Heart of the Outback (7 page)

Gareth Morgan walked out of his sister’s house with a purposeful step. The far horizons gleamed in his blue eyes. The determination to beat all adversity was carved on his face.

Jill put Alida through a hectic morning. There were two interviews at the local television channel-one for the daily women’s hour program, one for tonight’s current affairs show. As Jill said, Alida Rose was hot at the moment, and if she didn’t capitalise on that, they’d both be absolute fools.

Personal publicity was always a strain for Alida. Yet in a way she was grateful for the distraction. She didn’t want to think about Gareth. That would only bring on the black void of pain he had left her with last night.

“Let’s splash out and treat ourselves to a disgustingly expensive lunch,” Jill suggested as they left the television studios.

Alida’s stomach recoiled from the idea. “I’d rather not today, Jill.” She offered a rueful smile. “You know interviews churn me up. One day next week, I promise.”

“Okay. Sandwiches in my office then. I want your decision on which clothes are to be photographed for the magazine spreads.” She grinned. “I was on the phone to Suzanne at the factory. She says it’s a madhouse. Orders are pouring in. Everyone wants to top up their stock of Alida Rose.”

“Perhaps I should go there and help,” Alida suggested. Anything to keep busy. “You can decide on the photographs, Jill.”

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Jill gave her a stern look. “I’ve got you today. Suzanne can handle the orders. Besides, who knows what offers have come into the office since we’ve been out? I need you at my side, Alida.”

“If you say so,” Alida meekly agreed, not really caring what she did as long as she was doing something.

Jill used her car phone to check on calls and to order sandwiches from her favourite delicatessen.

Alida reflected that it was Jill who had “discovered” her, not the other way around. Jill Masters picked her own clients and she prided herself on having a stable of stars, or stars in the making. She was very good at what she did. Alida had never regretted accepting her offer, her advice, her sense of direction or her friendship. The only wrong move she had ever made on Alida’s behalf was the visit to Riordan River. But that was only in a personal sense. Careerwise it had been a brilliant success.

When they arrived at Jill’s office, the receptionist’s desk was dominated by a vase of beautifully arranged yellow roses. The woman smiled at Alida. “They’re for you, Alida. Mr Poletti sent them.” She handed over the accompanying card.

It read. “To my golden girl. Your devoted admirer—Ivan.”

For some foolish reason, tears pricked Alida’s eyes. Ivan was being his usual flamboyant self, yet… Had he seen her need last night? The need that Gareth might have fulfilled. Stupid to ever underestimate Ivan’s perception of people. He was uncannily accurate. He was also her friend and he wished her well. Alida took a deep breath and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. At least she had friends. Good friends.

She should call him to thank him, but she didn’t feel up to fielding questions on Gareth. Not yet. She would write Ivan a thank-you note. That would avoid the problem for a little while, anyway.

But Alida soon discovered there was no avoiding the problem when it came to Jill. Once they were seated in her office with cups of coffee and the sandwiches, Jill made no bones about leading into the subject.

“Are you seeing Gareth Morgan again?” she asked point-blank.

Alida’s heart lurched, but she did her best to mask her feelings with a deadpan face. “No, I’m not,” she replied flatly. “I don’t expect to see him ever again.” That should close the subject… she hoped.

It did. They talked of other things while they ate lunch. But Alida was conscious of Jill’s shrewd grey eyes noting her lack of appetite and her lack of any joie de vivre now that she was out of the public eye.

However, once they had cleared the desk of the remnants of their lunch, it was briskly down to business. Jill kept a file of all Alida’s designs. She produced a thick folder from her filing cabinet and they sorted through the sketches, selecting the clothes that would best serve their purpose of pinpointing Alida’s unique talent. They were halfway through the task when the telephone on the desk buzzed. Alida went on sorting as Jill answered the call.

“I’ll be right out,” she instructed, and was already on her feet as she put the receiver down.

“If it’s a client, do you want to use this office?” Alida asked.

“No. You stay here,” Jill tossed at her as she headed for the door.

