allowed for socializing, she had brought this suit for traveling and felt it fitted the occasion better than jeans and a T-shirt, although there was a scattering of both among the party guests.
“It’s a lovely night,” she agreed. “Thank you for letting me share your engagement party, Shara.”
Jo felt odd calling the princess by her first name, but Shara had insisted when they first met, saying she’d had enough of titles in her own country to last a lifetime. “My pleasure,” Shara said. “Are you recovered from your close call with the crocodile this morning?”
Jo suppressed a shiver. “It was terrifying, especially for Nigel, but thank goodness he wasn’t hurt.
“I’m relieved to hear it, although I understand he decided to return home as a result.”
Jo nodded. “I can’t say I blame him, can you?”
Shara smiled. “Perhaps not. I’m relieved that the crocodile didn’t drive you away, as well.”
Tom came up carrying a tray of drinks. The waves of love carried on the look he and Shara exchanged pierced Jo with unaccustomed longing. What must it feel like to know you were so totally loved?
Shara retrieved a glass of wine for Jo and one of mineral water for herself, her fingers trailing over Tom’s gripping the tray. The two of them looked as if they couldn’t wait to be by themselves. When he moved away, the princess’s gaze lingered on him.
“You must love him very much,” Jo observed.
Shara took a sip of her mineral water. “Is it so obvious?”
“Only to every eye in the gathering.” Smiling, Jo raised her glass. “May you and Tom always feel the way you do tonight.” She drank to the sentiment, then remembered the backgrounder she’d read on the family. “I understand it was you who discovered the ancient cave paintings that are helping to put Diamond Downs on the map.”
Shara lowered her lashes. “The Uru civilization is a passion of mine. Tom and Blake actually found the cave when they were children.”
“But you recognized the paintings on the walls as the work of the Uru and caused an international sensation. After the wire service picked up the story, my editor couldn’t wait to send me up here to do a feature.”
Shara’s interest piqued. “Is your editor a fan of ancient history?”
Jo shook her head. “Oddly enough, she hates history. But when she read about Des Logan and his special family, Karen was determined I should come to the Kimberley. She was the one who dreamed up the survival scenario.”
The only thing that would have surprised Jo more was if Karen had announced she was undertaking the assignment herself. Her editor was the archetypal city girl, surgically attached to her cell phone and PDA. Jo could have sworn her boss had been itching to go, but had stopped herself for some reason. She had made Jo promise to report every detail of her experiences, holding nothing back. The request had almost offended Jo, and she’d reminded Karen that she knew how to do her job.
The princess made a face. “When you arrived you told me you have a list of tasks to undertake and report on your progress. How will you manage alone?
“I’ve already started on the shelter.” If gathering a heap of raw materials could be termed starting. She’d probably have made more progress if Nigel hadn’t insisted he knew how the job should be tackled. “Blake has offered me some guidance,” she added.
Shara smiled. “You’re very brave.”
“Not brave, persistent. I hate giving up on a challenge.”
Shara gave her a conspiratorial look. “You may find Blake a greater challenge than dealing with the outback.”
Jo felt warmth seep into her face. “I don’t have to deal with him. All he’s doing is helping me complete the assignment, nothing more.”
Shara excused herself to mingle with the other guests. Jo was grateful to have a few minutes to herself. She hoped the others didn’t all think she was interested in Blake. He was a means to an end, that was all.
Wasn’t he?
Blake rested his forearms on the homestead veranda railing and watched Jo move gracefully among the guests. Every time she turned that high-voltage smile on one of the male guests and the man melted into a puddle at her feet, Blake wanted to head over there and drag her away. An odd impulse, considering he was avoiding romantic entanglements for the time being.
After Rhonda Saffire, he’d believed it would be a long time before a woman interested him again. Rhonda had worked as a receptionist at Sawtooth Park and their relationship had meandered along for a few months without any real sparks, until they’d gradually stopped seeing each other. Then she’d come to tell him she was pregnant and that he was the father. Not physically impossible, just unlikely, considering he usually took the proper precautions. On the one occasion when he’d slipped up, she’d told him she was protected. She also knew that Blake’s experience of being unwanted until Des Logan took him in meant he wasn’t going to let any child of his grow up without a father.
They’d have made it all the way to the altar if a friend of Blake’s hadn’t tipped him off that he’d been drinking with a man who claimed he was the father of Rhonda’s child. When Blake confronted the man, he’d confessed that he loved Rhonda but was scared of taking on a family. Given the choice between answering to Blake and facing his responsibilities, the man had chosen the latter course. Surprise, surprise, thought Blake.
Later, a radiant Rhonda had shown him her engagement ring and apologized for lying to him. She admitted that she’d turned to him in panic after the real father of her child had let her down. Her fiancé hadn’t told her what had changed his mind, Blake gathered. To his surprise, he’d felt disappointed, having discovered he liked the idea of fatherhood a great deal. He missed that more than he missed Rhonda.
Romance might not be high on his agenda for now, but it didn’t mean he was dead from the waist down. Or that he couldn’t appreciate Jo’s lithe, feminine movements and the enticing way her long hair rippled when she tossed her head.
She was talking to Shara and he saw her laughing about something; then she looked up and saw him watching her. He felt the connection as a jolt of current stronger than one he’d received after accidentally touching an electric fence at the park. This also shocked him to the toes of his boots, but there was no cutoff switch, no way to short-circuit her effect.
He could practically follow the sizzling bolt of energy as it arced between them. Her reaction came a split second later, as she rocked back on her heels, her eyes going wide with amazement until she dragged her gaze away.
Blake had heard all the old chestnuts about eyes meeting across crowded rooms, but this was the first time he’d experienced the effect. The prospect of showing her around the outback suddenly seemed less like a favor to Des, and more of a no-holds-barred challenge.
At least Blake could protect Jo from some of the dangers of the outback. Had she gone to the creek instead of Wylie, she might not have been strong enough to stop the crocodile from pulling her into the water.
At the idea, he went cold from head to foot. Not long ago, an American model had been taken along Prince Regent Sound in the Kimberley, making headlines around the world. Blake had no business thinking of Gilgai’s actions as anything but a crime. In some countries, it was illegal to feed wild crocodiles. It should be in Australia, he thought. Then both Gilgai and his puppet master, Max Horvath, could be arrested for attempted murder. Since they couldn’t, Blake would have to make sure they didn’t harm Jo on his watch. From what he’d seen of her, she wasn’t the type to welcome a protector, but for himself, he found the prospect thoroughly appealing.
Midnight had come and gone by the time the party started to wind down. “Ready to go back to your camp?” Blake asked Jo as she sipped coffee and watched some of the guests dancing to recorded music. The dancers’ movements were slow and desultory, and