Her Irresistible Protector. Michelle Douglas

Exasperation laced his voice. He swung around to her, but whatever he saw in her face cut off the rest of his words. He knew she had demons. And she really hated him for that.

      Thankfully, he didn’t say a word. With a shake of his head he started to jog, her suitcase tucked easily under one of his arms as if it weighed nothing. She stayed close at his heels, her handbag bumping at her hip and her feet tingling in abhorrence at the thought of ants.

      Mitch slowed to a walk when they emerged into a clearing. Tash checked the ground for signs of bull ants before lifting her head. The clearing of lush grass opened up to a view so unexpectedly elemental and beautiful, so unspoilt, it momentarily robbed her of the ability to speak. She stumbled forward, her jaw sagging.

      The curve of land they stood on caught an ocean breeze and below stretched a small beach. What the beach lacked in size it made up for in perfect golden glamour—the sand glittering in the sun and the waves whooshing up on the shore in perfect curls, the water stunningly clear and the whitecaps gloriously white. Beyond the bay the sea glimmered blue and green without a whitecap in sight.

      To the left of them lounged a largish cabin, screened on its seaward side by wattle trees. The flowers were long gone, but the delicate green tracery moved in the breeze as if dancing to something slow and dreamy. Behind it stood a forest of ghost gums and banksia trees.

      ‘Where...where are we?’

      Mitch turned from unlocking the cabin’s door. His mouth hooked up when he saw where she’d stopped. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’

      ‘Beautiful.’ It might just make up for the rustic amenities. Suddenly, spending a few days in a secret cabin with a private beach didn’t seem such a hardship after all.

      She followed Mitch inside. She didn’t bother trying to hide her relief.

      He grinned. ‘Not as bad as you were expecting?’

      The main room, complete with a rug on the floor and a comfy-looking sofa against one wall, was warm and welcoming. To the left was a fully equipped kitchenette, with a microwave oven and bar fridge. A table with three mismatched chairs stood nearby and a solid wooden bookcase full of books and knick-knacks acted as a kind of divider between kitchen and living areas. There were even pictures on the wall.

      He gestured to a doorway and Tash moved aside the blanket tacked to its frame to glance inside. It held a big double bed with a blue-and-white patchwork quilt. A white blanket box sat beneath the window. She shook her head, turning on the spot to take it all in. ‘It’s lovely. Truly lovely.’ If she’d owned a cabin, this was exactly what she’d want it to look like. ‘Who owns it?’

      He glanced away. ‘I do.’

      Her jaw dropped. ‘This is yours?’

      ‘I bought the land five years ago.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve spent my holidays and free weekends building this cabin.’

      He’d what? For one outrageous moment she wanted to run away. Instead, she swallowed. ‘Thank you for letting me use it.’

      He didn’t say anything.

      She moistened suddenly parched lips. ‘I guess you’d better show me the lavatory, and how the generator works. And then you can get back to cleaning up the streets and keeping the peace.’

      Would he have to face whoever had hurt those women? Her heart surged against her ribs. She took a step back. She wouldn’t want anyone to have to deal with someone that angry and unbalanced. Not even Mitch.

      He frowned and cleared his throat. ‘Tash, I think you’ve misunderstood the situation.’

      She straightened from surveying the titles in the bookcase. Not that she’d taken in a single one of them. ‘Oh?’

      ‘I’m not leaving you here alone. I’m your bodyguard for the duration of the operation.’

      She dropped down onto the sofa. It really was very comfortable.

CHAPTER TWO

      TASH’S EXPRESSION TOLD Mitch more than words could that she’d rather face whoever was responsible for hurting those women than spend any more time in his company.

      He swung away, biting back a curse. They both knew the person responsible was Rick, and no doubt she still thought she could save him. Just as she’d thought eight years ago. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t giving Rick the chance to hurt Tash again.

      He waited for hysterics.

      And kept right on waiting.

      He should’ve known better. Tash didn’t do hysterics. Not anymore.

      Eventually he rolled his shoulders. She might never forgive him for putting Rick behind bars, but she was right—she wasn’t the sweet, easily-rocked young girl she’d once been either. His heart bled a little at that, knowing he’d been partly responsible for that hardening, for her toughening up. He’d tried to apologise back then, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. A part of him hadn’t really blamed her.

      He rubbed the back of his neck. Ancient history—that was all it was, and that was how it should stay. He pulled his hand back down to his side and bit back a sigh. It’d help if he didn’t remember the events of eight years ago as if they’d only happened last week. His lips twisted. And how those events had changed his life forever.

      For the better.

      And for the worse.

      ‘Is that really necessary—a bodyguard?’

      He turned back and aimed for neutral and professional. He’d found that difficult eight years ago and he didn’t find it any easier now. ‘I don’t make the rules, Tash. I just follow orders.’

      ‘To the letter.’

      He ignored her sarcasm. ‘Naturally, you’ll have the bedroom.’ He gestured. ‘I’ll be on the couch.’

      One quirk of her eyebrow told him that had never been in doubt.

      A reluctant grin tugged at his lips. He had to admire her spunk. ‘Let’s get a couple of things out of the way and then we can relax.’

      ‘Relax? You really think that’s going to happen?’

      Her hazel eyes, a bit too large for her face, mocked him. They wielded the same power, the same kick of awareness now as they had eight years ago. When she’d been a slip of a girl and he’d been a hungry young constable eager for promotion. Seventeen. He’d had to keep reminding himself of that fact at the time.

      She’s not seventeen any more.

      His chin shot up. He had no intention of letting his guard down while they were out here in the wild. None! He wouldn’t relax until Bradford was in custody. There might be history between him and Tash, but he refused to be distracted by it. Or by her.

      Besides, his lips twisted, she’d rather drink poison than become involved with him again.

      It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and make this as easy on her as possible, though.

      ‘What do we need to get out of the way?’

      Her question hauled him back. ‘First I’ll show you the amenities.’ The sooner she’d had a chance to rant about those the better.

      She sighed when she saw the small outbuilding with its pan toilet and the bucketful of dirt and small spade beside it. ‘At least it has a door.’ She glanced in. ‘And seems to be relatively spider-free.’

      He remembered her reaction to the bull ants and made a mental note to make sure it remained spider-free. ‘And this is the shower.’ He gestured to the canvas hut nearby. A camp shower he’d only erected yesterday.

      ‘Hot water?’

      He shook his head. Her shoulders drooped a little