Chapter Five

Jarrah forced himself to focus on the road stretching in front of the Camaro’s bulging bonnet and not the woman curled up in the passenger seat beside him. He needed another ice-cold shower, and it had nothing to do with the scorching afternoon wind buffeting his arm and face.

Christ, the longer he spent with Dr. Olivia Williams, the further he drifted from dry land and everything he knew. He wanted to do all sorts of nasty things to her. Who the hell wouldn’t? The woman did magical things to a T-shirt and faded jeans. Yet it was more than just her effortless sexuality. He’d admired intelligent women, surrendered to powerful women, spoiled compassionate women, laughed with funny women, sparred with tough women, and enjoyed beautiful women. He’d never confronted a creature who combined all his weaknesses into one Kryptonite-laden package. And just when he’d thought he’d unearthed all there was, she’d go and pull something out of her bag of spells that’d have him struggling to mumble anything coherent.

He found his eyes drifting back to her before cursing and tightening his death grip on the steering wheel. The siren had even turned a quiet breakfast pit stop at a roadhouse service station into an insane blend of laughter and torture. He’d never have believed watching a woman drink coffee and eat a couple of muffins could be so sexy. She enjoyed her food with the same unabashed joy she did everything else. And why the hell not? She was completely at ease with the person hiding beneath the flawless skin…he was once again freaking staring at.

He cursed—yet again—and tried not to think about how she’d casually wrestled him out of the way before paying for the fuel the Camaro had guzzled in the two and bit hours they’d driven. He’d been distracted at the time, trying not to stare at her butt, and dismissed it as a lucky move. Until she’d done the same thing after they’d inhaled some burgers, fries, and milkshakes for lunch. True enough, he’d been trying not to stare at her boobs that time, but he’d also been prepared for her tricks. Yet he’d somehow found himself staring timidly at the old dear grinning back from behind the counter while Olivia paid for their snacks and another tank of fuel. The woman had skills, dangerous skills.

She must have sensed his turmoil because a contented yawn drifted through the cabin, followed closely by a sensual groan as she stretched that feline body just inches away from him.

“Are we there yet?”

Even her fake high-pitched whine couldn’t diminish the impact of her groan. He fought off the need to look at her and fixed his gaze on the dead-straight line of bitumen disappearing into the heat haze swallowing the horizon. “One more pit stop before the home stretch.”

She scrubbed her face before straightening. “You want to swap at the next—”

A choked croak somewhere between a gasp and a curse cut off her question. He turned to find her mouth gaping and her eyes wide as she scanned the crimson desolation that had consumed the landscape about an hour ago.

“Is that”—she swallowed and pointed out the windscreen—“is that it?”

The grin that had been slowly spreading across his face with every kilometer they drew closer to home exploded across his face. “Not quite. Baroona marks the official start of the Outback. This is just the preview.”

“It’s…it’s…”

Her words trailed off as she leaned forward and peered out at the endless nothingness. Hell, he’d lived out here most of his life and still struggled to find the words to describe the Outback without sounding like a damned commercial. The look on her face pretty much covered everything there was to say.

Almost ten miles clicked over on the Camaro’s odometer before she finally broke her silence. “How long to Baroona?”

He shifted his hand on the wheel and glanced at the fuel gauge that dropped even quicker than the gauge in his Aston. “I’m hoping it’s less than a quarter of a tank.”

She leaned over and double-checked the gauge before shaking her head. “Christ, I’d hate to think of how many polar bears we’ve killed on this trip.”

The 427-cubic-inch big block V8 he’d spent the better part of an hour drooling over the day he’d snuck it out of the transport company’s lot was about as far away from environmentally friendly as you could get, yet he couldn’t summon the same amount of genuine regret tainting her voice. And that was just one of the many reasons she was too damned good for him.