Dreaming Of... Australia: Mr Right at the Wrong Time / Imprisoned by a Vow / The Millionaire and the Maid. Nikki Logan

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      She was—and that was really saying something, given her upbringing. Where the heck would she have learned resilience from in her bubblewrap childhood? But honour made her confess. ‘I was sobbing my heart out before I heard you calling.’

      That seemed to genuinely pain him. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get to you quicker. We had to assess the safety.’

      She pinned him with her gaze. ‘I’m so glad you found me at all. Imagine if you hadn’t.’ It hit her then, for the first time, how long, slow and awful her death would have been. She swallowed back a gnarled lump and just stared, watching the play of emotion running over his features. Sadness. Regret. Confusion. But then his eyes lifted and it was just … light. And it changed him.

      ‘How old are you, Sam?’

      ‘Thirty-one.’

      ‘How is it that a man like you who wants children doesn’t yet have any?’ That was the closest she’d come to asking him outright: Why are you still single?

      His eyes grew wary, but he finally answered. ‘It takes one to want it but two to make it a reality.’

      ‘You don’t have women knocking down your door to help you along with that reality? You’re gorgeous.’

      His eyes grew cautious. But they didn’t dull. On the contrary, they filled with a rich sparkle. ‘Are you offering?’

      She held her breath. Tilted her head. ‘Are you flirting?’

      The bright sparkle in his eyes immediately dimmed. The smile straightened out into a half-frown.

      Her breath caught. ‘You are.’

      ‘Sorry. Really inappropriate. Just playing to my strengths.’

      His confusion touched her. ‘Don’t apologise. I’m battered and broken and feeling pretty average. It made me smile.’

      ‘I’m glad I could make you smile, then.’

      ‘Do they train you for that?’ she asked pertly.

      ‘For what?’

      ‘Keeping up people’s spirits with a sexy smile.’

      The hint of colour high in his jaw brought her back to her senses. The man was just trying to keep her alive. He would say just about anything. Flirting included. It probably was in his training manual. Which meant it had to end. One of them had to put things back on a more real footing.

      She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, Sam. I think that was the ant juice talking. I apologise.’

      He brushed it off with a shake of his head. ‘It’s not generally known for its truth serum properties.’

      A blush stole up her cheeks, but this time he was staring straight at her. There was no hiding it. ‘A crazy side-effect?’

      ‘It’s probably written on the bottle somewhere. “May cause outbursts of inappropriate confession.”’

      A gentleman, too. Handing her as dignified an exit as she was going to get. ‘Thank you. For keeping me sane.’ For keeping things light.

      ‘That’s how this works. You’re the victim. Whatever you need …’

      Victim. The word put an early end to the golden glow of promise that had filled her from the inside out at his gentle teasing. Wasn’t that exactly what Danielle had accused her of being? By letting her father and Wayne run her life and others control her career? That hadn’t been a fun conversation. But it had been necessary. It had triggered the rapid departure of Wayne from her life and this journey of self-discovery. ‘Is that what I am?’

      He stared at her—hard. ‘No. You’re brave and open and the least victim-like victim I’ve ever met.’

      ‘It’s because you’re with me. I’d be a basket case without you here.’

      Two tiny lines appeared between his brows. ‘Sometimes we only find out what we’re capable of when we’re tested.’

      ‘Well, I think I’ve failed this test. Maybe I’ll do better next time.’

      ‘No.’ Immediate and fervent. ‘No next times. You don’t get this kind of luck twice.’

      ‘Luck?’ Was he crazy?

      His face grew serious. He glanced at his watch. ‘You’ll see in a couple of hours. But I’ll be right here with you.’

      A couple of hours felt like for ever. ‘Will the … what do you call it … getting me out …?’

      ‘Extraction.’

      ‘Will the extraction start as soon as the sun comes up?’

      ‘As soon as the sun crests the mountaintops, and assuming there’s no fog, yes.’

      ‘How long will it take?’

      ‘Hard to know. We have to stabilise your leg properly and make sure your shoulder is back in its socket before we shift you.’

      She swallowed. Both those things sounded very unpleasant.

      ‘And then we’ll be pulling you out the back of the car.’

      Her face must have paled, because he leaned forward and took her hand. ‘I’ll be with you every step of the way, Aimee. We’ll be tethered to each other at all times.’

      ‘The whole way?’

      ‘Until the top. Until the ambulance.’

      She frowned at the finality of that statement. ‘Then what?’

      He frowned. ‘Then that’s it. You go to hospital, then home where you belong.’

      What if she didn’t belong anywhere? And why did she suddenly have the urge never to leave this shattered vehicle and the foil blanket and Sam’s gentle touch. ‘That’s it? I won’t see you again?’

      He stared at her long and hard. ‘I’ll see how I go. Maybe I’ll drop your luggage back to you when the car’s towed up. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy before then.’

      It was utterly insane how anxious she felt at the thought of that. A man she’d known less than a day. ‘I’d like to speak to you again. Under less extraordinary circumstances.’ When I’m showered and groomed and looking pretty. ‘To thank you.’

      He nodded even more cautiously. ‘I’ll see how we go.’

      That sounded very much like Wayne’s kind of I’ll see. Her father’s kind.

      Translation: no.

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