Dudes Down Under

by Suzannah Burke

  “Your father, Lucy?”

  “Yep, dear old dad.”

  “Is he still around?”

  “Nope, been gone over 6 years now.”

  “What got him, heart attack?”

  Lucy looked sad and Charlie wondered if he should have even gone there. “Hey, Lucy, it’s none of my damned business. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Charlie. I don’t talk about it. Most people don’t know. He went on a hunting trip up in Arnhem land with a bunch of his buddies. Crocodile got him. At least, that’s the official version. Nobody witnessed it. The men he was with claim they were all very drunk. When they awoke next morning my father was gone. Air and sea search failed to find him. There were drag marks on the bank of the river but that could have been a roo being taken. So I guess I’ll never know. I do know my father took risks. He thrived on adrenaline. So it’s possible. Crocs are unpredictable. Even our darling Cyril has his moods.”

  “Shit, Lucy, I am so very sorry. So, you have other family, yes?”

  “No, I was an only child. My mother died in childbirth, so my father raised me, with the help of several nannies and boarding schools, that is. Can we talk about something else, please?”

  “Yep. What do you think of the political situation in Mozambique?”

  “Charlie, you are a nut.”

  “Yeah, but shit, I’m lovable.”

  The two of them began laughing again. The tension was broken and the champagne was poured and enjoyed.

  Lucy sat on the floor of the hut with her feet dangling over the edge. It was a long way down. She had no fear of heights, however, and was relaxed and comfortable with Charlie. She was unused to feeling that way around men, except for Skeet. But Skeet was more like a brother. She didn’t see Charlie Danvers in that role. That worried her.

  Charlie leant back against the timber wall and enjoyed the view. Lucy was a beautiful woman. He was used to beautiful woman. Lucy was more than that. She had a softness and sweetness about her that tugged at his heart, and yet he knew that she must have a core of steel under that exterior. She could never have conceived of or built this amazing place without it. He was intrigued and hopeful that they could become good friends. If he could keep his body under control. Just being near her caused an ache in his crotch. It had been a long time since that had happened so spontaneously.

  * * *

  Jack Starr showered and threw on a comfortable pair of jeans. He laughed aloud at himself. “Well, my lad, now what are ya gonna do? She’ll be here any minute and you are a nervous as a kid on his first date.”

  He had thought about this moment for a long time - not in this setting, but with this woman. She had been in his thoughts constantly for months now. He couldn’t figure it and he couldn’t ignore it. He had even taken to recording her daytime talk show just so he could catch up with what she was doing on a regular basis. Now she was on her way over to have dinner with him. He caught himself humming, and grinned. Man, he felt great.

  Lana was trying to decide what to wear. She wanted to be comfortable and still feminine. After all, she was about to share a Bar-B-Q with one of the best looking men on the damn planet.

  Whoa, girlfriend, where is your head at? What about your golden rule: no involvement with anyone in the business. Yeah, right. That rule had gone south the moment she had opened her eyes this afternoon and found him standing there looking down at her. Jesus, he was a sexy man.

  She finally decided on a gentle peach colored number that fell to her ankles in soft folds but was not overly dressy and most definitely comfortable. She pulled her hair up and secured it loosely with a matching comb. She placed a pair of flat open sandals on her feet, put a squirt of Dolce and Gabanna on her throat, and headed off on foot to find Bungalow 3 West.

  Chapter 18

  Skeet settled himself into a deck chair towards the front of the outdoor movie theatre. Cyril was happily drinking his fourth beer and waiting for the start of the film. Ginny spotted them and came over, as did Doc.

  “So, Skeet, do you think this is a suitable film for an impressionable lad?” asked Doc with a smile.

  “Well, why not? I can’t see a musical doing me any harm, mate.”

  “Not you, ya bloody drongo, Cyril. And what do you mean musical? This is about as far from a musical as you’ll ever get.”

  “Oh hell, keep ya voice down. I told him it was a musical. What else could it be with that title, mate? I mean Last Tango in Paris hardly sounds like a western or a spy flick.”

