The Australian Read Online Free PDF Page A

around her shoulders, in her pretty blue shirtwaist dress and white pumps, felt suddenly vulnerable.
    He looked up as he reached the steps and stopped there, just gazing at her.
    “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said without preamble.
    She twisted the slip absently in her fingers and studied the soft pattern in the lace. “Yes.” She glanced up with a forced grin. “Aren’t you relieved? I’ll be gone by afternoon.”
    He hesitated for an instant before he came up the steps. “Got something cool to drink?” he asked, sweeping off his hat. “It’s damned hot.”
    “I think there’s some iced tea in the fridge,” she said. She tossed the slip onto the dryer and filled a glass for him.
    He took it from her, standing much too close. He was scowling, as if his mind was working on some problem. He took a sip of the tea, and her eyes were drawn to his brawny hair-roughened forearms. He was so sexy, and some lucky woman was going to grab him up before she was old enough to.
    She felt more miserable than ever. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry, even if he did manage to get over to say good-bye. But now it was the eleventh hour, and he’d be rushing off any minute. He was probably here to see her father, anyway.
    “Did you want to see Dad?” she asked, turning the knife in her own heart.
    “I wanted to see you,” he corrected curtly. “To say good-bye. Weren’t you even going to bother?”
    She shrugged, staring down at his dusty boots. “I...I don’t like good-byes,” she managed in a voice that was already starting to break. The thought of not seeing him for months was killing her, and this was making it worse. She didn’t know how she was going to live in a world without him.
    “What’s this?” he asked softly. His big hands, cool from holding the tea glass, caught her arms and turned her, forcing her to look at him.
    Her full lips wobbled no matter how she tried to control their trembling, and her big emerald eyes were misty with tears. Silvery blonde hair curled around her oval face, and her cheeks were flushed with emotion. The picture she made held his attention for a long minute. His eyes wandered down to the top buttons of the blue shirtwaist dress, and he studied her body as if he’d only just realized she had one.
    His hands smoothed up and down her arms, slowly, making wild tremors of pleasure shoot through her.
    “Homesick already?” he asked quietly.
    She drew in a sharp breath and tried to smile at him, but he blurred in her vision.
    He was a blur of brown hair with blond streaks through it, sky blue eyes staring curiously at her from that weathered face that she loved so dearly. It was a long way to look up, even though she was wearing high heels. He towered over her like a sunburned giant.
    “You’re so big,” she whispered.
    “To a runt like you, I probably seem that way,” he agreed pleasantly, but his eyes weren’t laughing. They were dark and quiet and oddly watchful.
    She fidgeted under the arousing touch of his hands. “I should finish packing,” she mumbled.
    His thumbs pressed hard into her arms. He moved his callused hands up to enclose her face, and the look in his eyes made her knees weak.
    “Don’t look so tragic, darling,” he murmured, bending his head. “I’ll wait for you.”
    That hurt most of all. He was teasing her, playing with her, because he knew how she felt and was indulging her. Her eyes closed. “John...” she tried to protest.
    He brushed his lips across her forehead, and she wanted to wail. He was trying not to hurt her....
    “Do you want my mouth, little sheila?” he whispered suddenly, unexpectedly, and her heart shot up like a balloon.
    Her eyes opened, full of dreams and hurt pride and aching hunger, and his nostrils flared.
    “Yes, you do, don’t you?” he asked under his breath, and his face was solemn, intent, making her feel years older. He bent his head, letting her feel his warm breath on her parted lips.
    Her body