Home Before Sundown (14 page)

‘Where there's smoke there's fire,' Gabe said and he spoke so quietly and intently that she knew he wasn't talking about this morning's back-burning.

Her heart galloped.

Ever since they'd seen each other again, they'd been trying to act as if their past was behind them. Over.

Friends again. Nothing more.

But she was pretty sure Gabe was as tense and on edge as she was. And now, sitting here all alone in the precious shade, mere feet from each other and yet so far apart, it was as if a lid had been lifted on all the old yearnings. They rekindled in Bella. A thousand times.

Her imagination kicked in, making her think about closing the gap and being held by Gabe. Kissing him. Going wild with him.

Frantically she tried to remember what they were talking about. Oh, yeah, she needed another saying.

‘Be careful what you wish for,' she blurted out.

Not a great choice. Not when she was wishing she could press her face against Gabe's neck, not caring about their dust or sweat.

Now he was staring at
her
. And all she could think about was the way things used to be for them and how perfect the world was. Back then.

I mustn't make the first move
.
I must NOT make the first move.

The last time she'd made a move on Gabe it had haunted and plagued her ever since, despite having retreated to the far side of the world.

‘Drastic times call for drastic measures,' Gabe said quietly.

Bella barely heard these words. She was too aware of his hand on her shoulder, of the way he blocked the sun as he leaned into her.

She didn't move.
Couldn't
move as his fingers lightly brushed the side of her jaw, then his lips touched hers.

For a stunned second she was too surprised to react. A feeble part of her brain tried to protest. There was a very good reason why kissing Gabe was a mistake. But already her thought processes were misfiring and she couldn't come up with a single rationale that said this kiss shouldn't happen.

Gabe's shirt smelled of smoke, but she didn't mind in the least. Hers was smoky, too. Her knee knocked his enamel mug, sending it clattering to the red dirt, but neither of them so much as glanced at it.

Nothing mattered now but the heady sensation of Gabe's lips on hers, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. Another to her top lip.

His lips were so seductive she couldn't have pulled away, even if she'd wanted to. It was simply not possible. Not now.

Not when Gabe's hands were on her shoulders, holding her just where he needed her while he slowly tasted her, while he teased her lips apart with his tongue and claimed her mouth totally, igniting a hot tremble inside her.

This was Gabe, after all, and he was kissing her perfectly, with the assurance of a man who knew her well. Knew her inside out, knew her triumphs and despair, knew especially how she loved to be kissed, starting sleepy and slow in a lazy burn, and steadily building,
building
 . . . till the frantic moment when they scrambled to press close and to crush into each other as their kiss turned deep and molten.

Which was exactly what happened now.

It was so overwhelming Bella might have wept for joy, but she didn't want to scare Gabe off, didn't want to waste a precious second on tears.

She'd forgotten that just kissing could be so mind-blowingly sexy. Just being held by Gabe and tasting him. She wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss.

Gabe knew he had to stop. Had to drag himself away from the sweet, soft curves pressed to him in all the right places. Had to do it now before he and Bella passed the point of no return.

At the very least he should have cleared the air with her first, and he certainly should have chosen a better time and place for seduction than a rock by the side of a burned-out bush road beneath a nailing midday sun.

It took every ounce of his control to lift away from Bella's soft, willing mouth. He kissed her forehead as he released her.

‘In case you were wondering . . . ' His voice was rough and frayed around the edges. ‘That wasn't planned.'

‘I know, Gabe. We should never play those silly word games.'

He tried to smile. ‘They're lethal.'

Bella looked away to the long, disappearing black line of burnt grass. ‘In case
you
were wondering . . . I reckon we're still World Champions.'

It was the playful title they'd given themselves years ago and it brought back a torrent of memories. Some-
crazy
-how Gabe resisted the urge to pull her close again, to take all that she offered and more.

He forced levity into his voice. ‘So you've benchmarked us against a few foreigners?'

She shrugged and kept her gaze fixed down the track.

It was the answer he deserved. Gabe grimaced. ‘Well, at least, now we know.'

Bella spun around. ‘Know what?'

‘That we've missed each other.'

Instead of a snapping retort, her lovely green eyes shimmered damply.

