“Why aren’t we going in?” she gasped when she got her breath back.
“You haven’t been to the beach much, have you?” he asked, the effort of paddling both of them through the water seeming to have no effect on his ability to hold a conversation.
“No,” she replied, “this is my first day in Australia.”
“Tourists.” There was disdain in his voice. “They just want to hit the water. They never take the time to find out what the dangers are.”
“You mean like sharks and stuff? I thought there were alarms if there were sharks.”
“There would be,” he said. “But since you didn’t hear the whistles and the loud speaker telling you to stay between the flags, what makes you think you’d have heard the shark alarms?”
“There wasn’t any whist—” Kitty stopped what she had been about to say, remembering that she
had
heard something, she just hadn’t thought it was relevant to her. Maybe he had a point.
“In any case,” he went on, “sharks are the least likely problem you’d encounter. Dangerous surf conditions are far more common. The flags are there for a reason. You stay between them so you don’t end up in a rip, like this one.”
As he spoke he turned the board and headed it toward the shore. The surf ski slid forward in a rapid glide that covered the distance in very little time. “Rips are areas where the water moves outwards quickly. People who don’t know what they’re doing get taken out with them. You can tell a rip because the waves are flattened so they look smoother. When you get caught in one, you don’t swim or paddle inwards. You go across it until you get out of it, then you head in, like we just did.”
They reached the sand, and he helped her to stand then grasped the handle of his board and held it to keep it from being washed away.
“Learn to recognize a rip when you see one, and stay between the flags,” he said sternly. “First rule. Don’t ignore it.” Then he smiled at her. “You probably should go to first aid and get checked out. Make sure you’re okay.” He turned and pushed his board back into the water.
Realization crashed like a wave over Kitty’s head. The man had just saved her life and she hadn’t even thanked him.
“Wait,” she called. He turned around and Kitty gulped. He was gorgeous—long and lean, with powerful muscled thighs, a six pack, broad shoulders and strong arms that had lifted her from danger and paddled them both to shore.
“I…” Her voice sounded croaky, and she swallowed and tried again, “I could never have made it back on my own. I would have died. I can never, ever thank you enough. I don’t have any money with me now, but if you tell me how to contact you—”
“I don’t want your money,” he said, taking a step backwards, his hand held up in front of him. “I’m a volunteer lifesaver. No one, not one of us, will take a reward for doing something like this.” He stood there like some tall, earth-bound god, his golden brown eyes warm in the sunlight.
He was clearly a good few years younger than her and in much, much,
much
better condition… And as far as eye candy went it didn’t get any better. Maybe not all Australian men had that Hugh Jackman thing going on, but this one certainly did, and Kitty damn well appreciated it…though not as much as she appreciated his actions in saving her.
“I have to do something to show my appreciation,” she said.
He grinned. “Make a donation to the Surf Life Saving Association. “
“Oh, I will. Yes. Of course I’ll do that,” Kitty said, nodding frantically.
“You’d be surprised how many don’t,” he said. “All suitably grateful at the time, but when it comes to supporting the organization that trains and equips us… Not so much.” He gave her a brief wave of farewell. “I’ve got to be getting back. Don’t forget. Stay between the flags. We don’t want to have to do this again.”
“Er, no,” Kitty agreed. He didn’t respond, and with a few strokes he was out beyond the foamy wavelets and paddling strongly back the way he’d come. Kitty watched as he hit the calm water where she had come to grief and powered sideways through it, only the exaggerated dip of his body indicating the extra force he used to stay on course as he made his way across the narrow channel.
Left alone, she began to shake as reaction and reality set in. With leaden legs, she paced slowly back along the sand. Heads turned to look at her and she thought she could hear the condemnatory comments—‘
tourist’, ‘idiot’, ‘ought to be old enough to have more sense’
.
Shame and embarrassment heated her cheeks. The thought of having to confess her stupidity to the first-aid people was too much. All she wanted was to get off the beach where she had done everything wrong from the minute she’d arrived. After scooping up her towel and pulling her shirt and skirt on over her still damp bathers, she made her way back up to the road. If the sand burned as she trudged back across it, Kitty didn’t notice.
