LITMIR.BIZ

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him sent an unwelcome self-awareness crackling along her nerves. “Look, I’m a busy woman.” She said it through her teeth. “You knew Jock McIvor?”

      “Lady, everyone knew Jock McIvor,” he said laconically. “You ever so slightly resemble him.”

      “Do I now.” She picked up her cream Akubra and rammed it back on her head. All day her hair had been pleated for coolness, now she let it fall loose.

      “Have you told the girls you’re coming?” He made a rough mocking sound like a snort.

      She looked at him, thinking suddenly he was extraordinarily good-looking if you liked big dramatic hunks. He had strong distinctive features and a bump at the bridge of his aquiline nose, probably from an old break. The eyes were as gold as a jungle cat’s, thickly lashed. “This is gonna be a big surprise,” she drawled.

      “I bet. Who the hell are you?”

      “As I said before, none of your business, Connellan. I’ll collect my container and be on my way. Have a nice day.”

      She couldn’t stop him. He walked with her to the ute.

      “You’re expecting to get to Murraree in this old wreck?” he enquired, standing back to admire it.

      “This old wreck has served me faithfully,” she told him tartly.

      “We do have a policeman in the town. Would it pass a road worthy test?”

      “You’re joking. Who the hell would care around here?”

      “You’d be surprised. The fact it takes time and money to go after irresponsible idiots who find themselves broken down in the Outback doesn’t seem to bother you.”

      “Look, buster!” She stuck her hands on her hips, adopting her aggressive stance. “I’m a mechanic. This here ute mightn’t look pretty but it’s well maintained. It’s not gonna break down, got it?”

      “Boy do you have a chip on your shoulder.” He gave a white smile, the corners of his mouth curling up.

      Fascinating. She was starting to get uncomfortable with the fact she was finding him attractive. “I don’t like being called an irresponsible idiot.”

      He gave a mocking bow. “I was generalising, dear girl.”

      “I’m not your dear girl. I’m not a girl at all. I’m a woman.”

      “And an excellent specimen.” He gave another wide smile. “Could I interest you in a cup of coffee back in town?”

      “Not likely.” This guy was getting under her skin faster than a splinter. “How far on is Murraree?”

      “Not far as the crow flies. Darn near three hours by road. I suggest you don’t drive after dark.”

      “Why is that. Do you think the dark might make me jumpy?” she jeered.

      “You? No. That was some punch. I’m just glad the snap kick never connected. There are kangaroos on the road. They’re as dumb as they come. I don’t think your old ute would stand up to a front end collision. I travel with a bull bar.”

      “I take it that’s your 4WD beyond the gate. What did you do, pole vault the fence?”

      “I wanted to surprise you. At least you closed the gate behind you. Country girl.”

      She shook her head. “I’ve never been to the Outback in my life.”

      His bronze brows lifted. “Jock never invite you?”

      “I never had the pleasure of meeting Jock McIvor.”

      “But you’re a relation?”

      She laughed, despite herself. “The evidence seems to be mounting up. Do you know the McIvor heiresses?”

      “Darcy, yes. But the younger one, Courtney, stayed in Brisbane with her mother. She’s only recently come back. I haven’t had the pleasure as yet. I’ve been managing one of our outstations in the Territory.”

      “One of…” she scoffed. “You don’t get to be as cocky as you unless Daddy happens to be a rich old cattle baron.”

      “You’re just jealous.” He shrugged. “Anyway you don’t know the amount of rubbish I have to put with.”

      “And I couldn’t care less. Now would you mind taking your arm off my car. I have to be on my way to this Koomera Crossing. The last town I pulled in every last damned citizen was all eyes. You would have thought I’d come from another planet.”

      “More likely every last damned person was struck by your extraordinary resemblance to Jock McIvor. It’s kinda startling. You’ve even got the cleft chin.”

      “Make that a dimple.” She slipped behind the wheel. “Could you do me a favour and open the gate?”

      “How could you leave Rusty behind?” he asked, amused by the way the cattle dog had taken to her.

      “He’s your dog, not mine. I suppose you dumped him on the schoolteacher.”

      “Fella wanted a bit of protection.”

      She laughed. “It would be fair to say Rusty is a push-over.”

      “Or you could melt metal?”

      Casey felt heat rush through her veins. This conversation had gone far enough. “I thought you were the one who behaved like a savage.” She swung away.

      “Look, I thought you were an intruder, okay?”

      “I’m glad I wasn’t. Are you going to open the gate?”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He gave a mocking salute. “If you stay on in town I might see you there.”

      “Not if I see you first,” she called sweetly. “Bye, Rusty!” She waited until he had opened the gate fully, before revving away in a cloud of red dust and flying gravel. Rusty followed, in hot pursuit. Just as she started to worry, Connellan let out a whistle so piercing Rusty got the message and reluctantly returned home.

      More amazement at Koomera Crossing. More long considering stares. More unsolicited advice not to attempt to travel after dusk, which made it even more dangerously irresistible, but she wasn’t a complete fool. She booked into the pub for the night. She could start out fresh in the morning.

      By seven o’clock she was starving. She felt sure the pub didn’t run to room service but if she went down to the dining room she might run into Troy Connellan. Just the thought of him made the adrenalin kick in. His wasn’t a soothing presence. In fact, he was particularly challenging. She could still feel that steely grip on her. She supposed he had every reason to think she was a lanky young man from the back. There was her height, her long legs and her dusty cowboy garb. Her hair—what had he called it?—a fiery torrent, was pushed under her hat. So his daddy owned the schoolmaster’s house. He owned a place called Vulcan Plains and another station in the Northern Territory. Daddy had to be a rich man. A cattle baron.

      Spare me from them.

      Hunger got the better of her. There was a lot of her to fill. She prettied herself up with a fine cotton shirt the colour of her eyes and brand-new designer jeans, tight as leggings, slinging one of her very fancy belts around her waist. This was the sort of outfit she adopted in the pubs when she sang. People seemed to like it. Her hair she brushed until it crackled and left it to hang loose over her shoulders and down her back in deep thick waves. McIvor’s hair. She sighed and a flush of anger appeared in her cheeks. A few things he had passed on to her. As a child she had wondered where she got her red curls from. Her mother’s hair had been dark and glossy until she started not taking care of herself. Her mother had never forgotten McIvor but he had forgotten her overnight. Had her mother ever tried to contact him to tell him about the pregnancy? Casey never knew. He might have sent money or advised her mother to have an abortion. He would pay for it. He was a married man.

      Her

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