Hell
. Gabe touched her cheek, caught a glittering tear with his thumb. ‘Belle, I shouldn't have said that. And I shouldn't have kissed you. I had no right.'

‘No right?' She swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. ‘Are you for real, Gabe Mitchell?' Now she was bristling with anger. ‘I'm not some girl you've just met. We used to be best friends and
lovers
. We can't pretend we don't have a history together.'

There was a noise at their feet. George Clooney was wrestling with the remains of a paper bag.

‘He's stolen our sandwiches,' she said, looking down.

Gabe wouldn't allow himself to be distracted. He knew he had to try to sort this out with Bella while he had this chance.

Beside him, however, she let out a heavy sigh. ‘You're probably right. Maybe our history doesn't count.'

‘I didn't say that.'

‘But we parted as enemies.'

‘Not enemies.'

‘On very bad terms then.'

‘I'm sorry, Bella. I was in a bad place.'

She looked up slowly, her eyes once again bright and challenging. ‘And where are you now?'

He managed a small smile. ‘In a better place, I hope.'

Her eyes widened as if she questioned what he meant by that, as if she was waiting for him to explain. ‘Once upon a time we used to be able to talk about anything,' she said.

‘I know.' He grimaced. ‘There's a hell of a lot I'd like to explain. I really want to set everything straight.'

He would do anything to win Bella back. But damn it, he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted now was to build up false hopes for her or for himself.

Truth to tell, from the moment he'd seen her again, he'd been scheming strategies to shift some of his family responsibilities, but these weren't in place yet. And before he laid himself bare, Bella needed to be honest about her plans. No point in starting anything if she still wanted to live her life on the other side of the world.

He was angling to tell her this when she eased closer, lifted her face and brushed her soft, warm lips against his jaw. She was his tawny temptress again, green eyes glowing, wavy hair tumbling from a loose knot.

She brushed her lips against his neck, igniting a lightning bolt of desire.

‘I can't help thinking about another wise old saying,' she murmured silkily.

‘Yeah?' His voice was thick and raspy.

‘Like practice makes perfect.'

The last shreds of Gabe's control disintegrated. Swiftly he moved from the rocky seat to stand before her, and this time, as he kissed her, he drew her hips forward and she slipped her legs either side of him.

The rough denim of their jeans met, seam against throbbing seam. A soft moan broke from her. As if he'd caressed her bare skin. Right there.

‘Quickly, kiss me again,' she pleaded.

Gabe obliged.

Bella couldn't stop smiling as she drove home. She and Gabe were back on track and that glorious fact eclipsed everything – their two years of estrangement, her travels, her unplanned return . . .

Last week Gabe had asked for friendship.

Friendship?

Bella snorted. He'd been fooling himself, fooling them both when he'd tried that gag. Today they'd blown it clear out of the water.

Of course she and Gabe were so much more than friends. They couldn't deny the deeper connection and now, almost miraculously, they were an item again. Gabe and Bella. Bella and Gabe. A hot item. Smoking hot.

Admittedly they were a smoking hot item still separated by a gulf of huge as-yet-unexamined issues, but at least Gabe was prepared to talk to her now. In fact, he was coming over tonight to have dinner at Mullinjim – Bella hoped Liz wouldn't freak about cooking for one extra – and then to have an all-important discussion. Gabe wouldn't have offered to take this step if he didn't intend to follow through.

Deep in her bones, Bella was sure they'd work through this to find their own happy ever after.

Woohoo! She was so excited and happy she thumped the horn twice just for the sheer hell of it, frightening a flock of galahs that wheeled away, showing off their rosy-pink breasts.

Okay. She should try to calm down now. No point in arriving home all beaming and jumping with excitement like a kid on Christmas morning. Liz would be sure to smell a rat and the last thing Bella wanted was an inquisition about her day at Redman Downs.

She drove to the machinery shed and backed the ute under the gantry, grateful that using the chain block to raise the water tank from the back of the ute required all her concentration.

With that task completed, she felt more or less composed as she walked across to the house, happily anticipating shedding her smoky clothes and shampooing her hair, and finding something flattering to wear for dinner.

As she stepped onto the verandah she heard voices – probably young Declan Browne having his piano lesson.

Or was that a man's voice?

