Obsession Down Under (2 page)

“Lying, screwing, tattoos. Will the real Jessica Butler-Reid please stand up?”

“Cut it out, Trish. I need to break free, and I was hoping you’d support me in this. I’ve got to have someone on my side. Other than the safety issue, do you have any objections?”

“No, not when you put it like that, so I guess there’s only one thing left to say.”

Jessica braced herself. “Yes?”

“You go, girl. Have that adventure and take that journey, you’ve earned it. Bang your brains out if that’s what you want. But all joking aside, I do want your  itinerary and Whip’s contact details before you leave. Better to be safe than a statistic.”

“No problem, I’ll e-mail you through the week.”

“And you’re to text me the minute you land and every day and night afterward because if you don’t, missy, I’ll get in touch with our embassy in Australia and demand a manhunt.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“And don’t think I won’t.” Trish wagged a finger at her.

“
Okay
, I said.”

“And I guess you’ll be needing a ride to the airport.”

“If you’re offering, I wouldn’t say no.” Jessica smiled. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

Trish nodded. “Damn straight, you are. You just better take care of yourself.”

A twinge of apprehension tightened her stomach, and Jessica silently cursed her friend for causing this angst. But did she have a point? Could the online Whip be really different in the flesh?

Jessica unlocked her apartment and switched on the lights. She made coffee and turned on the computer, hoping to get at least a few pages written before turning in for the night. To her delight, a message from Whip was showing in her inbox.

Jessie Rose, when I got your message I was over the moon. I’ve booked your flights and attached the details. I’ll drive down  and pick you up from Sydney’s Kingsford Smith International Airport. We can spend a week or so doing the tourist thing before heading north to the property or whatever you like. Nothing’s cast in stone, so check out the link below. One thing I was thinking, though, is we should exchange photos. Can’t believe we haven’t done that before now! I’ll get one off to you over the next few days and you can send me one of you. How does that sound?

Whip

Jessica checked out the link but rejected the idea of swapping photos. She wanted to experience the impact of their meeting first hand, all the excitement  of coming face to face sight unseen, for better or worse, and gentleman that he was, Whip let her have her way. 

Dreading the thought of a combined twenty-three hours of flights and transit, but elated at the prospect of jet setting off to meet her cyber lover, Jessica’s emotions were running high.  All week, Whip and she messaged back and forth with the sex talk going right off the Richter scale, leaving her body a quivering mass of raw nerve endings. Hunger for the real deal brewed. If he was half as good in the flesh as he was on screen, then she was in for a real treat.

The days preceding her departure went by in a flash. With so much to organize, she didn’t have time to have second thoughts. At least her passport was valid. She’d applied for it over a year ago on a whim, but until now the opportunity to use it hadn’t arisen.

First, she dragged out her luggage from the hall closet. Next, she’d arranged to take some riding lessons. A bit extravagant perhaps, but not wanting to arrive at the ranch, or station as they called it Down Under, a complete novice, she’d decided the expense was justified.

Each passing day, her excitement mounted, bubbling like a kettle on the boil, until it was almost a tangible thing. She was also excited to exchange the bitter winter for a hot Aussie summer, and to experience some of the amazing golden sandy beaches she’d read about.

With that in mind a trip to the beauty parlor was long overdue, so she booked a day of pampering. Her treatments included a facial, hair color, eyebrow shaping, eyelash tinting, leg waxing, a Brazilian, and she’d finished the day with her first ever all-over body massage.

Everything was falling into place, but when she started packing two days prior to her flight, she almost had a hissy fit. As she rummaged through her underwear drawer, discarding article after article, she frowned. If her bras weren’t passion killers then her granny pants were. Damn, they were nothing at all like the skimpy little scraps of silk and lace she’d written about in her cyber play. As for the swimsuit she held up with a disparaging grimace, forget it. She deliberated a full ten seconds before snatching up her handbag, shutting the apartment door behind her, and making a beeline to the shops.

Jessica glanced at her wristwatch and circled the small sitting room yet again. When she passed her suitcase and hand luggage stacked in readiness by the door, she paused, then, shoving aside her Yankees jacket draped atop the pile, she picked up her handbag and rifled through it to triple-check the contents.

Surprise, surprise, her passport, plane tickets, and wallet with some Aussie dollars inside were still right where they’d been the first two times she’d checked. She clucked her tongue, marched into the kitchen, drank a glass of water, and commanded herself to chill. Trish wasn’t even due for another fifteen minutes.

As it turned out, she arrived early. Jessica placed the glass on the kitchen sink and went to answer the knock.

“Thought you might be like a cat on a hot tin roof, so are you all packed and ready to roll?”

