‘Do you think this is him?’
Emily sounded disappointed, presumably because of the absence of a checked shirt. He wasn’t giving a very good impression of being unhurried either. In fact, even from a distance, he looked distinctly impatient.
On the other hand, he was definitely tall and rangy, thought Bea. Nice broad shoulders, too, she couldn’t help noticing. As far as build went, he was everything Emily could want.
‘Can’t be,’ she said. ‘He’s not wearing a hat.’
Emily was obviously struggling to make the best of things. ‘He can fly a plane,’ she said. ‘That’s good.’
If the man noticed the two girls studying him through the big plate glass windows, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he stiff-armed the swing door in a manner worthy of the most harried city executive and strode into the terminal.
Bea gave Emily a sympathetic glance. His body might be good—actually, it was even more impressive at close quarters—but the rest of him was a distinct disappointment. He was just a very ordinary-looking man, with an irritated expression.
She judged him to be in his early thirties, but something about him made him seem older than that. Obviously ignorant of the sartorial codes Emily found so romantic, he was wearing jeans and a dull brown shirt. In fact, dull brown seemed to be something of a theme. He had a brown face and dull brown hair, and Bea fully expected to meet dull brown eyes too but, as his gaze swept over them, she was taken aback to discover that they weren’t brown at all, but an icy, almost startling, blue, and very unfriendly.
As the cold eyes encountered hers, she felt something like a tiny shock, and an odd feeling shivered down her spine. Putting her chin up, Bea stared back at him. She wasn’t about to be intimidated by a cowboy in a brown shirt.
Chase’s heart sank as he took in the two girls before him. So much for Nick and the ‘suitable’ girls he had found. ‘They’ll be perfect,’ he had enthused before getting on the plane and no doubt forgetting all about them.
Chase didn’t think they looked perfect at all. There was a very pretty blonde one, dressed for some reason in a cowgirl outfit, and a brunette who looked as if she was off to a party in a skimpy dress and high heels, for God’s sake. She had a wide, lush mouth that sat oddly with the snooty expression she was wearing. Chase was hard put to decide which of them looked more ridiculous.
Suitable? Perfect? Thanks, Nick, he sighed inwardly. Personally, he had them down as nothing but trouble.
Which was all he needed right now.
Outwardly, he looked from one to the other, trying to guess which one was Emily Williams. He picked the brunette with her nose stuck in the air. Emily sounded a prissy, old-fashioned name, and she looked the type.
Or maybe not, with that mouth.
‘Emily Williams?’
It came out brusquer than he had intended, and the brunette was clearly not impressed.
‘This is Emily,’ she said, gesturing at the blonde girl, who smiled a little uncertainly. ‘I’m Bea Stevenson.’
Her voice was very clear and English, and Chase wondered whether she expected him to bow.
‘Bee?’ he repeated. What kind of name was that? ‘As in buzzing and honey?’
‘As in Beatrice,’ she said coldly. ‘You must be Mr Chase.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Most people just call me Chase.’
Bea ignored that. She probably didn’t like being associated with ‘most people’, Chase decided.
‘Didn’t Mr Sutherland tell you that we were coming?’
‘I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t,’ Chase pointed out crisply. ‘I’ve got better things to do than hang around at the airport on the off chance that a couple of cooks are going to turn up.’
‘We’ve all got better things to do,’ she snapped, ‘but it hasn’t stopped us from having to hang around all afternoon. The plane got in two hours ago!’
‘Sorry about that,’ said Chase, not sounding at all sorry. ‘We’ve been putting a mob of cattle through the yards, and I couldn’t get away any earlier.’
‘Are we supposed to be grateful that you could spare the time to come and get us?’
‘Bea…’
Bea pushed her hair defiantly behind her ears and met Emily’s pleading blue eyes. She knew it was a bit soon to get into a stand-up argument, but something about this man rubbed her up the wrong way.
‘You should be grateful I remembered, anyway,’ he said, unmoved by her tone. ‘I need to get back as soon as possible,’ he added briskly, ‘so if you’re ready, I suggest you get your things and we’ll go.’
‘In the plane?’ Emily revived magically at the prospect.
‘It’s the quickest way.’ Chase glanced at her. ‘It’s not a problem, is it?’
‘Oh, no, I’ve always wanted to go in a small plane,’ she assured him. ‘It’s all so exciting!’
Chase suppressed a sigh. One who was keen, and one who was obviously going to hate every minute of it. They’d had both types before, and it was a toss up as to which was the hardest to deal with. The keen ones, probably. The girls who hated it usually burst into tears and insisted on going home the very next day. Perhaps Bea Stevenson would be the same.
Although she didn’t look like a girl who would cry easily. Too proud for that, Chase guessed, taking in the stubborn set of her chin.
‘Where are your things?’
They indicated two huge suitcases in the corner of the room, and he raised one eyebrow. ‘Brought your ball gowns and the kitchen sink, have you?’ he asked sardonically.
Bea bristled. ‘We thought we’d bring a few books and things to keep us occupied,’ she said in a cool voice. She wasn’t about to tell him about the hair-dryer. ‘We didn’t want to be bored.’
‘You won’t have time to be bored at Calulla Downs,’ he said, unimpressed by their forethought.
Bea opened her mouth to tell him that she would be the judge of what bored her or not, but Chase was already striding over to the cases. ‘Is this yours?’ he said to Emily as he took hold of the blue one.
‘Yes, it’s a bit heavy, I’m afraid…’
Emily trailed off as he picked it up in one hand and glanced from the red suitcase to Bea. ‘Want me to take this one for you?’ he asked.
Bea lifted her chin proudly. ‘I can manage, thank you.’
‘OK.’
To her fury, he took her at her word and headed for the doors, carrying Emily’s suitcase as if it was empty. He didn’t even have to put it down to open the door. Bea was left to struggle after him across the tarmac. Her case had wheels, but it was so heavy that it kept toppling sideways and snagging at her ankles, which did nothing to improve her temper.
‘So much for slow smiles and slow drawls!’ she said bitterly to Emily who was doing her best to help keep the case upright. ‘This guy makes that lot you see jumping up and down at the Stock Exchange whenever there’s a financial crisis look laid-back!’
‘Perhaps he’s just having a bad day,’ said Emily.
‘He’s not the only one!’ grumbled Bea, stopping to wipe her forehead with the back of her arm. The heat was pouring down and then bouncing back off the