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Close Relations
Lynsey Stevens








Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u5d6c71e3-11fa-5104-b01d-e6011e0e3972)

Except (#u61e2d68f-7d0c-5360-ac93-2c0193e9f4ae)

Dedication (#u527a3deb-a40f-5903-ba2a-5c14adb70737)

Title Page (#uc8b0db6f-b668-597d-a347-2bdd512a009a)

CHAPTER ONE (#ud9e767c4-8446-57e1-b267-331f5fe63866)

CHAPTER TWO (#ud38a0668-b12e-50c7-b9eb-b6f6bdcd916d)

CHAPTER THREE (#ua1d17980-6bd3-5380-b6fb-aa8a349e8f2d)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




“Don’t play your sexy games with me,”


Jarrod said hoarsely.



Georgia’s lips parted with involuntary provocation and her tongue tip moistened her dry mouth. She lifted her hand to rest it gently along his jaw, moved her fingers to trace the outline of his mouth.



“Leave it, Georgia, for both our sakes. Unless you want to take the consequences.”



His words cut through her and the old wounds bled, transporting her agonizingly back in time. She was that naive, trusting, so-in-love nineteen-year-old again. “Don’t you want me, Jarrod?”



“Want you? Oh, yes, I want you, Georgia. That’s one of the jokes of my life. I’ll go on wanting you with every breath…”


LYNSEY STEVENS was born in Brisbane, Queensland, in Australia, and before beginning to write she was a librarian. It was in secondary school that she decided she wanted to be a writer. “Writers, I imagined,” Lynsey explains, “lived such exciting lives-traveling to exotic places, making lots of money and not having to work. I have traveled. However, the taxman loves me dearly and no one told me about typist’s backache and frustrating lost words!” When she’s not writing she enjoys reading and cross-stitching and she’s interested in genealogy.




Close Relations

Lynsey Stevens











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_60f99527-16fe-55b5-8628-0078de2ccdde)


JARROD took the new exit off the main Brisbane to Ipswich highway and approached the roundabout. There weren’t many people about but he remembered that at certain times of the day this area could become chock-a-block with local traffic.

The small shopping centre had mushroomed in the four years he’d been away and he grimaced. It was hardly the sleepy little town it had been when his father had first brought him here when he had been a troubled thirteen-year-old.

He accelerated out of the turn and took the right fork past the Honour Stone. On his right was the small group of businesses that used to constitute the sum total of the village’s commercial centre. Groceries. Fruit shop. Drapery. Bank.

A car shot out of the parking area in front of the shops and sped up the hill. That much hadn’t changed. Disaster Alley they’d half-jokingly called it. One car tried to leave and other shoppers vied aggressively for the vacant parking space.

He followed the winding road lined with houses that ranged from the wooden Queenslanders with their wide verandas to the aesthetic angles of architectural designs in brick and tile. Rolling paddocks had now well and truly become sprawling suburbia.

At least the fifty acres around his father’s home would still be intact. His father would never sell his land. Apart from the one block he’d sold to his best friend, Geoff Grayson. And his wife. Why wouldn’t his father want Geoff Grayson’s wife nearby? he asked himself bitterly.

Pushing a surge of painful memories out of his mind, he increased the speed of the car, for the first time wanting to see the large old house that had been home to him for his adolescence. And that need overcame his reluctance to revisit his father and stepmother-the family he had turned his back on four years ago.

His father. He’d never managed to call Peter Maclean that. And yet Peter Maclean was his biological father. A mere accident of conception, one of nature’s jokes, he reflected wryly. without bitterness.

He’d learned the truth about his parentage just before his mother died of cancer. She’d told him of the brief affair she’d had with the handsome Queenslander. Peter Maclean had been visiting Western Australia as a consulting engineer and his mother had been the temporary secretary assigned to him.

Three weeks later Peter Maclean had left for home, unaware that the young woman he’d spent most of his time with in Perth was pregnant. His mother had had no inclination to contact his father and had decided to raise her son alone.

And she’d done her best to do so. When he’d questioned his mother about his absent father she had told him his father was dead, killed in a construction-site accident before he was bom.

The construction-site accident had been partially true, he’d learned later. The accident had happened after he was born but his father had not been killed: Peter Maclean had returned to the west some years later only to be very badly injured when a mobile crane collapsed on a building he was working on.

At first he’d been blazingly angry when his mother had told him the truth-that his father was alive. He’d been angry with everyone, especially with his mother for lying to him and for getting ill. And he’d been angry with the man he’d seen as shirking his responsibilities.

