A Choice of Fate Page 3

  With a nod that acknowledged she’d won this round and a wink that confirmed their bout was far from over, he lowered his arm and released the doors. “Sweet dreams, Dr. Williams.”

  Chapter Two

  Moonlight washed over Brisbane while Jarrah lost himself in the view he’d worked his entire life to secure. After spending twenty-nine years staring at this world from a desert and a culture away, he finally belonged. Yet all he could think of was how close he’d come to losing the home he’d run away from a lifetime ago and failing the only people he’d ever loved.

  The stainless-steel chillers in his long-forgotten whiskey clanked together as he toasted his reflection in the wall of glass protecting his fortress of solitude from the society he no longer needed or wanted to prove anything to. “Congratulations, you lucky bastard.”

  He drew the Glenfiddich into his mouth in the hope the liquor would burn the fear choking him. Fuck Dean Manningham and his army of legal mercenaries, fuck the Carters and their unquenchable thirst for profits, and fuck anyone who came after his family or the land they watched over.

  He forced down another mouthful and studied the manicured gardens beneath him, the luxury cabin cruisers docked along the riverbank, and the city lights illuminating the night. After the endless years of work, the wars and sacrifices, and the failures and successes, he’d only exchanged one desert for another. Only this wasteland overflowed with worthless trinkets and a desperate loneliness he could no longer escape by buying shiny new things or losing himself between the legs of anonymous women.

  “Tough day?”

  The fifty-year-old single malt evaporating in his glass hadn’t been able to banish the chill from his bones. Yet that damned voice ignited something inside his gut that scared the shit out of him almost as much as it tempted him. She leaned in the doorway leading to the guest suite with an all-too-knowing smile curving her lips. Christ. The blond hair that had cascaded over her shoulders like a honey waterfall in that dingy motel was tied back into a scruffy knot, an oversize L.A. Rams top and baggy sweatpants hid her body, and she was still more potent than his whiskey.

  Dr. Olivia Williams, sister to his ball-breaker of a future sister-in-law, maid of honor at his overprotective brother’s impending wedding, and the newest member of his hodge-podge family. Brains, compassion, determination, independence, and sass lurking inside five foot ten inches of wow.

  If she’d been any other woman, he’d risk his soul to get her naked. But she wasn’t just another woman, and his soul was exactly what he’d be sacrificing, because when lust eventually surrendered to logic and their rodeo ride ended, he’d face an eternity of purgatory every time he returned home and found her glaring at him across his mother’s dining table.

  He dragged his thoughts out of the very deep gutter they’d plummeted into and raised his glass. “Great day.”

  Even as the words left his mouth, the truth kicked him square in the balls. He’d won today, but the war raged on, and he’d played this shitty game long enough to know influence and money trumped the law and what was right. And when it came to cattle and the Outback, there weren’t too many more powerful or ruthless players than old man Carter and the greedy, power-hungry dynasty he’d sired on the twelve million acres neighboring Wingarra.

  Jarrah’s empty stomach clenched as Olivia’s smile dimmed and her gaze sharpened until it felt like she scanned his brain. His family had won, but Dean Manningham and Carter Industries weren’t done. Even worse, the fight had morphed from one of simple corporate greed into something personal for Dean. And there was nothing more dangerous than a narcissist CEO with a wounded ego and the backing of a multinational.

  Those bullshit-detecting cobalt eyes narrowed as Olivia pushed off the doorway. “I’d hate to see a bad day.”

  All thoughts of Carter Industries, Manningham, and how his fancy law degree would’ve counted for jack shit if he couldn’t save his family’s legacy evaporated with every step she took.

  He still had no clue how she did it. She had a way of looking at him that made him feel like a kid who’d been sprung ogling a Playboy centerfold. He dragged in a steadying breath and prayed his puberty held. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Her adorably mussed hair shimmered under the dim glow from his mood lighting while she shook her head. “Still figuring out how to sleep through the night after eight years of college and med school and three centuries of residency.”