  “Shit, is Cyril ever in for a shock. You too, mate.” Doc was laughing hard and turned to inform Ginny of the situation.

  Ginny said, “Huh. I thought it was a dance thingy, like, um, that Saturday night thingy that my mom told me about.”

  “Fever,” said Doc.

  “No, I feel just fine,” said Ginny.

  “Shit a brick,” said Doc and poured himself another Gin sling.

  Ten minutes into the movie and Skeet thought he'd better take Cyril home. He was tired of putting his hands over his eyes and he also had Cyril to think about. Not a bloody musical, alright. Doc coulda warned me.

  Will you stop that, Skeet? I want to see what’s going on or coming off. Why is he …? Oh, Ewww, that looks disgusting. What the …? Why is she on her knees? Did she lose something? Where’s the music? Why is Marlin praying like that? Oh God, over and over. Can’t he remember his lines? Now what are they …? Oh my God, that is seriously gross. Move ya bloody hand, Skeet. Eeewww, no, put it back.

  “Um, Cyril, it’s not a musical, mate.”

  No shit, Sherlock. I still gotta find out about this Sherlock character but, geez, I love the expression. Look, Skeet, what the …? Oh, is he dead? What did I miss?

  “C’mon Cyril, time we left, mate. You are too young to be watching this sorta stuff.”

  What’s my age got to do with anything? Oh look, he didn’t die after all. What is she doing with that? Skeet, take me home. I was gipped. Musical, my four feet. He didn’t sing a word. I am soooo disappointed. Ah well, win some, lose some, eat some.

  “We’re outta here, people. Catch you lot tomorrow,” said Skeet.

  “Hey, Skeet, where’s Lucy? She normally joins us for the movie,” asked Ginny.

  Yeah, Skeet, where is Lucy?

  “Oh, you guys know our Lucy, work, work, work. She’s checking out the Tops.”

  “Oh dear. She really should learn to relax more,” said Doc. “Maybe I should head up there and talk to her about that.”

  “NO! I mean, no. Uh don’t do that. She said she didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Oh, fair enough, then.”

  “G’night, everyone.”

  A chorus of “Night Skeet, night Cyril,” followed them as they made their way back to Cyril’s bungalow.

  “Phew, mate, that was a close one.”

  Huh, what was? What did I miss? You know I hate to miss anything. What, already?

  “I sure hope our girl's alright up there with Charlie.”

  LUCY is with Charlie Danvers? Oh do tell. How wonderful! Is it serious? I have to know right now, Skeet, because if he doesn’t treat our Lucy properly, I will just have to eat him.

  “I’m sure she’ll be just fine and dandy. He seems like a nice enough bloke, and he’s an Aussie too.”

  Oh, oh, now I am worried. An Aussie, you say? Who knew? He sounds just like a Yank to me.

  “C’mon, me old mate. I’ll read ya favorite book and then I’m gonna have an early night.”

  Sleep? How can you even think about sleeping? Lucy could be in trouble. Maybe he’s an axe murderer … or worse, a salesperson.

  “I might just check on Lucy’s bungalow to make sure she’s home safe and sound before I turn in.”

  You do that. I will not sleep a single wink till I know she’s safe. Oh my, an actor… oh my!

  * * *

  Lana Peters was short of breath as she approached the bungalow. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the long walk. She vaguely recogni
zed the heady buzz of anticipation and was determined to override and block it as she had always done. Career first, life second, that was her code. The other voice was annoying the shit out of her. ‘What harm could it do?’ it said. ‘It’s only dinner,’ it said. “Only dinner, my occasionally fat ass!” She laughed at herself, realizing she had spoken aloud. “Great, now I’m talking to my damned self again. This ‘Alice in Wonderland’ shit has got to stop.” That made her smile. She was still smiling as she walked up the pathway.

  The man had been watching her approach. He heard her laugh and watched her square her shoulders. God, she looked marvelous - soft and girlish, and very, very pretty. His heart thumped in his chest. Easy, Jack boy, easy. Don’t go scaring her off.

  “You look wonderful,” he said.

  “Holy shit, I didn’t see you sitting there. You scared the whoop out of me!”

