Page 33 of Return of the Outback Billionaire

‘Really? All but one? Which one?’

Astonishment looked good on Bridie. Not quite as good as...what did she call it? His gaze skittered over the photo on the wall—the part with Bridie in it, whirling against the storm.

‘Boots ’n Dust,’ answered Sara. ‘Bridie, darling, I’m being asked if you take commissions. Come and meet this wonderful couple from South Australia. I believe they own a grazing property down that way. Can you spare her, Mr Blake?’

‘I can spare her.’

‘You won’t leave without me?’ asked Bridie.

Why she still wanted him anywhere near her spoke volumes about her lack of alternatives. ‘I won’t leave without you. I might step outside though.’ Let the lack of walls calm him. ‘Text me when you want me to come back in.’

‘I will.’ She leaned up, her lips to his ear. ‘I’m really sorry you don’t like the photos but, please, please look at them again. Your superhero photo against the storm is stunning. You’re stunning—all your inner strength and might. As for the one of us, the you in that pic is every bit as bold and beautiful as you are in the other one, and it’s exactly what I want for you, whether I’m the one to share it with you or not.

‘Happiness and joy, Judah. Because you deserve it.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT WAS HARD to feel like a successful landscape photographer when the man walking beside her was so tense and withdrawn. She should have stuck to landscapes, or at the very least forced Judah to look at the pictures she’d added to the exhibition at the last minute. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. He probably hadn’t meant to hurt her either, with his emphatic objection to the portrait of the two of them, but he had.

Their tentative friendship was withering away in the silence and she had no idea how to resurrect it.

‘You’re not coming in?’ she asked as he stopped at the entrance to the hotel foyer.

‘Not yet. Figured I’d walk for a bit.’

‘Want some company?’ It was a long shot, because every bone in his body suggested that, no, he damn well didn’t.

He looked to her boots. ‘In those shoes?’

‘I have walking shoes upstairs.’

He shrugged, which could mean anything, but he stayed by her side as they returned to the suite, which was still as luxurious as they had left it, only now there was a bottle of champagne, a fruit basket, and chocolates on the dining table, along with a note congratulating her on her resounding opening-night success.

‘From the gallery,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll just go change my shoes.’

‘Don’t bother.’

Right, so he definitely wasn’t interested in enduring any more of her company this evening. ‘Okay, no. Didn’t mean to intrude on the rest of your evening.’

‘I meant that tiredness hit me like a hammer on the way up to the suite and what’s not to like about the thought of opening a bottle of celebratory champagne and kicking back now that we’re here?’

‘Oh. Okay.’ Four seasons in one day, that was him.

He reached for the bottle of champagne and made short work of opening it. ‘Congratulations. You did it. Sold every painting.’

‘And managed to hurt you in the process.’ Might as well say it.

‘I overreacted. Lashed out.’

‘Again.’ Because he’d done similar at the ball.

‘Again.’ He poured the champagne and left plenty of room for the bubbles to rise before topping off the glasses and handing one to her. ‘I’m not proud of my behaviour.’

‘Do you know why you do it?’

‘I have a fair idea.’

She waited, and waited some more, and finally he spoke.

---