Breaking The Playboy's Rules

Emma nodded. She unclipped her seat belt and slung her bag across her chest. She stood up behind the girl and they joined the queue of passengers waiting to be evacuated. Emma slid her sandals from her feet and took the girl’s flip-flops and held both pairs of shoes in one hand.

The flight attendant instructed the girl to evacuate first, with Emma following. She paused at the top of the slide as the heat took her breath away. It was oppressive, dry and intense, a bit like standing in front of a furnace. The air burnt her lungs as she breathed it but while it was dusty she couldn’t smell fuel or fire. The heat wasn’t coming from flames but rising from the red desert sand.

Aware of others queuing behind her, she hurriedly sat at the top of the chute and slid to the ground. She got to her feet on shaky legs and went to the girl with the broken wrist, who was looking dazed and bewildered. She led her away from the chute, away from the streams of people pouring out of the crippled plane, and sat her down.

‘Sit here, I’ll go and look for help,’ she told her as she helped her to the ground. She dropped their shoes beside her and left her sitting in the shade of the plane as she set off in search of the ambulances.

By now there were people everywhere, passengers, airline crew, airport staff and emergency workers, and the chaotic surroundings were exacerbated by the dusty conditions, which made it difficult to see who was who.

A shape materialised out of the red haze in front of her and transformed into a tall, long-legged man with a strong, muscular frame. A rather attractive, rugged man in uniform. For a moment she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, that perhaps she had bumped her head. But then he spoke to her.

‘Are you all right? Have you been separated from someone?’

He was real. His voice was deep, undoubtedly Australian, but his tone was relaxed and somewhat calming against the noisy background.

Emma shook her head.

‘Are you injured?’

Emma shook her head again. She felt perfectly fine. Possibly a bit disoriented but physically okay.

He was staring at her. So she stared back.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE had to look up to see him properly. He was tall, at a guess she’d say five inches taller than her, which would make him about six feet three. His eyes were a clear blue, quite striking against his tanned skin, and his hair was thick and dark with a slight curl. His shoulders were broad and he was solidly built but it appeared to be all muscle. He looked like he could muster sheep or cattle, or whatever it was they farmed out here, all day, and still have energy to spare.

She almost sighed with pleasure. Her first glimpse of an Outback man and he was just what she’d imagined, just what her hours of watching Australian television dramas had led her to hope for. He was gorgeous in a ruggedly handsome way.

While she was busy drooling over his gorgeousness she realised he was still staring at her, waiting for her to answer. He probably thought she was in shock.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied.

‘You’ve got blood on your lip,’ he said.

Despite the noise and disorder surrounding them, Emma didn’t need to strain to hear his words. His deep voice carried easily across the small distance that separated them. He was holding a small first-aid backpack and he took some tissues from it and held them out to her.

Emma licked her lip and tasted blood, warm and salty, on her tongue. She must have bitten it when the plane had belly-flopped onto the landing strip. As she took the tissue and pressed it to her lip she was surprised to find that her hand was shaking. Adrenalin was coursing through her system but she hadn’t had time to notice until now.

‘You’ve missed a bit,’ he said when Emma took the tissue from her lip. He delved into the backpack again and retrieved a bottle of water. He poured a little on the tissues. ‘May I?’ he asked.

His clear blue eyes were fixed on hers, drawing her in, relaxing her. The chaos, the noise and the crowd of people around them seemed to disappear into the red dust, leaving the two of them alone on the airstrip. The experience was slightly hypnotic and Emma found herself nodding automatically in reaction to his calming blue gaze.

But when he reached out and cupped her chin with his hand her response was definitely not calm and relaxed, it was something completely different altogether. Her skin tingled under his touch as his fingertips grazed her lip, leaving a trail of heat behind as he wiped the blood from her face.

She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move, she could barely breathe. Her breaths were shallow but it was the best she could manage, and she could feel her heart pulsing in her chest. She told herself it wasn’t him, it was the adrenalin that had heightened her senses. What other possible reason could there be? She didn’t have this kind of reaction to perfect strangers. No one did. Did they?