Alida didn’t look up when the door opened a couple of minutes later. She had no warning at all when Jill announced, “Gareth Morgan wants to see you, Alida.”

Her head snapped up, and before any coherent thought could form in her mind, the shock of Jill’s announcement was compounded by the impact of Gareth’s physical presence. He had already stepped into the office. It wasn’t a matter of whether she would see him or not. He was right in front of her, as overwhelming as ever.

He was dressed in similar clothes to those he had worn when she had first met him five years ago-brown riding boots, fawn moleskins that faithfully outlined his lean hips and long powerful legs, a white open-necked shirt and a brown leather jacket.

His eyes locked onto Alida’s before she could raise any defences against the power of his attraction—determined and possessive eyes, with no intention of letting go—and once again she felt the thrill of excitement and anticipation pulsing through her body, as though every cell of her being was leaping with a new vibrant expectant life.

“Alida,” Jill slid in quickly. “You needn’t stay this afternoon. I’m sure I can work out what’s best now.” Then she shut the door, leaving the two of them alone.

A flush seared across Alida’s cheekbones. Gareth gave her a crooked little smile that acknowledged her discomfort, but he was not about to back away.

“You were not easy to find, Alida,” he said as he walked slowly towards the desk. “The manageress of the Alida Rose boutique at Claremont said you worked at home, but you might be at the factory today. Suzanne, at the factory, said you were at the television studio. The studio said you’d left with Jill Masters. I finally struck lucky here.”

He hitched himself onto a corner of the desk and smiled at her, a wide, appealing smile that set her heart pumping madly. “I’m glad I found you.”

“What do you want from me, Gareth?” Alida croaked, her throat hopelessly dry and her mind totally confused by the trouble he’d gone to in pursuing her.

“I had intended inviting you to lunch with me. Unfortunately time ran out on that plan.” He checked his wristwatch. “I have to pick my daughter up from school at three-fifteen, which gives me about ten minutes to persuade you to accompany me.” He smiled at her again. “Would meeting a thirteen-year-old girl be too much of a bore for you, Alida?”

Alida could barely swallow her surprise. “You want me to meet your daughter?”

“I want you with me,” he asserted, not quite answering her question.

“Is this step one in getting to be good friends with me before you race me off to bed?” she asked, too sceptical of his intentions to take the offer at face value.

“That is the general idea,” he conceded without batting an eyelash.

“I suppose I should appreciate your honesty.”

“We both know it’s not going to go away, Alida. Five years didn’t make a damned bit of difference. My choice is to do something about it. Will you come with me or not?”

The piercing blue eyes challenged her to be equally honest. He wanted her and was going all out for what he wanted—whatever it took. Alida struggled with herself. Impossible to deny she wanted him. It would probably come to the same end, but at least he was not excluding her from meeting his daughter. This way there was a slight chance of some positive relationship developing between them.

“I’ll come,” she said decisively. Her green eyes flashed a hard warning. “But I don’t know if this plan of yours is going to work.”

He smiled happily. “Neither do I. The first part of the plot, as I understand it, is that we’ll probably go to Stacey’s favourite hangout and have banana splits. After that I believe a movie is on the schedule. Something called Look Who’s Talking. I do hope you have the stomach for hamburgers and French fries at McDonald’s because I’m afraid that will be the dinner menu. But you can wash it down with a chocolate thick shake.” He gave her a rueful look of appeal. “Does that all sound too abominable?”

She eyed him consideringly, privately amazed that he was prepared to share his daughter to this extent. Then hard cold reason insisted that more likely, in his mind, his daughter was totally irrelevant. She was being used as a means to further his purpose in breaking down the resistance he had met last night.

“When you go after something you go full bore, don’t you?” she accused.

“I do what has to be done,” came the unequivocal reply. “Don’t you, Alida?”

“I don’t think I’d ever do things your way, Gareth,” she said slowly.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind about that.” The challenge of desire simmered in his eyes, making her extremely conscious of the responses he evoked in her body. “Our ten minutes is up,” he added abruptly. “Let’s go and meet Stacey.”

