The Flyer (14 page)

Her stomach growled. She
was
hungry, after all. She had to eat … something, right?

Once she was as settled as she was going to get, she chose a piece of passion fruit from her own plate and began to nibble.

“You amaze me, do you know that?” he offered around a mouthful of cheese. He sipped his wine as though he were more comfortable here than in his own bed.

“I don’t see how I could.”

“The way you helped Jayla and her family. And how you convinced the children to take their medicine, even though you and I both know it tastes like the ass end of a water buffalo.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. Every warning system she possessed told her to run back to the plane, climb into her seat, and wait until the world collapsed around her, but she still laughed. What was it about Paul’s endearing little smile, and such a disgusting turn of phrase, that made her want to be comfortable with him? She wasn’t, of course. She could never actually be comfortable with any man. Not after Reginald. But she wanted to.

And that was dangerous for any girl.

“There it is. That’s all I wanted to see.”

The tone in Paul’s voice made her sober instantly. She swallowed the bite of fruit and put the rest of the piece back on the plate.

“No, don’t take it away so soon,” he whispered. “That smile. That adoring smile that makes your whole face light up. I’d seen hints of it last week, and you wore it so many times today with the children. I wanted to see it directed at me, that’s all.” He looked at the blanket for a moment, then returned his gaze to her eyes. He bore into her with the force of a summer storm, wrecking everything in its path while she could only look on with wonder and admiration. “I suppose that’s silly, isn’t it?”

“No,” she breathed. “It’s not silly. But it is impossible.”

“Why?” He sat up, then leaned so close she could inhale the fresh scent of his soap and memorize each strand of his golden-blond hair. Wet strands still stuck to his forehead from his swim. “What happened to you, Helen?”

“Nothing.” She forced a tiny laugh. “See? I’m smiling. Now, shouldn’t we go back?”

What an ironic thing to say. Tears formed behind her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could take root.

She could never go back again.

6

D
o you think we could go home now?” she stammered, her mouth dry and her throat closing around itself. She inhaled the rich fragrance of the rainforest, hoping she might contract some horrible, exotic illness that would take her away. Anything would be better than sitting here, with him, alone and tempted.

“Soon, love. The engine needs to rest a bit longer.”

“Does this happen often? Engine trouble, I mean?” Helen leapt to her feet. Blood rushed to her head. Inside the hollow cavity of her chest, her heart beat an erratic and dangerous pace. A wave of dizziness crashed over her. She’d stood too fast, that was all. It had to be that, and not the way Paul was looking at her as though she were a starving man’s last meal. Her vertigo did not come from standing too close the edge of temptation.

“Every so often. So long as we have somewhere to land, there isn’t anything to worry over.”

“And if there isn’t anywhere to land?” She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth.

“There’s always somewhere to land.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s a large country, with wide open spaces that have been here long before airplanes.” His eyes glistened, the crisp blue shimmering like an iceberg. But not cold. Never cold, they were full of warmth and unspoken promises.

Promises that were meant to be broken, she was sure.

Still, she was drawn to him. Inexplicably and against her will. “But what if you act too quickly? What if you launch into something you’re not prepared for?”

“There’s always a way out,” he replied with a cocky half-grin. “If you know where to look.”

Something told Helen they weren’t talking about the plane anymore. The tone of his voice, the slight inflection that came as he climbed to his feet with a soft sigh, everything combined to form an obvious conclusion in the back of her mind. He knew something was wrong. He knew, as well as she did, that she held back.

He’d brought her to one of the most romantic places she’d ever seen. The falls were magnificent and bold, the fragrance of the forest flowers added a mystical perfume to the air that practically begged for something magical to happen. Yet she couldn’t allow herself to fall into the trap. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

“Pardon?”

“The picnic.” She paused, frowning. “Why
did
you have a packed picnic basket hidden in your plane?”

“I always pack food for just such an emergency as this one. I admit I packed this one with a little more care, and I seldom pack wine.” He shrugged, and the ends of his damp hair brushed his shoulders. “Seemed like a good idea at the time, and as it turns out, I was right.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered.”

“Why? You’re a beautiful woman, and I’d like to get to know you a little better. Is that so awful?”

Every part of her screamed
yes
. She couldn’t tell him why, of course. She couldn’t tell anyone. She couldn’t tell him that the sight of his half-naked body brought flushes of heat and moist desire bubbling to the surface. She couldn’t tell him about her past and the terrible decisions she’d made for the past year.

Dear God. Had it only been a year?

“What’s wrong, Helen? You can tell me.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, afraid to hear her own quivering voice.

“We’re friends, right? Friends can say anything.”

“That’s just it. We’re not friends. And you shouldn’t want to get to know me better.”