She needed to sit down and catch her breath. She needed to get some perspective. She just needed a moment to collect herself and then everything would be back to normal. She couldn’t afford to get spellbound by tall, dark and handsome men. By any men. Not right now.

‘Do you want someone to look at that?’ he asked.

His question confused her. He was wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt with epaulettes on the shoulders and on his breast pocket was a logo she recognised, a pair of wings, the symbol of the flying doctors service. Why would he get someone else to look at her lip?

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, aware that her voice was shaky and thin. She sounded as out of breath as she felt.

‘Did you want me to get one of the medics to check it for you?’ he asked.

Emma glanced at the logo on his shirt pocket again before she looked up at him. ‘Aren’t you a doctor?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m a pilot.’

‘Oh.’

A pilot. His answer threw her off course for a moment. She hadn’t expected that.

‘I’ll be okay,’ she said. She was a nurse with a bloody lip, she was sure she didn’t need to take up anybody’s time for that. And then she remembered what she’d been doing before she’d been distracted by the appearance of a handsome pilot in her path. ‘But there’s a girl back here with a broken wrist, I was looking for a paramedic.’

‘Can you take me to her?’

She nodded. ‘It’s this way.’

She retraced her steps and he fell into step beside her.

She watched the ground to make sure she didn’t tread on anything dangerous. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought to put her sandals back on her feet, but it also kept her attention focussed on the job at hand. She’d never realised she could be so easily distracted.

Within moments they were back in the shadow of the plane and the handsome stranger picked up his pace and ran the remaining few steps.

‘Lisa! What happened?’

‘Harry!’

Emma heard the happiness in the girl’s voice even as she registered that her name was Lisa. Lisa and Harry. Lisa knew Harry. Harry knew Lisa. They knew each other.

Good, Emma told herself. This handsome stranger was nothing to her. It was just the adrenalin that had caused such an unexpected physical reaction, just the adrenalin that had left her short of breath and made her skin tingle. She could ignore the little flutter of excitement in her belly, the little increase in her heart rate. Even if she’d been in the market for a man, and she wasn’t, it looked like this one was well and truly off limits.

‘I got caught in the wrong position. I wasn’t braced properly,’ Lisa replied. ‘It was stupid of me.’

‘Let’s get you to an ambulance,’ Harry was saying, and before Emma could blink he’d crouched down and scooped Lisa into his arms. He stood up again, lifting her as if she weighed no more than a three-year-old.

‘Thank you for your help.’ He was holding Lisa in his arms but he was talking to her. Emma was surprised—she hadn’t expected him to remember she was there. ‘Do you think you can follow the others to the terminal?’ he asked as he inclined his head to his left.

Emma wondered if she shouldn’t offer to help other passengers. Surely any help would be gratefully received but as she looked around, now that the dust had settled, she could see paramedics attending to those who needed them and there was a line of uninjured passengers making their way across the dirt towards a small building. Things looked to be under control.

She nodded. She was fine. She could walk. She just needed to put her shoes back on. Her sandals were still lying on the ground and as she bent to retrieve them she caught sight of her filthy clothes. In the few minutes that she’d been out of the plane she’d become covered in a layer of red dust. She slid her dusty feet into her sandals and glanced back up at the man standing before her. His clothes were immaculate, clean and crisp and she wondered how he had managed to stay so pristine.

‘Yes, I can,’ she answered as she deliberately straightened her shoulders. She was okay. She could manage. ‘I’m fine. Go, get Lisa to the ambulance. I’m fine,’ she repeated, aware that she didn’t need to monopolise any more of his time.

Emma turned and walked away so that he was free to leave. She followed the crowd towards the terminal and left the gorgeous stranger behind in the red dust, making herself look straight ahead even though she wanted to turn around for another glimpse. No doubt he was already whisking Lisa off to the paramedics and would have no time to give her another thought. She wondered if she’d wake up tomorrow and think this was all a dream. Or if she’d run into him again.

