The Protea Boys

by Téa Cooper

  “Bugger!” His expletive scored the air, and she looked down at the hose, feeling it go limp in her hand as the last trickle of water ran onto the deck.

  “The electricity’s gone out.” Georgie threw the hose onto the deck in disgust, furious for allowing herself to stand there daydreaming. “I’ll have to go down to the dam and start Bertha. Then at least we’ll have a continuous water supply if we need it. The electricity will be out for hours now.”

  “I’ll go,” said Tom. “You’re in no fit state to be tramping down there, and someone needs to stay up here at the house.”

  “I’m fine, and you don’t know which valves to open to pump up here. You stay, and I’ll go.” His heavy hand came down on her shoulder, and he turned her to face him.

  “You are going nowhere on your own. We’ll go together, everything is under control up here, and it will only take a few minutes. Besides, look at the trees and the smoke line, the wind is changing direction.”

  “But I...”

  “No arguments—let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the steps toward the shed. “We’ll have to walk. There’s no way I can get my four-wheel drive down the dam track, and we haven’t got time to clear it.”

  By the time they reached the dam, the wind appeared to have dropped, and then a sudden gust swept across the surface of the water, followed by another and an increasing flurry of embers that sizzled as they hit the water.

  In a few seconds, the gusts had become a whirlwind, and little balls of orange flame dropped around them. Heat seared through her long-sleeved shirt, and she spun around, taking in the area. The smoke had become really dense, trapped in the hollow of the dam, and a tree above them crackled and exploded into flames.

  “I’ll get the diesel cans, and we’ll fill the generator.” Tom’s voice echoed in her ear as another tree on the hillside ignited.

  “Forget it!” she screamed and grabbed his hand and waded into the water, dragging him behind her. “It’s too late. The wind has changed direction. It’s going to come straight over the top of us. Get in the water!”

  The thick, warm, oily water wrapped itself around them and they waded into the center of the dam until their shoulders were covered. Georgie stood looking up at the tree tops surrounding them while her ragged breathing settled. Once calm, she glanced across at Tom. The grimy streaks of dirt and oil barely covered his deathly pale skin and blue lips.

  “We’ve had it,” he rasped, struggling to catch his breath.

  “No, we haven’t.” She ducked, another fireball exploded high above them, and the water hissed and sizzled, and orange-red sparks hit the water. “The water will protect us from the radiant heat. It’ll be the smoke that’ll be hell.”

  Untying the cotton bandana around her neck, she dropped it into the water and held it out to Tom. “Hold this across your mouth and nose, and if all else fails, duck under the water.”

  His eyes were wide with fear, and with a flash of clarity, she acknowledged his terror. She stepped closer and untied the scarf from his neck and dropped a quick kiss onto his cool cheek. “It’ll be all right, I prom—” An almighty roar and a blast of scorching heat drowned her words out. “Under.” She took a deep breath, her lungs shuddering at the smoke-filled air, and ducked under the water, pulling him with her. Once beneath the water, he relaxed against her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She buried her face in his chest, and they crouched below the water, entwined.

  The seconds passed, and Georgie’s chest tightened as she allowed the last remaining air in her lungs to trickle out from between her lips. Regretfully, she pulled away from Tom and stood up, shaking the water from her face. He followed suit, and together they stared as the fire skirted the dam and ran up the hill away from them, chopping and changing direction with each wind gust.

  “What about the house?” His voice sounded husky and dried out, and his eyes were red rimmed from the smoke.

  “Fine. The house will be fine. It’s skirted us. Those sudden wind gusts pushed it uphill.” Her throat burned, and she craved a drink of cool, clear water. “We can’t start Bertha. One spark and the whole lot will go up again.”

  They waded out to the edge of the dam and sat down in the shallow water, staring around at the undergrowth. “We may as well go back up to the house and do what we can up there.” She pushed herself up to stand, but Tom’s hand restrained her.

