Live To Tell. Valerie Parv

wait twenty minutes.”

      She was intrigued. “For what?”

      “Patience,” he counseled.

      Easy for him to say. She wasn’t known for patience. She wondered if he knew it and was testing her. She decided not to give him the satisfaction of being right and schooled herself to remain still, although her awareness of him grew to agonizing proportions.

      He stood statue-still, his gaze on the far horizon. How could he be so at ease when her muscles twitched with the need for movement? The twenty minutes seemed like an eternity.

      When her watch indicated the time had passed, although he hadn’t even glanced at his watch, he placed another stone at the slightly changed angle of shadow cast by the stick, then drew a line from the first stone to well beyond the second.

      “This line runs west-east.” He turned her until the shadow stick was behind her and she was standing with her left foot halfway between the stones and her right foot on the line the same distance again past the second stone.

      Warmth flooded through her from his touch, and her concentration wavered. His breath was hot on her cheek, his smell invitingly masculine. She dragged in a steadying breath. “Now what?”

      “Now you’re looking north, in the direction of the camp.” Hunkering down he drew a line at her feet bisecting the first line, indicating north-south, she assumed.

      When she said so, he nodded. “This is how you make an earth compass.”

      Trying not to focus on the luxuriant spill of his hair, or give in to the temptation to run her fingers through it—an entirely new temptation for her—her brows knit. “How would this help us at night?” They had climbed the hill before dawn.

      He stood up, standing a fraction too close to her for comfort. “The earth compass works in moonlight, too. Once you decide in which direction to travel, you stand on the compass and face the way you intend moving. Look for a bright star, or better still, a group of stars in that direction and move toward them.”

      Follow your star, she thought. Was there a message here? “Won’t the trees get in your line of sight?” she asked, annoyed at the husky way her voice came out.

      He nodded. “Good thinking. You don’t choose stars that are right on the horizon, or you’ll lose sight of them behind the trees. You also need to remember that stars move east to west at about fifteen degrees an hour, the same as the sun. I’ll show you how to measure degrees using your hand span.”

      He took her hand and the world lurched again. Much more of his touch and she would be in his arms again, not answerable for the consequences. She tugged free, feeling heat flood into her face. “Show me later. I think we should get back to camp and make sure Eddy hasn’t disturbed anything.”

      Blake saw the telltale color stain her cheeks and felt an inner swell of satisfaction. She would be his before this adventure was over. She might not be sure if she wanted him, but he had no doubts. What happened after that was up to fate, although he had ideas about that, too.

      “You’re the boss,” he said. For now, at least.

      He saw her eyes widen as if she’d picked up his thought. “You don’t have a problem with that?”

      His shoulders lifted. “Why should I? I’m a sensitive new-age kind of guy.”

      “Yeah, right.”

      Feigning hurt feelings, he stuck out his lower lip. “You don’t believe me.”

      “I believe you’ll let me lead as long as it suits you.”

      Keeping the grin off his face, he said, “I might surprise you.”

      The skeptical look she gave him only made him want her more. He’d take the greatest delight in breeching that tough journalistic facade to connect with the woman beneath. She’d be all softness, all warmth, all passion. An all-or-nothing kind of lady. His kind.

      But first he’d have to win her trust and make her want him as much as he wanted her. Then he’d see who led and who followed.

      He couldn’t stop himself. He brushed his thumb along her jawline and saw her shudder. Dark, potent desire leaped into her gaze and he watched her master it with an effort. Or thought she had. She would never know how tempted he was to show her how thin her veneer of control really was. He knew because his own wasn’t much better. The awareness was in his gruff tone as he said, “Let’s get back to camp.”

      Chapter 5

      Blake’s survey of their campsite showed no signs of disturbance, although he frowned when he spotted fresh footprints near the perimeter. “Unfortunately, they don’t tell us anything except that someone was here.”

      “And we already know that,” she said, setting the ingredients for the bush bread called damper out on a folding table.

      In the middle of starting the fire, Blake paused. “Don’t take this too lightly. What Eddy’s doing has more than nuisance value. If I had my way, feeding wild crocodiles would be illegal in Australia.”

      She mixed flour and water, plunged elbow-deep into the sticky mix and began to knead. “It’s already illegal in countries like the United States, but it’s popular with tourists.”

      “Who have no idea of the risks involved,” he said. “Teaching crocodiles to jump creates an association between people and food. When they do what they’ve been trained to do and eat someone, the same people training them will be baying for their blood.”

      She kept kneading, sprinkling extra flour over the ball of dough as she worked. “I’m starting to feel sorry for the crocodiles.”

      The fire flared to life and he stood up, dusting off his hands, a hunter in his element, performing the most primeval of tasks. “I’ll make an outback woman of you yet.”

      A twinge shot through her as sharp as a knife thrust. She masked it by slamming the dough into a cast iron pan ready to cook in the coals when they were hot enough. “No way. This lifestyle is strictly temporary.” Was she protesting too much? She didn’t really want to spend more than a month living in the Kimberley, did she?

      He didn’t seem troubled by her certainty. “That’s what they all say.”

      “All your lady friends?” she asked, carrying the pan to him.

      He took the pan from her. “How did you learn to make bush bread?”

      He hadn’t answered her question, she noticed. “I looked the recipe up when I was doing my research.” At his look of surprise she added, “I told you I do my homework. I also know how to make tea in a billycan by covering the tea leaves in boiling water and swinging it around my head to help it brew.”