Breaking The Playboy's Rules. Emily ForbesЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘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