He frowned, and she thought she saw a tiny shimmer of pain behind the shine of his eyes. “I think you should let me be the judge of that.”

His voice was as thick as molasses, and just as sweet. But she’d fallen for sweet words before. She wouldn’t do it again.

“I think it’s time to go.” Her voice caught in the desert of her windpipe, the last word coming out with a slight cry. Closing her eyes against the insistence of tears, she whispered, “Please, don’t do this to me.”

There. She’d done it. She’d begged. She’d sworn she would never beg again, not of any man. The last time she’d seen Reginald, she’d begged. The pain welled inside her chest until she worried her heart might explode from the pressure. At least this time she begged for something right and pure. She had that much to be thankful for.

But how long could she trust herself? How long could she trust Paul?

A sob ripped free, and she turned her back on him.

“Easy there, girl. I didn’t mean to upset you. Crikey, a girl has to eat, hasn’t she? It’s only a picnic.”

“I just want to go home.”

He stood directly behind her, so close his body heat reached out to comfort her. It would be so easy to let go, to lean back into the strength of his chest and wrap his arms around her like a warm cocoon. She tried to shut out the sound of his breath, but it was deafening. In. Out.
Say something!

“My God, what did he do to you?”

Paul’s hands landed on her shoulders, his thumbs moving in slow circles. The shock of compassionate human contact after so long without it made her jump. She spun away from him, her back facing the path that would be her escape. It drew her in, pleading with her to run. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody did anything to me.” The lie tasted bitter. “You can’t keep me here. You have to take me home.”

“So you’ve said.” Paul frowned, again, and this time there was no mistaking the pain behind the expression.

It was for the best. Better to hurt him now than hurt them both later. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand that for some reason you’re refusing to allow yourself the simple pleasures life has to offer.” He approached her with the same care he might have used on a frightened puppy. When he reached her, his hands landed on her shoulders with a gentle pressure. The path back to sanity beckoned. She ignored it.

It felt too right to be with him. Better than anything she’d ever experienced before. Better, and far worse.

“Whoever he was, I’m not him. If I could, I’d find him and teach him a lesson or two about hurting young women.” His lips moved in a sensual dance as he spoke. Full, beautiful lips that begged her to touch them.

“You don’t understand. You can’t understand. Please, let me go.”

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can,” he answered, his breath coming now in short, shallow gasps. “You do something to me, Helen. Something I can’t explain.”

“It’s not my fault.”

He smiled, his mouth opening just enough to make her think of what it would feel like on her warm, yearning skin.
No, please. We must go back now
.

“It is your fault,” he laughed ironically. “It’s
all
your fault. I was fine before you came here.” He released one of her shoulders and brushed one hand through his rapidly drying hair. “Ah, bloody hell.”

The distance between their faces blurred, then vanished. His mouth came to rest on hers with a fire blazing out of control. His free hand settled gently on her cheek, holding her as delicately as a china doll. Gone were the wishes and dreams of her future in a new, intoxicating land where her sins would be erased forever. Instead, she spiraled downward, into his kiss and into the oblivion of stolen passion. God help her, she kissed him back. He tasted of wine and the star-shaped fruit he’d consumed only moments before. Sweet and heady. Forbidden.

Her fingers climbed over the bare flesh of his arms until she caught the ends of his hair. Like a hungry beast, she brought him closer, devouring every inch of his mouth. His tongue swept against hers with devilish ferocity, heating her mind and her body together.

She whimpered beneath the onslaught, unable to persuade herself that it was wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong. She wasn’t this girl. Not anymore.

Paul’s body reacted with a mind of its own. Every muscle, every tendon, tensed and pulled as tightly as a bow string. Helen was passionate beyond anything he’d thought she might be—and he’d thought about it a lot. Every night, she entered his dreams in a seductive dance of greedy lust. But this was far more inebriating.

She swayed against him. The tips of her breasts were hard against his naked flesh, the thin cotton of her shirt little disguise for her desire. Her fingers entwined in his hair, the nails scraping over his flesh with a caress so soft he couldn’t be sure it was real.

None of it seemed real.

Every touch, every sweep of her mouth against his sent him to his knees inside himself. He could lose himself inside of her. He knew it, and he wasn’t afraid. For the first time in his life, he could see a future in which he wasn’t alone. The thought terrified him. Marriage in the bush was more to do with survival than any misguided notion of happiness. One couldn’t expect to find love. Dale and Emily, his friends and owners of one of the most successful sheep stations in the region, had found it. And his parents. They loved each other, right? But they were unusual.

So, why couldn’t he find something as wonderful? And why not with the woman who kissed him with such fervor that he expected to burst into flames if he didn’t have her? Soon.