Live To Tell. Valerie Parv

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