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As she watched them Amy’s throat tightened and her mouth wobbled dangerously. They looked so alike, giggling together and having such incredible fun being silly. Without warning, her guilty conscience got the better of her and she very nearly blurted out the truth. Right there and then, accompanied by tears.
I mustn’t. Not now. It would be too cruel to walk into Seth’s house and immediately dump the news on him like an emotional thunderstorm.
She pretended to be terribly busy, opening Bella’s suitcase, struggling to feel calmer.
As if he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, Seth said, ‘I told Ming we’d be happy with something light for supper. How do scrambled eggs with tea and toast sound?’
‘That sounds fine.’ She was dazed with surprise. ‘Who’s Ming?’
Seth smiled. ‘My cook.’
His cook?
Amy blinked. This was another surprise. From the way Rachel had spoken, she’d always imagined that life on this cattle station was pretty rough.
‘So are scrambled eggs OK?’ Seth asked.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They’d be perfect. Bella would love some, too.’
‘No problem. I’ll let Ming know. Come along to the kitchen when you’re ready. It’s just down the hall.’
‘One, two, five, six!’ Bella chanted proudly as she counted the buttered fingers of toast on her plate, then beamed happy smiles at both Amy and Seth.
They were eating alone in the kitchen, the mysterious Ming having prepared their food and then disappeared before Amy could meet him.
Fortunately, Bella was quite adept at filling any awkward silences that lapsed during their dinnertime conversation. In between Bella’s choruses, Amy answered Seth’s questions about her work in marketing and he elaborated on the export beef market.
She wished she could follow up on their earlier conversation with more personal questions like how he’d felt about giving up rugby, or whether he planned to live on Cape York for ever. Or whether he looked forward to having a family one day. Most importantly, she wanted to know how he’d felt about Rachel.
Instead, she told him about her Melbourne flat and Bella’s playgroup and the day care centre where she planned to leave Bella when she returned to work.
Seth’s gaze met Amy’s when she told him this, and wariness crept into his eyes, as if he sensed her underlying tension.
All of a sudden she was desperately, achingly tired and she realised she’d been tense for hours. The closer she got to telling Seth about his relationship to Bella, the more frightened she was.
The fact was, telling Seth was one thing. Handing her precious little girl over was another matter entirely. Amy had no intention of giving her away. As Bella’s guardian, she planned to take the child back to Melbourne with her. Seth could stay in touch, certainly, but he couldn’t expect to have Bella permanently.
Could he?
All through the meal, there was a question in his eyes, which Amy tried to avoid. She focused on his hands as he cut a piece of toast into the shape of a sailing boat for Bella. They were very workmanlike hands—sinewy and strong and suntanned. To Amy’s intense dismay, she found herself imagining his hands on her skin and the thought caused crazy explosions deep inside.
By the end of the meal, Bella was growing sleepy again and Amy grabbed the excuse to escape, to put her to bed.
‘Good idea,’ Seth agreed easily, but as Amy was about to leave he said, ‘Would you have time for a chat after Bella’s settled?’
Time for a chat?
Her heart jumped with sudden fright. Why did his simple question sound ominous? His blue gaze was quiet and steady, in complete contrast to her hectic pulse.
‘Yes, of course,’ she managed to reply. ‘It shouldn’t take too long to settle Bella.’
‘Half an hour?’
‘That’s plenty of time.’
For once Amy was pleased that Bella knew every word of her bedtime story by heart. She only had to turn the pages while the little girl happily pointed to the pictures and recited snippets of dialogue.
Meanwhile, Amy’s mind raced, trying to guess why Seth wanted to chat.
Ever since Rachel’s accident, her mind had developed the alarming habit of leaping to worst-case scenarios. She wondered if Seth wanted to talk about Rachel and Bella. Could he have guessed?
She wasn’t ready to tell Seth the truth. She’d mentally prepared herself for a confession in the morning.
