Her Outback Knight. Melissa James
Her Outback Knight
Melissa James
To an old friend, whose life taught her that never trusting, never giving in or forgiving would keep her safe from hurt. I hope life has been kind to you. To Helen, my beautiful friend: I still wish you had been the one driving on that country road ten years ago…then you’d be here to share the joys and heartaches of life with me. And finally to Justin: a true hero in his ability to reach out to others, and keep giving even when life hurts you. You’re my inspiration for Jim, my darling son.
Special thanks to my own romantic hero. 24 years together, and still happy. I have the words; you have the actions. Thanks to Rachel and Mia, as always.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
University Graduation Hall, Charles Sturt University, New South Wales
“I’D LOVE TO GUIDE YOU to becoming the best veterinary surgeon you can be, Danielle. Your marks and practical experiences speak for themselves. I know you’d be a terrific asset to the practice.” His hand ran slowly up her arm.
Danni Morrison barely kept the shudder of distaste inside. A few vets had come to this graduation looking for talent to add to their surgeries, and this man had just offered her a dream job—a beautiful purple plum tossed right in her lap. A practice in inner Sydney, tending to the pampered pooches and kitties, with the added bonus of the Wildlife Rescue she’d always wanted to do as a free service thrown in.
A shame the price for the experience was far too revolting to contemplate.
At least ten retorts rose to her lips—but which one to use? The one where she’d like to decorate him…with a red-hot poker? The one on how, if she needed a father figure, she’d call her dad? That she only played doctors and vets with men with a full head of hair? Hmmm…so many good lines, so little intelligence to waste them on…
“Hey, Danni-girl, I’ve been looking for you.”
An arm was around her waist before the words, spoken in a warm, rough voice sank into her mind. No man with self-preservation instincts would ever call her Danni-girl, let alone touch her. At least none that knew her, anyway. She knew her delicate looks fooled a lot of guys into thinking she’d melt under their macho male protective instincts.
Even as she opened her mouth, something happened. Confused, she looked up at the man whose touch hadn’t inspired the usual urge to dismember him, but the most unexpected rush of sweetness….
It was Jim Haskell.
Shock held her in place. Jim had his arm around her? Jim, who had never looked at any woman but her best friend Laila in the past seven years, and never looked at her at all?
Was the world spinning the right way?
As she stared up at him, lost in uncertainty for the first time in years, Jim grinned, brushed his lips over hers as if it were an everyday thing—oh, God help me if he unleashed that on me every day—and glanced at the older man. He seemed unfazed by the older man’s perfect grooming compared to his own askew cap over unbrushed black curls, the crumpled graduation gown covering tattered jeans and runners that were as ready for retirement as the half-dead Valiant he drove, its ancient engine held together with paper clips and elastic bands. “G’day, sir. I’m Jim Haskell, Danni’s boyfriend.” He put out his free hand to shake the other man’s.
The man had already moved his hand from her arm, and Danni couldn’t blame him. With six-four of dark, pulsing masculine youth before him, he looked pale, overdressed, old and—short. “Ron Guildhall.”
“You won’t go wrong offering Danni a position, sir,” Jim assured him earnestly. “She topped the year in almost all subjects, and gets near-perfect scores in work experience. She’s a fantastic vet. Easily the best of all the candidates here today, sir.”
The man almost cringed every time Jim used the word sir, relegating him to the older generation with the simple term of respect.
He’d crushed the other man without a single word of abuse spoken.
And to think she’d always thought of Jim as gentle and unable to fight! He had more weapons than she’d ever dreamed—and he made no enemies in the battle.
“I—I’m still scouting,” the man offered, sounding weak. Beaten.
“Well, as I say, you won’t find better than Danni. I don’t suppose you have two positions? We’d really like to stay together…though I can work in a surgery nearby, huh, baby?” Jim smiled at her with the warm, intimate look of a longtime lover, wrinkled his nose and kissed her again…a touch deeper, infinitely sweeter. “Where Danni goes, I follow.”
Danni opened her mouth, and closed it. Her mind was blank. Where were all her good retorts when she needed them? She couldn’t think of any; she just couldn’t think, lost in the rush of sweetness, of gladness filling her. Jim’s touch was so right, so perfect.
For the first time in her life, a man’s touch made her feel beautiful…and it was Jim Haskell who inspired this wild, sweet aching? Yeah, sure, he was gorgeous in that open, sunny way—she’d always thought so—but—but—
Laila’s married now, a mother, and mad about her husband. Jim’s free…
“Slimeball,” Jim murmured in her ear with his customary cheerfulness, when the other man backed off to find another, more willing candidate. “He won’t bother you again.”
“I was handling it, you know,” she remarked, but with little of her normal acerbity.
Even so, his smile faded a little. He shrugged. “I knew you’d annihilate him—but I didn’t want your rep to suffer. At least if he takes you on now, it’s for your skills alone.”
She opened her mouth, but somehow only two words came out. “Thank you.” Her voice sounded odd. Husky. Feminine. Her gaze remained glued to him, and she felt so—breathless. “That was…good of you.” What did you say when someone helped you out? It had happened so rarely for her, she had no idea.
After a moment, his smile returned, and it was warm, intimate again. “You’re welcome, Danni. Just consider it my good deed for the day.”
“The original boy scout.” But again, she didn’t sound sarcastic; she sounded—ack—breathless. Feminine. Where had all her clever lines disappeared to? “I owe you one.”
Why had she said that? It was a blatant invitation for the usual male sleaze to head her way as he came onto her….
Oh, get real, this is Jim Haskell! He wouldn’t know how to be sleazy.
As if on cue, he grinned, those big, chocolate eyes of his filled with the smile no woman could ever think of as insinuating. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. You’ll find a way to give back one day. You couldn’t