Chapter Two
Kitty stepped nervously onto the grounds of the steel-making plant where the UK employment agency had found her a position for the three days a week her visa allowed. Signs directed her across the tarmac to Administration. The screech and clang of machinery and the hot smell of coal and metal gave way to the cool quiet of the air-conditioned office.
After a brief orientation, she set to work. None of the other people working in the office seemed inclined to talk, but for the moment that suited her. There was nothing in there she couldn’t handle. The computer software and allocated tasks were the kind common to most industries, but she needed to concentrate. The newness of the situation made her slower than usual and she decided to eat lunch at her desk, so she’d have everything up to date by the time she left at five o’clock.
At one o’clock, the other workers filed out, mostly silently. Kitty rummaged in her bag, brought out the sandwich she’d packed that morning and raised it to her mouth.
Before she could take a bite, the office manager called out from the doorway, “You can’t eat that here. No food to be consumed on the premises.”
Kitty looked up in astonishment. “It’s my lunch break.”
“I’m sorry.” The woman held up her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “It’s a directive from the general manager. We have such a diverse range of ethnicities and beliefs working here. It’s easy to offend with ingredients or smells.”
“But it’s just a sandwich,” Kitty objected.
“No exemptions, Kitty,” the manager said. “There are picnic tables outside or you can walk to a café in about five minutes. We give you an extended lunch break to cover it.” She pointed her finger at Kitty accusingly. “You
must
take your allotted time for lunch. It’s an Occupational Health and Safety directive.” The door swished closed behind her.
Kitty rolled her eyes, grabbed her sandwich and walked out of the comfortable, air-conditioned office.
Sweat trickled down her back despite the patchy shade provided by some scraggly shrubs. The smell of diesel and burning coal made her feel sick. The sandwich in her hand looked limp and unappetizing so she dropped it into a rubbish bin.
A movement near the doorway to the foundry section of the complex drew her attention. A tall, lean man wearing a hard hat, clipboard in hand, strode across the open space and disappeared inside. Kitty blinked then shook her head. The heat had to be getting to her. His athletic body and strong facial features reminded her of her lifesaver—either that or every Australian male really
did
look like Hugh Jackman.
Ridiculous
. Lifesavers worked at the beach, not in hard hats at steelworks.
The heat had to
really
be getting to her if she’d started hallucinating. It was one thing to find her mind constantly returning to the impressive physique of the man who’d so quietly and efficiently dragged her to safety—it was another thing altogether to start imagining she saw him wherever she happened to be. The few crumbs clinging to her skirt tumbled to the ground as she stood to walk back to her office.
The afternoon passed slowly. At first, she’d thought no one spoke to her because she was new, but she soon realized no one spoke at all, apart from queries directly related to work. There was no nastiness—just a complete absence of social interaction. The silence made her uneasy. Where was the friendliness Australians were famous for?
Her shoulders slumped. It would be hard to make new friends if no one from work would even talk to her. Perhaps it was a Monday thing. Her natural optimism surfaced. Maybe today was just an off day and tomorrow would be better.
* * * *
The sheets on her bed were twisted and bunched around her legs. Her groin throbbed and twitched with the aftermath of orgasm. The imagined stroke of her rescuer’s hard brown hands still lingered on her skin and her nostrils filled with the remembered fragrance of sunblock and the sea. Kitty flung herself onto her side and stared into the darkness, a sweaty, panting wreck. Her dream had seemed so real—the thick cock driving her to ecstasy, wide muscled shoulders of the naked man above her, the firm jaw…
the hard hat
! Her dream lover had alternated between the cotton-capped lifesaver and the man she had glimpsed at the factory today. And he’d been good! It might have only been a dream, but the waves of aftershock quaking through her were real. The last time she’d come that hard had been… Her memory failed her. If she’d ever had sex that good, it had been so long ago she’d forgotten what it felt like.
