The Wedding Challenge - Jessica Hart Mills & Boon Cherish

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left to struggle after him across the tarmac. Her case had wheels, but it was so heavy that it kept toppling sideways and snagging at her ankles, which did nothing to improve her temper.

      ‘So much for slow smiles and slow drawls!’ she said bitterly to Emily who was doing her best to help keep the case upright. ‘This guy makes that lot you see jumping up and down at the Stock Exchange whenever there’s a financial crisis look laid-back!’

      ‘Perhaps he’s just having a bad day,’ said Emily.

      ‘He’s not the only one!’ grumbled Bea, stopping to wipe her forehead with the back of her arm. The heat was pouring down and then bouncing back off the tarmac until she thought she was about to expire, but she made herself carry on. Frankly, she would rather collapse into a sweaty puddle than ask the sneering Mr Chase for help!

      Reaching the plane, Chase threw the case into the hold and turned to watch the two English girls trailing across the tarmac. The brunette, Bea she called herself, was clearly struggling, but just as clearly would rather die than ask him to help.

      Well, if that’s the way she wanted to be, let her. It was no skin off his nose, Chase thought, but he couldn’t help noticing how tired she looked when she finally hauled her case up to the plane. Her face was a bright, shiny pink and her smooth brown hair was pushed wearily behind her ears.

      Chase indicated the hold. ‘Do you want to put the case in there, or shall I do it for you?’

      Bea shot him a fulminating glance. There was no way she could lift the case six inches off the ground, let alone all the way up there.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly, and perversely hated him for the ease with which he tossed the case into the plane.

      As if she hadn’t been humiliated enough, she still had to get into the plane, a process which made Bea regret taking such a stand about refusing to dress the part. Of course, they couldn’t have anything easy like steps. The wings were set high on the body of the plane, and you had to climb in underneath by setting your foot on the strut and hauling yourself up. In her jeans and boots, Emily managed it without any difficulty and settled herself in the front seat, swivelling round to watch Bea’s efforts with a smug grin.

      Gritting her teeth, Bea tried to follow her example, but the soles of her shoes kept slipping off the smooth strut and she couldn’t find any purchase to pull herself into the cabin.

      She heard Chase sigh behind her, and the next moment found herself set brusquely aside. He stepped easily up into the cabin and reached down a peremptory hand.

      ‘Here, I’ll pull you up,’ he said.

      Bea would have given almost anything she possessed not to accept his help, but it was a question of taking his hand or being left on the tarmac. She was very conscious of the cool strength of his fingers as they closed around hers and he lifted her effortlessly off the ground.

      Already scarlet with the heat and humiliation, she flushed a deeper and even more unbecoming shade of red as she scrambled up and collapsed in an inelegant heap beside him. Somewhere along the line, her dress had got rucked up and Chase was subjected to an eyeful of her thighs in all their lack of glory. If he had been hoping for a glimpse of slender golden legs, he must have been sadly disappointed. Bea’s thighs were absolutely not her best feature.

      Serve him right, thought Bea, hastily covering them up. She wished she had taken the tarmac option.

      Her only comfort was the thought that he probably wished she’d stayed behind, too.

      As it was, it looked like they were stuck with each other for the duration.

      CHAPTER TWO

      APART from a faint lifting of his eyebrow, which was somehow worse than an open sneer, Chase gave no sign that he had even noticed her legs. He dropped her hand pretty quickly, though, pulled the door to, and went forward to fold himself easily into the pilot’s seat.

      Bea was left to brush herself down and get herself into one of the small passenger seats behind Emily, who grinned knowingly at her. She glared back.

      Chase was flicking buttons above his head, ignoring both of them. Bea just hoped that he knew what he was doing. She had never been in a plane this small before, certainly not one with a propeller. It looked pretty flimsy, too. She tapped the side panel dubiously. Oh, for a jumbo jet, four massive engines, and a pilot in a navy-blue uniform with multiple rows of gold braid!

      ‘Seat belt?’

      She started as Chase turned abruptly to fix her with that unnervingly cool blue stare.

      ‘Oh,…yes…’ She fumbled for her belt, but her fingers were clumsy under his icy gaze and it seemed to take forever to snap it into place.

      ‘Are you secure?’ he asked with an edge of impatience.

      ‘I’m a bit neurotic about my weight and I’ve got a massive complex about my hair, but on the whole, yes, I’d say that I was as well-balanced as the next person.’

      ‘What?’ Chase stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted tentacles and turned into an alien, which was probably how she seemed to him.

      Bea rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I’ve fastened my seat belt.’

      With a final hard look, Chase turned back to the controls, and they were soon speeding down the runway, the propeller a blur on the plane’s nose. The sound of the engine reverberated deafeningly through the cabin. Bea’s stomach dropped alarmingly as they lifted into the air, and she closed her eyes and clutched at her seat. If she survived this trip, she was never, ever, ever going to let Emily talk her into doing anything else.

      When she felt the plane level off, she opened her eyes cautiously and risked a glance out of the window, and promptly regretted it. The ground looked very far away, a flat, reddish-brown expanse that stretched out interminably in every direction. Bea could see the tiny shadow of the plane travelling along the ground below them, and wished that she were down with it, instead of suspended in midair.

      In the front seat, Emily was chatting away, apparently unperturbed by the fact that she was sitting a thousand feet up in a flimsy tin can powered by little more than a rubber band. She had obviously recovered from her initial disappointment and was doing her best to flirt with Chase, although she wasn’t getting very far, judging by his monosyllabic replies. After the way he had pulled her into the plane, his strength couldn’t be denied, and no one could call him chatty, but Bea didn’t think he was quite what Emily had in mind on the strong, silent front.

      She hoped not, anyway. She had a nasty feeling that Chase was not the kind of man to mess with. He certainly didn’t look the type to put up with much nonsense. Still, it was odd that he was so unresponsive. Very few men were immune to Emily’s sparkling blue eyes and spectacular lashes, but Chase seemed impervious to her many charms.

      Maybe he just didn’t like women, Bea thought. It would be a shame with that mouth. Or maybe he was married after all. There was no reason why he shouldn’t be. The thought made Bea frown for some reason, and she leant forward casually, as if to get something from her handbag so that she could check out his left hand on the joystick.

      No wedding ring. Nice hands, though.

      Bea relaxed slightly and sat back, only to realise that the lack of a ring probably didn’t mean much. She couldn’t imagine outback men going in for jewellery in a big way. If Emily’s description was anything to go by, they were all macho in the extreme and would consider wedding rings something only city boys wore.

      Not that Chase seemed particularly macho, but there was something spare and uncompromising about him. Definitely a no-frills type, she thought.

      So he might be married.

      Bea’s eyes rested on him speculatively. She couldn’t see his expression, just the edge of his jaw, his ear and the side of his throat. He had a good, strong neck, she couldn’t help noticing. She’d always had a thing about men’s necks.

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