And yet…He could feel her studying him with frank interest. Her mouth flowered into an open pink O as she took in details of his bare torso.
‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.
She gulped, and said a little breathlessly, ‘I—I’m afraid I’ve r-run out of fuel.’
Immediately a bright blush flooded her neck and cheeks.
‘I know it was stupid of me, and I’m so sorry to trouble you, but I don’t know what to do.’ Her hands flapped in a gesture of helplessness. ‘I tried to ring the only person I know around here, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone home, even though they were expecting me. I managed to coast down the side of the mountain, but then my car conked out at the bottom. I saw your gate and your mail box and so I turned in here, and your ute was on the track back there, and I—’
‘Whoa,’ cried Daniel. ‘I get the picture. You want enough fuel to get you into town.’
Her face broke into an amazing smile. ‘Yes.’ She beamed at him as if he’d offered to fly her straight to Sydney in a Lear jet. ‘If you could spare some fuel that would be wonderful.’ Her warm smile lingered as she stood there. ‘You’re—you’re—very—kind.’
Kind? A jaded half-laugh broke from him. It had been too long since anyone had called Daniel Renton kind—especially a young woman—and it had been even longer since a woman had stared at him with such obvious interest.
She continued to stand there, looking at him.
‘We’ll both be embarrassed if you don’t turn your back while I get out of the water,’ he said dryly.
‘Turn my back? Oh. Oh…You’re naked. Sorry.’
However, she didn’t sound especially sorry, and she took her time turning, holding the brim of her hat close to her head with both hands.
‘You’re safe enough now,’ she called, and her voice was warm with the hint of yet another smile. ‘My hat makes great blinkers, and I promise I won’t look till you say so.’
Mildly surprised that she’d stood her ground rather than make a nervous dash for the nearest patch of thick scrub, Daniel left the water quickly and hauled on his jeans without any attempt to dry himself.
‘All clear,’ he said gruffly.
She let go of the hat-brim and turned back to him, pink and smiling again—or perhaps still pink and smiling—and she watched with continued interest as he shook his head from side to side and flicked water droplets from his thick dark hair.
‘I’m sorry. I’m being a nuisance.’
He shrugged. ‘I was just taking a break. But I don’t have a lot of time.’
Reaching down for his blue cotton shirt, he retrieved his watch from the front pocket and checked the time before slipping the watch onto his wrist. It was lunchtime and his stomach was rumbling.
‘Where’s your car?’
‘Out on the road.’
‘Not in the middle of the road?’
‘No. I’m silly, but not totally brainless. I managed to push it well off the road. It’s under a tree. I guess it’s about five-hundred metres from your front gate.’
‘What sort of vehicle?’
‘A Corolla.’
‘So you need petrol?’ He bit off a curse.
‘Well…yes. I told you I’ve run out.’
Daniel grimaced.
‘Is that a problem?’
‘I only use diesel.’
‘Oh.’ Two neat white teeth worried her lower lip.
‘I guess I’ll have to give you a lift into Gidgee Springs.’ He knew he should have said this more graciously, but a trip into the nearest township would mean exposing himself to the questioning glances of prying locals.
‘I don’t want to put you to that much bother,’ she said, obviously sensing his reluctance. ‘If you have a telephone book I could ring a service station in Gidgee Springs. They should be able to send a can of petrol out here.’
‘On a Sunday? You’ve got to be joking.’ Daniel let out a hoot of laughter. ‘I’ll give you a lift, but you’ll have to wait. I’m going to grab a bite to eat first.’
‘By all means. Yes, you must have your lunch.’
After pulling on elastic-sided riding boots and shrugging into his shirt, he began to make his way through the scrub to the track where he’d left the ute, doing up shirt buttons as he went. The woman, ducking branches heavy with golden wattle, hurried to keep up.
‘By the way, my name’s Lily,’ she said to his back. ‘Lily Halliday.’
‘Daniel,’ he offered grouchily over his shoulder.
‘Daniel Renton?’
‘Yes.’ He stopped, suddenly wary, and sent her a swift, searching frown. ‘How did you know my name?’
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘It’s painted on your letterbox. “D Renton. Ironbark Station”.’
Of course.
He sighed as he continued walking. He might have been released from prison, but he was still constantly on edge and alert. Always defensive. He’d forgotten how to relax, how to trust. Simple details of freedom could catch him out. His name painted on his letterbox. A trip into town for groceries. A stranger’s friendly smile. He wondered if he would ever again accept such ordinary, everyday normality as his right.
They reached his rusty old ute, parked in the shade of an ancient camphor laurel tree. He stepped towards the passenger door, intending to open it for Lily, but she clearly didn’t expect anything so gentlemanly from him, and rushed forward.
‘No need to wait on me.’ Without further ceremony, she yanked the door open and jumped into the passenger seat.
By the time Daniel ambled round to the driver’s door, Lily had removed her hat. And, as he settled behind the wheel, she slipped off the blue elastic band that tied back her hair and shook it free.
Her hair was heavy and silky, the pale colour of new hemp rope. It tumbled in waves over her shoulders like rippling water, and with a complete lack of self-consciousness she began to sift strands of it through her fingers. Finally, she lifted the full weight of it from the back of her neck, exposing damp little curls stuck to her warm pink skin. Then she re-twisted her hair into a loose knot and slipped the band back into place.
During the entire process Daniel watched, transfixed.
Eventually, Lily glanced sideways and realised he was staring at her. Their gazes met. And froze. They both held their breaths.
Something happened.
Something in Lily’s misty blue-grey eyes reached deep into the darkness inside Daniel and tugged. He felt an almost shocking sense of connection. It was completely unexpected.
Damn.
Lily gulped.
Oh, man.
Oh…man…It was crazy, actually, the way she was reacting to Daniel Renton. She’d made quite a fool of herself on the riverbank by gaping at his bare shoulders and chest. Such a silly reaction from a girl who’d grown up in the Sugar Bay hippie community, where skinny-dipping was an almost everyday occurrence.
Then again, how could she not be impressed? The tapering line from Daniel’s broad shoulders to his flat stomach and lean hips would have made Michelangelo’s David look like a mere boy.
And