Winds of Change
Susanne Bellamy
Hearts of the Outback
Book 4
Copyright © 2016 Susanne Bellamy
All rights reserved.
Dedication
To my husband.
You challenge, support and inspire me to be better than I am.
Love you.
Acknowledgments
With huge thanks to Annie Seaton for her wonderful support, and to Caitlin Rees for her superb assistance. You ladies rock!.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Author
More Books by Susanne Bellamy
Chapter One
Willa Raynolds dragged her suitcase from the taxi and dashed towards the Townsville airport terminal. Rain blew under the wide roof, peppering her with heavy drops that plastered her pink cotton shirt to her back. The automatic doors opened before she reached them and a flash of light blinded her. Had the paparazzi braved the imminent cyclone for a photo of Willa Down Under?
The weight of her thick, high braid pulled her scalp painfully tight and a headache lurked beneath her left temple but she prepared to smile at the camera as she scanned the area inside the entry. A little boy, five or six years old aimed an LED torch at Willa and blinded her a second time before his mother confiscated it and led him away.
Looking over her shoulder at the palms bending before the wind, a flurry of fat drops hit her face and body. She’d forgotten how quickly a tropical low heading for the Queensland coast could develop. The category three cyclone was moving more quickly than forecast and departure any time today would be a miracle. Not that her agent, Charlie Abernathy, would accept that excuse for missing the news conference in Mt. Isa.
A heavy gust almost took her feet out from under her. She turned and rushed through the automatic doors and slid on polished concrete into a khaki-covered chest. The young Aussie soldier grabbed her elbow and prevented her collapse into a sodden heap.
“I’m so sorry.” She pushed her currently-blonde hair out of her eyes and realised her other hand still rested on a solid chest. Snatching it back, she stepped away.
“No worries. Not every soldier can say he’s held Willa Raynolds in his arms. Reckon that makes it cool.”
Damn. So much for the change of hair colour and nondescript clothes to escape detection. “Please don’t breathe a word until I’m gone. What gave me away?”
He grinned and his electric-blue gaze bored into hers. “Your eyes. On screen, I thought you wore coloured lenses or something but they really are purple-blue. Unless—” He trailed off, his question hovering unspoken as good manners reasserted themselves.
She’d never disappoint a fan, especially not one in the services. The boys in khaki would always have her full support. She smiled and offered the truth. “The eyes are one hundred per cent me, but the hair? A mistake, obviously.”
“Dunno about that. Blondes are supposed to have more fun. Um, can I get a photo with you, Miss Raynolds? The guys won’t believe me unless I show them.”
Inwardly, Willa groaned. Not that she minded the notoriety that came with headlining an international crime hit series, but the trip home to visit her parents in Mt. Isa was meant to be low-key. Charlie would hit the roof if she were spotted before the news broke about her new outback miniseries.
Containment. That’s all I need. “Sure. How about we move away from the doors? What’s your name, soldier?”
“Corporal David Preston.” He took her suitcase handle and led her to a quiet spot beside a column. Phone in hand, he draped an arm over her shoulders. Many of her co-stars met her eye-to-eye; standing at five feet ten in bare feet, she expected that. But the freckle-faced redhead towered over her. It had been a long time since she’d stood beside a man as tall as soldier boy.
“Smile.” He extended his arm and pressed the button.
On impulse, she turned her head and kissed his cheek. A burst of soft clicks captured the moment and she hoped she’d made his day. As he released her, she noticed pink lipstick on his cheek. Reaching up, she said, “Let me wipe that off for you.”
“Not on your life. I’m keeping Willa’s lips on my cheek as long as I can.”
“Won’t you get in trouble? I thought—”
“Aw, heck, Miss Raynolds, it would be worth it. Say, can I shout you a coffee?”
“Thanks, Corporal David Preston, but I better check in or I’ll miss my flight to Mt. Isa. Great meeting you and thanks for the save.”
Leaving him with a big smile, she headed to check-in. Queues backed up from both counters. Tension thrummed in the slow kick and drag of suitcases along the floor. The clock above the counter ticked over to ten past nine.
Why had she agreed to fly today? Instinct had urged her to leave yesterday but Charlie wanted her arrival to coincide with the announcement of the television series and she’d agreed to his planning strategy. He doesn’t know how quickly our late summer cyclones can move.
Willa dragged her suitcase along the cattle run of the queue to the turnaround point—one more turn to go—and gazed through the wide windows.
Rain drove in horizontally blurring the panoramic view of palm trees whipping backwards and forwards. The weather had definitely worsened and she questioned her judgment in letting Charlie override her local knowledge. Ahead of her, harried counter staff checked off passenger names and allocated seating. Departure was going to be a close thing before the airport and city shut down to ride out the cyclone.
At last, Willa stood in front of a young attendant. He looked at her driver’s licence, and peered at her face and grinned. “Welcome, Miss Raynolds. Can I have your autograph please?”