But would there ever be a right time?
Amy watched Bella’s innocent little face as she snuggled down beneath the crisp white sheets with her favourite toy, a fat stuffed pig.
‘Night, night,’ she murmured, touching her fingers to a silky curl of jet-black hair.
Bella eyed her sternly. ‘Say bed bugs.’
‘Bossy boots,’ Amy chided, but she obliged. ‘Night, night, sweetheart. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’
Bella grinned with satisfaction and they hugged tightly. Amy kissed her warm, baby-soft skin, and tried not to think about distressing possibilities that involved handing Bella over, or nights in the future without this ritual.
An awful panic gripped her, and suddenly she knew with blinding clarity how vitally and deeply important Bella had become to her. She simply couldn’t bear to give her up.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she fought tears as she stroked the child’s soft curls and watched her eyelids grow heavy. And she tried, frantically, to sort out a strategy in her mind for dealing with Seth Reardon.
Chapter Three (#ulink_6ed16cfc-b11b-5aa9-a057-f2ab6483cf6a)
SETH stood on the back veranda, staring out into the rain without really seeing it. Instead, he kept seeing a lovely young woman and her cute little daughter, so happy together, and the image gnawed at a private pain he’d tried very hard to keep buried.
With an angry groan he strode to the far end of the veranda, and stared out into the black, rain-lashed night, willing his reckless thoughts to the four winds.
He’d invited this woman and her child into his home, and already today, during a simple walk down a bush track, he’d let down his guard. But he knew that he mustn’t allow a single mother’s warm brown eyes and her daughter’s appealing ways to slip under his defences.
It seemed there was no other man in the picture for Amy and Bella, but so what? Seth had given up all thoughts of domestic happiness, and he’d done so with the fierce determination of a smoker, or a gambler giving up an addiction.
Women, he’d learned after too many mistakes, were a health hazard. Families looked cosy and attractive when viewed from the outside, but he knew from bitter firsthand experience that the inside story could be something else entirely.
Closing his eyes, Seth saw his own mother—slim, elegant and beautiful, her sleek, dark hair framing her face like a satin cap. He remembered her tinkling laugh and the way she’d smelled of delicate flowers. Remembered her infrequent hugs.
He remembered, too, the many evenings he’d stood, nose pressed against the glass, watching her from his bedroom window as she stepped into a limousine. She’d always looked remote, like a goddess, in a glamorous red evening gown, in sequins, or gold lamé—a glittering evening bag in one hand, cigarette in the other.
Mostly, he remembered the day she’d left him for good.
The departure of females had become a pattern in Seth’s life.
He was done with relationships.
This evening, he had to remember to be very careful when he talked to Amy Ross. There were important things about Rachel Tyler that he needed to know—an awkward mystery that he needed to clarify—but he couldn’t allow himself to be sidetracked by any further discussion of Amy’s life as a single mother. If she’d been abandoned by a gold-plated jerk and left to struggle with a baby on her own, Seth didn’t want to know about it.
He didn’t want to feel pity for her and her daughter. And he didn’t want to feel concern. Or longing.
He simply needed to get to the truth.
When Amy heard the soft tap on her door she felt a hot rush of adrenaline. Anxiously, she snatched a glance at her reflection and hoped she’d achieved a small improvement by changing into a fresh T-shirt and jeans.
Her hand was pleasingly steady as she reached for the door knob, but as soon as she saw Seth, tall and dark and filling her doorway, her steadiness deserted her.
She stepped outside quickly, and through the open doorway he sent a silent glance to the bed where Bella slept.
‘Yes, she’s out to it,’ Amy said quietly and she let out a huff of breath, hoping it would settle her nerves.
‘Would you like coffee?’ he asked. ‘Or something stronger?’
‘Not especially,’ she said, wanting a clear head, although she suspected she would benefit from a stiff drink right now.
