Princes of the Outback Bundle (5 page)

Nic flew her back to Sydney the next morning in the Carlisles’ custom-fitted private plane. The luxury appointments and the smooth flying were wasted in her current mood, which had shifted from simmering disbelief after his backhander about moving on to Grant, to boiling anger when she discovered his deception over their night at the Boolah camp.

He’d radioed from the crash site. He’d asked the Kameruka staff not to come until the next day. This she learned from the muster-pilot who’d arrived to collect them midmorning.

“You orchestrated last night.” Eyes narrow with accusation, she’d turned on Nic. “We could have been picked up yesterday afternoon but you made sure we weren’t. You are unbelievable!”

“What’s the problem, Liv? You didn’t want to get back in a plane. You got to enjoy a genuine outback camping experience…with side benefits. I didn’t hear you complaining about those at the time.”

One side of her fumed for days over that casually delivered swipe. But as she threw herself into packing up her apartment, another side acknowledged his point and censured herself for sleeping with him. And for attempting to justify her weakness, her selfishness—for giving him one last chance to say those magical I-love-you, I’m-ready-to-settle-down words.

She’d made her decision months ago and she should have told him why that first night.

Looking around her empty rooms she felt a matching hollowness inside, not only for the end of a love affair but because of its acrimonious conclusion. She hated that they’d parted on such ugly terms. She hadn’t even said goodbye.

It hurt like the devil, too, knowing she’d poured out her heart and soul with so little received in return. He’d offered to give up flying, if
she
wanted it. He’d made that half-baked what-do-you-want-from-me? proposal, too, which she couldn’t take seriously when he sounded so angry and bewildered.

What do you want from me, Liv? Commitment? A ring? Marriage?
Like he was throwing a handful of darts and hoping one struck the target. She didn’t torture herself by wondering what he might have done if she’d answered,
yes, Nic. All of the above.

And, yeah, to top it all off, the
pièce de résistance
: she didn’t even know if his final frustrated burst of anger was the lashing-out of a wounded soul or of a wounded male ego. He’d never liked Grant. He would hate—truly loathe—the thought of her working for his company.

With a resigned sigh, she finished taping up a box of books and dragged it over to the Goodwill pile. When she stood and stretched her aching back—a legacy of that genuine outback camping experience, with side benefits—she caught a familiar face on the television news.

She’d muted the volume and now, heart pounding, she scrambled to find the remote. When it took three attempts to turn the audio on, she realized how badly her hands were shaking.

The camera angle switched to the second anchor, and she growled with frustration when she was told to “stay tuned for sports news after the break.”

“I don’t want sports news.” She sank to the floor in front of the set and started flipping through the channels. “I want that last piece.”

Finally, on her second run through the cable channels, she found the story she wanted.

The same headshot filled the screen for several seconds, as a perky brunette newsreader picked up the story.

“After a brief battle with cancer, one of Australia’s wealthiest businessmen passed away today. Charles “King” Carlisle earned his regal nickname as lord and ruler of extensive cattle holdings in Northern Australia, but he also headed a large and diverse group of family-owned companies, including Carlisle Hotels and Resorts, and numerous property and investment holdings.

“In recent years, the Carlisle family has hit the news largely through speculation about the health of his wife—now widow—Maura Keane Carlisle, a former model and actress in her native Britain, and also via his newsworthy sons.

“The private lives of Alex, Rafe and Tomas Carlisle—or as they’ve been famously and collectively dubbed, ‘The Princes of the Outback’—will be under even closer scrutiny as they stand to inherit a significant fortune.

“Funeral details have not been released although sources close to the family say it will be a private burial at the Carlisle’s famous cattle station, Kameruka Downs.”

Olivia had never met Nic’s sister, but she was one hundred percent certain that’s who answered when she knocked on his door. Her trademark Mori eyes—dark, slightly slanted, thickly lashed—regarded Livvy with considerable coolness. Perhaps, she’d been mistaken for a door-to-door salesperson.

“I’m Olivia Shay.” She smiled warmly. “A friend of Nic’s. I wondered…is he home?”

Angie Mori didn’t return her smile or introduction. If possible, her expression became even less welcoming. And she didn’t open the door any farther than the initial wedge.

“No, I’m sorry. He’s not.”

Except she didn’t sound sorry at all. Or helpful. No mention of when he might be back. No offer to take a message. Livvy drew a long breath. “Would you please tell him I called to offer my condolences? To you, too. I know you were all close to Mr. Carlisle.”

For a brief second she detected a softening in the other woman’s expression. A deep sorrow in her eyes. “Thank you. We will all miss him.”

Angie still held on tight to the door, and Olivia wondered if it was more of a prop—something to hold on to or to hold herself together—rather than a deliberate attempt to block access. Nic had told her how close the Moris were to the Carlisles. Angie Mori was upset and so Livvy cut her some slack.