“Sure, but please, I’m trying to stay incognito. Don’t let my secret out, will you?” She launched a Willa-special smile his way and scrawled, Love, Willa xx across the back of an airport postcard.
An ABC weather update appeared on the television next to the clock and her ears pricked up as the screen changed to show a map of the Queensland coast. The presenter stood to one side and indicated a whirl of white cloud approaching the Herbert and Lower Burdekin area.
. . . as Tropical Cyclone Sasha moves towards the Queensland coast. It is expected to make landfall around mid afternoon . . .
Three dings over the public announcement system were followed by a tinny announcement, most of which she couldn’t make out. The one thing that stood out loud and clear—“. . . all flights have been grounded . . .”—drew a collective groan from those nearest.
Half-expecting the cancellation, Willa shrugged and pulled out her phone. Charlie would be unhappy about her non-appearance in Mt. Isa. Her agent had worked hard to make the arrangements, but Mother Nature had other plans. And right now, a category three tropical cyclone was more of a worry than his wrath.
Breakfast was a distant memory as she towed her suitcase and headed to the airport café and joined another queue while she placated Charlie on the phone. “Yo
u’ll just have to tell them I’m blown away to be heading up the miniseries, pun intended, and I’ll get there for promo shots as soon as I can. It’s not like I can do anything about the weather. They’ll understand.”
“Is there a news crew at the airport? If you can grab even a few seconds of air time—” His Californian accent became more pronounced as he tried to cajole her into grabbing the spotlight.
Charlie always looked for the sound bite of opportunity. She hated that aspect of being famous.
“Forget it, Charlie. There’s more important stuff happening outside. I’m here for the duration. Besides, you’re the one who wanted me to arrive without any fanfare and I have. Look, I need to get off the phone now. Talk later.” She disconnected the call and shoved her phone into her pocket as she reached the counter and placed her order.
Juggling a packet of sandwiches and a cup of strong coffee with her suitcase, she looked around. All the tables were taken but there was a patch of carpet behind a column where she could lean against a wall and doze. Grateful for the chance of quiet time, she drew her suitcase in to form a small barricade and slid down the wall.
She slipped a pearl-pink manicured nail under the sticky tape on the plastic sandwich container and flicked it open. Fresh, hard-boiled egg and lettuce nestled between two slices of soft, white bread cut into triangles. She tucked the sprig of parsley into her sandwich, took a big bite and shut her eyes, groaning as the buttery mix hit her tongue.
“Still like the simple things in life then.”
That voice. Deep and smooth with an underlying bite like her favourite Bundy rum and dry. Tingles of awareness thrummed down her spine and her heart stuttered at the sound.
How long had it been since she’d last heard his voice?
Since he roared off into the sunrise without me. Damn the man. So many teenage memories lay between them but she would not let him know just the sound of his voice could still affect her. She would not allow it.
She reached deep for her snarky self. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and looked up.
Six feet four of straight-backed, broad-shouldered, buzz-cut, granite-jawed deliciousness met her gaze. “Jax. Returning like the proverbial bad penny, I see.”
Crinkles appeared at the edge of his moss-green eyes as their gazes connected. Ten years of army life had shaved his cheeks into angular planes and added an air of authority and control only hinted at before he’d chosen the army ahead of her. When he’d been the bad biker boy and she’d pushed parental boundaries.
“Heading home on leave. Are you travelling alone?” He looked around then dropped his khaki duffle bag against the wall and joined her. As he slid down the wall, he frowned and his mouth tightened.
“Don’t feel you have to join me.” Sarcasm dripped from her lips. If he was so reluctant to pass the time with her, why had he sought out her company?
She dabbed the paper serviette over her mouth and surreptitiously ran her tongue across her teeth, hoping she’d got rid of any parsley. Not that Jax meant anything to her now, but a woman had her pride. “So, a flying visit?”
“Home from deployment. I plan to visit Mum.”
Mum. Not Mum and Dad. She’d heard his parents had divorced, and not amicably, soon after she and Jax broke up. “How is she?”
“Loving life. She’s planning an exhibition of her new series of paintings.”
“How wonderful. Your mum is such a gifted artist. I’m glad she’s doing so well. And—your dad? Is he—?”
“He was posted to Canberra and then had a couple of stints overseas. I heard he’s in Germany now.” Jax’s tone dismissed further questions. She took the hint. His father had never been an easy topic of conversation. But then, back in their teens they’d been more interested in making out than talking. Perhaps that had been one of their failings as a couple. That, and we were too young to settle down.
“There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since those days. So, where have you been?”
“Here and there. You?”
“Mostly LA.” Time at her parents’ home was a rare treat and perhaps the reason she’d let Charlie convince her to fly in today. Combined with bone-deep fatigue she hadn’t realised existed after two full-on seasons of the top-rating crime show.
“Ah, yes, LA Lawless. Did you get time off for good behaviour?”
“Funny guy. I have family living here too. And an event in Mt. Isa Sasha is making me miss.”
