What widower Slade McGregor wants, routine days at the Red Gum, collides with what he needs--the beguiling Yankee "guest", whose film job leads him back to Rainbow Canyon where lay tragic truths. Her kisses sear his soul and he soon finds himself wanting her to stay forever Down Under. But will she?
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"Plots and subplots enhanced this romance, while virtual characters deal with true problems. The beauty of the Aussie Outback draws a pictorial of the dusty, hot summer. The symbolism of the dray, fiery bush and the seductive dialect tempt the reader to travel deep into this well researched romance." -- Nancy B. Leake, Affair de Coeur, Sept./Oct. 2001
"Next Year's Promise fulfills its promise of action, suspense, and...love. I highly recommend it." -- Betty Jo Schuler, Author of Winning Chance, Wordbeams.com
"I enjoyed reading about my country through such a spirited heorine's eyes." -- Lisa Annis, Sydney, Australia.
"Slade McGregor suprises and enchants as he tussles with ambitious Anne Kingsley in the most captivating way. Don't miss Next Year's Promise." -- Gail Fuller, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada.
"Hudgins is a wonderful writer. The romantic scenes are always touching and are bound to keep her readers turning pages late into the night." --Vivian Westbrook
Slade strode forward. His well-cut jeans, white shirt, and new boots and fawn Akubra finished off God's best work. A smile teased his mouth.
"G'day, Annie."
She stepped toward him, then pulled back. Professionalism rules. For a while longer, anyway. She struggled not to put in too much emotion. She couldn't afford the risk of tears.
"Hello, Slade. I'm. . . glad you could come."
He arched a cool eyebrow.
"You--look--beautiful."
His tone hung flat, like hers, with the feeling half-sucked out. A mirroring ploy to warm her up, she was sure. It worked.
"My grandfather said you'd called," he said, dropping it.
She crinkled her eyebrows. "Jim said that?"
Slade raised his right hand. "He did."
Curious, indeed. Jack had called Jim McGregor, not her.
"So how's life in the big city?" Slade's eyes hinted mischief. Even that appealed to her now.
"Hectic as ever. Charming as Westport can be, and…" She looked away. How she'd made it for the past month without the special connection they shared, she didn't know. Stronger than ever, it enveloped her.
But she'd grown fearless. She proved she could exist without Slade. She also learned about the vast difference between existing and living. They were miles apart, just like she and Slade had been.
"And?" he prompted.
Anne lifted her face to him. "Dry, very dry." Returning to headquarters had dropped her into materialistic, shifting sands. Unsuitable ground for building true and lasting happiness.
"You don't say?" Slade said, his accent smooth as ever. "With all that ocean water close by?"
She unclasped her hands. "Stormy waters. The kind that throw you about and… show you where you went wrong."
Transfixed, he gazed at her.
Time and all the worry of the gala ground to a halt.
"Your flight was good?" he finally said.
She nodded. "Long, but satisfactory. I call it 'forced relaxation.'"
The journey back here had given her time to think, nap, eat and read. At the end, she'd pressed her forehead against the window and looked down at the Sydney Opera House. Rising against a field of blue, its arched roofs reminded her of wind-puffed sails. White and beautiful, they withstood everything the elements dished out. Invincible, with dignity.
As she'd snapped a mental picture, the inevitable question popped up again. If Slade loved her and she loved him, why not let the chips fall again as they may? From this point on she should be strong, like those sails.
Now standing here, with G & A business pushing at her back and longing for Slade to pull her to him, more questions charged through her. She looked up into his eyes.
Along the way it occurred to her that love was a two-way street. For a while Slade was headed in one direction and she in the other. Yet this street also had a beginning and an end. Where they stood now on it Anne didn't know. When she'd left him, she was sure they'd reached the end. Then, after she'd read his note, she saw only the beginning.
Slade's eyes, immersed in hers, weren't saying either way. At the moment, making small talk apparently satisfied him. So she would have to wait it out to know whether he still wanted her, or not. But he was worth the wait.
