She didn’t expect anything of this man, she told herself. She’d asked for no long-term commitment, but having him turn his back on her and walk away had made her feel desolate.
Because she had expected something of him. That was the problem, she thought. Their intimacy last night had led her down a whole different path. She’d allowed herself to dream.
‘If we married...’ he said and there was that path rising up in front of her, or maybe it wasn’t a path but more of a gaping hole. The way he said it...
‘You think that’s what I want?’ she breathed. ‘You think I’m trying to trap you into marriage?’
‘Of course I don’t. Amy...’
‘Let me close the door,’ she said icily. ‘Thank you for bringing Buster’s food. Thank you for your hospitality at Uluru. Now leave.’
‘If we take it further it’ll destroy you,’ he said flatly, and she looked into his face and saw a tension that was almost unbearable.
He believed it, she thought. He looked...torn.
‘You’d destroy me?’ she asked at last. ‘You, personally?’
‘The media. The lifestyle.’
‘Champagne and caviar.’ She was having trouble understanding. She was having trouble breathing. ‘I can see that it might.’
‘Amy...’
Anger was still helping her, and suddenly something else. Her background. Her grandma. The things that made her what she was.
‘My grandma was a Koori who lived out here on the land,’ she said, softer now, anger and confusion fading to a bleak desolation. And betrayal? ‘That’s about as far from your world as it’s possible to be. The rest of me comes from farming stock. Pig farmers, if you must know. None of this landed gentry for yours truly. So if you want a woman...yes, it’d be better to choose someone with blue blood heritage, but as for destroying...’
‘This has nothing to do with your heritage,’ he snapped.
‘Then what?’
‘You have no idea of the life. You know the corporation I’ll be leading. You know the money I control. Being my wife...’
‘See, that’s what I don’t get,’ she managed. ‘The wife thing. When did that happen? I thought we were one time lovers?’
‘We are.’
‘So who’s talking about wives?’
‘If I was free,’ he said, and it was as if the words were torn from him, ‘I’d marry you in a heartbeat.’
Whoa.
She took a deep breath. Tried desperately to regroup. Tried to meet him on his terms. ‘Why?’ she said at last and her words sounded strangled even to her.
‘Because you’re like no woman I’ve ever met,’ he said simply. ‘You’re brave and loyal and feisty. You’ve given up what you love most in the world to help your sister. You’re devoted to a dog even his mother would have trouble loving. You make Maud laugh and you make me laugh. You’re more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever met—and when I touch you I burn.’
Breathless didn’t begin to describe how she was feeling right now. Her breath had been vacuumed right out of her. ‘Is that right?’ she whispered. ‘You...you think you want to marry me—yet you walk away?’
‘I will not bring another woman into this life.’
It was said with such anger and such conviction that she knew it for truth. His bleakness frightened her.
I will not bring another woman into this life...
She thought of the stories she’d heard of his father’s womanising. Of the streams of disasters. Of the childhood this man must have endured.
Hugo was who he was for a reason, she thought bleakly. He was a loner. He wouldn’t risk—and she couldn’t ask him to risk.
What was more, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Last night had been crazy. She’d thrown herself at him and it all seemed a dream. And now? Maybe he was right. If she stepped forward and clung, within months she might be deeply regretting it.
‘You’re right, of course,’ she managed. ‘I don’t know your world, so I wouldn’t know. That cringing thing back at the station—that was sadly out of character. I bet if I had the slightest chance, I’d step into the spotlight and like it. I’d wear stilettos and sequins and buy myself a cleavage. I’d drink Martinis for breakfast and have my own personal masseur. I’d...’
‘I know you wouldn’t,’ he said steadily. ‘But some of the women my father introduced to his lifestyle did go down that path, and for them...’
She knew the gossip. In ballet circles, everything to do with the Thurstons was legitimate fodder and his father’s death had dragged it all out again.
‘They talked of your father’s women in ballet circles,’ she said. ‘I heard one suicided. One even retreated to a nunnery. So that’s your problem? You like me but you don’t want me to face the choice between cocaine or the cloisters. Hmm. I expect I should be grateful for your concern.’ She took a deep breath. Steadied. ‘Well...I guess that’s that. Thank you, Hugo, and thank you also for the dog food. Now, can you take your foot out of my door and let me go to bed?’
‘Amy...’
‘Hugo,’ she said flatly, angrily. ‘Let’s stop this right now. I’m not deciding between suicide or the cloisters. Neither am I deciding about you. We had a great time last night. The sex was awesome. I’ll remember it for ever but that’s all it was. One night. Great sex. And now, I’m not risking a nunnery and you’re not asking me to. Goodnight, Hugo.’
And before he guessed what she intended, she flicked her foot at his, hard. Her shoe caught his shin, just above his ankle. He jerked back and the door was shut in his face.
Martial arts...