  Curvy, slender, tall, short, black, white, and in between, it didn’t matter. There was something about the way women moved that had ruled his youth and continued to captivate his adult brain. But the woman floating toward him on bare feet threatened to overwhelm him completely. It wasn’t her body. It wasn’t even the way she seemed to know exactly where she was headed and how she was getting there. She just carried herself in ways that intrigued his groin as much as his mind.

  She sighed and pulled up in front of the windows. “Travelling eighteen hours into the future doesn’t help.”

  She stood well away from him. The distance did little to reduce the impact of her presence or dilute the memory of their last encounter. It’d taken the entire trip back to the office and more than a few curses from Charlie to stop him imagining her naked. He turned back to the view and found himself admiring her profile in the reflection. “I’ve heard residency’s a bitch.”

  She took in the nightlife traffic snaking through the city. “I’m guessing it’s no tougher than being an associate at a law firm.”

  He spied on her out of the corner of his eye while failing miserably to control his imagination. “No comparison.”

  She didn’t look at him directly yet he knew his smart-arse jab caught her right on the tip of her slender jaw by the grin curving the corner of her mouth. She eyed him in their shared reflection, and the sensation was even more powerful than the bedroom-eyes and sexy-as-hell voice she’d hit him with as the elevator doors had closed.

  He pretended not to notice her shoulders stiffen and her eyebrows narrow before he surrendered to the grin he’d fought. “I manipulate an unjust system to make rich people richer. You save people’s lives. No comparison.” He raised his glass. “Care to join the celebration, Doc?”

  She studied him as if she didn’t believe his confession before the tension eased from her torso. “Why the hell not. This is my first vacation in…” She looked to the ceiling and groaned. “Way too damned long.”

  She maintained the same buffer she’d held since they’d met while following him to the bar. With languid grace, she slid a hip onto the custom-made barstools he’d had crafted to match the polished red-gum bar he hadn’t needed to restock in a long, long time.

  He retrieved the Glenfiddich from its hiding place and popped the cork. With a whispered gasp, she covered the glass he’d slid in front her with the life-saving fingers that had almost singed his skin when he’d grabbed her suitcase. “That looks way too expensive to waste on me.”

  She was even more impressive in the flesh than in the photos he’d seen and the avatar he’d pieced together from the endless stories Abi and Ryder had shared. He stared at the hand-blown silver embossed bottle that’d cost more than his first car and shook his head. “I know how close you and Abi are. I know how much it must’ve hurt to set her free to follow my idiot brother into the middle of nowhere. And I know how hard it is to be away from the people we love.”

  He gently shifted her hand and filled her glass. “Thank you for what you did for my brother and my future sister-in-law.”

  The humorous suspicion she’d filtered him with faded as her eyes widened and swallowed him whole. The organic vanilla-scented shampoo Charlie had stocked in the guest bathroom combined with the ancient vapors pouring from their glasses to create a magical cocktail that stopped time.

  Way before he’d come close to drinking his fill, she blinked and broke the spell. Nodding slowly, she leaned back and raised her glass. “So what are we drinking to?”

  A year ago he’d have toasted
success and wealth, but Ryder and Abi had shown him what was truly important. “To health and the people we love.”

  Her smile filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt since he’d left Wingarra a year ago. She clinked her glass to his and took a tentative sip before her eyelids closed and she rocked back on her stool with a seductive groan that had him fighting to hang on to his glass. He rescued his whiskey only to have his stainless-steel balls almost clunk onto the floor when she ran her tongue over her lips and sighed like she needed a cigarette.

  “Do I want to know how much that sip cost?”

  His brain was busy battling lust for control, so all he could do was shake his head. Which was bloody useless considering her eyes were closed. He still hadn’t pulled his shit together when she half opened one eye and peeked at him, so he shook his head again and ducked for cover behind the rim of his own glass.