Alida rose slowly from her chair. Her legs did not feel steady. Gareth watched her, making her extremely conscious of the way her outfit accentuated the womanliness of her figure. The coordinated two-piece was one of her favourite creations, especially chosen for her television appearance, but she doubted Gareth was taking in its artistic detail.

The top was a white cotton-knit pullover featuring embroidered panels that combined the yellow-gold flower spikes of banksia with its fine soft green leaves. The wide rib clung to the curve of waist and hip. Graceful flowing sleeves were caught into embroidered cuffs just below the elbow. The pullover was teamed with a yellow-gold culotte in a cotton-poly fabric that fell neatly into inverted pleats. Flat white sandals, intricately woven into thin straps of leather, and a matching white shoulder bag completed the outfit.

As she rounded the desk, Alida felt Gareth’s eyes burning through her clothes, making her skin prickle with sensitivity. When she swung around to face him, she found him totally still, as though intensely absorbed in the picture he was forming of her in his mind.

“I’m ready,” she said curtly.

His gaze flicked up the long silky fall of her caramel-butter hair and fastened on the deep green pools of her eyes. His smile tripped her heart into hammering wildly.

“Ivan is right. A golden girl. But not his, I trust,” he observed sardonically as he slid off the desk.

She laughed, more out of nervous relief than amusement. “Hardly. I’m not his type. Ivan is of a different persuasion from you, Gareth. And you shouldn’t read other people’s letters.”

“The card was on open view. On the receptionist’s desk,” he excused, strolling over to the door for her. “Why is he your devoted admirer?”

“It’s a matter of pleasing his artistic eye,” she retorted drily. “He sells my fabric designs.”

“Ah! Business.”

The dismissive way he said that stung Alida. When he opened the door and gestured her to walk ahead of him she deliberately paused beside him, fixing him with a cool challenging look. “Ivan Poletti is also my very good friend. Loyal, caring and supportive. Try beating that, Gareth.”

Then she swept past him and led the way out, waving a farewell salute to a smug-looking Jill and her highly interested receptionist. Gareth caught up with her at the lift. He said not a word until they were in the small compartment, heading down to the ground floor.

“I can give you what he can’t,” he said to her.

She met his eyes. “You overrate that, Gareth,” she said dismissively.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You only live once, Alida.”

The lift doors opened onto the foyer of the office building. Gareth took her arm to steer her to wherever they were going. His closeness, the warmth of his hand, the words he had spoken…all clouded her mind, tantalising her with the idea of succumbing to the needs he aroused. It would be so easy to give in and take what satisfaction she could from being with him, however temporarily.

But she was playing for higher stakes here. She had to keep remembering that. She wondered how much Gareth would give in to her if she kept holding him off. Would he have chased after her today if she had shared her bed with him last night? Would he have asked her to meet his daughter if he had already got what he wanted? How far would he go to satisfy his need for her?

It was an interesting question, and Alida pondered it as Gareth escorted her to a white Mercedes. “My sister’s car,” he muttered dismissively as he opened the passenger door.

“Not your style?” Alida mocked.

He shrugged. “For getting around the city, it’s fine.”

It meant nothing to him as a status symbol, Alida thought. Gareth Morgan would always scorn status symbols as totally meaningless. He was complete unto himself—except for his present aggravating desire for her. Which he wanted to dispense with at the earliest opportunity.

She waited until they were both settled in the car before asking, “What school does your daughter attend?”

He slanted her a half smile. “Stacey… her name is Stacey. And she’s at Heatherton.”

It was the most expensive private school in Perth. And the snobbiest, Alida recollected, if it was still the same as when she had attended one of the cheapest boarding schools. She supposed Deborah Hargreaves would have recommended it to her brother.

“Is Stacey expecting to meet me?”

He hesitated. “Not exactly expecting.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “How could she when I wasn’t sure what to expect myself? But she knows we were together last night.”

That surprised Alida. “You talked about me?”

“Briefly.”

“What did she think?”

He cast her a simmering look. “She thinks you’re very beautiful.”

The compliment brought a flush of pleasure before Alida thought to question, “How does she have any idea?”