with a clatter, spilling tea into her saucer.

      Tom didn’t join her at the table. ‘I’ll be out in the garden, stretching my legs. Join me when you’re ready.’

      Her eyes followed him as he strode off. Maybe that was how he’d managed to trim down so much—by exercising instead of sitting around all day in a four-wheel-drive, or a helicopter before that. And by eating fruit instead of cakes and chocolates, and drinking water instead of beer and sugary soft drinks. Had his girlfriend teased him about his weight? Nagged him into changing his bad habits?

      She heaved a wobbly sigh. She’d never complained about the way Tom had looked herself. She’d loved him just as he was. Perhaps she should have. He looked terrific. A brand-new man. He’d always been a sexy, impressive-looking guy, but now he looked fantastic—a thousand times fitter and sexier than he’d been eighteen months ago.

      Interesting lines slashed his cheeks, where before they’d verged on chubby. His jaw, previously masked by a bushman’s beard, was square, strong and sharply defined. With his new streamlined frame, there was a new athletic swing in his step. A dynamic, virile energy—a revitalised energy—pulsated