  She grinned and took another delicate sip before sliding off the stool and walking toward the fireplace he’d used to disrobe many a houseguest. A more honorable man might have dropped his gaze. He was far from honorable, and her butt and legs deserved to be worshipped despite being concealed by baggy sweatpants.

  She took in the lounge area he couldn’t remember actually sitting in for God knew how long. “I’m guessing a great day in the world of corporate law comes with a pretty hefty paycheck?”

  He’d never apologized for what he’d achieved. He’d played within the rules and worked smarter and harder than anyone else. However, talking about money in the presence of someone who saved lives felt tacky. “You first. It’s your celebration.” He pointed his glass at her. “What qualifies as a great day in the world of a trauma doctor?”

  Her cheeks bunched behind her glass as she took another sip and stared out the windows, as if imagining a great day right there in the middle of the shaggy handwoven rug swallowing her bare feet. “A great day is when no one dies and the only patients through emergency deserve being there.”

  Visions of her in blood-splattered scrubs struggling to restrain a drugged-up gangbanger while fighting to save the arsehole’s life flashed through his mind. He drowned the images with a mouthful of whiskey. “That happen often?”

  The light from her smile faded as she shook her head and lifted her glass. She paused midway to her mouth and jabbed a finger at him. “Objection, your honor, I’m not the defendant.”

  He raised his hands in surrender and skirted the lounge area she’d claimed. “Relax, I’m not that kind of lawyer.” He shrugged and pulled up behind the protection of an armchair. “Plus, I look terrible in a wig and gown.”

  “I don’t know. I could see you with a blond chignon rocking chiffon and stilettos.” She grinned and stretched out her arms. “So what does a cowboy have to do to afford a swanky bachelor pad like this?” Lowering her arms, she narrowed her eyes and pointed her glass at him. “You’re a high-class gigolo, aren’t you? The lawyer thing’s just a front. That explains all the women Ryder talked about.”

  He made a mental note to kick his brother’s arse before gesturing to the sofa and edging into the octagon created by his lounge suite. “I use my huge brain and endless charm to make very rich people even richer.”

  She curled up on one end of the sofa like she’d been living with him for years. Fatigue, whiskey, and months of celibacy almost had him surrendering to the devil whispering in his ear and joining her on the couch. Logic prevailed, and he sank into the armchair opposite her while releasing the breath he’d been holding.

  “You do much more than that. Ryder told me how you saved Wingarra from multinationals even before you’d finished law school. Not to mention what you’ve done for your hometown.” Her features softened as she angled her head. “Legend has it you’ve saved more than a few family stations and livelihoods from the banks, the government, and the corporations.”

  Maybe he wouldn’t have to beat up his brother after all. “One of the ways I balance Karma.” And repay the poor townsfolk he and his deadbeat brothers terrorized in their youth.

  A devious grin curved her lips. “Are we talking normal rich or Iron Man rich?”

  Money was discussed like the weather in the Armani- and Rolex-clad circles he stalked. But like the stock portfolios, the cars, the real estate, and the women, it was used as a means of establishing a pecking order. Every woman he’d shared time with eventually asked the same thing. The topic of finances usually surfaced after a lengthy and convoluted series of matter-of-fact observations and not-so-subtle inquiries from the entrepreneurs, corporate juggernauts, and social climbers he’d entertained. Olivia’s curiosity, however, wasn’t driven by greed, competitiveness, or a need to find a suitable mate for the next stage of her ten-year plan.

  He couldn’t help smiling because she just looked too damned adorably sneaky. “I charge my original clients two thousand dollars an hour, plus expenses and performance bonuses. New clients pay three.”

  She jerked upright and sloshed about a hundred dollars’ worth of whiskey onto her forearm. She slammed her mouth over her wrist and slurped up the spill before spluttering out a most unladylike curse that had him feeling a hell of a lot better than he had half an hour ago.

  He’d delivered the information with as much disinterested boredom as he could channel in the hopes of getting a rise out of her and had only succeeded in shocking the hell out of himself. For the first time in a very, very long time the numbers truly didn’t mean a damned thing to him. And with every silent second, the boy he’d been, the angry, stupid, arrogant fool who’d run away from paradise in search of money and power drifted further and further away from the man he wanted to be.