Never fall for a woman who could fight back.
Never fall for a woman.
He stared at the closed door. Any minute now, another of these doors could open. He’d be seen, photographed looking like an idiot.
An idiot for Amy?
A commando who’d just been given his marching orders.
It was he who’d made the decision, he thought. He’d seen her face when he’d mentioned marriage. He’d seen the flare of shock, but he’d also seen something else. Something that might almost be longing?
He must have imagined it, but even if he hadn’t...
She couldn’t want his world. He didn’t even know it himself. He had no right to drag her into it with him.
But then... Amy Cotton wasn’t a woman to be dragged anywhere, he thought, wincing at the pain in his ankle. If he just asked...
No.
Alone, he could control things, he thought. He could refuse to let the media get to him. He could retreat into isolation when things got tough.
With Amy, he’d be exposed from every side.
Last night had been a gigantic mistake. Falling for Amy had been a gigantic mistake.
He couldn’t make it up to her. All he could do for her now was walk away.
Move on.
What next?
The Ghan was due to reach Darwin the next day, but the holiday he’d agreed to take Maud on didn’t stop there. They were due to board a cruise boat, exploring the vast North Australian coastline.
They had ten days in Darwin first, and Amy was staying in Darwin.
Darwin was a small city and, the way Hugo was feeling, New York would be too small.
But...he’d received a message just before he’d left Uluru. The company was facing a crisis with an environmental spill down south. Left to their own devices, he suspected the managers would hus
h it up, go into damage control.
Hushed up, the environmental damage could be enormous.
Maud had friends in Darwin. He could leave her with them and spend the week coping with the spill. It’d be hands-on experience.
The Barstock mine was in rough country. The living would be hard.
Excellent. He could live rough for a while. He could get his head back into working order.
Soft beds... Platinum service... After twenty years in the army, they were doing his head in.
Amy was doing his head in.
* * *
‘Amy?’
Amy leaned against the door and breathed deeply. Rachel was watching her from her bed. She was hugging Buster and they were both looking deeply worried.
‘A compartment in a train’s too small for personal stuff,’ Rachel said softly. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s no way we could avoid hearing. Buster’s shocked to the socks.’
Buster did look shocked. She fed him his dinner and he stopped looking shocked, but Rachel still did.
‘You guys were talking of marriage?’
‘Not me,’ she said, trying to sound flippant. ‘And he only said he’d like to marry me if the world changed. That’s hardly a proposal.’
‘He loves you, Ames.’
‘He doesn’t know what he loves. He’s a loner. I shouldn’t have got involved.’
‘But you’re in love with him,’ Rachel said on a note of discovery. ‘Oh, Ames...’
‘If I am, then I’m stupid,’ she said. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid. Like you and Ramón. We’re two of a kind.’
‘Kind isn’t a word that could ever describe Ramón,’ Rachel said stoutly. ‘Hugo’s nothing like him.’
‘No. Ramón’s a media whore. Compared to him, Hugo’s a hermit. A hermit who doesn’t want any pink satin pyjama girl on his arm.’
‘You could...I don’t know...wear black? Black’s classy.’
‘Black PJs?’
‘You’re classy whatever you wear,’ Rachel said stoutly, and proceeded to hug her. ‘Oh, Ames, what will you do?’
‘What you’re doing, I guess,’ Amy said. ‘Settle down in Darwin. Get on with my life.’
‘And if the media discovers you’re PJ?’
‘I’ll be a one day wonder.’
‘While Hugo moves on to his next woman?’
‘Or no woman at all,’ Amy said and sat on the bed and felt ill. Not ill for her. Ill for Hugo. He had everything, she thought, and he had nothing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HUGO spent a week in the desert. He learned about spillage and environmental containment. To the astonishment of the management, he threw himself into hard physical work alongside the men. His men. His company.
He tried to get his head back together.
At the end of the week he had the situation in hand, he had the men’s respect—but Amy was still in his head, front and centre.
It couldn’t matter. He flew back to Darwin thinking she’d be settled somewhere and he didn’t need to know where. He must move on.
He landed at Darwin Airport, he strolled through the terminal—and he stopped dead.
Another billboard. Another headline.
‘Thurston’s Pyjama Girl, Dancing Tonight. Introducing PJ!’
* * *
Maud had been staying with her friends, and that was where he headed. Harold and Margaret lived on the headland overlooking Darwin harbour, in one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in town. He spent the whole cab ride there seething.
But his grandmother was bubbling with so much excitement she didn’t notice his mood. She greeted him with an exuberance he hadn’t seen since James had died.
‘We’re having an early dinner,’ she told him, practically bouncing as she dragged him indoors. ‘I’m so pleased your plane wasn’t late. We have tickets.’
‘Where are you going?’ This was his bereaved grandmother? She looked a different woman.
