by Annie Seaton
“Any native flora or fauna used for cooking or medicinal purposes,” he said. “It’s a popular type of cooking up here in the Territory.” She looked at him, her curiosity growing when he explained how the local bush tucker had become an international success.
“Cockatoo Springs has just made the papers. It took out first place in an international competition run by some flash magazine,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice. “First out of the top fifty restaurants in the world this year.”
Jess’s head flew up when he mentioned the competition. It had been the catalyst for her trip—Cuisine had run it, and that’s where she’d first heard about the wealthy guy who’d made it an international success in less than two years. She took a deep breath and choked, trying not to spray him with food. A piece of wild rice lodged in her throat. She placed her hand over her mouth and coughed, trying to dislodge it, until the tears ran down her face. She looked up gratefully when Alex handed her a glass of water.
“Thank you.” She picked up the paper napkin and dabbed around her chin in case any food had escaped.
Alex leaned back in the chair and watched her wipe her eyes. Unease prickled down her back as guilt filled her. She hated lying; she’d seen enough of that from her father.
“Alex, I was not quite truthful before. I was being careful…because…you know…well…you never know who you meet in the Outback.”
“That’s a wise way to be out here. It’s rough country with some odd characters.”
A wave of heat rose from her neck, and she knew her face would be flaming red, thanks to her pale complexion. He was well spoken, and she decided to come clean. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you. I’m not really an actress. I’m actually here for my job or that is, for a job I am trying to get.”
He leaned forward to eat his meal and tipped his head to the side, waiting for her to continue. Jess took a deep breath and waited until he had started to chew.
“I’m going out to Cockatoo Springs to do an article on the chef school and interview Alessandro Ricardo, the managing director. You seem to know a lot about bush cuisine, so it would be an interesting angle if I could use you in another article. You could tell me all about the fish, how you catch it, and where it goes.” She spoke quickly, encouraged by the intense interest in his expression. “I could even do a section on your business, all good publicity for you. Maybe take some photos?”
Now it was his turn to choke on his food. It must be those tiny pieces of rice…or the hot berries on the fish. Clearing his throat, he sat back and observed her for a moment without speaking, and frown lines creased his forehead.
“Hmm. That sounds interesting. No one has ever asked me about the barramundi fishing before. They’ve not really found it very interesting. Apart from the fishing tourists, that is, certainly not from a cooking angle.” He nodded slowly. “I suppose it could help my business.”
Jess was surprised to hear a snort from the bar, and she looked up as Janet hurried back into the kitchen.
“Now tell me, how do you intend to get to Cockatoo Springs?” he said with his arms folded across his chest.
“I’m going to drive there in the morning.” A feeling of unease wound its way from her stomach to her chest, and it had nothing to do with the fish she had just eaten.
“You’re going to drive three hundred kilometers across flooded creeks and billabongs? You must have a big four wheel drive truck hidden away.” His face was a picture. “And a truck driver?”
“Three hundred kilometers?” she squawked. “What’s that in miles?” She did the quick calculation in her head. “That can’t be right. My directions said that Daly River is the closest town to Cockatoo Springs. That’s why I drove down here from the airport.”
“It is.” He nodded sagely. “This is the outback.”
Chapter Three
Alex almost felt sorry for the woman sitting across the table from him.
Almost.
He knew how hard food journalists from the top magazines had been trying to get an interview with his alter ego, managing director of Cockatoo Springs, Alessandro Ricardo, and it pissed him off. He’d only taken up the position at the request of his dead fiancée’s family. They’d set the school up in her memory. He’d agreed and signed a two year contract on the strict condition he was a silent partner; it was a way he could get rid of the insurance payout from the accident. He didn’t want the money, but he hadn’t wanted to tarnish Emily’s memory for her family. It was enough that he’d been hurt by what she’d done. Her family didn’t need to know about it.
The promotional side of it drove him crazy. The stupid idea of him taking on an exotic sounding name as a figurehead for the school had been his assistant manager’s idea. Mitch reckoned it was a way to keep away from the media, but it had backfired, and for some reason everyone wanted to know all about him. Christ, he was a lawyer, and since he’d come to the Territory, he was happiest outdoors, messing about with his boats and crab traps once the school had been set up. He’d used his contacts to promote the place, and once they had Clayton Bardi on board, a well known Aboriginal chef who’d trained in London, chefs from all over the world had clamored to get in.
The last thing Alex wanted to be was be some sort of celebrity figurehead and the subject of gossip magazines. But the media had latched onto the mysterious managing director of the Cockatoo Springs resort since they’d been named top restaurant in that blasted magazine, and the more he resisted, the harder they tried to get the scoop interview. Things had gotten out of hand, from helping a family out to being trapped by his fake identity. He just wanted it over.
Gutter press. He despised them. His life was private, and it was staying that way.
One reporter had even infiltrated his kitchen in the guise of a kitchen hand. Another one had registered as a guest in the resort and tried to get an interview with him via his bed. Sultry-eyed Catalina from Hot Food magazine had been bundled out, unceremoniously clutching her shoes and bag to her chest when he had thrown her out of his private suite. She’d gotten the sex…but not the interview. Now here was another one after an exclusive. He’d been enjoying the conversation with Jess until she’d dropped the bit about being there to interview him. Lying women and the media. Two things that pissed him off most.
