yond any hope of use. She closed her eyes and prayed that Bundaberg was somewhere in the center of the outback, where water came no deeper than occasional puddles left by even more occasional rains.
The plane landed with no fuss and only a slight barking of the tires. While everyone else milled and descended the staircase that had been wheeled into place, Mandy breathed shakily and sat in her seat, telling herself that her ordeal was finally over. This was it. It was all done, finished, and she hadn’t disgraced herself. Tomorrow – whichever day that might be, for she had lost track of time somewhere in the endless midnight over the ocean – tomorrow she would feel proud of her accomplishment. Right now all she wanted to do was to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.
“Miss Blythe, are you well?“
Mandy lifted her head and smiled wearily at the anxious attendant. “Jet lag,“ she said. “My stomach is somewhere over Hawaii and my brain is still in California. The rest of me isn’t worth a bent penny.“
The woman smiled. “Let me get your rucksack. The pink striped one, right?“
“Yes. Thank you.“
Slowly Mandy stood up, feeling as though she were using a body that was on temporary loan rather than the one she had lived in for nearly twenty-eight years. The sunlight pouring in the airplane’s open door was so bright that she pulled sunglasses from her purse. The lenses were utterly black, contrasting starkly with the pallor of her skin, but the glasses reduced the sun’s tropic glare to a bearable level.
Mandy closed her hand over the rail of the rolling metal staircase, only to yank her fingers back. The rail was uncomfortably hot, and the air was so steamy that it was an effort to breathe. Very slowly she went down the stairs, sensing the attendant hovering helpfully behind. Finally her feet touched the apron. The solid feel of the earth was like a benediction to Mandy. She had never liked flying even before the accident; afterward, airplanes had become something she endured only because she wanted to be able to look herself in the mirror and not see a complete coward staring back out – just a partial coward.
With a sigh Mandy started toward the terminal, not even seeing the man who stood impatiently to one side, watching her. Sutter’s eyes had narrowed into unwelcoming slits of green when he recognized Mandy slowly descending from the airplane. The rum he had drank had loosened the muscles in his neck but hadn’t otherwise improved his disposition. The last thing he needed right now was three weeks of one-liners from Anthea’s smart-mouthed assistant – even if she did have the most elegant, sexy back he had ever seen or touched.
Sutter didn’t need Mandy, but he was stuck with her. There was no help for it. She was there and he was there and Anthea was wisely beyond reach. Swearing beneath his breath, Sutter covered the few yards separating him from Mandy.
“Get your tail in gear,“ Sutter said in a clipped voice, grabbing her arm just above the elbow. “We’ve got to weigh you in. Where’s your luggage?“
Mandy stared at Sutter, too thick-witted to do more than hear his words. Barely. Understanding or answering him was beyond her.
“Here you go, mate,“ the stewardess said, handing over Mandy’s backpack. “She must be an experienced flier. She didn’t bring anything more than this.“
Sutter took the backpack, grimaced at the color, grunted his thanks to the stewardess and resumed hustling Mandy toward the small terminal. Before her body could adjust to the cool impact of the air conditioning, Sutter had lifted her onto the scale’s low platform, shoved her purse and backpack into her arms and let go of her.
“Sutter?“
He ignored Mandy, looking only at Ray.
“No worries, mate. I’ve got diving gear that weighs more than your Sheila.“
“She’s not mine,“ Sutter snarled.
Mandy flinched.
Ray looked over Mandy’s trim, womanly length. Even Mandy’s dense
The plane landed with no fuss and only a slight barking of the tires. While everyone else milled and descended the staircase that had been wheeled into place, Mandy breathed shakily and sat in her seat, telling herself that her ordeal was finally over. This was it. It was all done, finished, and she hadn’t disgraced herself. Tomorrow – whichever day that might be, for she had lost track of time somewhere in the endless midnight over the ocean – tomorrow she would feel proud of her accomplishment. Right now all she wanted to do was to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.
“Miss Blythe, are you well?“
Mandy lifted her head and smiled wearily at the anxious attendant. “Jet lag,“ she said. “My stomach is somewhere over Hawaii and my brain is still in California. The rest of me isn’t worth a bent penny.“
The woman smiled. “Let me get your rucksack. The pink striped one, right?“
“Yes. Thank you.“
Slowly Mandy stood up, feeling as though she were using a body that was on temporary loan rather than the one she had lived in for nearly twenty-eight years. The sunlight pouring in the airplane’s open door was so bright that she pulled sunglasses from her purse. The lenses were utterly black, contrasting starkly with the pallor of her skin, but the glasses reduced the sun’s tropic glare to a bearable level.
Mandy closed her hand over the rail of the rolling metal staircase, only to yank her fingers back. The rail was uncomfortably hot, and the air was so steamy that it was an effort to breathe. Very slowly she went down the stairs, sensing the attendant hovering helpfully behind. Finally her feet touched the apron. The solid feel of the earth was like a benediction to Mandy. She had never liked flying even before the accident; afterward, airplanes had become something she endured only because she wanted to be able to look herself in the mirror and not see a complete coward staring back out – just a partial coward.
With a sigh Mandy started toward the terminal, not even seeing the man who stood impatiently to one side, watching her. Sutter’s eyes had narrowed into unwelcoming slits of green when he recognized Mandy slowly descending from the airplane. The rum he had drank had loosened the muscles in his neck but hadn’t otherwise improved his disposition. The last thing he needed right now was three weeks of one-liners from Anthea’s smart-mouthed assistant – even if she did have the most elegant, sexy back he had ever seen or touched.
Sutter didn’t need Mandy, but he was stuck with her. There was no help for it. She was there and he was there and Anthea was wisely beyond reach. Swearing beneath his breath, Sutter covered the few yards separating him from Mandy.
“Get your tail in gear,“ Sutter said in a clipped voice, grabbing her arm just above the elbow. “We’ve got to weigh you in. Where’s your luggage?“
Mandy stared at Sutter, too thick-witted to do more than hear his words. Barely. Understanding or answering him was beyond her.
“Here you go, mate,“ the stewardess said, handing over Mandy’s backpack. “She must be an experienced flier. She didn’t bring anything more than this.“
Sutter took the backpack, grimaced at the color, grunted his thanks to the stewardess and resumed hustling Mandy toward the small terminal. Before her body could adjust to the cool impact of the air conditioning, Sutter had lifted her onto the scale’s low platform, shoved her purse and backpack into her arms and let go of her.
“Sutter?“
He ignored Mandy, looking only at Ray.
“No worries, mate. I’ve got diving gear that weighs more than your Sheila.“
“She’s not mine,“ Sutter snarled.
Mandy flinched.
Ray looked over Mandy’s trim, womanly length. Even Mandy’s dense
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