“Nice to meet you, Angie, despite the circumstances. I’m on my way to the airport, so I’d best keep going.”

Angie nodded. Then, after Livvy had turned to go, she offered something more. “I don’t know if you know this, but I was a friend of Brooke’s. At school,” she called after her.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

For the first time, she actually sounded genuine. Livvy turned back. “Thank you. I’m a little raw at the moment. I’ve just returned from Kameruka Downs.”

Angie’s dark gaze turned frosty. Finally, she let go of the door, but only to fold her arms across her chest. “I gather you ran into Dominic out there.”

“He flew me back to Sydney. Yes.” And, dammit, she was tired of all the negative vibes.

“You will tell Nic I called? You will pass on my condolences?”

The other woman looked away momentarily, then back. Her eyes definitely were not cool now. They sparked with animosity. “Look, I’m going to be straight with you, Olivia. I’m pretty sure I won’t pass on your message to my brother.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not in a good place right now. He’s chafed. He’s hurting.”

“I realize that. It’s why I called and why I’d like my message delivered. I know how much he thought of Mr. Carlisle.”

Angie turned her eyes skyward a moment. Then she sighed. “That’s one thing. But I was referring—obviously too obliquely—to the fact that you dumped him cold.”

What could she say to that? Guilty as charged? Still, Olivia lifted her chin and looked her accuser in the eye. “I guess that explains your warm welcome.”

Angie eyed her back for a long assessing moment. “It might not be my place to ask this, but that’s never stopped me before. Do you love my brother?”

“You’re right,” Livvy said stiffly. “It’s not your place.”

One thick dark brow arched impressively, as if conceding that point. “Well, I’ve never been one to hold back saying what I think and I think you treated Nic pretty shabbily. These last few years, all the crappy places he’s worked, all the time he’s spent away, just working hand over fist to save enough money to set himself up in business. Then he’s almost there, so close he can smell it, and you ditch him.”

Her heart started thumping, hard. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about his dopey idea that he needs—I don’t know—” Angie shrugged and threw her hands wide “—to establish himself or have money or assets or whatever to be worthy of you.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Livvy’s voice was barely audible, a gruff whisper beneath the loud thud of her pulse. “Why would he think that?”

“Beats me…although my guess is that it’s because he loves you. I hope you know that.”

Nic noticed her the instant she arrived for the graveside service. Amid the funereal black, her hair shone like a red-gold beacon, her skin an ethereal pale contrast.

She was supposed to have left for America. For her new job, her new life, her new man. What the hell was she doing here?

All through the short service, even when his eyes closed in prayer or reflection, he couldn’t rid the image of her delicate beauty from his mind. Couldn’t stop churning over her presence, back here at Kameruka Downs. He’d been on the plane the Carlisles had chartered to bring only the closest family and friends out from Sydney for this private burial.

She had not been on that plane. No way would he have missed her in that small and select group. He would have known.

Bowing his head, he closed his eyes again. With the utmost willpower he shut out her image and tuned in to the solemn voice of the minister. He couldn’t do a thing to shut out the acute ache of loss.

Back at the homestead she sought him out, offering her short message of sympathy with tears sheening in her eyes. The touch of her hand on his arm seared right through his suit jacket, his shirt, his skin. All the way to the raw wound inside.

“How did you get here?” he asked. “I hope to hell you didn’t drive all the way from Darwin again.”

“You told me that was a senseless thing to do, so no.” Memories of that day, how it started, how it ended, arced between them a moment before she continued. “I flew out with Alex and Rafe, actually. There was a spare seat on the jet.”

Alex’s Citation—which couldn’t land on the Kameruka airstrip—meaning she’d made the last hop on a small plane. “Didn’t they warn you about the final leg?”

“They did.”

She looked calm, sounded unperturbed. Nic frowned. “You seem remarkably relaxed about that. Are you tranquilized?”

A smile ghosted over her lips. “No, and I was remarkably
un
relaxed at the time. But some things you have to do.”

Nic glanced around him, at the mourners assembled in the homestead’s central courtyard. “I’m sure the Carlisles appreciate it.”

“Yes. They’ve been wonderful to me. Always. I wanted to be here for them, yes, but mostly for you.”

Their eyes met with a jolt of impact. “Weren’t you supposed to leave for L.A. yesterday?”

“I got as far as the airport, but I couldn’t get on the plane.”

“You cancelled?”

“Postponed.” She moistened her lips. “I couldn’t get on the plane because of something your sister said.”

“When the hell did you speak to Angie?”

“Yesterday. I called to see you, on my way to the airport.”

