The Wedding Challenge. Jessica Hart

like his women? Bea found herself wondering. It was pretty obvious that he didn’t have much time for brunettes with a stylish shoe sense! No, he’d probably go for a robust, no-nonsense type, she decided. Blonde, probably, with short sensible hair that didn’t require washing, moussing and blow-drying every day, and a minimal beauty routine.

      Oh, well. Each to his own. It wasn’t as if she cared.

      Although it did seem a waste of a neck like that.

      Bea looked away with a tiny sigh.

      If only there was anything else to look at! Looking down at the ground made her feel ill, and the sky was just a blue glare that made her feel dizzy. Bea tried looking at her hands, but that was just boring, and it was impossible not to let her mind drift towards imagining how Chase would be with his wife. Was he always this chilly and forbidding, or did he relax with a woman he liked enough to marry? He might even smile. Imagine what that would be like!

      Closing her eyes, Bea was alarmed to find that she could imagine it all too clearly, and the picture of that stern mouth relaxing into a smile left her with such a queer feeling inside that her eyes snapped open again.

      Nerves, she told herself.

      ‘Are you OK?’

      Chase’s brusque voice made her jump, and she jerked her head round to find him regarding her with a frown. His eyes were uncomfortably keen, and in spite of herself Bea flushed, remembering the wayward trend of her thoughts.

      ‘I’m fine,’ she said stiffly.

      He had turned right round in his seat to look at her. ‘You seem a bit nervous,’ he commented.

      ‘I’m not in the least nervous,’ lied Bea in a brittle voice, adding pointedly, ‘I might feel better if you were looking where you were going, though.’

      A half-smile quirked the corner of his mouth. ‘This old girl can fly herself. It’s not as if there’s anything to bump into up here, anyway.’

      ‘Maybe not, but there’s plenty to bump into down there,’ she said, pointing at the ground.

      ‘Relax, Bea.’ It was Emily’s turn to swivel round in her seat. ‘I tell you what, why don’t we change places? You’ll get a much better view up here.’

      ‘No,’ said Bea, a little too quickly. The plane felt unstable enough as it was without them all playing musical chairs. ‘I mean, I’m happy where I am.’

      ‘Are you sure? It’s a fabulous view!’

      Of what? Bea wondered. Brown, brown and more brown? She could see more than enough from her side window.

      ‘I’m sure,’ she said, thinking longingly of Sydney. She could be in the kitchen, preparing for the evening ahead. The catering company had been a great place to work, and no two days were the same. One day they might be doing a five-course dinner for eight, and the next canapés for eight hundred. It had been hard work, but Bea loved it. It had been good experience too, and had given her plenty of ideas for when she branched out on her own.

      Remembering the atmosphere of controlled chaos and the surge of adrenalin that somehow made everything come together at the last moment, Bea sighed. Afterwards they would all go for a drink in a noisy bar and then she’d get the ferry across the harbour to the house she and Emily had shared with two friends. Sydney seemed part of a different world from this interminable journey.

      The noise and the vibration and the smell of fuel was making her feel queasy, and she clamped her lips together as her stomach churned. Excellent, being sick was all she needed to complete the good impression she had made on Chase so far. She could just imagine his expression if she chucked up in his plane.

      At least on proper planes they gave you a sick bag. Bea hunted surreptitiously through her handbag, but couldn’t find so much as a tissue. And she certainly wasn’t using the bag itself! She had bought it in Italy, and it was one of her favourites.

      Oh, God, please don’t let me be sick, she prayed silently, pressing her lips together as her stomach gave another alarming lurch. Hadn’t she been through enough humiliation today?

      Clearing her throat, she leant forward. ‘Um…how much longer will it take us to get to Calulla Downs, Mr Chase?’

      ‘Only another twenty minutes or so,’ he said, glancing over his shoulder. ‘And you can call me Chase.’

      Where did he think they were? In the army? Bea had no intention of barking his surname at him, but she was damned if she was going to be interested enough to ask for his first name either. ‘I’d rather stick to Mr Chase for now,’ she said coolly as she sat back in her seat.

      Chase glanced at her again, and then shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want.’

      In fact, it was nearly half an hour before the little plane began its descent. Somehow Bea got through it without throwing up, but it was a close run thing. She was so relieved at the prospect of landing that even the flat scrub below them looked inviting. She didn’t care how brown and boring it was, as long as it was firm beneath her feet.

      The plane had barely touched down before she was out of her seat belt and waiting by the door like a dog sensing the prospect of a walk. Chase gave her an odd look, as he bent to push the door open.

      ‘Hang on a minute,’ he said irritably when Bea made to clamber out. ‘You’ll break your ankle if you try and jump down in those shoes.’

      Evidently exasperated, he swung himself down in one fluid motion and turned to hold up his arms. ‘Well, come on,’ he ordered, as Bea dithered, torn between her longing to be back on terra firma and an acute attack of shyness at the thought of touching him.

      In the end, she didn’t have much choice. She leant forward and took hold of his shoulders as he grasped her firmly by the waist and lifted her bodily onto the ground. It only took a second, but that was quite long enough for Bea to register the rock-hard body and the warmth of his hands searing through the flimsy material of her dress. It might even have been that rather than the heels which made her stumble slightly as she landed and fall against him.

      ‘Sorry,’ she muttered, flustered by his closeness.

      Chase wasn’t flustered. He simply put her aside like a parcel and held up a hand to help Emily jump down before unloading their suitcases.

      ‘You look a bit funny,’ said Emily to Bea. ‘Are you all right?’

      Before Bea could answer, the sound of an engine made them turn to see a pick-up truck bumping along a track towards them, red dust hanging in a cloud in its wake. It stopped beside the plane and a man got out.

      And not just any man. Emily drew a deep breath, her concern for Bea forgotten. Here was her fantasy at last!

      He was tall and lean and incredibly handsome, with just the right hint of toughness. Here was a man who could ride the bucking bronco, and wrestle bulls to the ground before breakfast. He didn’t actually have a lasso in his hand, but you could just tell that it was looped onto his saddle.

      In fact, thought Bea, the only thing that was missing was that trusty horse. By rights he should have ridden up and swung easily to the ground. A pick-up truck didn’t have quite the same effect, but she could see that Emily didn’t care. In every other way he was perfect. The dusty boots, the checked shirt rolled up to reveal powerful forearms…he even had a hat tilted over his eyes.

      ‘Maybe this is Nick’s brother,’ Emily whispered hopefully to Bea and sent him a dazzling smile.

      He gave a slow smile in return, outback man incarnate. It was like watching Emily’s fantasy come alive, so much so that when he actually tipped his hat, Bea almost laughed out loud. Any minute now he would whip off his hat and bend Emily back over his arm for a kiss before tossing her over his saddle and galloping off with her into the sunset. At the very least, he would call her ma’am, surely?

      Instead he spoke to Chase. ‘I brought the ute out when I heard you coming in. I thought you