The Rebel And Miss Jones. Annie Claydon

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

       To the unsung hero

       Dear Reader

      One of the best things about being a writer is that you have the opportunity to travel, even if it’s only in your imagination. So this book has been a real indulgence, because I got to set it in two of my favourite places—which just happen to be on opposite sides of the world.

      For me, one of the best parts of travelling is returning home. But for Sara and Reece ‘home’ isn’t just a different place on the map, it’s an entirely different concept. The challenge that they face is not merely a matter of physical distance, and it’s one which is far more difficult to overcome. I loved writing their story, even if they did have me tearing my hair out at times, and I was with them every step of the way on their travels, as they explored each other’s worlds and began to find that home truly is where the heart is.

      Thank you for reading Reece and Sara’s story. I hope you enjoy it. I’m always delighted to hear from readers, and you can e-mail me via my website at: www.annieclaydon.com

       Annie

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘I’VE got to go. You know that, don’t you?’

      They’d been through this already. Sara grinned up at her brother. ‘Of course I do. I know what it’s like to be on call. You can’t tell a bush fire that now’s not convenient and you’ll be there in a couple of days.’

      Simon smiled for the first time since he’d answered the telephone that morning. ‘You grew up some time when I wasn’t looking. I keep forgetting that.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he still couldn’t believe the evidence of his own eyes. ‘Ten years is a long time.’

      And a lot had happened in the years since they’d last seen each other. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on that. ‘If the boot was on the other foot, and that phone call had been for a paramedic, you wouldn’t have seen me for dust. You need to go.’

      Simon shrugged. ‘You’ll be here when I get back?’ It was almost as if he thought she wouldn’t. As if the bonds that they’d been carefully rebuilding for the last two days would break at the slightest touch. Sara could understand that too. She shared his fears.

      ‘Where else am I going to go? By the time you get back I’ll have got over my jet-lag, rearranged your house for you and taught Trader how to bark with an English accent.’

      ‘I’ve still got an English accent.’ Simon frowned. ‘Haven’t I?’

      ‘Now you mention it, no. Not any more.’ Simon’s accent was pure Aussie to her ears. He’d changed in other ways too. No longer the lanky older brother, fresh out of university, who had clashed so violently with their mother and walked out of their lives for ever. He was broader, more thoughtful and a great deal more measured. Much tidier too. ‘Did I say that I’m proud of you?’

      ‘No. But thanks.’ The smile he gave her was full of the warmth they’d once had. Simon heaved his backpack onto his shoulder and turned to face her squarely. ‘I’ll let someone know you’re here as soon as I get to the CFA centre. There’s a list of numbers on the pad in the kitchen, so call if you need anything. Someone will come by tomorrow if I’m not back.’

      ‘I’ll be okay. I’m not sixteen any more.’

      ‘Bear with me. The fire’s well out of this region and heading westwards, away from us, but if there is any danger someone will contact you and drive up here to get you. If you can put your valuables into one bag, well and good, but don’t waste any time …’

      ‘I know, I know.’ Sara held up her hands. ‘We’ve been through all this.’

      ‘Right.’ Simon still hesitated. Finally he leant in, giving her an awkward kiss on the cheek.

      ‘Stay safe. See you soon.’ Sara gave him a bright smile, and propelled him out of the door.

      She’d been restless all day, and had hovered fitfully between being half asleep and half awake all night, but now something shocked Sara into wakefulness. The silence perhaps. Or maybe it was the insidious, nagging worry that she had tried think through logically but still couldn’t quite put a name to. Even the feeble light of early dawn somehow seemed slightly menacing.

      Simon might have come back while she was sleeping. The thought propelled her out of bed, and took her all the way to the large windows at the front of the house. Nothing. His car wasn’t parked in its usual place, and his jacket wasn’t hanging in the hallway. Sara knew that she wouldn’t find him sleeping in his bedroom either, but she looked anyway.

      She wasn’t used to this. She’d dealt with her fair share of emergencies but waiting it out while someone else handled the situation was way out of her experience. Taking Trader for a long, brisk walk yesterday afternoon, without seeing another living soul, had spooked her even more. She’d returned to Simon’s beautiful house, switched on the TV and played one DVD after another, just to hear the sound of human voices.

      She padded to the kitchen, the sound of scratching at the back door coming almost as a relief. Pulling back the bolts, she opened the door, and fifty pounds of Australian cattle dog, the only one of his kind that Sara had ever seen before, herded her deftly out of the way to get past her and into the house.

      ‘Whoa, Trader.’ The dog had followed her footsteps, trotting hopefully to Simon’s bedroom door, and finding the room empty, was now pacing the hallway fretfully. ‘He’s not here. I’m on breakfast duty today.’

      Trader was unsettled about something. Perhaps food would appease him. Fetching the plastic container that held his food, Sara made for the doors that led out onto the veranda, unlocking them and sliding them back.

      Maybe the wind changed. Maybe it was just that she was outside the house now. The smell hit her like a slap in the face. Blown in on the breeze, like bad news from across the hillside, came the acrid smell of smoke.

      Trader was at her side, pressing himself against her legs, and she staggered back. He nipped at her heels, trying to shepherd her back into the house, and Sara grabbed his collar. ‘Okay, okay, have it your way.’ Maybe Trader knew best. She certainly didn’t know what to do.

      Gathering up his bowls, spilling what was left of the water in one down her nightdress, she pulled the dog inside the house and shut the patio doors, locking them tight as if somehow that might stop a fire from getting in. ‘You can eat inside today.’

      Quickly

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