No way, baby. You are in for a rude shock. But this one interested him.
What’s the Top End? And this is the closest town, he mimicked in his head. She was green.
He still wasn’t sure if she was being totally honest with him. If she was with a magazine like she said, they would have at least organized her travel. He ran his hand along his chin and thought quickly. He was not going to get caught out again. He could send her back to Darwin and tell her to get the helicopter in, but the best way to ensure she didn’t get a back door entry to Cockatoo Springs was to keep her close. And she needed to be taught a lesson in honesty. He was sick and tired of the subterfuge of so-called professionals trying to get an interview with Ricardo under false pretences.
He looked across the table through the flickering flame of the candle. The wax had run down the bottle and was gathering in white waxy splotches on Janet’s red tablecloth. Jess was chewing on her bottom lip. An ache settled in his chest as a memory of Emily flitted through his mind.
But for the car accident, she would have had to tell him how she’d been about to dump him for a new man. Instead, he’d found out about it after the funeral when the guy had requested a meeting with him. So he’d dealt with grief, and dealt with lies. He’d never told a soul, but he’d vowed never to get sucked in by a woman again.
Now this one was looking at him wide-eyed as he tried to warn her off.
“The freeway looked fairly civilized to me as I drove down this afternoon,” she said. “I think you’re just trying to scare me.”
Alex shrugged and turned his concentration to his meal and his thoughts. Damn woman had brought the past back with a vengeance.
&n
bsp; “The Top End is rough…and dangerous. It’s no place for a woman traveling alone,” he said gruffly.
Especially one clad in designer clothes and stiletto shoes. But he kept that thought to himself.
Emily had chewed her lip when she was upset. He quickly buried that thought. The only time he allowed himself to think of that time in his life—pre-Cockatoo Springs days—was when his loud and boisterous family came up to stay. Only then did he dwell on the past and what could have been. The transformation of a grief stricken and disillusioned lawyer into the barramundi fisherman and businessman he was now had been a long, hard road for him, and Alex guarded his privacy fiercely. Sex was for fun and pleasure. He kept his heart right out of it. There was no way he ever wanted to experience loss like he had when he’d lost Emily.
To death and deception.
If it hadn’t been for the efforts of Nick and Tom, his two older brothers, he wondered if he would have ever picked up the pieces of his life. Now he intended to move on as soon as Clayton, the new chef settled in. His contract was coming to an end in a few weeks. He’d achieved what he’d promised Emily’s parents and more, and he wanted no publicity, no interviews, and no magazine articles. He just wanted to fade into the background and let go of that stupid identity that seemed to fascinate everyone. Reality TV was responsible for most of this attitude. They thought they had an open door into anyone’s life these days.
“Alex, are you listening to me?” Jess’s voice intruded on his thoughts and he pushed his plate away.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked you which would be the best road to take to Cockatoo Springs tomorrow.” Jess stared at him intently, and an unwelcome surge of desire hit him as he held her gaze. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide and her expression vulnerable as she worried at her bottom lip. A lush, full bottom lip.
Christ, she’d intended driving that little red box of a car across to the coast? He had to get the message across to her; if anything happened to her, he would feel bloody responsible.
“And I’ve told you already it is three hundred kilometers across flooded creeks and rough roads,” he said.
Jess sat there with a frown wrinkling her brow. The bright red lipstick had disappeared between eating and choking fits, and he softened a little when despair clouded her face.
“Look, I’m sorry but there’s no way you can drive in to Cockatoo Springs. The road from here is only for four-wheel drive vehicles. You’ll have to drive back to Darwin and fly in.”
A tear spilled onto her cheek, and she brushed it away impatiently. “Ignore me,” she said brusquely. “I hardly ever cry. I’m just so disappointed and angry with myself.” She plopped her elbows on the table and cradled her chin in her hands. “I’m always messing up. I do great work, but I’m not very good at organizing myself.” A rueful smile crossed her lips. “And this time, it means I’ve blown any chance of getting this interview.”
Alex couldn’t believe that any magazine would send a journalist this far without proper organization and then sack them when they didn’t deliver. If there was one thing he had kept from his law days, it was his sense of justice and fairness.
And integrity.
He hated lies and deception and would be pleased when Alessandro Ricardo could disappear next month when the contract was up. Even though he kept to himself and didn’t share his background with anyone, he still operated with honesty and integrity and truth…well, most of the time.
“Maybe I can help out.” He was surprised when the words came from his mouth before his brain kicked in.
The look of hope that crossed her face tugged at his vulnerability. All three brothers were suckers for helpless females. Nick and Tom had both been lucky in life and love and were happily married and working on a tribe of kids to add to the Richards’ clan. Tom and Brianna and their baby twins were in Italy, and Nick and Lissy lived in New Zealand with their toddler. Alex had no intention of going down the marriage path. It was not for him. Not now. Not ever.
“How are you going to help me?” she asked. “Find me a helicopter? I guess I’m going to have to drive back to Darwin and get myself organized.”
