‘I’m sure there will,’ she said in a low voice. ‘There have to be some friendly people around here somewhere.’
He could see puzzled disappointment written all over her, even though she was trying to hide how she felt. Well, too bad. This wasn’t the first time he’d disappointed a woman.
With a sharp little tilt of her chin, Lily unclipped her seatbelt and pushed the door open. Her hat and handbag were on her lap, and she slipped the straps of the bag over her shoulder and picked up the hat.
Then she took a deep breath and looked at him, her face fashioned into a tight, polite smile. ‘Thank you for lunch and for the lift. It—it was nice to meet you.’
His answer was a brief, bleak nod.
Her eyes flashed with an unnerving brightness, and with another spiky lift of her chin she stepped out of the ute and closed the door behind her.
She stood next to the car, and he had a clearly framed view through the passenger window of her blue floral shorts, hugging her cute behind, and above them the neat, slender curve of lightly tanned skin at her waist.
Clenching his teeth, he revved the car to send a clear message that he wanted to be on his way. Lily took the hint. With sunglasses and floppy hat in place, and her shoulders defiantly squared, she marched away from him. Her sandals crunched the gravel at the edge of the road and a gust of wind forced her to hang onto her hat. But she didn’t look back.
Good.
Daniel shoved the ute into gear and executed an abrupt U-turn, sending out a spurt of gravel in the process. He wouldn’t allow himself a single glance in the rear-view mirror. Another glimpse of Lily and he might weaken and head straight back to her, spluttering apologies.
For all sorts of reasons he mustn’t do that. He needed to put plenty of distance between himself and Lily Halliday.
To Lily’s surprise, it was a friendly young police sergeant who volunteered to drive her back to her abandoned car.
‘Who gave you a lift into town?’ he asked as they sped back over the bitumen.
‘Daniel Renton.’
As Lily said this she hoped he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice—a legacy of her lingering confusion about the man in question.
The policeman’s eyebrows shot high. ‘Daniel? Really?’
Deep down, Lily had guessed that her answer would surprise him.
‘I wish I’d seen him,’ he said. ‘I heard he was back. I would have liked to say hello.’
He seemed genuinely disappointed that he hadn’t caught up with Daniel.
‘He was in a terrible hurry to get away,’ she said tightly.
The police sergeant nodded, but didn’t comment, and for several minutes he drove on in silence. Lily felt absurdly annoyed. What was the mystery surrounding Daniel Renton? Why was it such a conversation-stopper?
She turned to stare out at the passing rush of dry paddocks and gum trees, and gnawed at her lip. Perhaps it was just as well they weren’t going to talk about Daniel. She’d experienced a ridiculous cocktail of emotions in the short time she’d been with him—intrigue, fear, sympathy—and an impossible attraction.
Daniel Renton was dangerously distracting. She hadn’t experienced such a compelling reaction to a man since Josh.
Josh. Oh, help. She was hit by an instant flash-flood of emotion, piercing, sweet and excruciating. Josh Bridges was the blond, suntanned, beach-boy hero of her youth. With him, she’d experienced youthful infatuation at its most poignant and painful.
She’d invested far too many years in Josh, too much tender love and too many fragile dreams. Then, just as her father had done when she was five, Josh had abandoned her.
These days she kept her heart safely under lock and key.
Besides, she couldn’t afford to be distracted by men. Right now, her mother depended on her. She was on a mission. Just as soon as she got her car going and was back in Gidgee Springs, she would try Audrey Halliday’s number again, and she wouldn’t give up till she got through to her.
But the annoying thing was that, no matter how hard she tried to divert her thoughts, Lily still felt an overwhelming need to talk about Daniel—especially to someone who knew him.
‘Daniel told me he’s been away and that he’s only come back recently,’ she said. ‘I don’t know where he’s been, but I’m sure of one thing—he wasn’t having fun.’
‘You’re dead right about that.’
‘I could sense this…’ She paused, and the sergeant looked at her expectantly.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘What did you think of him?’
‘It’s hard to pin down,’ she admitted. ‘But he seemed vulnerable somehow. And I thought there seemed to be an—an awful sadness in him.’
Lily drew a sharp breath, stunned to hear what she’d said. But, yes. Sadness. That was what it was. She hadn’t been able to identify the exact feeling while she’d been with Daniel, but now she knew what had bothered her about him. Sadness. Deep, dark sadness.
The policeman was watching her with a shrewd, searching look, and then, without warning, his eyes twinkled. ‘So Daniel brought out your mothering instincts, did he?’
‘No.’
A second later, she regretted her hasty reply. Her denial had been an automatic defence, because she hated to be teased. But it wasn’t the truth. And, for some reason she couldn’t quite name, she felt that Daniel deserved the truth.
‘I take that back,’ she said softly. ‘I’m not sure that mothering’s the right word. But he did make me feel—he did awaken my—er—sympathy.’
He frowned then, and his jaw seemed to lock into a jutting grimace as he stared thoughtfully ahead through the windscreen. Lily wondered what she’d said to make him look so serious.
Eventually his face relaxed and he turned to her, and she had the distinct impression that he’d made some kind of decision.
‘Daniel deserves some well-directed sympathy,’ he said.
She remembered the way she’d behaved when Daniel had dropped her off on the outskirts of Gidgee Springs. He hadn’t offered any real explanation as to why he couldn’t accompany her any further, and she’d been short with him, almost rude, and now she felt guilty. She felt impossibly curious, too.
‘Why?’ she asked, suddenly impatient to get to the bottom of this. ‘What happened to him?’
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