His anger had driven him to reckless behaviour. He’d played truant, become wild and uncontrollable, and he’d had a run-in with the local police. It had been the local police sergeant who had contacted his father when his mother had died.

In retrospect he had to admire Peter Maclean. It must have come as something of a shock to discover he’d got a teenage son, let alone to have the boy foisted on him out of the blue. But Peter had flown immediately to Perth and had spent a couple of weeks getting to know his son before bringing him home.

Home. He sighed. Strangely, all those years ago it had felt like coming home.

Home. Where the heart is. Where his heart was broken. His lips twisted self-derisively. He was being rather fanciful, wasn’t he? Yet deep inside him he knew he’d left his heart here. He also told himself that if it hadn’t been for his father’s declining health he wouldn’t be returning. But his father was gravely ill and he owed him this visit, this accepting of the olive branch extended to the prodigal son.

Home. Yes, for all that it was worth, he was coming home.



Home. Georgia Grayson sighed as her workmate turned her car and pulled up on the gravel verge in front of the weathered old house. Home at last.

She specially appreciated the lift tonight because she felt so exhausted, as though the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. Usually when she was at work in the bookshop Georgia could put any troubles on hold, but not at the moment. She had too much on her mind-that was the problem. Everything seemed to have happened at once.

Until recently her life had been drifting along just the way she liked it to be-well ordered, no highs, no lows. Now all that had changed.

That change had begun two weeks ago, when her father had gone up the coast, taking on a house-renovation job that would keep him away for anything up to a couple of months. Then her parked car had been extensively damaged by a runaway truck, leaving her without transport.

On top of that her young sister had announced she was leaving home to share a flat with her boyfriend. Morgan was only seventeen and unemployed and Georgia had tried valiantly to dissuade her, to convince her she was making a mistake.

But last week the thing she had feared most had occurred. Uncle Peter Maclean had had another massive heart attack and his condition was grave. It was only the old man’s iron will that had kept him alive this long. Now even that strong will was fading.

So his only son had come home. After four long years. And she knew he’d been back for nearly a week.

Pain twisted inside Georgia, clutching at her heart. Miraculously she’d managed to be out on the two occasions he had called at their house but she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer. He was, after all, their cousin. Well, their step-cousin.

‘Thanks for dropping me home, Jodie,’ she said as she opened the door of her workmate’s car. ‘Saves me the twentyminute train trip and then a taxi ride to the house.’

‘No worries.’ Jodie grinned in the dim interior light. ‘It was rotten luck about your car.’

‘Could have been worse, I guess. I could have been in it at the time.’ Georgia smiled wryly. ‘But the insurance company assures me it will all be settled in a couple of weeks.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Famous last words. If you can believe them. I didn’t realise how much I depended on the car. Living out here off the bus route has decided disadvantages, that’s for sure.’

‘Well, I don’t mind giving you a lift when we’re on the same shift.’ Jodie glanced over at the lighted house. ‘Looks like your brother’s home,’ she said casually, and Georgia suppressed a smile.

Jodie was a little smitten by Georgia’s brother and had been very disappointed to discover that Lochlan was already engaged.

‘Did he tell you we went along to see his band play the other night?’

‘Yes. He said he’d seen you.’ Georgia gathered up her bag.

‘The band’s really hot. I think they’re going places. Lockie said they’d been asked to return to the venue for another stint in a month or so.’

‘Yes. He was pleased.’ Georgia climbed out of the car. ‘See you tomorrow. And thanks again, Jodie.’ She closed the door and Jodie drove away.

With a sigh Georgia pushed open the gate. What females saw in her brother she didn’t know. It was true that Lockie was quite nice-looking, and he was a fine musician, but-well, they didn’t have to live with him.

The lights in the house were blazing so her brother must be home. She noticed his van wasn’t standing in its usual spot in the driveway so he’d probably parked it around the back of the house. Unless he’d gone off and forgotten to lock up again.

Slowly Georgia climbed the steps, the old weathered treads rattling a little loosely on their wooden stringers. The house, a high-set old colonial building with a wide veranda on the front and down one side, badly needed attention, but their father always seemed to be busy working on other people’s houses.

She pushed open the lattice door at the top of the stairs and crossed the veranda to step into the hall that ran the length of the house.

‘That you, Georgie?’ Her brother put his head around the living-room doorway. ‘I thought you were going to be late tonight.’

Georgia joined him, tossing her bag onto an old but comfortable lounge chair, unbuttoning the short-sleeved navy jacket that matched the skirt she wore. ‘Don’t call me Georgie and I am late. It’s nine-thirty. And I would have been later if Jodie hadn’t been kind enough to give me a lift home. Where’s Mandy?’