  “I’m sorry, Georgie. I wasn’t much good to you. I panicked. Seems like fire and I don’t mix.”

  “There was nothing anyone could do, Tom. I was pleased I wasn’t alone.”

  Tom grunted in a dissatisfied way and stood up, water trailing off him and trickling back into the dam. Once she was on her feet, he led the way back to the house. His shoulders were stooped, and he had lost his arrogant strut. Georgie wanted to drag him into her arms and cradle his head against her breast and tell him it would be all right; it had cost him so much to admit to his fear. A bushfire was terrifying at the best of times, but she had the advantage of having lived through them before. Tom was a different matter; not only was it his first brush with a wildfire, but also she suspected it had brought back too many painful memories for him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Amazingly, the house looked no different than it had when they left, and by the time they reached the veranda, Tom could barely put one foot in front of the other. Not only had the bloody bushfire scared the living hell out of him, but the thought of losing Georgie either over the side of a cliff or in a fire played havoc with his emotions. His stomach was tied in knots. His stomach? What the hell was the matter with him? Georgie must be absolutely shattered, and bruised and sore into the bargain.

  He offered his hand to her as she climbed the steps. “It might be time for that cup of tea I promised myself about three hours ago,” she said with a forced laugh, rubbing her back with her free hand.

  “Are you very sore?”

  “A bit now the excitement has worn off. I’ll be all right.” She pushed open the door and flicked the light switch.

  “The power’s still out. Thank goodness we’ve got a gas stove.”

  “I’ll make your tea. You go and get out of those wet clothes and sit down. Do you want me to open the blinds and curtains or keep them closed?”

  “We can open them, but quite honestly I can’t worry about it for a moment. I’ll just change and rest for a minute or two, and then I’ll go outside and check there are no spot fires around the house.”

  Well, that Tom could do, and he could make tea. He wasn’t certain he was good for much else, but from the look of Georgie, she was about to collapse right in front of him. He led her down the passageway to her bedroom. “Get changed, and I’ll go and check around the house while the kettle boils.”

  “And the roof and under the deck, too, please, Tom.” He closed the bedroom door softly and made his way outside.

  The stench of smoke still hung in the air, but the wind had dropped. In the distance, Tom could see the line of the fire front but despite a few patches of scorched grass, the area between the shed and the house looked clear. He made a circuit, checking for any signs of smoldering embers, but Georgie’s preparation appeared to have prevented any outbreaks.

  After one last look around the shed and a quick phone call to the bush fire brigade for an update, he returned to the house to find Georgie tucked up on the sofa, apparently asleep, a cup of lukewarm tea clutched in her hand. He lifted it carefully from her fingers and put it on the table, then lowered himself onto the sofa beside her.

  She grunted softly, and Tom moved closer and tilted her chin up, surprised to find her awake and staring directly into his eyes. He traced the darkened track left by the sweat and tears on her dirty face. Her skin was so smooth, and the color was beginning to return to her cheeks.

  “You are a remarkable woman, Georgie. And don’t let anyone ever tell you anything different. You are brave and strong and...just a little bit too independent.” His quick laugh s
ounded shaky and phony, but he couldn’t do anything about it. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for some help, you know.”

  A soft sigh leaked out from between her lips, and she squirmed in his arms and made a move to pull the quilt from around her. “I’m hot, and I need to find out what is going on with the fire.” Georgie stood up and walked out onto the veranda, rubbing her back. He followed. The line of fire was clearly visible on the hills in the darkness.

  “I managed to get hold of the fire brigade while you were resting. The wind has changed direction, and it is blowing back on itself. They’ve got a long night, but it looks as though they should have it under control by morning.”

  “Well, there you go.” She let out a long, staggered sigh and dragged her hair back from her face. “Come and sit outside, and we can watch the show from there.”

  Tom moved the sofa back onto the veranda and replaced the cushions, plumping them up so Georgie could snuggle into the corner under the quilt. It wasn’t cold, but keeping warm and strong, sweet tea seemed all he could remember about shock and first aid. Amazingly she didn’t seem to have more than a few bruises and scratches and a slight graze on her cheek.