  “Do I?”

  “Oh, uh, well, I mean … Hell, you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, yes I do. Well come on out the back, pretty lady, and let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Something sure smells great,” said Lana, sniffing the air. “Mm, is that garlic, and um, lemon grass, yeah?”

  “Absolutely, pretty lady. You got a great nose. Come to think of it, the rest of the package is pretty damned easy on the eyes as well.”

  Lana felt her skin grow hot, and not just because of the compliment. The look in those damned eyes was melting her resolve and her bones simultaneously. The voice squeaked a final warning.

  She told it to go to hell. Tonight was hers. Tomorrow could wait, just for once.

  The steaks looked done perfectly, as did the shrimp and blue swimmer crab.

  “I thought we might eat out here. These nights are so perfect. Shame to waste them by going inside,” said Jack.

  “Wonderful. Can I help with anything?”

  “Yeah, be a honey and grab my shirt from the sofa. I don’t want to sit half-naked while we eat.”

  Lana stopped herself just in time from saying it was fine by her. She went in and grabbed the cool cotton blue shirt. “Mmm, same color as those damn eyes.”

  “Sorry, pretty lady, did you say something?”

  “No, no - nothing.”

  “Uh-huh. What would you like to drink? A nice red, or a rosé maybe?”

  “Mateus Rosé! I haven’t had that for so long. Sounds great to me.”

  Jack already had the table set outside. There was no breeze and the sky stretched into infinity, with a million tiny twinkling lights. He lit candles on the table and pulled Lana’s seat out for her.

  They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by a, “Mm, that is so good.”

  “The steaks were perfect, Jack. But fair warning. I get into a dreadful mess when I eat crab.”

  “Go for it, honey. Water bowls with lemon on the table. Just dunk the fingers and enjoy.”

  Lana giggled like a young girl and did just that. The conversation flowed easily, and so did the rosé.

  Jack went indoors and soft music floated out. “Leonard Cohen, my favorite,” he said.

  “Mine too, although I guess it depends on my mood. Sometimes I just need to dance.”

  “What do you like to dance to?” he asked.

  “I am an old-fashioned gal. I love rock 'n' roll, R&B ... hell, I just love music.”

  He nodded in confirmation. He said nothing more. For the moment they sat quietly and enjoyed the master singing his music. Conversation was unnecessary. They were simpatico.

  The two of them joined forces and cleaned up the dinner things.

  Jack opened a bottle of Bollinger and raised his glass. “To a marvelous day and a memorable evening. I thank you, pretty lady.”

  “Don’t thank me, Jack. It was a wonderful day, wasn’t it?”

  The sound of Michael Buble filled the air. Jack bowed low and extended his hand. Lana took it and he pulled her into his arms as the honeyed voice sang, ‘Put your head on my shoulder’.

  She did.

  Jack stopped dancing. He looked down at the amazing woman that he held and put one finger under her chin. Lifting her face and gently tracing the outline of her beautiful mouth, he could no more stop himself than fly; his lips met hers in sweet exploration. The passion ignited in them both and she ran her fingers through his thick hair and their tongues began an exquisite exploration of each other's mouths.

  One of them groaned, or was it both? The urgency overwhelmed them and he picked her up and carried her to the silk-sheeted bed. The passion was frenzied, both of them aching to feel nothing but skin separating them. The kisses were deeper and longer. His hands explored the contours of her body and molded her to him. He looked into the dark passion-drenched eyes and positioned his hard firm body over her. She wrapped her legs around him as he penetrated her welcoming heat, and they both lost themselves in the overpowering feeling.

  * * *

  Skeet walked up by Lucy’s bungalow. He checked his watch - it was a little after eleven. No lights were showing. He didn’t want to risk waking Lucy by knocking on the door. Besides, she may not be alone. He stopped in his tracks and suddenly realized that it was not any of his damned business anyway. Lucy was a grown woman. He was unused to her maybe having company but that didn’t mean he had a right to interfere.

  He turned and retraced his steps.

  He could only hope that she didn’t get herself hurt. But if she did? Well, he always had a shoulder for her if she needed it.