Lockie sighed despondently and Georgia noticed for the first time that her usually exuberant brother was uncharacteristically subdued.

He was six feet tall and wore his fairish hair over-long, and his thin, artistic features made him look the musician he was. And although Lockie was nearly five years older than Georgia’s twenty-three years, at times she felt as if things were the other way around, that she was the older of the two.

Amanda Burne, Lockie’s fiancee of six months and the lead singer in his band, Country Blues, lived with the Grayson family and had a part-time job as a waitress in a local restaurant.

‘I didn’t think Mandy was working tonight,’ Georgia prompted.

‘She wasn’t-and as a matter of fact she won’t be, it seems.’ Lockie grimaced and sank onto the arm of the chair opposite his sister. ‘She’s gone home.’

Georgia raised her eyebrows. ‘To New Zealand?’

‘I put her on a plane a couple of hours ago.’

‘Lockie, what happened?’ Georgia asked him quietly.

‘No big deal.’ Lockie shrugged. ‘Her sister’s baby arrived early and she’s gone home to help out.’

‘Is that all it is?’ Georgia asked him. She knew that Lockie and Mandy had been at odds over what Mandy termed ‘Lockie’s lack of drive’.

‘Well, you know how motivated Mandy is.’ Lockie stood up and moved restlessly across the room. ‘She’s sort of used this family event to issue me with a bit of an ultimatum.’

Georgia frowned. ‘What sort of an ultimatum? You don’t mean she’s called off the engagement, do you?’

‘No. Not exactly. You know she hasn’t been happy about—well, about things lately, and she wants some changes made.’

‘By “things” I suppose you mean the band?’

He nodded and Georgia watched him as he continued to prowl about the room.

‘Mandy says we’ve been going nowhere and she’s sick and tired of all the two-bit gigs Country Blues has been doing. She wants me to get organised and work out a plan to get the band ahead, otherwise…’ He pursed his lips.

‘Otherwise?’ Georgia encouraged gently.

‘Otherwise she’s going to leave Country Blues and take up an offer from a group in Sydney. She has a month to decide on the Sydney offer and she’s going to make the decision when she comes back from New Zealand in a few weeks’ time.’

‘And if she takes the job in Sydney?’

‘Then I guess we’re all washed up. The band because we need a female lead singer, and Mandy and I because-well, just because.’ Lockie looked down at his hands.

‘Do you want to break your engagement?’ Georgia asked him.

Lockie sat down again, his long legs stretched out in front of him. ‘What do you think, Georgie? You know how I feel about Mandy. I want to marry her and if I had the money I’d do it tomorrow-you know that.’

‘Then for heaven’s sake do something about it. You can’t just sit back and hope it will all come good, Lockie. I know how Mandy feels too, and I can understand it. You’ve dragged her around the countryside in that clapped-out old van barely making ends meet. You must see it can’t go on for ever.’

‘But you have to pay your dues in this business and it’s the only business I want to be in. My music is my life.’

‘And Mandy knows that, but it doesn’t mean she has to forfeit what she wants from life. There has to be some compromise.’

‘I guess. And I suppose I was expecting too much of her. I thought perhaps I wasn’t ready for marriage but when I tried to imagine my life without Mandy I knew I couldn’t give her up. And I don’t want to, Georgia.’ Lockie looked at her directly.

‘So what are you going to do?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What about that chance of doing the recording you were talking about last week?’

‘With D.J. Delaney and Skyrocket Records? That was all talk, sis. We’d need to be seen and heard to even stand a chance. We can’t just front up and say, Here we are. We wouldn’t get past the front desk.’ He stood up again and crossed to the window. ‘We’d have to get an engagement at somewhere like the Country Music Club in Ipswich.’ His thin features brightened. ‘Now, if we could get to work there it would be a stepping stone to anything-recording, television-who knows?’

‘Then try for it, Lockie,’ Georgia encouraged, and he gave a short laugh.

‘Oh, sure, sis. Just walk in and offer the services of the best popular country band in Oz? They’d say, Country Blues who?’

‘Why not?’ Georgia could almost laugh at herself. Who was she to be offering such earth-shattering advice? She could barely help herself when she had to. She hurriedly pushed that thought out of her mind with an ease borne of an old habit. ‘What alternative do you have, Lockie?’

He shook his head. ‘Right. About none, I’d say.’ He pulled a face but before he could comment further the phone rang and Georgia leant across to lift the receiver.

‘Hello?’ she said tiredly.