As she entered the little terminal building she couldn’t resist a final glance over her shoulder but he was nowhere to be seen, already absorbed into the throng that remained gathered around the stricken aircraft.

Inside the terminal a representative from the airline was issuing instructions, handing out paperwork and getting details on whether passengers wanted to wait for their luggage or have it delivered. Emma was swept up in a sea of red tape and it was many minutes before she had a chance to wonder where Sophie was.

She searched the area for a familiar face but she couldn’t spot her cousin anywhere. She frowned. With all the drama of the crash landing she would have thought Sophie would be front and centre, waiting to welcome her. Was she in the right place? Was there more than one back of beyond in Outback Australia? God, imagine if she’d crash-landed in the wrong town!

She pulled her mobile phone out of her handbag and switched it on. She was almost certain she was in the right place. There was bound to be a reason Soph wasn’t here. Perhaps she’d left a message.

Sure enough, her phone beeped as soon as it came to life.

So sorry, Em, clinic running late, will be there by six. S xx

Emma shrugged her slim shoulders and sat down to wait. There was nothing else for her to do. She watched the other travellers coming and going, their numbers dwindling as the terminal building emptied out. Everyone else seemed to have someone to meet them or somewhere to go. The ambulances had long since departed and Emma wondered how Lisa was and what had happened to the pilot.

She watched as the fire engines drove away from the scene, leaving the plane stranded in the middle of nowhere. She knew how it felt. She wondered how the plane would be moved and assumed it would be towed somewhere, somehow. It was sitting abandoned. Had the luggage been retrieved? What had happened to her bag?

She frowned and started searching for a baggage carousel even as she realised she hadn’t seen one. She should go and fetch her bag. She stood up. She would need to make some enquiries.

The first person she saw was the ruggedly handsome pilot. Harry, Lisa had called him. He was walking towards her. He walked quickly, his long strides eating up the distance between them, and she expected him to continue on past her as he looked as though he was walking with a purpose, but he came to stop in front of her.

‘Are you still here? Is someone meeting you?’ He assessed her with his blue gaze as his eyebrows came together in a frown.

Emma looked up at him. He towered over her, but his size wasn’t intimidating, in fact she found it oddly reassuring. He gave off a sense that he was a man who could be relied on, a man who would get things done. Maybe it was just the uniform, she’d always seen uniforms as a symbol of order and control, but she sensed that with this man it was more about his personality and less about his attire.

‘Yes, but they’re running late,’ she replied. ‘I’m just going to look for my bags while I wait. Do you know where the baggage carousel is?’

‘First time in Broken Hill?’ he asked.

He was smiling and by the expression in his bright blue eyes she could tell he wanted to laugh. At her. She couldn’t imagine what there was to laugh about but whatever it was that amused him he at least had the good grace not to laugh out loud.

‘Yes, why?’

Harry watched as Emma straightened her slim shoulders and lifted her chin and he knew she was just daring him to make fun of her. He wasn’t about to take the mickey out of her, not when she’d just had a less than stellar welcome to the Hill, but he always found it amusing to see how first-timers coped with Broken Hill. Listening to her English accent, he imagined that in her case it would be a vastly different experience from anything she’d had before. He wondered what she was doing here, this English girl in the middle of the Outback. She didn’t look like the average backpacker and she appeared to be travelling alone. What could possibly have brought her here? Who was she waiting for?

‘There is no carousel,’ he explained. ‘Your luggage will be outside on the trolley. It’s this way.’ He could have directed her to the trolley, it wasn’t difficult to find if you knew where to look, but he wasn’t in a hurry and he’d never been able to resist a damsel in distress, especially not a pretty one.

He’d seen her again the moment he’d entered the terminal and he’d kept one eye on her even as he’d helped get other passengers sorted. Technically, sorting out the chaos from the crash landing wasn’t his job but in a town like Broken Hill, where everyone knew everybody else, or at least that’s what it felt like, many hands made light work. Particularly in situations like this, when things had gone haywire, it was the country way to pitch in and do your bit. But he’d made sure he’d done his bit while keeping an eye on the tall, willowy brunette.