‘To Amy’s concert, of course. The theatre’s on the other side of the city, so we need to leave soon. It was supposed to be in the school hall but they’ve had to shift it. Even now I gather it’s standing room only. Harold had to use his position with the bank to get us tickets. I don’t usually approve of pulling strings—but this is Amy.’
‘You’re going to see Amy?’
‘We all are,’ she told him, seemingly bemused at his obvious confusion. She led him into the sitting room to where his hosts were waiting, but he scarcely noticed.
Maybe Amy had been in the papers every day since he’d left, he thought, stunned. There hadn’t been a lot of newspapers where he’d been.
What was going on?
‘Dinner’s in ten minutes,’ Maud was saying. ‘And then...’
‘I’m not going to see Amy Cotton make money out of tabloid gossip!’ It was an explosion, and Harold and Margaret and Maud all took a step back.
Harold headed one of Australia’s largest banks. Margaret was head of a huge arts foundation. They were powerful people and they’d been Maud’s friends for a long time. They looked at Maud in concern. They looked at Hugo and they stepped forward again, as if they were about to protect her from her grandson.
It needed only this. As if he’d do violence to Maud.
‘I have no idea why you’re going,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘but count me out.’
‘Hugo, you will support Amy.’
Very few people heard Maud’s voice as it sounded now but, once heard, respect was gained for life. It sounded like blasted cannonballs, each word a force exploding into the universe to change things.
Why? Hugo stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. ‘I’m not...’
‘I ask little of you,’ Maud boomed. ‘But I’m asking this. You will support her.’
‘She’s making money from that damned photo.’
‘She is, and it’s magnificent. Have you seen the papers?’
‘Yes.’
‘Past the headlines?’
‘No, I...’
‘Then you don’t know anything about it,’ Maud boomed, and Harold quietly fetched a paper.
‘You should read it.’ Harold was in his seventies, mild-mannered and smart. ‘It pays to do your groundwork, son,’ he said softly. ‘Especially when you’re dealing with your grandmother. How about I take the ladies for drinks while you read? We’ll see you in ten minutes.’
‘I...’
‘Ten minutes, son,’ Harold said heavily. ‘I doubt I can hold Maud for longer.’
* * *
He read the article in less than two minutes. He stood for another two, stunned.
Pyjama Girl Fund-raiser sold out—forced to shift to larger venue.
Public curiosity over the identity of the young woman seen travelling on the Ghan with Australia’s most eligible bachelor, Major Hugo Thurston, has reached fever pitch. Her identity has been established as Amy Cotton, retired dancer with the Australia Ballet. Public interest in the reclusive billionaire means rumours continue to fly.
Darwin Special School’s annual fund-raising concert normally fails to attract community interest, or indeed community support, and there has been talk of the school’s closure. However, it now has interest in spades.
PJ, as the media is calling her, has agreed to dance with Darwin’s disadvantaged children tonight, and Dame Maud Thurston confirms the Thurston family will be attending. The concert has thus become
a must-be-seen-at event in Darwin’s social calendar. Tickets are said to be selling for over a hundred dollars and this small event looks like setting the Special School up for years.
PJ. Amy. What the...?
He looked up to find Maud watching him.
‘She’s not the same as your mother,’ she said softly into the stillness. ‘There’s nothing in this for her.’
‘Publicity...’ He was still feeling stunned.
‘She knows the Pyjama Girl thing is a one week wonder, so she’s using it while she has it, to do some good. Come with us, Hugo. You need to see.’
He stared at his grandmother and she gazed back at him, calmly waiting. For him to see sense?
‘This is not publicity for her,’ she said. ‘Amy is not like a single one of your father’s girlfriends and it’s about time you had the sense to admit it.’
She wasn’t like those women. He knew it. But to pull her in...
He glanced at the paper. She was pulling herself in.
‘Maybe...’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Maud. ‘Definitely maybe. But if it’s only maybe, shouldn’t you be finding out for sure?’
* * *
‘A thousand people!’
Amy had spent the last half hour calming overexcited kids, but now, two minutes before the curtain rose, she found time to clutch Rachel and quake. ‘What was I thinking?’
‘To help your school,’ Rachel said.
That’s right, Amy thought, fighting for calm. That was all she was doing. Supporting a school that made a difference.
She’d arrived for her job a week ago and had promptly fallen in love with what this school and its staff were doing for kids from dysfunctional backgrounds. But the press had been searching for her. Photographs had circulated and she and Rachel had been recognised and named.
The rest of the staff had quickly figured out her identity, but here, in this environment where everyone was working for needy kids, hype had no place. She’d given her new workmates a brief explanation. They’d laughed and teased her, but everyone agreed the fuss would die down in a week or so. They’d keep her presence here quiet. Meanwhile she’d thrown her energy into organising the kids’ annual concert. It needed energy. It needed...something.
Her Outback Rescuer Page 16