Curious, Bella crossed the unpainted timber boards to the doorway. She froze as the voices came clearly down the hallway from the kitchen.

‘So how do you like your coffee?' Liz was asking.

‘Just black, please.'

A chill skittered down Bella's spine. The visitor's voice was deep and masculine. It was a voice she knew well. With an unmistakable French accent.

Anton.

She wasn't mistaken. The voice was definitely Anton's and he was in the Mullinjim kitchen having coffee with her aunt.

Bella sagged against the doorjamb, winded by shock, her mind spinning with questions. How on earth had Anton got here?

She hadn't seen a strange vehicle outside.

And why had he come?

Unfortunately the answer to that was painfully clear. There could only be one reason a romantic young Frenchman would travel twelve thousand miles to land on his girlfriend's doorstep.

Bella's knees were trembling and not in a good way. Her day with Gabe had wiped Anton from her mind. Worse, she'd invited Gabe to join them for dinner tonight.

From the kitchen, she could hear Liz's voice. ‘I'm sure I heard the ute come back. Bella should be here any minute.'

Bella remembered her fond farewell to Anton at the airport and the promises she'd made, and –
cringe
– the emotional email she'd sent him just a few short days ago. She felt sick.

How could she have guessed her life would change so quickly? Only very recently her goals had been simple. She would do her duty here at Mullinjim and then hurry back to France. To Anton.

On Sunday, the day she'd sent the email, Gabe had just broached the subject of friendship,
only
friendship with no chance of anything more. She'd been at rock bottom on Sunday evening and she'd consoled herself by turning to Anton.

Since then, so much had happened so quickly. After just two days alone with her old boyfriend, she'd let poor Anton slide out of focus.

Was she the shallowest woman in the universe?

Now she had to prove that she wasn't. Anton had travelled here in good faith and she had no choice. She had to paste on a smile and welcome him.

Straightening her shoulders, she took several deep breaths before she set off down the hallway to the kitchen.

‘Ah, here's Bella.' Liz was beaming and probably relieved to see her.

And Anton was smiling, too, as he rose from his chair, looking lean and athletic, his collar-length dark hair swinging with the movement. He was wearing an open-necked white business shirt, black trousers and black polished shoes. His cheekbones and nose were more prominent than Bella remembered and he looked very . . .
French.

‘Anton, what a wonderful surprise.' She smiled at him as she crossed the room, conscious that her greeting was probably more sedate than he'd expected. ‘I've been fire-fighting,' she said. ‘So I'm afraid I'm all sooty and smoky.'

‘It does not matter.' Anton hugged her and kissed her cheeks, her lips. After an overnight journey, his chin was quite stubbled and scratchy and she felt it scrape against her skin. ‘I've missed you, Bella.'

He was the second man to have told her this today, but this time she felt terrible, as if she'd misled him. How could she have guessed that her heart was such a turncoat?

‘I've missed you too.' It was more or less true. She
had
missed him until just a few days ago.

‘Anton arrived on the mail truck,' commented Liz from the far side of the kitchen table.

He gave an apologetic smile. ‘There was no other transport. I had no idea you lived . . . ' He lifted his hands as if he were searching for the right words.

‘In the middle of nowhere?' Bella supplied.

‘And then the poor man had to amuse himself while I suffered little Declan Browne murdering my piano.'

‘I'm sorry I wasn't here.'

‘You weren't to know,' said Anton. ‘I wanted to surprise you.'

‘And you certainly have!'

Bella wished she could generate a smidgen more excitement. She was conscious of Liz's watchful gaze.

‘Can I pour you a coffee, Bella?'

What she really needed was a time machine that could whisk her back an hour or so while she cancelled Gabe's dinner invitation. After that, she needed a shower. She would be so much more hospitable if she were clean. But she could hardly dash off to the bathroom immediately when Anton had already been hanging around for half the afternoon.

‘If you don't mind my eau de smoke.'

‘Of course we don't mind, do we, Anton?'

‘Not at all.'

So Bella sat and accepted the mug Liz filled for her, but almost as soon as her aunt had handed the mug over she glanced rather pointedly at the clock. ‘It's time I brought those hens in.'

With that, Liz exited, diplomatically leaving the two of them alone.