Closing her eyes, she tried to get back to sleep, but her mind kept worrying at the implications of her erotic dream. What was happening to her when she obsessed over one man, who had just been doing his job and had dismissed her as soon as he got her to shore, and another she hadn’t even seen properly? Maybe the dream and her decision to escape from her responsibilities at home were all part of some delayed mid-life crisis. Perhaps she needed to get out and make some friends. Maybe if she interacted with real people she could put these phantoms aside.
* * * *
The silence in the office the next day suited her grumpy mood. After dropping her handbag on the floor next to her desk, she started up her computer and reached for the papers she’d left on her desk the night before. Except they weren’t where she’d left them. Not on the desk. Not on the floor beneath. The single drawer under her desk was empty.
A lump settled in her throat. How would she explain their loss? And if they were important or confidential, would she lose her job after only one day?
To make matters worse, the office manager strode into the room at that moment and walked straight up to Kitty.
Any hope of the papers miraculously appearing in time to save Kitty from a disastrous confession disappeared.
Before Kitty could open her mouth to attempt some sort of explanation, the woman spoke. “I believe these are yours.”
Her hand was clutched around a sheaf of papers.
The
papers.
“You have them?” Kitty gasped. Relief made her knees wobble. “I thought I’d lost them.”
The office manager frowned, and Kitty belatedly realized that might not have been the wisest thing to say. “I only just noticed they were missing. I left them securely parceled up on my desk last night. I know I did.”
“Which is where I found them,” the manager confirmed. “That won’t do, I’m afraid. We operate a clear desk policy here. Nothing is to be left on the desktop overnight. Any unfinished work goes into your lock box in the secure store room.”
The manager’s gaze settled on the framed photo of her daughter, Cassie, that Kitty had placed there yesterday. “And no personal items at any time,” she said.
Suppressing a sigh of irritation, Kitty put the photo back in her bag. No lunch, no chat, no photos, no personalized space—the office felt alien and uncomfortable and there didn’t seem to be much hope for change.
At lunchtime she picked up her sandwich and went out to the same seat she’d used yesterday. The doorway to the foundry was right in front of her. Several people went in and out, but none of them were her Hugh Jackman look-alike. Not that she was looking for him. Checking out those who passed through the doorway was purely because she wanted proof she’d been mistaken.
Not
because her dreams were filled with images of wet, golden skin stretched over tight muscles and… Damn, she really had to stop behaving like a love-struck teenager obsessing over some unobtainable man.
The air conditioning, if there was any, had failed on the bus that took her home. By the time she got out, her skin felt sticky and grimy, her blouse was damp and her skirt clung like moist leather to her legs. The five-minute walk from the bus stop to her door added to her discomfort. Her feet hurt and her bag dragged at her shoulders. The stairs to her apartment seemed to have grown longer and steeper.
The entire day had left her flat, stale and irritable. It was five thirty-five—plenty of time. The sun didn’t set until seven thirty and the beach was just a few minutes’ walk away. One stupid mistake wouldn’t keep her from something she really enjoyed.
Swim between the flags
. That’s all she had to remember.
For so late in the evening, the beach was crowded with people eager to wash away the heat and stresses of the day. The sand, in the afternoon shadows of buildings and the sea wall, was cool beneath her feet. This time Kitty noticed the distinctive red and yellow flags in the sand, and turned her head to check. Yes, behind her was a glass-fronted observation box. Inside, she assumed, were the lifeguards on duty. Not that she was looking for anyone in particular.
With a shimmy, she shrugged off her loose-fitting dress and walked down to the water, letting the coolness refresh her. After a shallow dive into an oncoming wave she surfaced, pushing her wet hair from her face. Somewhere in the action all the minor annoyances faded in a rush of pure pleasure. Blue skies, a fading golden sun warm on her back and cool turquoise water washing over her skin.
Diving now and then to avoid the churn of foam, she moved beyond the break line then looked back the way she had come. The shoreline was there, exactly where it should be. No rip had carried her into danger. On the return journey, a breaking wave caught her and she flexed her body, pushing her arms out the way she’d seen others doing, riding the wave homewards. When it fractured into a mass of lacy ripples, she stood up, her heart racing, her mouth pulled into a wide grin. She’d caught a wave and now she knew how wonderful it felt.