obviously important to you. Let’s make the best of it.’
The best of it? How could there be any ‘best’ about it, if he was involved? She inhaled a fraught breath. She could feel a net tightening around her. But she wasn’t going to meekly give in. ‘You can answer some questions before I even think about it!’
‘By all means…but we’d better grab your luggage first. Can you see your bag?’
Luggage was already revolving on the carousel, with people dashing forward to retrieve their bags.
Natasha spied her battered suitcase. It had been on many trips with her, usually around Queensland in her father’s sturdy four-wheel-drive. If they’d had the time to spare they would have driven all the way to Kakadu instead of flying, but it would have added days, or even weeks, to the trip.
And what if her father had fallen ill on the way? It would have been a disaster!
‘It’s that one.’ She dashed forward to snatch it up, but Tom was there before her, lifting the bag with ease. She had to admire his strength. The suitcase held not only heavy boots and all the clothes and toiletries she’d need for two weeks, but a first aid kit, a torch, films and equipment for her camera, her sketching and painting gear, and maps and compasses.
‘Anything else?’ Tom asked.
‘A sleeping bag.’ She’d decided to bring her own. ‘There it is!’
He was there before her again, grabbing the rolled-up sleeping bag and slinging it over his shoulder. ‘That it? Right. My four-wheel-drive’s in the car park. I’ve already stocked up on food and drink. Anything else you want before we head off?’
He was assuming she’d already given in. Had she?
‘I’ll want a tent.’ The answer popped out. If she was going to go anywhere with Tom Scanlon, she intended to have a tent all to herself. A two-man tent for reasonable comfort. Tom could provide his own tent—or sleep under the stars.
‘No problem. I’ve a tent in the car.’
‘I’ll want a tent to myself.’
‘You can have it. I always sleep out—except in the wet season, when I usually bunk down in the back of the four-wheel-drive.’ He swung round, heading for the exit, expecting her to follow.
‘Wait!’ She didn’t move. ‘You said you’d answer some questions first.’
There was one question in particular that she had to know the answer to before she took another step.
‘Sure.’ He paused, turning his head. ‘Fire away.’ His eyes were unreadable under his slouch hat.
‘Did you tell your girlfriend that you intend to go on a camping trip with your ex-fiancée?’ She kept her tone cool, her expression as inscrutable as his. ‘Or is she your wife now?’
It seemed an age before he answered. The answer came with a shrug. ‘That didn’t work out.’ There was no emotion in his voice…no regret, no sadness, no relief—nothing. Just a coolly impassive statement of fact.
If he’d shown some feeling…
Bitterness rose like bile in her stomach. ‘She left you? Or did you leave her? You’re good at that. Leaving the women in your life.’ She could have bitten out her tongue the second the bitter words were out. If he thought she still cared…still reacted to him…still had feelings for him…
I don’t! she told herself, tossing back her head, her eyes turning to glinting ice. ‘Forget it, I’m not interested.’ But under her cool-eyed unconcern, her mind was reeling, her insides churning. So the irresistible femme fatale who’d struck him ‘like a bolt out of the blue’ was no longer in the picture. It hadn’t worked out.
So much for his grand passion.
Her lip twisted. Had he tired of her, the way he’d tired of his fiancée after an engagement of only two weeks? He’d called her the light of his life once! She scowled. Had he suffered cold feet all over again at the thought of settling down? At the thought of marriage?
She flounced past him. She didn’t want to think about it! ‘Well, come on. Since I’ve little choice, let’s go.’
‘No more questions?’ As he caught up with her, in a couple of long strides, his body language appeared more relaxed than it had been a second ago. She’d seen how he’d tensed under her lashing scorn, flinching as she’d taunted him about leaving the women in his life.
‘I haven’t taken up with anyone else, if that’s of any interest,’ he assured her with the glimmer of a smile.
She shot him a look of searing contempt. ‘It isn’t. Your business is yours and mine is mine.’ She kept her tone clipped, her eyes remote. ‘Let’s keep it that way.’ If she was going to go on this camping trip with him, she had to keep it on a strictly business footing or she’d never survive a day with him, let alone two weeks. ‘As you pointed out, this will be purely a business arrangement. Simply that.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
They reached his huge dust-covered four-wheel-drive without any further verbal clashes, sticking to safe subjects such as food, drinks, and other camping needs, all of which Tom had already packed into the vehicle. He appeared to have thought of everything.
‘Have you had lunch?’ he asked as he unlocked the big four-wheel-drive and heaved her suitcase and sleeping bag into a rear seat. With two rows of spare seats behind the two front seats, there was ample storage space.
‘Yes, thank you, I had it on the plane.’
‘Good, then we can head off straightaway. We’ll reach Kakadu Park by late afternoon.’ He waved her in.
As she hauled herself up into the front passenger seat, she noticed an aluminium boat on the roof-rack above. An excited quiver ran through her. Having a boat at her disposal when they reached the Kakadu wetlands would give her far greater flexibility than a tourist boat cruise could ever provide.
But they’d have to be careful! Crocodiles abounded in the Yellow Water Billabong and the Alligator River system.
She smiled at the misnomer. She’d been reading up on Kakadu and knew that the South, West and East Alligator Rivers had been mistakenly named, since there were no alligators in Australia! The original explorer had seen the smaller freshwater crocodiles and mistaken them for the alligators he’d seen in North America. He’d obviously never seen a mighty twenty-foot-long man-eating saltwater crocodile!
‘That’s better,’ Tom commented from the driver’s seat.
Her head swung round. ‘What’s better?’
‘You’re smiling.’ His lip quirked. ‘At least you were,’ he drawled as her smile vanished, her eyes clouding.
‘I’m just keen to get going,’ she said fractiously. ‘I can’t wait to see Kakadu.’ She had to concentrate on that—on her reason for coming on this trip—and put everything else out of her mind!
‘You’re the boss. Like a drink of water before we set off?’ Now that they were out of the comparatively cool terminal, the May sun was scorching, the humidity oppressive. ‘It’s important not to get dehydrated up here. It’ll be even more vital once we hit Kakadu.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’
Tom reached behind him to delve into a battery-operated refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to her. While she was sipping, he grabbed another bottle for himself and gulped down several huge swallows.
‘Ah, that’s good,’ he muttered, wiping a hand across his lips.
Her eyes widened. He’d once been a soft drink addict who always had a can of Coca-Cola or Pepsi in his hand, seldom plain water. Or if not a soft drink, a cold beer. Water’s boring, he’d said, adding with a cheeky grin, like most things that are