Australian Quinns. Kate Hoffmann

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      Payton sighed. Maybe her attraction to Brody wasn’t an early midlife crisis. Maybe she was experiencing some sort of sexual schizophrenia caused by all the stress she’d been under. She’d never thought a whole lot about sex until recently. It had never been that important.

      But suddenly, she found herself thinking about passion and desire, about what it truly meant to connect on a physical level with a man. Wasn’t it normal for her to worry if Sam was the last man she’d ever sleep with? Shouldn’t he want to touch her and make her moan with pleasure? Shouldn’t sexual attraction be just as important as love and mutual respect?

      There hadn’t been that many men in her life—a grand total of four—so she hadn’t much experience on which to rely. Two boys in high school, one in college after she and Sam had broken up for a time, and then Sam. She knew sex was supposed to be exciting and it had been, up until Sam had started working twelve-to fourteen-hour days. Suddenly, intimacy had become just another job for him, an obligation, like the bouquet of flowers he brought her every Friday evening.

      In the weeks before the wedding, her mother had assured her it would all even out over time. There were meant to be highs and lows in a marriage. It kept things interesting. And heaven knows, she’d said, sex wasn’t everything. She and Payton’s father kept separate bedrooms and they got along just fine.

      Until that moment, Payton had always assumed the arrangement was because her father snored, but once she realized her parents no longer needed each other in that way, she began to question her assumptions about a happy marriage. She wondered if her own marriage might end up more a convenient arrangement than a lifelong passion.

      From that point on, Payton began to look at Sam in a different way. Every touch, every kiss, was more evidence that the passion between them was waning. Worse, she began to doubt herself. Perhaps she was just incapable of keeping a man sexually interested. Maybe it was genetic.

      But that crazy attraction hadn’t been missing with Brody Quinn. There had been an excitement between them, a delicious anticipation that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Her heart beat faster at the thought of him, and her breathing suddenly grew shallow. He’d been attracted to her, too, that much was obvious.

      She thought back to the night before her wedding, a night spent pacing her room at the resort in Fiji. Every instinct told her to call it all off—or at least delay until she had her head on straight. But she knew what an embarrassment it would be to her parents, how upset they’d be. As an only child, so much had always been expected of her, and she’d done her best to make her parents proud. But wasn’t there a point in life where she had to think about herself first?

      It had taken her until the very last minute to decide to run. She’d been walking across the terrace on her father’s arm, the ocean breezes ruffling her silk dress as family and friends waited on the beach. Her father had kissed her cheek and handed her over to Sam. Yet when she’d looked into Sam’s eyes, Payton knew she couldn’t go any further.

      She tried to push the memory aside, taking another sip of orange juice as she fought back the tears that threatened. She’d run straight back to the room and grabbed her passport and a single bag. Five minutes later, she was on her way to the airport, still dressed in her white gown, ready to take the first flight off Fiji to anywhere in the world.

      But a new charge on her credit card might betray her. So she’d exchanged her honeymoon ticket to Sydney for a ticket to Brisbane, assured that the airlines would keep her plans confidential. She had a visa, so it had been no problem entering the country. And once she was there, it had been even easier to lose herself.

      Unfortunately, even following a strict budget, the cash she’d had with her had only gone so far. She’d heard from a woman in Brisbane that there were often jobs available for foreigners at some of the cattle and sheep stations in Queensland. They offered room and board and a decent wage—and for Payton, a place to hide out until she could bear facing her family again.

      Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to go back, she mused. She could call her parents and explain the pressure she’d been under. Perhaps Sam might even forgive her. She drew a ragged breath. But would that stop these feelings of doubt?

      Her mind flashed an image of Brody Quinn again and warmth snaked through her veins. He was dangerously handsome, his body lean and muscular, probably toned more by hard work than hours in the gym. His skin was burnished brown by the sun and his rumpled hair was streaked with blond.

      But it was his eyes that she found fascinating. They were an odd color—part green, part gold—and ringed with impossibly long lashes. He didn’t say much, but when he spoke, she found his accent entirely too charming. And when he looked at her, she had to wonder what he was thinking. Had he been undressing her in his head? Had he been thinking about more than just touching and kissing?

      Had Angus not let him out, Payton wondered whether they might have acted on the attraction. In truth, he’d made her feel something she’d never felt before. He’d made her feel like a real woman, alive with desire and passion, not just a naive girl playing at womanhood.

      Payton felt a tiny sting of regret that she hadn’t accepted his offer of help. She could have used a friend in the outback, someone to show her the ropes, maybe help her find a job. Though her abilities were rather limited, she had spent the last year perfecting her skills as a gourmet cook. She could teach piano and French and Italian. She’d been an excellent rider, winning medals in dressage and show jumping. Surely there was something she could do for an honest wage.

      Payton crawled off the bed and walked over to the spot where Brody had stood. She’d make a vow, here and now. From this moment forward, she’d act on her instincts. If she saw something she wanted, she’d go after it. She’d stop planning and start doing. And maybe, once she’d figured out just who she was, away from her parents and Sam, she could get on with the rest of her life.

      “You finished with your breakfast?” Angus sauntered into the room, his keys jangling from a ring on his belt. He unlocked the cell door and opened it then stepped inside to collect the tray.

      “Thank you,” Payton said. “It was good.”

      He nodded. “Answer a question for me?”

      Payton knew she’d have to explain at some point. What was she doing stranded in the middle of the Australian outback without a penny to her name? And what had made her think she could walk out of a restaurant without paying. “Sure. Fire away.”

      Angus’s brow furrowed. “Have you ever been to Graceland?”

      “Graceland?” The question didn’t take her by surprise considering the police chief’s taste in music. “No. But I hear it’s supposed to be very nice. I once saw Priscilla Presley in New York, though.”

      “Priscilla?”

      “Yes, I think she was there for Fashion Week. She was hailing a cab on Madison Avenue.”

      “Well, I’ll be buggered! Priscilla Presley. That’s almost as good as seeing Elvis.” He nodded. “It’s always been my dream to visit Graceland. Most folks would go to Disney World or Hollywood or one of those big tall buildings they have in NewYork City. Me, I’d head straight to Graceland.” With a sigh, he stepped out of the cell. “Your debt has been settled, Miss Harwell. You’re free to go.”

      “I am?” She didn’t really want to leave. Not before she’d figured out her next move. But then, she had vowed to stop planning and start doing. “Who paid it?”

      Angus nodded toward the door. “He’s waitin’ out front. You’ll have to square up with him.”

      Frowning, Payton grabbed her bag and stuffed her belongings inside, then glanced around the cell to make sure she had everything. Whoever her mysterious benefactor was, she’d find a way to pay him back.

      When she reached the porch, she saw a familiar figure waiting for her, dressed in the same faded jeans and wrinkled T-shirt he’d worn earlier. She allowed herself a tiny smile. “Are you the one who—”