“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

Trish picked up the suitcase and headed out the door. Jessica collected her cabin luggage, jacket, and handbag, then locked the apartment and followed her downstairs to the car.

They arrived at JFK International in plenty of time to process her luggage and then have dinner at  one of the airport cafés.  When they’d finished, Trish handed her a square flat package tied with a red bow.

“What’s this?” she asked, perplexed, taking the gift from her.

“Open it and see.”

Jessica unwrapped the parcel. She felt her face glow with a hundred-watt smile and laughed. Inside was a brown paper bag. Trish had meticulously cut out eye, nose, and mouth holes.

“You are incorrigible,” Jessica chastised.

“Yeah, I know, but you love me anyway.”

“That I do,” she agreed and stood. She still had customs and security to get through so needed to get a move on.

“Guess it’s show time?”

“Yep, I’m getting a bit nervous.”

Trish sprang up and enveloped her in a long, tight hug. “Have a great time, and call me the moment you land. I won’t rest until I know you’re safe.” Her words came in a rush. “And if Whip does turn out to be a jerk, walk away. You don’t have to go to some Hicksville cattle ranch with the dude just because he paid your airfare. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Trish eased out of the hug, her forehead wrinkling. “If things don’t feel right, get the hell out of Dodge, okay?”

Jessica nodded.

“Promise me.”

“Okay, okay, I promise, now stop worrying.” Jessica stooped and picked up her hand luggage. When she straightened and faced her very best friend in the world, she was surprised to see Trish’s hazel eyes were filled with moisture. “Seriously, Trish, I know it will be okay, but thank you for caring. It means a lot to me.”

Trish hugged her again and kissed her cheek. “I pray you’re right.”

“Trust me.” With a smile and a wink, she turned and headed toward her new adventure.

Chapter 2

Whip McGregor’s steps were purposeful as he strode down the hall and out the front door and headed across the patchy yard to the garage. It was early, not even six, yet the sun was already high. A golden orb in a cloudless sky, it promised to be another blistering day with no drought relief in sight.

He paused by the stables and narrowing his gaze, cast it over the property. McGregor land stretched before him as far as the eye could see. Sun-scorched and unforgiving, a land of beauty and promise, of dreams both shattered and fulfilled. A harsh land, a lucky land, a land of contradiction. His heart held a passion for it that a stranger could not hope to fathom.

He stopped for a brief word with Cyril, a hired hand, who was seated on a bale of hay outside the barn puffing on a hand-rolled.

“When are you going to give that up? Those things will kill you as sure as the sun sets in the west.”

“The day you walk down the aisle, young Whip.”

The spry little man had christened him Whip the day he’d taught him to crack a bullwhip at the age of five, and the nickname had just stuck.

“I seem to remember you making that same promise to Travis, old man.” Whip smiled at the mention of his twin’s marriage.

Cyril blew out a thin plume of blue smoke and squinted in the sunlight. He’d been working McGregor land since Methuselah was a boy and was more like a family member than the hired help.

“She’s fuelled and ready to go,”  he said, dangling the set of car keys in the air. 

Whip took the keys and gave the old man’s shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks, mate, I’ll see you when I get back.”

Eager to be on the road, Whip lengthened his stride and hurried into the barn-sized garage. He folded his length into the big black Ute and switched on the ignition. The V8 engine roared to life like a mighty beast, and as he shifted into gear, the thought skimmed across his mind that the car was as anxious to be on the road to Sydney as he was.

With hands placed at ten and two on the wheel, he steered the vehicle past the stables and the big house, then followed the road until he came to the stock hands’ quarters. The men were just coming in for breakfast after getting an early start. He slowed the vehicle and raised a hand in response to their greetings before driving by and heading for the boundary.

Ten minutes later, coasting down the dusty track and about to leave the property through the last gate, another vehicle appeared, flicked its lights, then pulled to a stop by the exit.

Damn. He eased the Ute to a standstill before stepping out onto the dirt to wait for Travis.

Ever since his twin had married last Christmas, Travis had been giving him grief and been damn near impossible to live with. He kept ear-bashing him that as the eldest McGregor, although only by sixteen minutes, it was high time he tied the knot, too.  The nagging had become worse over the last few days since he’d announced to the family Jessica was flying in from New York.

The way Travis had been acting you’d think she was coming to get hitched instead of only for a two-week visit from America. Whip thanked his lucky stars Brenda, the baby of the family, was still away at boarding school. It was bad enough Drew and Mark, his two younger brothers, were on semester break from University. From the minute they’d  discovered he was having an Internet relationship, they’d been tenacious with their tormenting, like a dog gnawing a bone, razzing him up and paying him out  at every opportunity. 

