Nick Whatsisname has changed his mind and employed someone else,’ she suggested hopefully.
‘It’s Nick Sutherland, and I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like that.’ Emily leapt to his defence. ‘He sounded really pleased when I rang and told him that you’d be coming with me. I wish you’d met him,’ she went on. ‘He was gorgeous, and nice with it—and we know what a rare combination that is!’
‘If he’s so nice, why isn’t he coming to pick us up himself?’
‘He’s not here.’ Emily sounded distinctly regretful. ‘His wife’s working overseas, and he’s gone to be with her. That’s why they need someone to look after the kids on the station.’
‘Wife?’ Bea shook her head in mock sympathy. ‘It must have been a bit of a blow when you heard about her!’
Emily sighed. ‘I know…but I suppose he was a bit old for me. And he did say something about a brother,’ she added airily.
‘Younger brother?’
‘I think so.’
‘Married?’
‘No. I’m pretty sure Nick said he wasn’t.’
All was now becoming clear to Bea.
‘Name?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Emily regretfully. ‘I couldn’t ask too many questions. I didn’t want to look too obvious, and Nick didn’t say very much, just that he would be keeping an eye on things. I got the impression he might have his own property.’
‘Shame. Bit of a waste of your country-girl outfit if he’s not even going to be there!’
‘Oh, well, there’s always this Chase person. I know a manager isn’t quite the same but I bet he’s to die for.’
‘He might be married.’
‘I shouldn’t think so. These guys don’t get out much,’ said Emily hopefully. ‘I’ve always fancied having a wild affair with a strong, silent farmer type. Anyway, with any luck we’ll have the brother and the manager, so we can have one each!’
‘Thanks, but I’ve always thought the appeal of the strong, silent type was overrated. I like a man who can talk about something more than cows. I’m going outside to see if there’s any sign of him.’
Retrieving the sunglasses from the top of her head, Bea settled them on her nose and pushed open the door. The heat hit her like a blow, and even behind her glasses she had to screw up her eyes against the glare.
At least there was no chance of missing anyone on a road like this, she thought, squinting first one way and then another along an absolutely straight, absolutely empty, road. She hoped one of Emily’s fantasy figures would turn up soon, as the only alternative was clearly going to be to walk into town, and it looked like a very long way.
It was a relief to get back into the air-conditioning, but both girls were soon thoroughly bored and fed up. They took it in turns to go outside and check on the traffic, but in an hour and a half counted only three road trains rumbling past.
Eventually Bea remembered a copy of Cosmopolitan in her suitcase, and she had just lost herself in an article about the joys of city living when a dull drone overhead made them both look up.
A tiny plane with wings that seemed to be propped up on long poles dropped lightly onto the runway and taxied towards the terminal, its propeller still blurring. As the girls watched, the plane came to a stop, the propeller faltered and slowed, and a man jumped out and set off towards the terminal at a brisk pace.
‘Do you think this is him?’
Emily sounded disappointed, presumably because of the absence of a checked shirt. He wasn’t giving a very good impression of being unhurried either. In fact, even from a distance, he looked distinctly impatient.
On the other hand, he was definitely tall and rangy, thought Bea. Nice broad shoulders, too, she couldn’t help noticing. As far as build went, he was everything Emily could want.
‘Can’t be,’ she said. ‘He’s not wearing a hat.’
Emily was obviously struggling to make the best of things. ‘He can fly a plane,’ she said. ‘That’s good.’
If the man noticed the two girls studying him through the big plate glass windows, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he stiff-armed the swing door in a manner worthy of the most harried city executive and strode into the terminal.
Bea gave Emily a sympathetic glance. His body might be good—actually, it was even more impressive at close quarters—but the rest of him was a distinct disappointment. He was just a very ordinary-looking man, with an irritated expression.
She judged him to be in his early thirties, but something about him made him seem older than that. Obviously ignorant of the sartorial codes Emily found so romantic, he was wearing jeans and a dull brown shirt. In fact, dull brown seemed to be something of a theme. He had a brown face and dull brown hair, and Bea fully expected to meet dull brown eyes too but, as his gaze swept over them, she was taken aback to discover that they weren’t brown at all, but an icy, almost startling, blue, and very unfriendly.
As the cold eyes encountered hers, she felt something like a tiny shock, and an odd feeling shivered down her spine. Putting her chin up, Bea stared back at him. She wasn’t about to be intimidated by a cowboy in a brown shirt.
Chase’s heart sank as he took in the two girls before him. So much for Nick and the ‘suitable’ girls he had found. ‘They’ll be perfect,’ he had enthused before getting on the plane and no doubt forgetting all about them.
Chase didn’t think they looked perfect at all. There was a very pretty blonde one, dressed for some reason in a cowgirl outfit, and a brunette who looked as if she was off to a party in a skimpy dress and high heels, for God’s sake. She had a wide, lush mouth that sat oddly with the snooty expression she was wearing. Chase was hard put to decide which of them looked more ridiculous.
Suitable? Perfect? Thanks, Nick, he sighed inwardly. Personally, he had them down as nothing but trouble.
Which was all he needed right now.
Outwardly, he looked from one to the other, trying to guess which one was Emily Williams. He picked the brunette with her nose stuck in the air. Emily sounded a prissy, old-fashioned name, and she looked the type.
Or maybe not, with that mouth.
‘Emily Williams?’
It came out brusquer than he had intended, and the brunette was clearly not impressed.
‘This is Emily,’ she said, gesturing at the blonde girl, who smiled a little uncertainly. ‘I’m Bea Stevenson.’
Her voice was very clear and English, and Chase wondered whether she expected him to bow.
‘Bee?’ he repeated. What kind of name was that? ‘As in buzzing and honey?’
‘As in Beatrice,’ she said coldly. ‘You must be Mr Chase.’