  Patting the cushion next to him, he invited her back, and she sat down, leaning into the crook of his arm. As she settled, he tightened his grip on her, wanting to stay in this cocoon of peace they’d created. She pulled an arm free and to his immense pleasure wrapped it around his neck and pulled his face toward her. Her lips met his in the most gentle of kisses, and he reveled in the soft touch. She sighed deeply. His beautiful, brave, and independent protea farmer had fallen asleep again in his arms. Perfect. But he didn’t deserve it.

  Such trust, such misplaced trust. Once again his failure had caused someone to have an accident. Luckily, she’d escaped the full horror of his incapacity, unlike his sister. But for him, Jane would still be alive. And to add insult to injury, he had become a feeble, quivering excuse for a man while Georgie had kept her head and saved them both from the fire by her level-headed actions. His eyes drifted shut, and the last thing he remembered was the pressure of her head on his heart and the warmth radiating from it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The darkness had deepened, and the line of flames was barely visible when Tom woke. Georgie was still tucked against his chest with one arm looped loosely around his neck. He carefully unwrapped himself and eased up off the sofa. She needed to be in bed, not squashed up like this; she’d be stiff and sore enough in the morning as it was. He teased the quilt away and tucked one arm under her legs, the other behind her back, and lifted her into his arms. There hardly seemed to be anything of her.

  The residue of smoke and dry, dry grass in her hair made his stomach cramp. The thought of her caught halfway down the rocks, unable to move in the path of the fire, was more than he could bear. A copy of his sister’s burned body flashed in front of his eyes. He nestled her closer into the security of his chest and carried her down the hallway to her bedroom. She stirred in his arms and murmured his name.

  “I’m going to put you to bed so you can sleep properly.”

  “Mmm.”

  Tom rolled back the duvet and gently lay Georgie down on the bed, crouching beside her. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her face; her lashes rested like fans on her pale cheeks, and he ran a gentle finger over the graze on her cheek. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and her eyes flashed open, dark and inviting.

  “You’ll have to stay too.” She patted the side of the bed. “You can’t drive home now; it’s too late, and the road might be closed.”

  “I’ll stay, don’t worry. I’m not leaving you here on your own. Not until the fire threat is over. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Georgie reached up, slipped her arms around his neck, and drew his face down until it was so close to hers the chips of amethyst glittered in her eyes.

  ***

  In Tom’s intense stare, the conflicting emotions flickered and travelled across his eyes. She waited and said nothing. She had had enough issuing instructions to last her a lifetime. Finally he took control. Kissing her, holding her tight, cradling her face in his hands. When his tongue explored her mouth, she could do no more than groan in pleasure. He slid his hands down her neck, across her shoulders, her taut nipples rising toward him when he grazed her T-shirt. Then he paused to stroke in circular movements with the pads of his thumbs. Coils of anticipation whirled through the empty spaces of her mind, and she gave herself up to him.

  “Are you going to take these clothes off, or am I going to do it for you?” Tom’s question hung in the air while she ran her shaking palms down his back, his muscles flexing and bunching under his T-shirt. Craving the touch of his skin, she slid her hands beneath his shirt and snaked her palms back up along the smooth skin to his shoulders. His groan filled her ears, and he bent his head and kissed her again, his tongue darting around her mouth, wooing her and coaxing her. Coaxing her body into a molten mass of trembling desire.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” His murmured words vibrated against her lips. “You need to sleep.”

  “It’s what I want.” Her words played against his lips.

  “Absolutely positive?”

  “Absolutely positive.” Didn’t he know it was all she had fantasized about since the first moment she had seen him? It was as though the crash and firestorm had purged her of her inhibitions. All she wanted was here with him. She trailed kisses along the length of his neck.

