Don’t kid yourself, girl. Such a strategy doesn’t exist.
There was always drama around the McGoverns. Instead of Scott, Keefe had appeared. The man she dreamed about, so often and so vividly, that it was as if he was in bed with her. He was dressed in a khaki bush shirt with epaulettes and buttoned-down pockets, close-fitting jeans, beaten-copper-buckled leather belt, glossy riding boots on his feet. Everyday wear, but quality all the way. There was something utterly compelling about a splendid male body, she thought raggedly, the height, the width of shoulder, the narrowness of waist and hip descending into long, long straight legs.
“It’s good to see you, Skye.” Finally he spoke. “Weren’t waiting long?”
She readied herself. His voice, like the rest of him, carried a natural command. It had become more and more like his father’s; the timbre deep and dark, the accent polished and slightly clipped. “No more than five minutes,” she said with admirable composure. She had to force the adrenalin rush down. “I wasn’t expecting you, Keefe. I was told Scott was coming.”
“Well, I’m here,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.
He was so beautiful! All strength and sinew with an intense sexual aura. Her entire body leapt to vivid life, sparks coursing like little fires along her veins. What she felt for Keefe couldn’t be easily governed. Even her nerves were like tightly strung wires humming and vibrating inside her. How long had it been since she had felt this mad surge of excitement? Not since the last time she had been with him. Years of loving Keefe. Years of unfinished business. It was like they were tied together against their wills. She pulled in a deep breath, keeping her tone neutral.
“And thank you. I appreciate it.” No way could she betray the tumult in her heart. “I’m so very sorry about your father, Keefe. I know how hard it must be for you.”
His glittering gaze moved to the middle distance. “Forgive me, Skye. I can’t talk about it.”
“Of course not. I understand.”
“You always did have more sensitivity than anyone else,” he commented briefly, reaching for her suitcase. It was heavy—she had packed too much into just one case—but he lifted it as though its weight was negligible. “We’d best get away. As you can imagine, there’s much to be done at home.”
She shook her head helplessly. “You didn’t have to come for me, Keefe.”
He paused to give her another searing glance. “I did.”
Ah, the heady magnetism of his gaze! She moved quickly, letting her honey-blonde hair cascade across one side of her face. Anything to hide the wild hot rush of blood. She opened the passenger door, then slid into the seat. All the years she had spent mounting defences against Keefe…!
You still have no protection.
Their flight into Djinjara couldn’t have been smoother. Keefe was an experienced pilot. But, then, his skills were many, all burnished to a high polish. He had been groomed from childhood to take over leadership from his father.
They were home.
Djinjara was still—would always be—the best place in the world. The vastness, the freedom, the call of the wild. There was a magic to it she had never found in the city, for all the glamour of her hectic life there. She had made many friends. Some of them in high places. She was asked everywhere. She had a stack of admirers. She knew she was rated a fine, committed advocate. Her clients trusted her, looked to her to get them through their difficult times. Her career was on the up and up. Yet, oddly, though she had hoped to gain great satisfaction from it all, that hadn’t happened. Sometimes she felt disconnected from her city life. Other times she felt disconnected from everything. Successful on the outside, when she allowed herself time for introspection, she felt curiously empty. Starved of what she really wanted.
Such was the pull of love; the elation, the sense of completion in being with Keefe. But along with it went long periods of loneliness.
On the ground, beneath a deliriously blue sky, she marked the familiar spectacular flights of birds, the shadows beneath the rolling red sand dunes that stretched across the vast plains. The sands were heavily embossed with huge pincushions of spinifex scorched to a dark gold; in the shimmering distance the purple of the eroded hills with their caves and secret, crystal-clear waterholes.
Skye drew the unique pungent aromas of the bush into her lungs, realising how much she had missed Djinjara. The mingling wind-whipped scents, so aromatic like crushed and dried native herbs, to her epitomised the Outback. She had a very real feel for the place of her birth, even though her mother had died here giving her life. Not everyone fell under the spell of the bush but Djinjara, from her earliest memories, had held her captive.
They were met by her father. He had been lolling against a station Jeep, a tall whipcord-thin man with a lived-in, interesting sort of face and love for his daughter shining out of bright blue eyes.
“Skye, darling girl! It’s marvellous to see you.” Jack rushed forward, his hard muscled arms wide stretched in greeting.
“Marvellous to see you, Dad.” Skye picked up her own pace, meeting up with her father joyously. She went into his embrace, kissing his weathered mahogany cheek. He smelled of sunlight, leather and horses. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Missed you.” Jack looked down into his daughter’s beautiful face, revelling in her presence, the glorious grace of her. She was so like his beloved Cathy. The way she smiled. The way she shone.
“Sad about Mr McGovern,” Skye spoke in a low voice.
“Tragic!” her father agreed, dropping his arms as Keefe, who had given father and daughter a few moments alone, came towards them.
Keefe was a stunning-looking man by any standard, Skye thought. Quite unlike any other man she had ever seen. “I’ll take you up to the house first, boss,” Jack called. “Then I’ll drop Skye off.”
“Fine,” Keefe responded. The force field around him was such it drew father and daughter in. “I know you’ll want to spend this first night together, Jack. You must have much to catch up on—but I thought as the bungalow is on the small side, Skye might be more comfortable up at the house for the rest of her stay.” He looked from one to the other. “It’s entirely up to you.”
Skye’s heart leapt, then dropped like a stone. She had no stomach for the rest of the family, other than Lady McGovern. “I’ll stay with Dad,” she answered promptly, “but thank you for the kind thought, Keefe.” Despite herself, a certain dryness crept into her tone.
“You might want to change your mind, my darling,” Jack said wryly, looking at his beautiful daughter. He was immensely gratified she wanted to stay with him, but worried the bungalow really was too small.
“Well, see how it goes,” Keefe clipped off.
“It’s very good of you, Keefe.” Jack looked respectfully towards the younger man.
“Not at all.” Keefe turned his splendid profile. “My grandmother will want to see you, Skye.”
“Of course.” She couldn’t miss out on an audience with Lady McGovern, who would be devastated by the loss of her son. Pity rushed in. Besides, she could never forget what she owed the McGoverns for what they had done for her. Albeit without her knowledge.
Jack watched on, sensing an odd tension