Bella gripped her mug tightly, holding it in front of her, almost like a shield.

‘I can't believe you've come all this way,' she said.

‘What did you expect after that email you sent?' Anton was smiling as he bent forward to kiss her on the lips. ‘If you sent that email to a dying man, he would have pulled off the life support, climbed out of bed and arrived here on the next plane.'

‘Really? Was it that bad?'

‘It was that
good
.' He grinned at her. ‘It's gone viral on the internet.'

Bella blushed, even though she knew he was joking about the internet. They both had a bit of a chuckle, but then she quickly fired questions, asking him all about his flight and about the quality of the snow on Mont Cenis and the ski slopes. And of course, she wanted news of their old gang at Alpazur.

‘It must be a shock to come from snowy Alps to this outback heat,' she said, fanning herself with her hand. ‘If I'd known you were planning to come out here, I'd have warned you to wait till it's cooler.'

‘I don't mind the heat,' Anton said politely. ‘And I've brought cooler clothes.'

‘You're probably dying to get changed then.' Bella jumped to her feet. ‘You'd probably love a shower, too, after your long journey. I certainly need one. I feel absolutely gross.'

‘Yes, I will change.'

‘Where are your things?' Already, she was on her feet and leading him out of the kitchen and back into the hallway.

‘Your aunt told me to put my bag in there,' Anton said, pointing.

Bella almost stumbled when she saw his label-covered, navy-blue duffle bag sitting squarely on the white fluffy mat at the end of her bed. Of course this was where her broadminded aunt would expect him to stay.

‘Lovely,' she murmured as soon as she could breathe again.

‘Your aunt has been so hospitable.' Anton stepped towards Bella.

‘Yes, she's a darling, isn't she? I'll – um – just get my things.'

In a blink, Bella was at her wardrobe, pulling undies, a T-shirt and fresh jeans from drawers. ‘I'll grab a quick shower in the ensuite and you can use the main bathroom. It's just across the hallway.'

‘Yes, Liz showed me.'

‘Good. I'll be back in two shakes.'

‘Excuse me? Two shakes?'

‘Sorry.' Bella hurried to give him a conciliatory kiss. On the cheek. ‘I meant I'll be very quick. Two shakes of a dead lamb's tail.'

Anton smiled. ‘In a while, crocodile?'

‘Yeah, something like that.'

With the hens safely caged for the evening, Liz rested her elbows on the top railing of the veggie garden fence. Gus, who was her faithful companion these days, sat at her feet, and the afternoon sun slid away, sending long purple shadows across the home paddock and casting a pretty bronzed sheen over the dry, parched landscape.

It was rather beautiful, Liz thought.

While she hoped she wouldn't have to stay here for
too
long, she was certainly enjoying the peace and quiet of the bush. It was rather like a self-imposed rest cure.

Now that she'd stepped, temporarily, off the performance tread­mill, she'd been surprised to realise how very hectic her normal routine had been.

As a concert pianist she'd had to keep herself constantly at peak performance and that required long hours of daily practice, as well as endless rehearsals, publicity sessions, and then, the adrenaline charge of the actual performance.

It wasn't just a job and it was more than a career – it was a way of life in the same way that being a cattleman was her brother's way of life.

And Bella's way of life, too . . .

Coming home to Mullinjim with Bella had been a revelation for Liz. She'd watched her niece set off each morning to tackle all manner of tough outdoor jobs, only to come home quite late, exhausted and dirty, and then to sit up after dinner at the computer, filling in complicated cattle management grids and tables for her father.

Not once had Bella complained about the workload and she seemed to take pride in doing everything well.

Which proved quite clearly to Liz that her niece loved the life here, even though she hadn't actually admitted it. More importantly, Bella was totally, utterly suited to life on a cattle property. She had the full skill-set and Liz had no doubt this was where she belonged.

Liz had actually planned to have a heart-to-heart chat with Bella on this very topic. She'd planned to speak to her this evening and to release the girl from her pledge to return to Europe once she was no longer needed here. But Anton's arrival had put everything in a tailspin. Not least Bella.

Even though Bella had stubbornly insisted she was missing her French boyfriend, Liz had seen the dismay in the girl's eyes when she'd come into the kitchen. Bella had covered it quickly, of course, but now Liz sincerely regretted that she'd invited Anton to put his luggage in her niece's room.