The terminal was almost empty now. Most of the passengers had been taken care of and only a few remained. She was one of them.

He’d half turned away from her, towards the exit and the baggage trolley, waiting for her to follow him, but she wasn’t moving. She was standing still and frowning. A little crease had appeared between her green eyes and she was fiddling with the end of her ponytail.

A moment later she appeared to come to a decision. She flicked her hair back over her shoulder and he watched as she stowed her mobile phone in her handbag. Her wrists were brown and slender, her fingers slim with short, polished nails, and her movements as she slung her bag over her shoulder were fluid and graceful. Even though her white cotton dress and silver sandals were covered in red dust, she still managed to look elegant.

Her outfit alone was enough to convince Harry she wasn’t a local. Not too many people were brave enough to wear all white in the country’s red centre.

But it wasn’t her outfit that had told him she wasn’t from around here. Neither was it her English accent. Even before she’d spoken one word or asked the question about her luggage Harry had known she wasn’t from the Hill. He knew he’d never seen her before. He would have remembered.

‘Did you want to come with me to the trolley?’ he asked, eager to prolong the encounter. His offer was rewarded with a smile that made him catch his breath. Her green eyes sparkled but it was the twin dimples that appeared on each side of her mouth that made him do a double take. At first glance there was no denying she was an attractive woman but when she smiled she was spectacular.

She reminded him of the wildflowers that suddenly appeared after the desert rains—stunningly beautiful and completely unexpected—and he wondered if, like the native flowers, she would appear fragile yet turn out to be resilient.

‘Thank you,’ she said without protest. She didn’t tell him she’d be able to find the luggage trolley on her own; she didn’t tell him she didn’t need his help.

She simply fell into step beside him and made him feel good about himself for helping. He watched the reaction of the remaining passengers as they walked through the terminal. He was used to being with beautiful women but it seemed as though every person in the building was looking at them and he didn’t flatter himself that he was the one who’d captured their attention. It was most definitely the willowy brunette they were watching.

He felt like the schoolboy who’d caught the attention of the prom queen. He knew that was ridiculous and fanciful but that made no difference—it was how she made him feel and the sensation was unexpected but not unpleasant.

The half-laden luggage trolley sat just outside the terminal doors.

Emma reached up to grab a large duffel bag from the top of the pile.

‘Here, let me get that for you,’ he offered. ‘It looks heavy.’

She could have managed to lift her bag and find the trolley, she’d just needed to know where it was. But she didn’t tell him she could manage because she found him fascinating and she was more than happy to let him help her. So she stepped back to let him past her.

As he retrieved her bag from the trolley his biceps bulged, straining against the fabric of his shirt. She’d bet her last pound that his muscles came from physical work, not from lifting weights in a gym. He looked vibrant, healthy and solid, totally male. He seemed a far more masculine version of the men she was used to in England.

Maybe it was the tougher environment out here, maybe it was the sun, the fresh air or the physical activity, but, whatever it was, someone had definitely got something right when they’d made him.

‘You’re staying in town for a while?’ he asked as he hefted her bag and slung it over his shoulder.

He was grinning and once again she had the feeling that he was doing his best not to laugh at her. She knew her bag was heavy, even though he made it look light.

When she’d packed she hadn’t really known what she’d need and as usual she knew she would have brought far too many pairs of shoes. She’d already noticed that everyone in the airport wore no-nonsense sturdy shoes or flip-flops and she hadn’t seen one pair of sparkly shoes on anyone over the age of thirteen.

She knew her bag was bulging at the seams and she knew she might not need the three pairs of strappy stilettos she’d packed, or even the two pairs of ballet flats, but surely she didn’t have to sacrifice her fashion sense completely just because she was in the middle of nowhere?

‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. Her plans hadn’t evolved at all past getting on the plane and arriving in town.

‘What brings you here?’ He was frowning as he carried her bag into the terminal.

‘I’m visiting my cousin.’

‘Is that who’s running late?’

She nodded in reply.

‘How late?’ he asked.

