compartment. He released his fist, and flexed his fingers. He had to go along with the plan.
****
Amy woke up starving. Damn. It was close to nine p.m. and now she wouldn’t sleep tonight. And she hadn’t taken that stroll on the beach. She walked out onto the terrace. Music, and the smell of meat grilling, floated up from the old fashioned pub next door.
Twenty minutes later, in the beer garden, she found a small table in the corner underneath a huge tree. The male singer gyrating on the tiny stage nodded. Hot guys clustered around the bar, beer bottles raised to their lips, eyeing her. She ordered a chardonnay and a hamburger and sat back, her gaze settling on the guy in a time warp. Typical 50s bad boy.
He sauntered across the room. “On vacation?”
Amy nodded.
“Takin’ a cruise to one of the reef islands, are ya’?” He rested one hand on the back of the chair opposite, and took a swig from his beer.
“No. I’m interested in the rainforest.”
“My kinda place…lot of snakes and bugs and stuff.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Mind if I join ya’? Name’s Brian Crockett.”
“Amy Jane, um…Turner,” she said quickly and smiled again. “Please, sit.”
“So, where are you stayin’ in the Daintree?”
“I don’t have accommodation booked yet. Can you suggest anything?”
He appraised her. “Ritzy or hostel?”
“Something in between, I think. I don’t need five-stars but I don’t want to really rough it either.” The hamburger, French fries, and salad arrived and she eyed the food hungrily. “Sorry, but I have to eat.”
“No worries. Dig in,” Brian said. “You’ll need a four-wheel drive.”
“Got one.”
“You’re American, eh?”
Amy nodded and chewed. The hamburger really was great.
“Couple of decent motels in Daintree and a few good pubs in Cooktown, or are ya’ goin’ west?”
“West, I think,” Amy said with a casual air. She picked up a French fry and dipped it in ketchup. “Help yourself to the fries if you like.”
“Nah, I’m good, but thanks. Chips.” He nodded toward her plate. “We call ’em chips, and that’s tomato sauce. You Yanks call it ketchup, don’t cha?”
Amy smiled, nodded and kept eating. “Are there any decent places around Laura?”
“Hang on a sec, I’ll get some info.”
Brian went into the hotel. She hoped this information was only going to cost her a beer or two. She didn’t want anything else, didn’t want to have to fight this biker-boy off. He wasn’t exactly her type. But, you play with fire, you risk getting burned. What was her type? She took a sip of wine and hummed along to the music. Jake Turner’s face flashed before her and her body pulsed with need. Damn him.
She scanned the room, her eyes settling on a dark haired man who had come in after her. He was seated alone in the far corner with his back to her. Why was he familiar? Her skin prickled. His dark hair was caught into a band making a limp ponytail, the bald top of his head glistened under the light. Was it the same man she’d seen in Sydney?
The door swung open, and Brian held a bunch of pamphlets in his hand. “Here.” He turned the chair around, straddled it, and passed the papers across to her.
“Thank you. Can I buy you another beer?”
“Nah, it’s my shout. Wine?” He beckoned the waitress.
“No, thank you. I need to get up early.” Plus she needed her wits about her if the man in the corner was following her. If he was, it meant she was closer to Firth than she thought. The two had to be connected.
“Got friends out there, have ya’?” Brian handed off the empty beer bottle and a few dollars to the waitress. “I’ll have another, and keep the change, darl.”
“Don’t be bloody callin’ me darl, ya’ moron. I’m not your old lady,” she said loudly.
Amy laughed. “No, no friends in the area.”
The waitress returned and placed a bottle of beer in front of Brian, and left.
“I’m going back to the States in a
****
Amy woke up starving. Damn. It was close to nine p.m. and now she wouldn’t sleep tonight. And she hadn’t taken that stroll on the beach. She walked out onto the terrace. Music, and the smell of meat grilling, floated up from the old fashioned pub next door.
Twenty minutes later, in the beer garden, she found a small table in the corner underneath a huge tree. The male singer gyrating on the tiny stage nodded. Hot guys clustered around the bar, beer bottles raised to their lips, eyeing her. She ordered a chardonnay and a hamburger and sat back, her gaze settling on the guy in a time warp. Typical 50s bad boy.
He sauntered across the room. “On vacation?”
Amy nodded.
“Takin’ a cruise to one of the reef islands, are ya’?” He rested one hand on the back of the chair opposite, and took a swig from his beer.
“No. I’m interested in the rainforest.”
“My kinda place…lot of snakes and bugs and stuff.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Mind if I join ya’? Name’s Brian Crockett.”
“Amy Jane, um…Turner,” she said quickly and smiled again. “Please, sit.”
“So, where are you stayin’ in the Daintree?”
“I don’t have accommodation booked yet. Can you suggest anything?”
He appraised her. “Ritzy or hostel?”
“Something in between, I think. I don’t need five-stars but I don’t want to really rough it either.” The hamburger, French fries, and salad arrived and she eyed the food hungrily. “Sorry, but I have to eat.”
“No worries. Dig in,” Brian said. “You’ll need a four-wheel drive.”
“Got one.”
“You’re American, eh?”
Amy nodded and chewed. The hamburger really was great.
“Couple of decent motels in Daintree and a few good pubs in Cooktown, or are ya’ goin’ west?”
“West, I think,” Amy said with a casual air. She picked up a French fry and dipped it in ketchup. “Help yourself to the fries if you like.”
“Nah, I’m good, but thanks. Chips.” He nodded toward her plate. “We call ’em chips, and that’s tomato sauce. You Yanks call it ketchup, don’t cha?”
Amy smiled, nodded and kept eating. “Are there any decent places around Laura?”
“Hang on a sec, I’ll get some info.”
Brian went into the hotel. She hoped this information was only going to cost her a beer or two. She didn’t want anything else, didn’t want to have to fight this biker-boy off. He wasn’t exactly her type. But, you play with fire, you risk getting burned. What was her type? She took a sip of wine and hummed along to the music. Jake Turner’s face flashed before her and her body pulsed with need. Damn him.
She scanned the room, her eyes settling on a dark haired man who had come in after her. He was seated alone in the far corner with his back to her. Why was he familiar? Her skin prickled. His dark hair was caught into a band making a limp ponytail, the bald top of his head glistened under the light. Was it the same man she’d seen in Sydney?
The door swung open, and Brian held a bunch of pamphlets in his hand. “Here.” He turned the chair around, straddled it, and passed the papers across to her.
“Thank you. Can I buy you another beer?”
“Nah, it’s my shout. Wine?” He beckoned the waitress.
“No, thank you. I need to get up early.” Plus she needed her wits about her if the man in the corner was following her. If he was, it meant she was closer to Firth than she thought. The two had to be connected.
“Got friends out there, have ya’?” Brian handed off the empty beer bottle and a few dollars to the waitress. “I’ll have another, and keep the change, darl.”
“Don’t be bloody callin’ me darl, ya’ moron. I’m not your old lady,” she said loudly.
Amy laughed. “No, no friends in the area.”
The waitress returned and placed a bottle of beer in front of Brian, and left.
“I’m going back to the States in a
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