‘Georgia? Thank goodness it’s you. Can you come and get me?’

‘Morgan!’ Georgia could hear the agitation in her young sister’s voice. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Do we have to go into that now? I just want to come home.’ Morgan’s voice rose. ‘Is Lockie there? Can you come in his van?’

‘Yes, of course. But why? Where’s Steve?’

‘He’s gone out and I don’t want to be here when he gets back. We had a fight.’

‘What about?’ Georgia raised her hand to massage her tern ple. The headache that had been threatening all day now really made its presence felt, beginning to pound relentlessly.

‘For heaven’s sake, Georgia!’ Morgan exclaimed shrilly. ‘It was just a fight. Can’t we leave it at that?’ She sighed loudly. ‘If you must know, Steve hit me and I’m not staying here another day.’

‘Steve what?’ Georgia asked in dismay.

‘If you don’t come and get me, Georgia, I’ll start walking.’

‘You can’t do that at this time of night—’ Georgia began.

‘Then come and get me.’

‘All right Wait there. We should be down in about thirty minutes. And Morgan—’

‘Not now, Georgia,’ Morgan broke in. ‘I’ll explain later. I just want to get away from here, OK? So hurry.’ With that the young girl hung up.

‘What was all that about?’ Lockie came to stand beside Georgia as she replaced the receiver.

‘Morgan wants us to go and get her. She wants to come home,’ she explained.

‘Oh, great. That’s all we need.’ Lockie threw his hands in the air.

‘She said she had a fight with Steve and he hit her.’

‘Steve? I don’t believe it!’ Lockie exclaimed. ‘Morgan probably hit him first’

‘Oh, Lockie, please.’ Georgia ran a hand over her forehead. ‘We’ll have to go and get her. I’ll lock up while you bring the van around.’ She went to pick up her bag.

‘The van’s not here.’

Georgia stopped. ‘Not here?’

Her brother shook his head. ‘Andy and Ken have got it. Remember I told you Andy’s landlord had complained about his drum-practising? Well, he got another place and they borrowed my van to shift his stuff after I took Mandy out to the airport. I don’t know when they’ll be back.’

Georgia’s stomach churned, her tiredness forgotten. ‘Then we’ll have to call a taxi.’ She turned back to the phone, mentally tallying up how much money she had left out of her pay.

Lockie put his hand on her arm. ‘It’s OK, Georgie. We won’t need a taxi.’

Georgia raised her eyebrows and he coughed nervously. ‘Jarrod’s coming over. He can drive us down to collect Morgan.’

Georgia froze. She felt as though she’d been transformed into stone. And then she turned her head slowly to face her brother. ‘Why is he…?’ Her voice faltered and died.

‘Why wouldn’t he, Georgia?’ Lockie asked quietly, his gaze holding hers. ‘He’s my best friend and he’s just returned from the States.’

Georgia fought gallantly to pull herself together as she continued to gaze at her brother. And it was taking more than a little effort to still her galloping pulse, to dislodge the breath that had caught somewhere in her chest.

‘Jarrod hasn’t seen you yet,’ Lockie continued, ‘and when I told him you’d be home after nine-thirty he said he’d drop by.’

‘I see.’ Georgia took a calming breath. ‘And I don’t suppose it occurred to you that I might not want to see him.’

‘You can’t live in the past, sis. Four years is a long time, and besides, you’ll have to face him some time.’

Four years ago she’d told him hell would freeze over before she’d want to set eyes on him again.

‘He’s changed a bit,’ Lockie was saying. ‘He looks older.’ He smiled a little awkwardly. ‘I told him he was getting quite long in the tooth.’

At that moment they both heard the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel verge in front of the house.

She couldn’t face him! You’ve had four years to recover from his duplicity, a cruel voice reminded her, and she drew a shallow breath.

‘Here he is now.’ Lockie stated the obvious and his long fingers gently squeezed her arm. ‘And, as I said, what’s past is past. It is, isn’t it, Georgia?’

She nodded resignedly. If only that were true. ‘I suppose it is,’ she agreed. ‘And we do have to get Morgan. It’s lucky he…Jarrod…’ the name almost stuck in her throat ‘…was coming over,’ she finished breathily.

Jarrod. There, she’d said his name. For the first time in four years she’d said his name, the sound of it so foreign…and yet so achingly, so hauntingly well-known.

Well-known? She almost laughed out loud. Well-known in what sense? In every sense, she told herself ruthlessly. How could she forget his name? Or him? Jarrod. Jarrod Peter Maclean. Uncle Peter Maclean’s only son.

‘Georgia?’ Lockie touched her arm again and she blinked, coming back to the present with a jolt.