‘I should have been far more perceptive and cautious,' Liz murmured to Gus as she rubbed the soft fur on the top of his head. ‘That goes for Bella, too. I'm afraid her emails may have been a tad impetuous. And now these hens here aren't the only chickens that have come home to roost.'

Gus stared back at her with sad hazel eyes.

‘Liz.'

The call was low but insistent.

Turning, Liz saw Bella hurrying over the grass, showered and changed, with her freshly shampooed hair bouncing damply. She was wearing her habitual jeans, but she'd teamed them with a surprisingly feminine lavender T-shirt with a low cowl neckline.

‘Can I have a quick word?' Bella looked distinctly worried.

‘Yes, of course, darling.'

‘I've got a bit of a problem.'

‘With Anton?'

‘No. Well, yes . . . sort of, but it's more complicated than that. I've invited Gabe for dinner.'

‘Oh, Bella.' Liz's first reaction was to worry about the catering. One unexpected guest was a big enough challenge for her. Now there were two. Or was that
three
extra? ‘Did you invite Roy as well?'

Bella shook her head. And Liz only had to see the anguish in the girl's face to remember that thawing extra cutlets or adding extra spuds to the pot were minor dilemmas. This new invitation was surely a sign that there'd been developments of the personal kind with Gabe Mitchell . . . perhaps a rekindling of old flames.

‘Am I right in guessing that Gabe might not be thrilled to meet Anton?'

‘Dead right.' Bella sighed.

‘Can't you phone Gabe and put him off for now?'

‘I tried, but there was no answer. He might have already left.'

‘Oh, dear.' Liz glanced at her watch. ‘He'll be early.'

‘Or maybe he hasn't left, but he's busy.' Bella ran nervous fingers through her damp hair. ‘I didn't leave a message. I probably should have, but I lost my nerve. Thing is, Gabe's bound to hear about Anton eventually and he'll know why I cancelled and that could be worse in the long run. Any way you look at it, this is a mess.'

‘You mustn't panic.'

‘It's too late, Liz. I'm panicking big time.' Bella groaned. ‘What if Gabe's already on his way? I should have left a message, shouldn't I?'

‘Yes, if you wanted to try to stop him.' Liz slipped her arm around Bella's shoulders. ‘Whatever you do, stay calm, darling. This sort of thing happens all the time.'

‘What sort of thing?'

‘One girl with two suitors.'

‘In operas, perhaps.' A beat later, Bella turned to Liz, her eyes wide and searching. ‘Has it happened to you?'

‘Of course.'

‘How did you cope?'

‘I chose one man and diplomatically said goodbye to the other.'

Bella gave an exasperated shake of her head. ‘As if it's that simple.'

‘It can be.' Liz knew she was stretching the truth. These triangles were always messy, even heartbreaking, but she wanted to soothe the girl. ‘Right now, I'm more worried about what I'm going to feed these men, especially if Gabe turns up.'

‘He's not fussy about food. I'll have one more go at ringing him, and if he's not there, I'll leave a message. Cross your fingers.' With that decided, Bella seemed calmer. ‘What were you planning for tonight?'

‘I was going to experiment with lamb cutlets in egg and breadcrumbs.'

‘Oh, that's yum, but no, don't try it tonight. It's a bit complicated.' Bella shot her a sympathetic smile. ‘Let's go for something mega-simple like spag bol. We can thaw the mince in the microwave and there's no need to start from scratch. There are a couple of bottles of good pasta sauce in the pantry.'

‘Isn't that a bit ordinary for guests?'

‘That's your problem, Liz. You're always trying to be fancy.'

‘But Anton's French and they're so good with food.'

‘Well, I've seen him wolf down hotdogs, no problem. Besides, he won't expect gourmet tucker out here.'

‘I suppose you're right.' Heaven knew, neither man had come here for the food. ‘You've such a cool head when it comes to crises in the kitchen, Bella.'

‘You reckon?' Bella grimaced. ‘Maybe we should swap heads then. Right now I need your coolness when it comes to crises with men.'

No, you don't.
A shiver ran through Liz as she mentally winced at a recurring, harrowing memory.