  Skeet headed off to bed.

  Cyril lay quietly in the darkness. Sleep finally claimed him and his snoring ensured it was good and deep.

  * * *

  Lucy clambered up from her perch on the edge of the tree house veranda. She stretched her long limbs and smiled at Charlie. He was sitting comfortably, soaking up the unbelievable peace of the night and smiling at the noise of the possums fighting close by. The noises of the Australian bush were part of who he was. It amazed him that he missed them so much.

  Lucy hated to break that silence. “Charlie, are you hungry?”

  He grinned up at her and extended his hand. “Help me up, Lucy. It must be pretty late. I’m not hungry at all. It just feels too peaceful to eat. Does that sound weird?”

  “It probably would to anyone not right here, right now. But it makes perfect sense to me. How about a coffee?”

  “You got me. That would be great.”

  “Coming right up.” Lucy headed inside and prepared the hot beverage. She felt very … content.

  She shrugged as the word hit her conscious mind. Funny how she hadn’t realized that she had been a little less than content of late. She gave herself a mental shake. Don’t get too involved, Lucy girl. He will only be here for another three weeks and then he will go back to his world. Yet she couldn’t trick herself into believing that his company hadn’t been wonderful.

  She took the steaming mugs of coffee back outside. “I forgot to ask how you like it,” she said.

  “Two s, m,” said Charlie.

  “Do the Americans understand you when you ask for milk and sugar instead of cream?”

  “Probably not. I guess I’ve gotten used to having cream instead. I’ve gotten used to a lot of changes, most of them great. I’d be a damned fool if I denied that America has been good for me.”

  “The fact that you are very talented may have a little something to do with that, don’t you think?”

  “Thanks, Lucy. I haven’t found a vehicle yet that excites me overmuch. I mean, all the stuff I’ve done has had its own level, you know, but I haven’t read a script yet that’s given me that thump of adrenaline, that this-is-it buzz.”

  “I can’t identify with the acting side of things but I know how I felt when I saw my dream taking shape. The day the final touch was added to Dudes, phew, that was heady stuff.”

  “So we are a pair of dreamers. Not a bad way to be. The world could do with more of it, I’m thinking.”

  “Yeah, Charlie, it surely could. It�
��s, um, getting late. I might turn in. I have work tomorrow. It’s very dark and the walk back can be tricky without light. You want to bunk down here tonight? There is plenty of room.”

  “Uh, if you’re certain you don’t mind. I mean, people could get the wrong idea, not that it’s a bad idea. Oh hell, do you know what I mean?”

  “I do and let them think whatever they want. Doesn’t bother me in the slightest as long as you are comfortable with it.”

  The smile he gave her could have lit up the track back down to the resort. “Lucy, you are one special lady. Now, if you just direct me to my bunk, I’ll say goodnight.”

  * * *

  He lay in the darkness, wide awake, achingly aware that Lucy was very close by and yet miles away. She touched him. It had been a long time since he felt protective like this, and he had to be honest with himself, she did things to his blood pressure, big time. It was a long time before sleep claimed him.

  Lucy lay awake, happy in her thoughts, and smiling to herself. She had one of Hollywood’s most desirable men sleeping just a few feet away. It had been an altogether terrific day.

  * * *

  Lana awoke to the smell of bacon cooking. She lay there a while, trying to think clearly. Last night had been perfect, too perfect. She had good reason to believe what life had taught her - if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was.

  Still, she felt wonderful. She had awoken several times during the night and grinned at the memory. Each time she had tried to disentangle her limbs from Jack’s, he had tightened his arm around her and stroked her hair ‘til she had drifted back to sleep. He was a wonderful, considerate lover. The experience had opened a door in her heart that had been locked up tight for a very long time. Acknowledging it and dealing with it were two different things. How do you slow down a speeding train?

  She climbed out of the huge bed and headed for the bathroom. She was avoiding seeing Jack until she was a little more prepared. Washing her face and running her fingers through her tousled hair helped a little. She would shower after breakfast and head back to her own bungalow.