‘Yes. We should go,’ she said softly, and moved into the hallway.

‘Right.’ Lockie sounded relieved and headed towards the open front door as a tall figure was taking the steps two at a time with long-legged ease.

‘Hi, Lockie.’ He smiled a greeting, unaware of Georgia standing like a statue behind her brother.

She made herself move, face him, and her entire body remained numb for just a few seconds. And then it seemed to take on a life of its own.

Her heartbeats accelerated, sending heated blood rushing through her veins. Her hands wanted to reach out to him, to follow the hard lines of his strong jaw, feel the smoothness of his freshly shaved cheek. And her lips longed to taste his again.

With no little effort she pulled her wayward thoughts away from their traitorous yearnings and made herself meet his gaze.

His blue eyes looked black in the dim light yet Georgia was sure she saw them flicker with the same awareness she knew she felt at the sight of him, and she quelled a moment’s heady delight.

‘Hello, Georgia,’ he said evenly. ‘I’m sorry to be calling at this hour but Lockie said you were working late tonight. Until now I’ve always seemed to miss you.’

‘And as it turns out it’s lucky you did turn up.’ Lockie broke into the heavy atmosphere that seemed to Georgia to be pressing in on them as they stood on the wide veranda. ‘Do you think you could run us down to Oxley? We’ve just had a frantic call from Morgan and she wants us to bring her home.’

‘Sure.’ Jarrod drew his gaze from Georgia and turned back to Lockie. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘Morgan. She’s one big problem—’ Lockie began.

‘And we’d better be going. I did tell Morgan we’d be there in half an hour.’ Georgia took a stiff step forward. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind, Jarrod. We could get a taxi.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ he said easily as he turned to retrace his steps.

They were almost down the wide front steps when Lockie stopped. ‘I’d better leave a note on the door for Andy just in case he drops the van back before we return. I won’t be a moment.’ He returned to the house.

And Georgia could only continue on alone with Jarrod. Down the path. To the car.




CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_dae7c1bb-8195-57fe-b38a-fd01407f52fb)


JARROD was using one of the company station wagons, ‘Maclean Constructions’ emblazoned on the side, and he reached around to open the front passenger door for her.

Georgia’s nerve-endings were jangling and her stomach churned. She could barely stand, let alone move to get into the car. So she stood there, and after a tense moment of interminable length Jarrod seemed to relax, leaning back, one arm resting along the top of the door.

‘Lockie tells me your father’s up the coast. How is he these days?’

‘You mean, is he drinking?’ The words were out before she could draw them back and she sensed the tightening of Jarrod’s lips in the darkness.

‘No, I wasn’t asking that,’ he said levelly. ‘Peter told me your father hasn’t touched alcohol for years.’

For four years, Georgia wanted to tell him, but she had herself under control again. ‘He’s keeping fairly well,’ she said just as evenly. ‘He’s working on a house up there, renovating. He probably won’t be back for a month or so.’

‘Does he get plenty of work?’

Did they really care? Jarrod or his father? They’d certainly got rid of him from Maclean’s pretty quickly when he’d started drinking after Georgia’s mother had died seven years ago. No, that was unfair; Georgia acknowledged the critical voice inside her. It had been her father’s choice after his wife’s death to leave the engineering firm owned by his brother-inlaw. But neither of the Macleans had tried to stop him.

‘He gets enough to keep him going,’ she said aloud.

That same tension rose again, surging out of the darkness to engulf them, and Georgia’s mouth went suddenly dry. Did he remember the nights they’d spent together, the long talks, the drugging kisses, the way their bodies had moved as one to music only they could hear?

Her senses quivered anew, sending an arrow of pure desire hurtling through her heart. Was Jarrod feeling the same almost overwhelming temptation to reach out to her the way she wanted to reach out to him? Georgia swallowed a low moan before it escaped and she swayed slightly just as Jarrod moved.

His hand came out, fingers encircling the hot flesh of her bare arm. Was he simply steadying her? Or was he—?

‘Right.’ Lockie’s footsteps acted like a douche of cold water and Georgia snatched her arm away as though she had been stung. Her brother joined them and if he noticed anything amiss he made no comment ‘Ready to go?’ he asked easily.

Then Georgia was in the front of the wagon with her brother beside her and Jarrod had walked around the front to climb in behind the wheel.

‘Shove over a bit, sis.’ Lockie wriggled and the seat springs protested. ‘If this door opens while we’re driving along I’ll pop out like a cork from a bottle.’