He could arrange a helicopter for her with one phone call if he wanted, but after giving it some thought, he decided to offer her a lift out. Keep the enemy close. Once they got to Cockatoo Springs, he would decide how to handle her, and he could always chopper her back to Darwin then. Whatever the outcome, there was no way she would ever find out who he was. And she needed a lesson in telling the truth.
He was Alex Richards, barramundi fisherman from the wild.
“I’m driving out there early tomorrow. If you trust me, I can give you a ride. Janet will vouch for me.” He pointed to her meal. “Now enjoy your first foray into bush tucker before Janet brings out the spiced blood plum crumble I can smell cooking. I leave at five thirty in the morning.”
…
After they’d eaten the dessert and finished with coffee, Alex stood and pushed his chair in. “If you decide to accept the lift, be outside the office at five thirty. On time.”
Jess watched as he walked to the door. The tight jeans that hugged his butt outlined long muscular legs. She glanced back at Janet as she cleared the table.
“I can’t believe the resort isn’t close by.” Jess shook her head.
“It’s a decent enough drive in the dry,” Janet said. “But with the wet starting early, the short road won’t open up again till April. They’ve just opened a new bridge and that gives the tourists a better chance of getting up the river for the fishing.”
“Thank you. And for the food. It was amazing.”
The older woman’s face lit up. “You think this is good, wait till you eat out at Cockatoo Springs.” She put her head to the side. “You are going with him, aren’t you? Alex Richards is a good man, and I don’t say that lightly. He’s done it tough, but he’s made a go of carting fish out of the river here for a couple of seasons. He’s a gentleman, and he’ll get you to the resort in one piece.”
Jess followed Janet across to the bar. “I’ll settle my bill up now. Is there somewhere I can leave the rental car?”
“Leave the keys with me, and I’ll get my fella to put it in one of the sheds. How long are you going to stay out there?”
“Oh, not long. Just ‘til I meet Alessandro Ricardo. I hope he’s there.” She sighed. “In my usual fashion I just tore over here. I didn’t even think he might not be there. Anyway, if he’s not there, I’ll chase him down wherever he is.”
Janet grinned. “Oh, don’t worry, dear. He’ll be there. I have no doubt about that.”
…
It was still pitch dark when the alarm went off on Jess’s phone the next morning. She ran the shower on cool water and tried to wake up—she was never at her best in the morning, and certainly not before sunrise. She scrabbled through her suitcase looking for something suitable to wear in a fishing truck. Silky skirts, wraparound sarongs, and strappy sandals piled up on the bed as she searched for something more suitable. Finally, she came across a pair of white knee-length Capri pants and teamed them with a loose silk top that knotted at the waist. The sandals would just have to do because she had packed no substantial footwear.
She’d been expecting a resort, not a fishing outpost, a two star trailer park, and a smelly truck. She glanced down at her watch as she searched for a pair of dangly earrings. She had to look the part when they arrived. After all, it was one of the luxury resorts in Australia.
As soon as they hit the road, she would have to ring or email and make a booking. There had been no phone service last night, and she couldn’t check her email or call Monica to report in. Probably because of the storm.
Oh, shit. It was twenty-five minutes past the hour and she only had five minutes to get out the front to meet him. Forgetting the earrings, she flung everything back into her suitcase, slung her handbag over her shoulder, and with one swipe of her hand dropped her array of cosmetics into the small
carry-on bag. She grabbed her laptop and opened the door and was blinded by the bright headlights of a truck driving up slowly from the back of the hotel. It pulled up next to her, and by the smell of the fishing crates drifting from the back of the truck she knew her lift had arrived.
Alex opened his door, came around the front of the truck, and looked at her bags.
“Sorry. They’ll have to go in the back.”
She held up her laptop and clutched it to her chest. “I’ll hold this one.”
“I have to pick up my dog, and then we’ll get going.”
Jess looked at the back of the truck, loaded high with crates. He’d lifted the lid off a huge one and stowed her luggage into it. She’d never get the fish smell out of it.
“Where does the dog sit? In the back?”
“Up front,” he said with a smile. “You’re taking his seat. You’ll have to nurse him.”
Before she could reply, he flashed her a grin, walked around to the other side of the truck, and swung himself up. She bit back a rude retort and heaved her laptop onto her other shoulder as he leaned across the cabin and opened the door for her.
She hated dogs, ever since one of those little white, fluffy toy things her mother always carted around bit her.
“Jump in.”
She climbed into the truck and put her laptop and bag down where she could find a space amongst the assortment of nets and small, colored plastic fish covering the floor. Alex turned the truck out onto the main road. The dawn sky was a soft rosy apricot to the east. They traveled a few kilometers in silence before he took a turn across a high bridge and then onto a narrow dirt road that led down to the river. He pulled up outside a small shed surrounded by fishing nets and more of the huge blue crates that she was getting used to.
“No need for you to get out. I’ll just unload the crates and pick up Bowser, hook up the boat, and then we’ll be on the way.” He looked at her steadily in the dimly lit cabin, and his expression dared her to comment on his dog’s name.