a cave of valuable rock art on the land than a crocodile attack had attracted negative publicity, threatening the income from tourism Des had hoped to bring in.
Journalist Jo Francis had arrived to write a series of stories about surviving in the outback, her editor paying well for the access. Then Blake, an expert on crocodile behavior, had caught Max’s henchman Eddy Gilgai luring the crocodile dangerously close to Jo’s camp.
The scheme had backfired when Eddy himself had been taken by a crocodile, but the resulting media coverage hadn’t done Diamond Downs’s fledgling tourism venture much good. With the wet season approaching, fewer tourists were visiting the Kimberley anyway. By the time the dry season came around again—assuming they could hang on that long—Judy hoped the fuss over the crocodile attacks would have subsided, and they could focus attention on the rock art caves again.
She couldn’t tell Ryan what she hoped to achieve by dating Max, without letting him think she was available for a romantic fling with him. The very thought sent needs she didn’t want to acknowledge coiling through her. Right now he looked angry enough to break something, but the fire in his expression ignited an answering one inside her. What would it be like to feel his strong arms around her and his mouth hungry on hers?
Since she couldn’t find out and keep faith with herself, she tore her gaze away. “I didn’t want to talk about this, Ryan. You don’t control me.”
“I’m not going to stand back and let you barter yourself for a creep like Max Horvarth,” he said. “If finding that mine will keep you away from him, I’ll find it for you.”
She had hoped to convince him to help, but not like this. “Are you offering to help so I’ll have an affair with you? If so, the price is too high.”
“The price is the same as it’s always been—your body and soul. And the chance to get this…thing…between us worked out once and for all.”
“Damn you, Ryan. Don’t do this to me.”
“It’s done. All I did was up the ante. Unless you want me to go back to Broome and forget about helping you look for the mine.”
Careful to avoid touching him, she took the plates from him and carried them to the kitchen, where she started to run hot water into the sink. Mechanically, she began to wash the plates.
He came up beside her and picked up a dish towel, drying the plates as if the two of them were a couple doing their nightly chores. The image had more appeal than she wanted it to.
“What’s it to be?” he asked as he put the plates away.
She lifted dripping hands out of the water to gesture futilely. “You ask the impossible. I need your help if I’m to have any chance of finding the mine before the wet season cuts off access, but I can’t agree to…your terms.”
He flicked the kettle on and lifted two coffee mugs down from a shelf. “What can you agree to?”
Her voice struggled to rise above a whisper. “To think about your offer?”
“Not good enough. Thinking’s too intangible.”
Ryan knew he’d done enough thinking about her to drive a man crazy. Already he was regretting tonight. Arranging dinner in the isolated cottage had seemed like a good idea when he’d devised it. He hadn’t allowed for her effect on him. Seated across the table, knowing how easily he could carry her to the bedroom, had made this the most uncomfortable meal of his life. Before he’d known it, he’d suggested an affair in exchange for his help. Judy’s presence made him forget all gentlemanly behavior—forget everything but how badly he wanted her.
“I’m sure Dad would agree to give you a share of the mine.”
He slammed the coffee mugs onto the timber counter hard enough to startle them both. “I don’t want a share of the bloody mine.”
“Then I’ll go looking alone.”
“Am I so offensive to you that you’d risk your life, rather than consider a relationship with me?” he demanded.
“Oh, Ryan, no. I could make love to you far too easily if I let myself.” Or fall in love with you.
His hopes, almost throttled, began to rise. “Then if I’m not the problem, what is? You can’t tell me you’re in love with Max Horvath.”
“I have my own reasons. If you really care about me, you’ll respect them and leave me alone.”
He ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the shivers of response. “What do you think I’ve been doing the last few years?”
Caught by surprise, she turned, right into his embrace. “Is that why you come back so seldom?”
He smoothed out the furrow in her brow with his lips. Her skin tasted of sun and heat. She rarely used perfume, but her natural scent swirled through his brain, dazzling him. He took her mouth much harder than he’d meant to, as a starving man might attack his first offering of food. The impact wound all the way to his gut and stayed there, urging him not to stop at a kiss but to plunder and take. Now. Now.
Her arms wound around his neck and she pressed against him as if she also had trouble controlling her actions. When he’d claimed her mouth, her lips had parted instinctively and he flicked his tongue against the soft corners, gratified by her small indrawn gasps of pleasure.
With his knee, he nuzzled her legs apart and pressed closer. Thinking they’d be dining in town, she’d exchanged her jeans for a long, batik-printed skirt, more like a length of cloth wound around her slender hips. The cloth parted at his probing, revealing long legs strengthened by years of outdoor work and handling heavy cargo on her own.
As his body collided with hers, she opened her mouth as if to protest, but any objection she might have made was swallowed when he deepened the kiss. He’d found her core with his thigh and now he moved gently, seductively between her legs until she released a moan against his mouth. Through her skimpy white cotton top, he felt her nipples harden and almost moaned himself. Wanting her set his belly aflame and his blood roaring. It came to him that he could take her now and end this pointless argument once and for all. She would be his, end of story.
But until he knew what kept her from giving herself to him of her own accord, he couldn’t in good conscience take what was within his grasp, although, heaven knew, he wanted to. He had never wanted anything—or anyone—more.
Cursing Des Logan for instilling at least a few principles into him, he trailed kisses down her throat and stiffly, painfully lifted his head. Her eyes were cloudy with desire, her limbs shaky. He held her until he was sure she could stand on her own, then stepped back.
“Now you know why I don’t return more often.”
Her breathing became shallow. “I never guessed.”
“You must have known I was attracted to you.”
“But not—like this.”
To give them both time, he finished making the coffee and carried the mugs to the living room. He was surprised nothing spilled, considering how unsteady his hands felt. She followed more slowly and sat across the table from him, her face pale.
He disliked