Georgia felt herself grow hot again as she gave her brother a little more room on the bench seat. She fumbled for the sash of her seat belt and both Jarrod and Lockie tried to help her.

Georgia’s nerves tightened until she thought they’d snap and as Jarrod reached out to switch on the ignition she barely disguised her flinch. His arm brushed hers as he shifted the gear lever and Georgia wondered if the other two were as aware as she was of that same heightened tension that swelled inside the car.

There was no way Georgia could make any attempt at conversation right then. She was far too busy trying to justify her capricious reactions to her usually dignified, rational self. At least, she’d thought she now had some composure, some control. But perhaps she’d been wrong.

‘I’ll need directions once we get to Oxley,’ Jarrod said as they turned off their narrow road onto the smoother bitumen surface of the main highway.

‘Georgia knows the way,’ Lockie said casually. ‘And I’ve just had an idea. Andy’s new flat is just off the highway at Darra—we go right past it—so if you drop me off there I can bring my van back and save shuttling back and forth with Andy later.’

‘Andy may not have finished with your van,’ Georgia managed to say, horrified that Lockie would dare to leave her alone again with Jarrod.

‘He should be; he hasn’t got that much stuff,’ Lockie told her, obviously not receiving the frantic silent messages she was trying to send him. ‘I can be home by the time you collect Morgan.’

‘Lockie—’ Georgia began warningly.

‘Sounds sensible to me, Georgia,’ Jarrod agreed, and Georgia could only wordlessly concede, seething at her brother’s insensitivity.

‘Has Morgan been flatting long?’ Jarrod asked. ‘I just can’t imagine her being old enough to be out on her own.’

Lockie shifted uncomfortably, glancing sideways at his sister.

‘I’m afraid Morgan didn’t exactly leave with the family’s blessing,’ Georgia explained evenly. ‘She’s only just seventeen and we thought she was too young to move away from home and into a flat with her boyfriend.’

‘I see.’ Jarrod pulled into the passing lane, easily overtaking a slower car.

‘Morgan’s going through a bad patch. She decided to leave school and then she couldn’t get a job. She’s very—well, wilful at present.’ Georgia sighed tiredly.

‘And how!’ put in Lockie. ‘I often wondered if the flat was really Steve’s idea or if Morgan organised it all. As incomprehensible as it seems, Steve’s head over heels in love with her. That’s why I find it hard to believe that he actually hit her. It’s so out of character.’

‘This fellow hit Morgan?’ Jarrod asked with a frown.

‘So she told Georgia on the phone,’ Lockie replied.

‘How old is he? Does he have a job?’ Jarrod questioned.

‘He’s a bit older than Morgan, isn’t he, Georgia? I’d say nineteen or twenty. Actually he works for your father as an apprentice something or other. I always thought he was a nice guy, pretty quiet and sensible. Didn’t you think so too, sis?’

‘He is a nice boy—’ Georgia began, wishing her brother wasn’t so forthcoming about their family problems.

‘Not so nice if he hit a woman,’ Jarrod broke in drily. ‘Any sort of abuse, physical or mental, is unacceptable.’

‘Perhaps there can be worse things,’ Georgia remarked softly, bitterly, before she could stop herself. The past was waving shadowy fronds to taunt her, and she could sense the sudden stiffening in the man beside her.

‘Not in my book,’ Jarrod said firmly. ‘An argument needn’t come to that.’

‘You’re not wrong. Wife beaters are cowards in mine. Turn left at the next set of lights, Jarrod.’ Lockie pointed out the flats where Andy now lived and his battered kombivan was parked outside, Andy and Ken beside it as they lifted a couple of cardboard cartons. ‘Right.’ Lockie opened the door and slid from the station wagon. ‘I’ll see you back at the house later.’

And Georgia could only sit there as her brother walked away. Before she could move, unclip her centre seat belt and slip into Lockie’s now vacant place by the door, Jarrod pulled the station wagon away from the kerb. She was left sitting close to Jarrod, as close as lovers. The way they used to…

Once again her brother had neatly sidestepped any responsibilities.

‘I’m sorry about all this-’ Georgia strove to keep her voice even ‘-and I appreciate your helping us out,’ she finished quickly.

‘As I said, it’s no sweat.’ He was frowning, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence until Georgia had to direct him to turn off the highway.

The flats were old but well kept and they had no trouble finding the right one, for Morgan was standing in the lighted open doorway watching for them. As Georgia climbed out of the car she came hurrying down the path, suitcase in hand.

‘Georgia! Thank goodness you’re here. I thought Steve would come back before you finished. I’ve got my things. Let’s go,’ she finished breathlessly.

