CHAPTER THREE

      THE sunset that evening set the distant hills on fire.

      Daniel watched the blaze of red and orange from his front steps, where he sat, beer in hand, trying to absorb some of the twilight’s peacefulness. He watched a flock of white cockatoos set out across the darkening sky with slow, heavy flaps of their chunky wings. And as the shadows lengthened he saw kangaroos and pretty-faced wallabies emerge from the scrub to graze in the long home paddock.

      And he tried to forget about Lily.

      By now she should have collected her car, and she’d be safely installed in the Gidgee Springs pub. Tomorrow she’d probably be on her way. Out of the district.

      Just as well. He had enough to deal with without being sidetracked by a passing female.

      Of course he knew why he felt sidetracked by Lily, why he couldn’t get her out of his head. She was the first woman he’d been alone with in a long time. A very long time.

      That explained why he was obsessed by memories of her hands fixing her hair. It was the only reason he was still thinking about her blue floral shorts. And her bare legs. The soft, touchable skin at her waist. And her eyes—the muted blue-grey of the sky when it was reflected in the Star River.

      He let out a long, frustrated sigh. The fact that his mind clung to these details was proof of nothing—except the sad truth that he was a thirst-crazed man, emerging at last from the desert, and Lily Halliday had been his tempting oasis. That and that alone was why her smile haunted him, and why he couldn’t forget the way she’d looked at him with uncomplicated directness, making his heart leap.

      But he was going to forget her. Now.

      In prison he’d taught himself how to forget. It had been the only way to save himself from going mad. He’d learned to blank certain mind-crazing images from his thoughts.

      And now he blanked out Lily.

      He concentrated on the darkening sky. Night fell quickly in the tropics, and already there was only a thin river of ruddy gold clinging to the horizon. Above it the sky was deepening from light blue, through turquoise and purple, to navy. And in his head Daniel named each colour, and imagined each hue blanking out a little more of Lily.

      The blue…got rid of her legs. Turquoise, and her shorts were gone. Yes, yes, they were gone, damn it. It was good to be free of them. No regrets.

      Purple—goodbye, midriff. Navy blanketed her eyes.

      Almost.

      He concentrated harder on the navy, willing the sweet, questioning look in Lily’s eyes to disappear. At last. Mission accomplished.

      Black took care of her hair…

      And she was…gone.

      He took a good long breath of warm summer’s-night air and let it out slowly, savouring the relief of seeing nothing but sky. The stars had already popped brightly into place, and a thin crescent of new moon was peeking through the silhouetted branches of a huge gum tree.

      The sky was huge and clear—and so was the land. It was good to be surrounded by all this space, by the country he loved. Ironbark. His country. If he worked hard enough, if he exhausted himself day after day, perhaps in time he would find his way back to the peace he craved.

      He lifted the beer to his lips, realised it was finished, and considered fetching another from the fridge. But before he moved his attention was caught by lights bobbing through the darkness. Car headlights coming his way.

      Cursing harshly, he leapt to his feet. He didn’t want a visitor, but it was too late to turn out his house lights and try to pretend that he wasn’t home. The car was moving quickly, its lights dipping and reappearing as the rough track wound through the scrub. His hand gripped a veranda post as he watched its approach.

      There was a good chance, of course, that the caller was a friend. Daniel still had quite a few friends in the district, and they’d kept in touch. He supposed he wouldn’t really mind if one or two of them wanted to visit. But he had enemies, too. And he was less certain of their identities.

      The car was quite close now, and he could just make out its profile. Most people from around these parts drove trucks or four-wheel drives, but this was a small sedan.

      Squinting against the glare of the headlights, he began to descend the short flight of timber steps and wished he could see the driver.

      And then, as the car zipped up the last of the track to the house, he recognised its make. A Corolla. A white Corolla.

      A slim bare arm waved from the driver’s window.

      Daniel’s heart began a drumroll.

      ‘Hi, there,’ Lily called to him as she jumped out of the car.

      Her hair was no longer bunched in a knot, but hung loose to ripple about her shoulders in pale waves that took on the colour of moonlight. She’d changed into skin-tight blue jeans, and a black knit top with a scooped neckline. She looked fabulous—so fabulous Daniel felt his throat constrict and his mouth go dry.

      Stunned, he stared at her. ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘I’ve come to thank you for your help this afternoon.’ She flipped him a dazzling grin, and then turned quickly to open the rear door of her car. ‘And I’ve brought you some supplies.’

      Too surprised to think about manners, he said, ‘I don’t need supplies. I’ve got what I want.’

      ‘Daniel, you’ve got bread and cheese. And tea.’ She walked towards him with her arms full of shopping bags.

      ‘I like bread and cheese and tea. Besides, I’ve got beef. There’s a piece of beef in the oven right now.’

      She thrust a bottle of red wine into his hand. ‘And here’s something fruity and mellow to wash it down.’

      Tightness in his chest made breathing difficult. What the hell did she think she was doing? ‘This is crazy, Lily. You shouldn’t be here.’

      She dismissed his protest with another stunning smile, breezed past him and up the steps. From the veranda, she called, ‘I told you. This is my way of saying thank you for rescuing me today.’

      ‘But I don’t need thanks. I don’t want to be thanked.’ With one leap, he was up the stairs and hurrying after her as she sailed into his kitchen and dumped grocery bags on the kitchen table.

      ‘Don’t look so scared, Daniel.’

      Ignoring his protests, she carried a punnet of strawberries and a tub of rum-and-raisin ice-cream to his fridge. In two long strides he was across the kitchen, blocking her access.

      ‘Just hold it right there,’ he growled.

      A soft gasp escaped her, and for the first time she faltered. She looked away, pressing her lips together. Then she took a quick breath, and when she looked at him again her expression was gentle and serious.

      Daniel forgot to breathe. She was standing so close in front of him he could see the fine, clear perfection of her skin, the healthy and sensuous deep pink of her lips. The rosy scent of her perfume teased him.

      ‘Don’t panic, Daniel,’ she said gently. ‘I’m not here to stay. I don’t want to invade your privacy.’