Page 22 of Andrew’s Outback Love

“Of course, you can. If I don’t answer, please don’t panic. I turn the phone off when we’re on a mission.”

“I understand. I think I’ll hit the sack. We’ll be flying out at six in the morning. I have a few things to do in Dubbo and then it’s back to Sydney.”

“You can’t stay for the weekend?” Linda sounded disappointed.

“Originally, I was staying until Sunday because of Ally’s farewell, but one of my colleagues in Sydney has fallen ill and I promised I’d go on call in his place.”

“The life of a doctor, huh?”

“Yep.”

I stood and helped Linda to her feet. She gazed into my eyes as if searching for something. I had no idea what. Lowering my head, I captured her lips and kissed her deeply. She responded with passion and as tired as I was, I wanted to race her off to the bedroom and fuck her into next week.

Before things could get out of hand, I turned her towards the house and led her inside. I was now wide awake and figured I was in for another sleepless night.

***

MELBOURNE, VICTORIA

Saturday Night

The Following Week

It had been seven days since I’d last seen Linda and I missed her like crazy, but we’d managed to talk on the phone every day. We discussed work and she said she was happier in Dubbo than she’d ever been in Broken Hill. She also said she was looking forward to seeing me again and being back in Bourke. By the third time we spoke, Linda finally admitted she missed me and confided, she’d like to try a relationship. I was thrilled to bits and couldn’t wait to see her again, to take her into my arms and kiss her deeply. Maybe even take her to bed. It all depended on what Linda wanted.

I stood in front of the mirror in my hotel room and attempted to concentrate on tying my tie. I was all fucking thumbs and I swear it must have taken me at least fifteen minutes before it looked half decent. When I’d spoken with Linda earlier in the afternoon, I’d been tempted to ditch the whole event and catch the first plane up to Dubbo, or drive if I had to. When I’d suggested my absconding to Linda, she’d growled at me and said one of my responsibilities as a doctor was doing humanitarian work. I knew she was right but it didn’t make me any happier about attending. Especially when I knew the people I was closest to were out on the town enjoying themselves.

I shrugged on my jacket, pushed a few hairs back into place and headed downstairs to the limo which I knew would be waiting for me. The driver stood holding the door open and I slid onto the cool leather of the back seat before fastening the seatbelt.

The short drive through the city seemed to take forever thanks to the Saturday night traffic. I wondered where people were heading, probably off to have fun in one of the restaurants, clubs or pubs. Lucky bastards.

We arrived at the ballroom in Central Melbourne and I waited for the valet to open the door before alighting from the limousine the organization had sent for me. Flashes of light pierced the night sky when I stepped onto the red carpet and fastened the jacket of my tuxedo – my very uncomfortable tuxedo. God, I hated these events but I had no choice where this one was concerned. Channel Nine, a major TV station, was covering the gala. The news footage would reach out to millions and in the past, it had doubled our donations in the following twenty-four hours.

The brisk walk along the red carpet was halted, before I reached the door to what I considered safety, by Candy Wilson – a reporter with Nine News in Melbourne. She specialized in covering gala events like this one and recording human-interest stories. I tried hard not to shudder when I noted the dress she was almost wearing. The woman was single, tall, grasshopper skinny with sunken eyes and dull hair. She was highly regarded as being one of the beautiful people in our country and seemingly men fell at her feet. I had no idea why. She was the complete opposite of who I considered my type. My cock lay limp in my pants, showing no interest at all. It obviously had good taste. For some reason she’d set her sights on me and refused to give up.

I’d cursed myself constantly for giving her my mobile number a week ago. Candy had called and asked me for it, saying it was to set up an interview for Australian Humanitarians. It was a show she anchored on Tuesday nights at seven o’clock. Yep, I’d walked straight into the trap she’d set. I’d been waiting on a date for the studio interview so had answered each time she called – at least three times a day. Every. Fucking Day! Candy had stated she was still organizing a slot so suggested we go out for a drink while we waited to hear back from the Producer. When she’d called for the third time yesterday, I made it clear, I was no longer interested in the interview. No amount of publicity or badly needed funding was worth that kind of harassment.

I was polite when she stopped me, mindful of the flashing cameras and banks of reporters. The last thing I needed was to be flashed across the front pages of newspapers and television screens for being rude to a fêted celebrity. Let me pause here and explain. They weren’t here for me. I was merely a filler while they waited for the three Hollywood stars who were avid supporters of the organization. So, I sucked it up and stopped to speak with the woman.

She shoved her microphone into my face. “Andrew, darling, who do you think the winners will be tonight? Do you think you’ll be rewarded for your hard work with the Humanitarian of the Year award?”

I smiled towards a couple of reporters who had their pens poised. “Candy, I have no idea who will been given the coveted award, but I can assure you, it will be someone very deserving of the honor.”

When she opened her mouth to ask me another question, I gave her a smile.

“As much as I would like to stand here and chat, Candy, others are arriving and I don’t want to delay their heading inside. Thank you.”

Before I could turn and walk away, she dropped the mic to her side, gave me a knowing smirk and whispered, “Andrew, I will have my date. Call you later.”

I’d had it with her and responded rudely. “Don’t bother because there will be no fucking date with me.”

I spun on my heel and headed for the sanctuary inside, resolving as I went to place a block on her number to prevent her from calling. I wondered if it would be enough to deter her but feared it probably wouldn’t be. The bitch didn’t know how to take no for an answer. I felt for the man she would eventually drag into her clutches.

***

I REACHED INTO MY POCKET and drew out the official gold card which granted me entry into the gala. A man in a suit with a gold embroidered ‘C’ on his shirt pocket took it from me and asked me to follow him. As I did, I took in the sight of the decorated ballroom.

The function was being held at a different venue this year. It was larger and much more opulent. Tables were placed around the perimeter leaving the centre open for dancing later in the evening, I’d be gone by then. Each table was covered in a white cloth and gold candles burned in a sconce in the centre. There was also a small vase of flowers, but being the horticultural imbecile I was, I had no idea what they were. They were red and white, had foliage of shiny green and were quite pretty. As we neared where I was to be seated, I noted the cutlery was gold instead of the usual silver – very impressive.