‘Just a minute, Morgan.’ Georgia stopped her sister’s headlong flight with a hand on her arm. ‘I think we should go inside and wait for Steve and you can explain exactly what happened.’

‘When we get home, Georgia. I’ll tell you then. I don’t want to see Steve or stay here any longer, and what’s more I’m not going to.’

‘Only a couple of weeks ago you couldn’t bear to be anywhere else,’ Georgia reminded her sister wearily.

Morgan turned on her, her darkish curls flouncing. ‘And I might have known you’d throw that up at me, Georgia. You think I’m still a child, but I’m not a child!’ She stamped her foot.

‘Morgan—’ Georgia went to put her hand on her sister’s shoulder but the younger girl brushed it away.

‘I’m not staying, Georgia. You don’t even care that I’ll probably have a black eye tomorrow. Oh, come on. I’ll get the rest of my stuff later. Let’s go.’ She reached for the cardoor catch.

Jarrod had walked around the car by now and he took the case from Morgan before opening the door for her.

‘For heaven’s sake.’ The young girl noticed him for the first time. ‘I don’t believe it. Jarrod Maclean.’

He inclined his head. ‘One and the same. I’m sorry we’re not meeting in better circumstances.’

‘Well, yes.’ Morgan shot a swift glance at Georgia before smiling a little unsteadily. ‘You don’t look a day older and it must be—what, four years?’

‘More or less. And perhaps you should save that, “You don’t look a day older,” until you see me in broad daylight rather than under a dull streetlight.’

Morgan laughed then, relaxing. ‘You’re still more of a hunk than you have a right to be. And I guess I look a bit different from when you last saw me too.’

‘Yes, you’re all grown-up-without your school uniform and your ankle socks.’

‘I’m about the same age Georgia was when you came home from college, aren’t I?’

The air about them thickened and Georgia’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists.

‘Round about.’ Jarrod’s reply was flatly casual.

‘That’s the trouble with families.’ Morgan wrinkled her nose at Jarrod. “They’ve all seen you at your worst and they aren’t above reminding you about it either.’

‘Morgan.’ Georgia’s voice sounded thin to her ears.

‘Especially big sisters,’ Morgan remarked as she slid into the front seat of the car.

Jarrod was still holding the door open and Georgia could only climb into the car herself. After closing the door, Jarrod deposited Morgan’s case in the back of the wagon and climbed into the driver’s seat.

‘How long have you been home?’ Morgan asked him as he set the car in motion.

‘Almost a week.’

‘Georgia told me Uncle Peter had had another heart attack so I guess that’s why you’ve come home.’

“That’s right.’

‘The last I heard, you were in the States. What I wouldn’t give to go somewhere exciting like that. And what a bore to have to come back here.’

‘Morgan…’ Georgia tried to stem the flow of her sister’s bubbling conversation.

‘Well, it is boring. What’s to do around here?’

Georgia sighed.

‘But, Jarrod—’ Morgan put her hand on his arm ‘—I’m sorry about Uncle Peter. I always liked him,’ she said sincerely.

Georgia barely heard her. She sat suddenly tense, a play of bewildering emotions momentarily pushing her worries about Morgan’s lack of tact out of her mind. Morgan’s small hand seemed to glow where it rested on Jarrod’s arm, its paleness in stark contrast to his tanned skin. What could be happening to her? She wanted to reach out and pull Morgan’s hand away.

‘I know Georgia visits Uncle Peter every week,’ Morgan was saying, ‘but I bet he’s pleased to see you back home.’

Georgia forcibly tore her gaze from Morgan’s hand and shifted guiltily on the seat It had been well over a week since she’d seen Uncle Peter. Not since he’d dropped his bombshell about Jarrod’s return and she’d run like a startled rabbit.

She should have known with his father being so ill that Jarrod would come home, but for some reason-selfdelusional-it hadn’t occurred to her. And it hadn’t been only Uncle Peter’s obvious pleasure at his son’s imminent return that had had her heart aching. She’d been caught unawares and she’d taken flight, not returning to the Maclean house in case she ran into Jarrod and made a complete fool of herself.

Sitting here beside him only emphasised how easy that would be for her to do.

‘How is he now?’ Morgan asked, and Jarrod shrugged slightly.

‘He’s a little better, according to the doctor, but the last attack he had took its toll on him. That’s why Isabel sent for me.’

There was an edge to his voice when he mentioned his stepmother and Georgia also tensed, blanketing the memories before they could take hold of her.