He gave a curt nod towards the back veranda. ‘Perhaps we should go out there, if it’s not too wet. We shouldn’t disturb Bella, but you’ll still be able to hear her if she cries.’
‘All right.’
Leaving a single bed lamp on, she closed the door softly and followed him, and she felt nervous, as if she were going to a job interview she hadn’t prepared for.
On the veranda, a wall light cast a soft glow over a trio of potted plants and two deeply cushioned cane chairs beside a wicker table.
Amy took a seat and she peered out at the curtain of rain, which was falling more softly now. She wondered what Seth wanted to ‘chat’ about. Avoiding that thought, she asked, ‘How long will this rain last?’
‘Hard to say.’ He shrugged. ‘In some wet seasons it rains non-stop for weeks.’
‘That sounds depressing.’
‘It can be. Most of us try to get away for at least part of the wet.’
‘I’ve read about roads being cut off by floods.’
‘That’s why I have a plane,’ Seth said in a dry, matter-of-fact tone.
A plane? Before Amy could register her astonishment, he said, ‘So you’ve never been in the tropics before?’
‘No, never.’
‘You’re not seeing it at its best. You should have come in winter.’
‘But that would have been too late to help Rachel’s book launch.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Seth looked out to the black and silent night, with only his profile showing to Amy. ‘I was hoping we could talk about Rachel’s book.’
Goosebumps broke out on Amy’s arms. At least Seth hadn’t guessed about Bella, but she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or alarmed. What else could she tell him about the book?
If he realised that she’d come all this way, and imposed on his hospitality, on the pretext of promoting a book she knew next to nothing about, he would be justified in thinking she was crazy, and bad mannered.
She studied the dark lines of his brow and his nose and the angular jut of his jaw, but they gave her no clue to his thoughts.
He spoke without looking at her. ‘You said you were Rachel Tyler’s best friend.’
‘Yes, I did, because it’s true.’
‘You’ve known her since you were fifteen.’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve gossiped together.’
‘I wouldn’t call it gossip.’ Amy sounded more prudish than she’d meant to. ‘But sure, we talked a lot.’
‘And yet she never talked to you about her book?’
‘Not in any kind of detail.’ Amy watched a moth dance into the pool of light. ‘I—I think Rachel was superstitious. The book was terribly important to her, and I think she might have been afraid that it wouldn’t be a success if she talked too much about it.’
‘Did she tell you about her time at Serenity?’
‘Very little,’ Amy admitted with a sigh. Rachel had been totally absorbed by the aftermath of her trip north—her pregnancy and the birth of her baby.
‘But she told you about me,’ Seth said coldly. ‘You knew how to find me.’
‘Yes.’
Feeling hopelessly cornered, Amy closed her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to tell Seth the whole story tonight. She’d wanted to wait till she’d been refreshed by a good night’s sleep. She’d wanted to feel calm and composed, able to take her time and to choose her words carefully.
More importantly, she’d wanted to retain the upper hand in this, but Seth was pushing her, giving her no choice. She had to speak now. If he dragged the truth out of her, she would lose every ounce of credibility in his eyes.
And that mattered perhaps more than it should.
As she sat there, eyes closed, gathering courage, she heard the flutter of the moth’s wings against the light globe and the sound of Seth’s chair scraping on the wooden veranda boards. Her eyes flew open.
Seth was standing directly in front of her, towering over her. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me, Amy.’
His voice was hard and as cutting as a sabre. He was trying to intimidate her, which was one thing Amy wouldn’t tolerate. She’d learned in her own backyard to stand up to her brothers.
Bravely, she glared up at him. ‘I don’t like your tone.’
For a moment, he looked taken aback. ‘I’m being very civil.’
He ran tense fingers through his hair, and time crawled as he stood there staring at her, while she stared back at him.
Eventually, his expression relaxed, and the next time he spoke his voice held no menace. ‘Give me a break, Amy. I’m not used to playing these games. All I want is the truth. Why did you come here?’