“Dust and desert will make a change from your usual glitterati affairs.” There was a rough edge in the way he drew out the words, as though he still hadn’t overcome his dislike of the fakery of her chosen profession.
Stupid as it was, a slight ache in her chest suggested his opinion still mattered. But it didn’t. How could it when he’d been the one to walk away? “You think that’s all I do? That my work is unimportant?”
“It’s entertainment, not necessity.”
“Unlike your defender of the country. Yet you support your mum’s art, don’t you?”
“I cheer her on in her artistic endeavours.”
“But not mine? Forget it. There’s no point rehashing old arguments.”
He slugged back half his coffee and sat staring into the cardboard cup. “I didn’t say what you do isn’t important, Willa.”
“Let’s leave it, shall we?” Reopening old wounds was counterproductive, especially if they had to pass hours waiting out the storm. Better to behave as old friends than ex-lovers.
“Like we always did. We never really talked about it.” His green-eyed gaze narrowed and he let the statement hang like an enticement.
But Willa knew there was no going back. Clamping a lid on the past, she assumed her casual, chatty interview persona.
“It’s not like we’ll see one another after the cyclone has blown itself out. Why not just remember the good times? We had plenty of them.”
He shrugged. A muscle worked in his jaw and he stared out the window.
Willa looked past his stern profile. The sky had grown darker as they sat in their corner and wind lashed the trees until she thought they would be uprooted before the full force of the storm hit.
“What’s wrong, Jax?”
A shadow fell across her legs and she looked up, annoyed at the interruption.
“Miss Raynolds? Would you like a ride out to Mt. Isa? I’ve got a—” Corporal David Preston loomed in front of them, his soft cap crumpled in his hands.
Jax fixed the soldier with a deceptively lazy gaze and a tone of voice that would cut steel. “Corporal. Do you make a habit of interrupting conversations?”
As the young soldier blushed redder than his hair, his gaze flicked to Jax’s top pocket and he jumped to attention, his focus on the wall above their heads. “Sorry, Major Heathwood, Sir.”
Feeling sorry for the young man, Willa wondered about Jax’s abrupt change of manner. “What were you saying, Corporal Preston? About a ride?”
When he didn’t answer, she nudged Jax. “What have you done to him?”
“Me? It’s your fault, Willa. He was so fixated on you he didn’t notice a superior officer.”
Her fault? Anger simmered as the tips of Corporal Preston’s ears turned as red as his cheeks. When had Jax become such a pain in the proverbial? Once upon a time he’d have been more likely to throw a punch. Jax had learned more than anger management in the army.
“And you’re taking it out on him. At least let him talk to me.”
“At ease, Corporal. Tell Miss Raynolds what you wanted to say.”
Corporal Preston visibly swallowed and stood at ease. “Sorry I intruded, Miss Raynolds. It’s just that—I’ve hired a car and wondered if you’d like a lift? You seemed in a hurry to get to Mt. Isa and I’ve only got a couple of weeks of leave to visit my family and—well, we can still make it out of town. I checked the road conditions first.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Corporal. Where’s home?” Willa was touched by his thoughtfulness and just maybe, his i
ngenuity might get her to Mt. Isa in time for the launch announcement.
“Cloncurry, Miss. My parents own a pub there.”
If she joined him, perhaps she could convince him to let her pay for the vehicle, especially since she would have to complete the last ninety minutes of the drive without him. “That could solve my problem.”
Jax leaned forward. “What sort of vehicle have you rented, Preston? Is there room for another passenger?”
Jax was proposing to join them?
Of course he is. He’s probably only got a few days of leave too.
“A Subaru, sir. It was the last car available. Would the Major like to join us?”
“Willa? Shall we join Corporal Preston and head west?”
Eight hours alone in Jax’s company would be difficult. There was too much hurt between them. Too much past that she preferred not to dwell on. But David Preston’s company would offset Jax’s strange mood.
Two pairs of male eyes watched and waited for her answer.
“Let’s head west.”
Chapter Two
“Fu—u—”
A soft hiss of indrawn breath followed and Jax brought the sedan to a slithering, bone-jerking stop on the gravel edge of the Barkly Highway.
Willa’s eyes flew open and her seatbelt locked as she lurched forward. “Urgh. What?”
Jax had taken the wheel in Cloncurry when they dropped Corporal Preston at his home. Now, his hand gripped her shoulder and held her as she thumped back against the seat. “Sorry.”
“Are we there already? Sorry, I must have drifted off.” She rubbed her eyes and blinked to clear her vision. Night pressed in on all sides except where the headlights picked out a clump of long grass almost covering a reflector post in front of the car.
“No.” Jax grunted as he swung open his door and lurched out of the car before disappearing around the back.
Unsure of the reason for the stop in the middle of nowhere, Willa clambered out, slipping on stones as she edged along the side of the car to join him. A reddish glow from the taillights revealed Jax leaning against the back of the Subaru.
Winds of Change (Hearts of the Outback Book 4) Page 1