‘Dad—’
‘You don’t have to do a thing, love. I’ve already cancelled the four-wheel-drive we were planning to hire in Darwin. The tour company will provide one, as well as a tent and camping gear and all your food, etc. You just have to turn up. Now off you go and get ready.’
She knew he’d only get upset if she stood around arguing. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She gave him a rallying smile. Sick as he was, he’d tried his best to put things right for her. The least she could do was sound grateful. ‘I’ll take my mobile phone to Darwin with me so we can keep in touch.’
He grunted. ‘Don’t waste your time making calls back home. You’ll be out of range most of the time anyway. Besides, Edith says she’s taking my phone away.’ He sighed, a wavery sound. ‘Sorry, love…I’m so tired.’
‘Then go to sleep, Dad. And make sure you get Aunt Edith to call the doctor if you feel any worse.’ She gave her father a pat—carefully avoiding the area of his feet. ‘You take good care of yourself, Charlie. Get better soon.’
She couldn’t believe that she was agreeing to go, that her father was actually urging her to go—to go careering off into the Australian wilds with a complete stranger. But if Charlie was happy for his daughter to go off on a two-week camping tour with a tour operator neither of them had met personally, he must be confident that the man was absolutely trustworthy.
This Cannon character, being the boss, and presumably the owner of Wild-Good-Chase Tours, was probably a mature, older man, married most likely, and he should at least be dependable and well experienced in the bush.
Besides, she had to go…people were depending on her. If she didn’t come up with the paintings of Kakadu that she’d promised to produce by early spring, she might never be invited to exhibit in Sydney again! She’d be seen as unreliable, and her reputation in the art world would suffer.
She hurried back to the kitchen to grab a much needed cup of coffee.
As soon as she stepped out of the packed aircraft after the long flight north, the humid warmth in the air, the casual surroundings, and the people milling round the terminal in shorts and skimpy tops, confirmed that she was in Darwin. This was a city where things happened at a slower, easier pace, where people relaxed and enjoyed life.
Where most people relaxed, that was. Unless they were waiting to meet a complete stranger. A stranger who was going to be her close companion for the next two weeks—not in a civilised city with other people around, but alone in the bush, exploring Australia’s largest, wildest and most exciting national park.
She gulped hard, and looked around for a man carrying a sign with her name on it. She could only see two people carrying signs, an elderly man and a young woman, and neither of their signs said Natasha Beale. And they weren’t wearing insignias bearing the name Wild-Goose-Chase Tours.
She wasn’t sure whether to wait, or go ahead and pick up her luggage. Maybe she’d find him there. She could always call the tour company. As the boss he—
Her eyes widened. Her heart crashed against her ribs. A man was heading her way. A tall broad-shouldered man in knee-length khaki shorts, a dark shirt with an insignia on the pocket, and an Akubra hat with a similar badge…in the shape of a magpie goose, with the words Wild-Goose-Chase Tours clearly visible.
The man wasn’t holding a card with her name on it. He didn’t have to. He knew precisely who she was. Just as she knew who he was.
‘Tom Scanlon,’ she breathed in disbelief. With an effort she managed to stop her legs crumbling beneath her. That insignia on his cap…on his shirt…No, it wasn’t possible! She could feel herself plunging into a nightmare. A nightmare her own father must have had a hand in!
Cannon, Charlie had slyly—cunningly—called him. Scanlon…Cannon…how devious.
‘Natasha…how was the flight?’ Tom held out both arms, as if about to grasp her shoulders and give her a welcoming kiss on the cheek—or on the lips!
She jerked back, out of his reach. ‘What in the world do you think you’re up to, Tom Scanlon? What sick game are you playing this time?’
‘No game. I’m answering a call for help,’ he said mildly. ‘Your father’s fallen ill, I was sorry to hear, and can’t travel with you—and he appealed to me to come to your rescue.’
Her eyes flared, then narrowed. ‘He knew you were working up here in Darwin?’ Her head was still spinning. She could barely think.
‘I mentioned it to him yesterday. Did he tell you I bought one of your paintings?’
If he thought he was going to soften her up that way, he was sadly mistaken. ‘If you imagine I’m going anywhere with you, Tom Scanlon—’
‘Look, you’d better pick up your luggage. We can argue on the way. Can I carry something for you?’
She had a tote bag and her camera slung over her shoulder. ‘I can manage, thanks.’ She had to think! She had to get out of this ghastly mess.
‘If you say so.’ He actually had the nerve to take her arm as he steered her away. She shook it off.
‘I’m going back on the next plane,’ she bit out. And when she got home she’d give her father a piece of her mind, sick or not. How dare he hire Tom Scanlon to look after her—and be so underhand about it! The last man on earth she’d ever go on a camping tour with. Go anywhere with.
‘After your father’s gone to all this trouble for you?’ Tom’s eyes, deeply blue against the rich tan of his face, reproached her. ‘Charlie told me he was desperate and didn’t know who else to turn to. It was only natural he’d appeal to me—someone he knows—having learned only yesterday that I run adventure safaris out of Darwin…which I’ve been doing for the past year.’
He had? He couldn’t have stayed long in Sydney…
‘But you didn’t have to volunteer to take me!’
‘Sorry, ma’am, but I was the only operator available at such short notice. And your father was very relieved that you’d have someone you both know to take care of you—someone he can rely on.’
‘Rely on? You?’ She turned scathing eyes to his. When had she ever been able to rely on Tom Scanlon to take care of her? ‘Oh, this is too much!’ she burst out. ‘You’ll have to find someone else to take me—I don’t care where from. I’m not going anywhere with you!’
‘You’d prefer to go with a total stranger?’
‘I thought I was going with a total stranger.’
‘Ah, but your father knew that you weren’t. He knew you’d be safe with me. You will, Natasha,’ Tom assured her seriously. ‘This is a business arrangement, pure and simple. I’m just your driver…your guide…your minder, if you like. I’ll be there to give you a helping hand and generally watch over you. This trip’s 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