Sure it was harmless, and the ‘butt ugly’ comments were only said to get a rise out of him, but they were starting to wear thin. It was for that reason he’d told his brothers he was leaving at seven o’clock this morning when in fact it was only six,  hoping to be long gone before they’d realized what he’d done.

“Gee, mate, five more minutes and I would have missed you.” Travis’ grin leaped across his face as he slammed the car door and walked toward him.

“Yeah, I always was lucky.” The reply was delivered, tongue in cheek. He should’ve known better than to try and pull a fast one on his twin. 

The sound of motorbike engines cutting across the property had Whip whirling on his heel to face south. “You didn’t tell the other two, did you?” 

“Bet your balls I did. I figured you’d try and get away early, and no way we’d let you go to the big smoke without a proper send-off.”

A cheesy grin split Travis’ face, a mirror image of his own, his gray eyes crinkling with devilment while Whip narrowed his with annoyance.

Drew and Mark skidded the bikes to a halt, sending clouds of dust from the dirt road wafting over Travis and him as they stood by the Ute.

“You two clowns are just fucking hilarious,” Whip roared and slapped at the red dust beginning to settle on his jeans and shirt. “Have a look at what you’ve done.”  He swept his hand down the front of his now pink-tinged denims.

“Settle down. You’ve got a change of clothes packed, haven’t you?” Mark, the youngest male McGregor, sniggered without an ounce of sympathy. It was their way of teaching him a lesson for lying and trying to sneak off.  Whip knew there’d be retribution; he’d just expected it to be when he got back. 

“You two are bloody impossible. Why aren’t you out with the herd anyway?”  he asked, his voice gruff with exasperation.

“Couldn’t let you leave without some brotherly advice,” Drew explained. He was the next brother down from him and Travis, and at twenty-two, younger than them by nine years.

“This’ll be good.” Knowing he had little choice, Whip rested his hip against the vehicle and with arms folded, waited for the inevitable.

“If it does turn out she’s been hit with the ugly stick, remember to still play nice. Ugly girls have feelings, too.” Drew’s grin was smug as he flipped Whip’s chest with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, and it’s for two weeks. Fourteen long days and fourteen even longer nights, twenty-four/seven bro with no escape.” Mark’s cheeks dimpled with glee as he supplied the timeline.

“Ah-ha.” This was the very
advice
he’d hoped to avoid.

“Ugly ones need lovin’, too, you know, and she’ll be expecting it, so do us proud big brother and keep up your end of the bargain, if you get my drift.” Drew was in his element, his eyes twinkling in the sunlight, and his lips curving upward at the banter.

“And if she’s not ugly, then she’s probably got half a dozen ankle biters, hairy pits, and smokes like a chimney.” Mark chuckled, tossing him a packet of condoms that Whip caught singlehanded. 

“Ease up, guys. Jessica could very well be your new sister-in-law, and don’t forget it works both ways,” Travis cut across their laughter, and with a light thump, clipped Whip on the chin with his fist. “She’s flying all this way to spend the next two weeks looking at this ugly mug.”

“I think you guys are getting a bit ahead of yourselves.” Whip lifted his hand to his chin. His jaw didn’t hurt but he worked it for effect anyway. “And, Travis, I realize I’m no  oil painting but neither are you, and yet, you still managed to talk the prettiest girl in town into marrying you.”

“Yeah, but unlike you, mate, I was blessed with a winning personality and a shitload of charm.” 

Their two youngest brothers groaned and Drew voiced his disagreement, “Get real, Annie was exhausted. Ten years of you chasing her just wore the poor girl out. She didn’t have a choice but to marry you.”

“All jokes aside, guys, you will behave and make Jess’ stay here as pleasant as possible, right?”

Travis’ words held a hint of menace and for that, Whip was thankful.

He watched on amused as his twin eyeballed their younger siblings, daring them to contradict. The boys were notorious far and wide for some of the pranks they’d pulled over the years. Both he and Travis had read them the riot act more times than he cared to remember.

“Re-lax, we’re just taking the piss out of him.” Mark flicked his shaggy head in his direction.

Whip cocked a brow but held his tongue. The sooner this was over the sooner he’d be on his way.

“We’re just hoping she’ll give the big lug here something else to do besides busting our balls,”  Drew elaborated, giving him his cue to make a move.

“As much as I’d like to stay and listen to more of your dribble, I’ve got more pressing places to be.” Whip folded himself back into the driver’s seat and kicked over the engine. “Get the gate for me, Drew, and Travis, be sure and keep these two in line until I get back.” 

