Driving Her Crazy - By Amy Andrews Page 0,27

would have paled in comparison.

The inky blackness blazed and dazzled as the lights from billions of stars glowed seemingly just for her. They crowded each other out, a black and white kaleidoscope, and on the roof of the car in the vast nothingness of the outback night, where the line between heaven and earth didn’t exist, Sadie felt as if she could just reach up and pluck one from the cosmos.

Looking up, she suddenly understood how Van Gogh must have felt when he’d painted his famous starry French sky.

She breathed out. ‘Wow.’

‘Indeed,’ Kent agreed, staring into the inky dome with her. ‘You want your money back now?’

Sadie shook her head slowly. ‘They’re like...diamonds or crystals or teardrops or...something... I don’t have the words.’

Kent grimaced. Unfortunately he did. They were the diamanté on Sadie’s pink thong.

All trillion of them.

Winking down at him.

‘Wow,’ he murmured, trying to divert his thoughts from her underwear. ‘Sadie Bliss lost for words. Somebody call a doctor.’

Sadie smiled as her gaze roamed the sky. ‘Shut up, Kent Nelson. You’re ruining the moment.’

Kent chuckled. ‘I’ll make a camper out of you yet.’

Sadie ignored him as a sudden revelation dawned. She might not be able to find the words but she knew exactly how she could express the swell of emotion swirling inside her. The urge to paint, to replicate what she saw on canvas, flowed through her on a surge of energy that fizzed and bubbled in her veins like a slug of Moët.

She hadn’t felt it in a long time. Not since Leo had told her she’d only been awarded the scholarship to the London Art College because the director owed him a favour.

‘Don’t you want to take a picture of it?’ she said quietly, not wanting to disturb the preternatural hush of the sleeping outback.

Kent glanced at her, surprised by the awe, the emotion in her voice. Her lips were slightly parted, the waning light from the crescent moon laid gentle fingers across the plush pillows.

He nodded as he fixed his gaze firmly heavenward again. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll make sure I get some before the trip ends.’

Sadie wasn’t sure how long they lay there just looking at the sky. She’d have never thought a person could actually stargaze and lose track of time. But her fingers were tingling and her mind was buzzing. How could she capture all this? Do it justice?

How could he?

But then she remembered his photograph in the exhibition—its very starkness the key to its power—and knew if anyone could, he could.

She was conscious of him awake beside her. She could hear his breath. Knew somehow that he, too, was looking at the cosmic vista with the eye of a true artist.

‘I saw Mortality,’ she said into the night. ‘In New York. A few months back.’

Kent’s gaze that had been roaming freely screeched to a halt directly above him. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move a muscle. He barely breathed. He hadn’t wanted that photo, any of the crash photos, to go public but the families of the men who’d died had specifically requested that they be released. And he hadn’t been about to deny them.

Still, he’d had no idea that out of that day forged in hell his photograph of a dying soldier would leave a lasting mark on the world.

It was what every photojournalist dreamed of, he supposed, but it was an honour he could do without.

Sadie turned her head to look at his silent profile. He had one arm flung above him, propping his head a little higher. His mouth was a bleak slash adding to the severity of the rest of his face. His gaze was trained steadfastly above.

‘It was...amazing. Did you see how well the gallery had it lit?’

Kent shook his head. ‘I never go to my exhibitions.’

Sadie blinked, surprised. As an art student she’d survived on dreams of attending her own exhibitions. ‘Well, they did a great job. Although it doesn’t need much, does it? It’s so...stark. Such a...private image. I had to leave. I couldn’t look at it.’

Kent didn’t want to talk about the photo. Especially not with a woman whose definition of a hard day was the presence of a rather large spider.

‘Goodnight, Sadie Bliss,’ he said, rolling away from her.

Then Sadie was staring at his back wishing she’d never said anything at all.

Sadie was momentarily confused when she startled awake some time later, her heart racing. She wasn’t sure of the time but the stars were still out in force. She wasn’t