  She settled back into the sofa and studied him with wide eyes as that huge brain crunched the math before she cursed and shook her head. “I knew I should’ve chosen law over medicine.”

  Christ, the last thing the world needed was more freaking lawyers. Plus, from what he’d heard from Ryder and Abi and experienced for himself in the emails he’d exchanged with her, his guest was way too compassionate and honorable to be a lawyer. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d offered to pick her up from the airport and put her up for however long she needed. He’d even offered to take care of the paperwork nightmare of clearing her father’s car through customs and registration. And she’d politely and firmly shot him down every time. “There are a hell of a lot more important things in this world than money.” He allowed himself to linger in her eyes before nodding. “You chose the right path, Doctor.”

  She held his gaze a few more heartbeats before clearing her throat and dropping her eyes to the trickle of whiskey remaining in her glass. “I’m guessing tonight’s bonus was a big one?”

  “Biggest of my career.” His grin exploded into a full-blown smile as he tortured her a little longer before raising his glass to the ceiling. “Tonight, I hopefully secured a lifetime’s worth of home-cooked meals, free holiday accommodation, and maybe even a day or two of gratitude from the harpies ruling my life.” Even as the words left his mouth he saw Dean stalking his corner office like a wounded grizzly while screaming at his minions to find another loophole to exploit or official to corrupt.

  Her surprise morphed into suspicion, then concern while she studied him and analyzed the information she’d gathered in the few hours they’d shared. A gasp leaked through the fingers she’d clutched over her mouth before she slowly lowered her hand and swallowed. “Wingarra?”

  Wingarra, Place of Magical Water, the cattle station his birth parents had worked and cared for. The acres of dust, scrub, and rock his foster parents had fought to buy back from the government. And the desert paradise he and his family would protect for as long as they drew breath. He shrugged and shook his head. “You’d think after living next door to each other for over a hundred years, we’d learn to get along.”

  She hadn’t bought his bullshit attempt to downplay just how bad his night could’ve been. Then again, he hadn’t expected her to, because she was a hell of a lot smarter
than he was. What did surprise him was the concern creasing her features. He smiled until his cheeks ached. “Nothing to worry about. Just a walk in the park for a legal superhero such as myself.”

  The months of endless days and sleepless nights he’d spent double-checking native-land title law, triple-checking agricultural and mining legislation, and preparing for war while balancing his client’s needs had him shuddering. He took a long swig from his glass and prayed his acting was better than his lying.

  Her empathy impressed him even more than her intellect. Instead of pinning him for the shifty bastard he was, she let him off the hook by surveying his apartment. Her eyes drifted over the emotionless trinkets, unused furniture, and sterile appliances he’d filled his life with. “You have a beautiful home.”

  He drew in the breath he hadn’t been able to take while under her scrutiny and followed her gaze. He’d moved in three years ago and had everything custom designed to suit his needs. Yet the place would never be home. Home would always be a patch of dust eight hundred kilometers west.

  She emptied her glass while taking in the results of close to a decade’s worth of eighty-hour weeks, calculated risks, and a shitload of luck. “What you’ve accomplished is incredible, especially considering you started with practically nothing.”

  No doubt he could thank his big-mouthed brother for boring her with his life story. However, he’d started with a lot more than nothing. He was pretty sure a suicidal determination not to allow him and his sister to fall victim to the same broken system and stereotypes that had destroyed the souls of too many of his people wasn’t what Olivia had had in mind. He nodded and returned her smile. “Right back at you, Doc.”

  He and Jeddah had been raised by four remarkable people and were lucky enough to still have one barbed-wire tough guardian angel watching over them. Olivia and Abi had had their guardian angels stolen from them by some drunk fucker in a pickup. They hadn’t even finished high school when they’d gone to war to stay together and rebuild what remained of their lives.