“Don’t sweat it. They’ll be so busy fixing fences and doing your chores they won’t have time to itch, let alone scratch. You just enjoy the break and make sure you call me as soon as you  collect her.”

“Don’t hold your breath, little brother. Calling you will be the last thing on my mind.” He grinned, knowing that the
little brother
comment would piss Travis off. “But I’ll give you a call when I’m heading home, probably won’t be before Friday, though.”

“Travel safe, bro.” Travis tapped the roof of the vehicle twice before stepping aside.

His other brothers added their good-byes, and Drew swung the gate wide.

Whip gave them a salute, buckled his belt, and then drove through the opening. A toot of the horn was his final farewell as he turned off the property and accelerated onto the asphalt road.

As he motored along, thoughts of the three siblings filled his mind and a smile crept onto his face. They were royal pains in the ass but  good men all the same, and he wouldn’t trade them for gold. But he shook his head at his own stupidity. What a dumbass for not being savvy enough to realize they wouldn’t let him make the long trip to Sydney without seeing him off.

With little to no traffic on the highway, he put the Ute on cruise control and drove on autopilot. The  car chewed up the miles, and having not much else to occupy him and plenty of time on his hands, his thoughts turned to Jessie Rose. 

Sure, he was taking a chance, but  as the old cliché went—nothing ventured, nothing gained. And despite all  the jokes his brothers made to the contrary, he was easy on the eye, and Jessie Rose would not be disappointed with what she saw, that much he knew. He wasn’t vain nor was he blind. The evidence stared him in the mirror every day, and attracting women had never been a problem for him.

Over the years, many people had told him he was handsome, sexy, he’d even overheard himself referred to as a hunk. But looks were never big on his list of priorities and were even less so now he was older.

Yeah, it would be a bonus if she was a looker. More important for him though, and what he desired most, was someone who’d stick by him come hell or high water. Someone smart and funny and not shy between the sheets, someone he could talk to and not get bored with, someone like Jessie Rose.

Their relationship started by chance but in no time at all ballooned into . . . into what?  A romantic affair? Not quite the term he was seeking, but it would do for want of a better one.

Bored one night, and just for amusement, he’d been reading the posts on a military forum when he came upon hers. It was different. She wasn’t angling for a pen pal like so many other females. She was after advice.

A romance writer in her spare time, she was seeking military personnel, active or retired, who wouldn’t mind answering some technical questions, as the hero in her book was a military man.

He’d done a stint in the forces and thought what the hell. He’d tapped out a response and sent it to her private e-mail address before he’d had time to think better of it.

That had been the start. She was American, but it didn’t matter that he’d  served in the Australian Army, she was just grateful for any help. The three or four  e-mails she’d sent that first month  were technical, pure and simple, and they all ended the same.
Thanks a lot, Jessica,
and she always added a red rose emoticon  next to  her name.

After six weeks, the personal questions crept in. By the third month they’d hit their comfort zone. The e-mails then arrived every few days and were more personal than technical. He discovered she was smart and witty, and he laughed at her jokes. He christened her Jessie Rose and looked forward to the mornings when a message  would be waiting in his inbox, and was disappointed if there wasn’t one.

When the sexual innuendo began, it was so subtle, he’d almost missed it. Her e-mail could be read two ways, so he’d taken a gamble and responded with a little sexual innuendo of his own. She’d come back raising the bar, and he’d responded upping the ante. After that they’d gotten down and dirty with no holds barred.

The cybersex, although awkward at first, was hot, intense, and incredibly erotic. Being a romance writer, she had all the raunchy words and wasn’t shy in using them. It was uncharted territory for him. He preferred hands-on, but he was a quick study, and when she’d thrown down the challenge he’d picked it up, and  found it addictive. 

They’d meet online every Monday and Thursday night, and on many occasions he’d go to bed frustrated. But not all of their chats were based on sex.  They’d discovered they had a lot in common, but they also found some of their views were at opposite ends of the spectrum, making for lively debate.

She liked romantic comedies, he liked action films. They both read murder mysteries, and of course she liked the girlie books. When he’d scoffed and called them dribble with no substance, she’d made him confess to not ever having read one, and then took him to task for making unsubstantiated statements. She’d then extracted his promise to read her book, if it was ever published. She was fun and easy to talk, too. He liked her.

Just how much he liked her  hit home a few weekends ago when he’d gone into town with Drew to pick up supplies. After stowing them in the Ute, they’d headed to the local pub to sink a few cold ones. Drew bought the first round, and before the two empties had hit the countertop, two attractive young redheads approached them and struck up a conversation.