LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER ONE

      PRUE was slumped miserably over the steering wheel when the sound of an approaching vehicle made her jerk upright. At last! Scrambling out of the car, she saw a utility truck bowling along the track towards her, a cloud of red dust billowing behind it.

      Too tired to realise that the car was effectively blocking the track on its own, she began to wave her arms frantically and even though she knew that no one in the outback would drive past a vehicle in trouble, she felt weak with relief as the ute slowed and stopped at last a few feet in front of her.

      The driver wound down his window and leant out. ‘You look like you could use some help,’ he said in a laconic voice.

      He had a quiet, pleasant face that was vaguely familiar. Prue groped desperately for his name. Nat…Nat something was the best she could do. He was one of the Grangers’ neighbours, if you could really call anyone who lived seventy miles away a neighbour.

      ‘Hello,’ she greeted him, wincing inwardly at how clipped and English she sounded compared to his slow Australian drawl. Taking her sunglasses off, she bent down to look at him through the window, and Nat found himself looking back into a pair of silvery-grey eyes that bore distinct traces of tears on the long, sooty lashes.

      ‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you!’ she said. ‘I was beginning to wonder if I’d be here all night!’

      Nat switched off the engine and got out of the ute. He was a rangy man in his thirties, with the spare, self-contained look that Prue had grown used to seeing in the outback.

      ‘It’s Prue, isn’t it?’ he said, settling his hat on his head.

      Prue looked at him in surprise. ‘That’s right.’

      ‘I’m Nat Masterman.’

      Masterman, that was it! ‘Oh, I know,’ she said hastily. ‘I remember you coming to Cowen Creek. I was just surprised that you recognised me. Not many people notice a cook.’

      Nat was puzzled himself to have remembered her so clearly. She was slight with a cloud of brown hair and a face that was piquant rather than pretty. He hadn’t noticed that much about her on the few occasions he had seen her, only her eyes, which were an unusual silver colour, and the way she had lit up whenever Ross Granger smiled at her.

      ‘That depends on how good the cook is,’ he said tactfully. ‘You made the best apple pie I’ve ever had.’

      ‘Really?’ Prue smiled at him gratefully. It was nice to think that she was good at something. ‘Thank you!’

      Yes, he had noticed her smile, too, Nat remembered. He adjusted the brim of his hat. ‘What’s the trouble, Prue?’ he asked.

      Reminded of her situation, Prue’s smile faded. ‘I’ve run out of diesel,’ she said glumly.

      Nat’s brow rose slightly. ‘Are you sure?’

      She nodded. ‘The red warning light has been blinking at me for miles, but by the time I noticed it I’d gone too far to go back. I was hoping to get to the sealed road at least—’ she went on, kicking one of the tyres in remembered frustration ‘—but the engine started to cough and splutter just up the track, and then it just died.’

      She blew her fringe wearily off her face. ‘I’ve been here over two hours.’

      It felt more than twice as long.

      Prue saw Nat glance at her curiously and was suddenly acutely aware of what a mess she must appear. There were plenty of ways to look good, but being stuck in a car in the middle of the outback for a couple of hours was certainly not one of them.

      It might not have been so bad if there had been any shade where she could sit and wait, but out here on the salt pans she had had no choice but to stay in the car. The air-conditioning had died with the engine, and even with all the windows down the sun beating on the metal roof had soon turned the car into an oven. Now, her face was red and blotchy and her curls clung limp and sweaty to her scalp.

      Rubbing a knuckle under her eyes to remove any tell-tale tear-stains and hastily replacing her sunglasses, Prue could only hope that she didn’t look as if she had spent the last two hours snivelling pathetically, even if it were true.

      Not that Nat Masterman seemed to care what she looked like. He was more concerned with the fuel situation. ‘These things have got pretty big tanks,’ he said, nodding his head at the car, a powerful four-wheel drive far bigger

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