Emma checked her watch and felt his eyes follow her movement. ‘About an hour. She sent me a message, something about the clinic running late.’

‘The clinic?’ he queried. ‘What does she do, this cousin of yours?’

‘Do you always ask this many questions?’ she countered, wondering if it was the country manner to be this direct or just his manner.

‘Yep,’ he answered, with a smile that made his blue eyes sparkle.

‘Sophie’s a physio at the hospital,’ she told him, realising she’d tell him just about anything he wanted to know provided he was smiling at her.

‘You’re not talking about Sophie Stewart, are you?’

‘Yes, do you know her?’

He was nodding.

Just exactly how small was this town? Emma wondered. First he’d known Lisa and now Sophie. But it was good news for her as it meant she was in the right place after all.

‘She’s out on a clinic run with the flying doctors,’ he said. ‘There’s a storm out over Innamincka that’s delayed their return.’

Emma remembered Sophie mentioning something about the allied health hospital staff sometimes working with the flying doctor service. Her eyes flicked to the logo on his shirt pocket, the wings of the flying doctors. Soph got to work with this man? No wonder she’d said she planned to stay in Broken Hill for a while.

‘I’m a pilot with the flying doctors,’ he said when he saw the direction of her gaze. ‘I’m Harry Connor …’ he extended his hand ‘… and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophie’s cousin.’

‘Emma. My name is Emma Matheson,’ she replied, as she reached for his hand.

And there it was again. That same tingle that made her catch her breath. The feeling that he was taking all her oxygen and causing her light-headedness. Only this time she couldn’t blame adrenalin. That had had plenty of time to settle while she’d been sitting waiting.

‘So, Emma Matheson, what do you plan to do now?’ he said as he released her hand.

She wasn’t big on plans but fortunately Harry hadn’t finished. He continued speaking and gave her some options. ‘Did you want to hang around here? Or you could wait at the flying doctor base or I could drop you off at Sophie’s place.’

‘I don’t have a key.’

He laughed. Out loud this time and it was such a pleasant sound, deep and full and it resonated through her. It was so genuine she couldn’t find it irritating, even though she knew it was at her expense. ‘I doubt the house is locked and if it is I know where the key is hidden.’

Did he and Sophie have history? And what about Lisa?

He read her mind. ‘Don’t look at me like that. It’s all perfectly innocent. And I promise I’m completely trustworthy.’

She doubted very much that he was innocent but she wanted to believe she could trust him. Jeremy’s behaviour had shaken her faith in men but she had a good association with men in uniforms. Besides, she’d seen how he treated Lisa and he knew Sophie. She wanted to think he was a man who could be trusted, and with a laugh like that, one that reached right into his bright blue eyes, how could he be anything but nice?

‘Now, where can I take you?’ he asked, obviously deciding she’d had enough time to make up her mind.

‘If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to go to Sophie’s. I need a shower and a change of clothes.’

‘Done.’

‘But aren’t you supposed to be working?’

‘Nope. My shift’s over. I came across to the airport when I heard the distress call. I have clearance to be on the airport apron and I thought I might be needed. Turns out I am.’ He grinned and Emma’s insides skittered. She wasn’t about to complain about his presence. It did feel as though he’d been sent to help her.

‘Come with me,’ he invited. ‘Send Sophie a text and let her know I’ll drop you at her place—that way you know I’ll have to get you there safely,’ he added as Emma still hesitated.

‘That’s not …’ Emma was about to protest and say it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him but she knew that was exactly the issue. And Harry knew it too. She nodded—it was a good suggestion. She pulled her phone out and sent Sophie a message even as she decided to consider this one of those times when things were going to unfold without her input. A pilot, in uniform, who’d already helped her and Lisa. If she was going to learn to put her faith in people again, this was as good a place as any to start.

Harry waited for her to put her phone away before he headed for the exit. Emma had to hurry to keep up with his long strides as he walked through the terminal. Not even the weight of her bag, which he still had slung over his shoulder like a beach towel, slowed him down. Not that his strength should have surprised her considering how easily he’d lifted Lisa earlier.