  He lifted himself on one arm, the intensity of his leopard gaze almost burning her before he pushed up and sat astride her. His muscled legs cradled her thighs, and he lifted her T-shirt and pulled it slowly over her head. Then he dropped it to the floor.

  A low noise erupted from the depths of his throat, and he paused and cupped both her lace-covered breasts in his hands with a look of stunned awe.

  “Now if I had known what was hiding under your disgusting T-shirts, I would have taken them off weeks ago.” He teased her taut nipples with his fingertips until they jutted against the pale pink lace. The provocative pleasure of his husky voice and his hooded gaze sent pulses of desires throbbing through her, making her pelvis tilt in anticipation. Tom slipped his hand beneath the lacy cup of her bra and molded her bare breast while he stroked down her ribs with his other hand until he reached the top of her cargos, and then he glided his fingers under her waistband.

  “And is there a matching piece here?”

  Georgie closed her eyes, nodding. The anticipation building within her spiraled and her body arched to him.

  “Slowly, slowly,” he murmured as he flicked the button and painstakingly ran the zip down, revealing the triangle of pink lace barely covering her. Then he sat back on his heels and stared at her. Her skin tingled, and a flush of heat swept up her body. He pulled her cargos down over her bare feet and tossed them onto the floor.

  Georgie’s heart pounded so quickly and so hard she was certain Tom could hear it, but he crossed his arms over his chest and drew his T-shirt over his head. Her mouth dried as she watched the play of his muscles, and unable to control herself, she ran her fingers down the ripples of his abdomen to the line of dark hair disappearing below his belt. Her fingers hovered near the buckle, and then she ran the tip of one finger along the line of his belt.

  “In a minute.” His voice dropped to a throaty whisper. “I want to look at you.”

  “Tom,” she gasped, impatient for his touch. And he slowly slid his fingers under the pink lace, teasing and tempting, before he drew her pants down her legs and tossed them away and knelt beside her. He leaned forward to run his tongue languorously down her belly. Farther and farther until she clamped her teeth together to stifle the scream of eagerness when he gently explored the damp curls between her thighs with his tongue.

  Georgie’s breath quickened, and in invitation to his licking tongue, she parted her legs, panting with desire as she circled her hips against him. Lifting his head, he smiled lazily up at her and reached
for her nipple, which peaked agonizingly toward his touch. With his other hand, he stroked her rhythmically, and then he eased his fingers slowly inside her, sending a tremor shooting through her body.

  She writhed against him, kicking with pleasure as he delved deeper and ran his tongue down her stomach, igniting uncontrollable tremors of lust. She fastened her fingers into his hair, pushing his head to her body until the tension coiling in the pit of her stomach and the pulsing sensations became more than she could endure.

  “Stop, Tom. Stop,” she mumbled, and he lifted his head, leaving only the cool air to fan her peaking desire.

  She looked up at him, her hands resting against his tight stomach, her heart thundering, and he gave an imperceptible nod of his head, and she pulled him closer to unfasten the buckle of his belt. The button popped, and she slid down his zipper, her gaze riveted on his face. His groan came from deep in his throat, and she thrilled at the sound. Tom pulled away and stood over her, then dropped his jeans on the floor.

  The hard, naked planes and angles of his sculpted body and the thick evidence of his arousal were silhouetted in the dim light. Everything she had imagined from the very first moment she had seen him.

  Tom swung over her back onto the bed, her pulse ricocheted, blood pounding in her ears, and she braced herself for his welcome weight, and he lowered his face to hers and kissed her long and deep and tender. The contradictory touch of his hard length and his gentle kiss sent her body once more into a rhythmic rise and fall, begging him to appease the heat scorching through her.

  “I want you. I want all of you.” Her demand filled the room, and he knelt back, running his tongue over his lips.

  “Still positive?” He bent to kiss her and slipped two fingers back into her, delving the searing moisture of her, and then withdrew, tantalizing her, sending her spiraling out of control.

  “Even more positive,” she gasped throatily, her frustration building to a crescendo.

  “One minute.”