She’d called to see him. To what? Rub in the fact she was leaving? Nic huffed out a harsh breath. “You have a strange way of moving on, Olivia.”

“I heard about Mr. Carlisle. I knew you’d be hurting.”

Nic didn’t bother pointing out he’d been bleeding before that news came through. “So. You visited with Angie.”

“It was…interesting.”

“Yeah, well, Angie’s never been accused of dull.”

“She is your sister.”

Looking into her eyes, seeing the flicker of humor and beneath it the thick churn of deeper emotion, he could have sworn time stopped. Everything stilled. His senses zeroed in on her and whatever had brought her back.

“Angie accused me of breaking your heart and I need to know if that’s true. Do you love me, Nic? Or do you only hate that I’m leaving you; that you think I’m going back to Grant? Talk to me, Nic, please. I need to know.”

“What difference does it make? That morning out at Boolah, I asked you to marry me—”

“No, Nic.” Olivia interrupted him, her hand on his arm again. “You asked if I wanted a proposal.”

“Same thing.”

No, not the same thing at all. She needed to get that message across somehow, but beneath her hand she could feel the hard ropes of his tension. “Can we take a walk? This—” she tilted her head to indicate the other mourners “—isn’t the place.”

They walked in silence, beyond the homestead and down a steep path to the waterhole. It was a peaceful place, a tiny pocket of warmth on a cold, bleak day. But then Nic turned to face her and his expression chased away all the warmth and serenity.

“What are you doing here, Olivia? You said you won’t marry me. You said you can’t handle my job and that’s what I have to go back to next week.”

“Why, Nic? Why do you
have to
?”

“To get paid. Why the hell else?”

“For the money, yes,” she said calmly while her heart raced with nervous anxiety. What if Angie had it all wrong? What if this wasn’t about her, about their future? “Why is the money so important? You don’t care about having things.”

“I need it, okay? To repay a debt. To the Carlisles.”

The words were wrung from him, tight and fierce. Then he swung away, and for a long moment he stared into the water. Olivia barely breathed, waiting, willing him to share more while her mind whirled with the knowledge that Angie
had
been wrong.

“I don’t understand,” she said eventually. Her heart pounded. “You borrowed from them?”

“When Dad got sick, when he couldn’t work, Charles kept him on. Kept paying him.”

“That’s understandable. No doubt he was entitled to sick leave.”

“It wasn’t only wages. He paid our school fees—me, Carlo, Angie—to the best schools, same as his sons. He said we should have the same opportunities. He paid my flying lessons, Carlo’s academy fees. He paid for everything.”

“Because he wanted to.”

He made a short, harsh sound and turned back. “And I want to pay him back. Same deal.”

Livvy could see it now. As the eldest, he’d accepted the rich man’s help, for himself and for his siblings, but not as a handout. His pride wouldn’t allow that, same as it wouldn’t have allowed him to talk about it. To her, to anyone.

Oh, Nic, you are such a big lunk of a fool!

“Angie doesn’t know this, does she?”

“No one knows. Except Charles.” He shrugged, a tight gesture. A perfect reflection of the dark tension in his eyes, his expression, his body language. “I’ve been making payments.”

“He accepted your money?”

“He knew it mattered, to me. Yes.”

“I see.”

And she did. She saw and felt a surge of emotion, big and fierce and consuming. One element was love, another dismay, because she’d come so close to walking away, another relief that she’d been wrong. There was a solution. Love could be enough.

“Dammitalltoblazes, Dominic Mori, why didn’t you tell me this? That day at Boolah?”

“What difference does—”

“All the difference! Knowing your reason for doing what you do. That it had an end date.” Her eyes narrowed. “These big-money jobs, these repayments, do have an end date?”

“This is my last job.”

“Angie told me you were almost done.” Slowly she closed the space between them. Loving him for doing this, hating that he couldn’t share it with her. “Why didn’t you tell me, Nic?”

“I still have to go back to Malaysia, to finish the contract. Until then I don’t have anything to offer.”

“How about love?” Her hand trembled slightly as she reached up and touched his face. “Do you love me, Nic?”

“With everything I am.”

Happy tears clogged her throat as she traced his lips with her thumb. “Will you ask me again?”

“The question you so adamantly answered
no
to?”

“Yes.”

“Will that be your new answer?”

“After this job is over, when you come back home to stay. Yes. I will marry you.”

This time he didn’t give her any chance to escape his kiss. His big hands cradled her face and drew her close, and he kissed that answer from her lips, from her mouth, and he didn’t break until the sound of fast-moving footsteps interrupted.

But he didn’t let her go. He held her tight in his arms, against his heart where she belonged, as he sighed heavily when he saw who it was who had approached.

“This had better be good, Angie.”

“Could be. The lawyer’s looking for you. Something about a bequest in the will.”