When Georgia had been a child the Macleans, Peter and Isabel, had always confused her with their relationship. They were cool, restrained, never laughed together the way her parents did. And when Jarrod joined the family she had felt sorry for the tall, lanky teenager who had come to live in that quiet, unemotional atmosphere.

Isabel Maclean was Georgia’s mother’s older sister, yet the two sisters couldn’t have been more dissimilar. Georgia’s mother had been bright and effervescent, loving and caring. Isabel rarely so much as smiled, and Georgia couldn’t remember her aunt ever hugging any of them when they were children.

After Jarrod had arrived Georgia had always sensed that although Isabel and her stepson never openly expressed their dislike it was a mutual emotion. Or so she’d thought.

She recalled asking him once what he thought of Isabel and he had retreated into himself, shutting her out Until she’d slid hot kisses along the line of his square jaw to nibble teasingly on his earlobe. Then he’d turned to her, his arms holding her almost desperately to him, kissing her with a fierce passion that had at first frightened and then inflamed her.

‘And how’s Aunt Isabel coping with Uncle Peter’s last attack?’ Morgan asked.

‘With her usual self-possession,’ Jarrod replied evenly.

‘She’s a cold fish, that’s for sure.’

‘Morgan!’ Georgia reprimanded her sister.

‘Well, she is, Georgia. She’s always been like that. When I was a kid I used to wonder what she’d do if I climbed on her knee and put my sticky fingers on her dress, but I was never game to find out’ Morgan giggled. ‘I reckon she’d have passed out if I had. She wasn’t a bit like our mother. You’d never have known they were sisters, would you, Jarrod?’

‘No, I suppose not’ Jarrod turned off the highway and Georgia sensed an even deeper undercurrent in his flat tone.

‘But then again,’ Morgan continued, ‘you’d never guess Georgia and I were sisters. Georgia is the image of Mum and Lockie’s fair like Dad.’ She gave a soft laugh. ‘I’m somewhere in the middle. And, speaking of Lockie, where is our dear brother anyway?’

‘Collecting his van from Andy’s,’ Georgia told her. ‘Or, at least, he was,’ she added as Jarrod drew to a halt in the driveway behind Lockie’s van. ‘He’s actually beaten us home.’

The outside light flicked on, illuminating the path, and as they climbed the steps Lockie opened the door.

‘Great timing!’ he exclaimed. ‘You OK, Morgan?’

‘I’m fine now, Lockie,’ Morgan assured him with a faintly martyred air.

Jarrod set down her suitcase and Lockie turned to him. ‘Hey, thanks for stepping in and helping us out, mate.’

‘Yes, poor Jarrod.’ Morgan pulled a face. ‘Only back a week and you’re already rescuing the Grayson family again. Dad told me when Lockie was young you were always saving him from all sorts of scrapes. Georgia too.’

Jarrod laughed easily and Georgia’s nerve-endings vibrated elatedly. ‘As a boy Lockie had the very worst luck of anyone I knew for being caught out by his father or mine.’

‘And when Georgia was late she just used to say she was with you and Dad accepted it without question.’ Lockie laughed with him.

Oh, Lockie. Georgia swallowed painfully. She’d always said she was with Jarrod because it had been the truth.

‘Georgia staying out late at night?’ Morgan put her hands on her hips. ‘I’d forgotten about that. Ha! You can hardly dictate to me, then, can you? Or is it the old, Do as I say not as I do?’ She smirked at her sister. ‘You’re blushing, Georgia. That’s what comes of having a shady past.’

Georgia’s vocal cords refused point-blank to function and for the life of her she couldn’t conjure up a light retort. She shot a quick, desperate glance at her brother and saw that his face had coloured too. She didn’t dare look at Jarrod.

Lockie broke into the lengthening silence. ‘Well, you know what they say, Morgan-it’s the quiet ones you have to watch. And no one could call you quiet. But anyway,’ he continued quickly before she could interject, ‘what’s all this rubbish about Steve hitting you?’

‘He did hit me. Look.’ She indicated a slightly reddened mark on her cheekbone. ‘But don’t worry—I hit him right back. Then he just walked out. End of story.’

Lockie raised his eyebrows. ‘What was the fight about?’

‘Nothing. And everything.’ Morgan pursed her lips. ‘He’s pig-headed and obstinate.’

‘You should know about that, Morgan. Pig-headed and obstinate? Then that makes two of you,’ Lockie remarked drily.

‘Don’t you start, Lockie.’ Morgan pouted. ‘I’ve already had enough from Georgia. And I really don’t care to face the big-brother, big-sister inquisition tonight. I didn’t get any sleep last night and I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning, maybe. I think I’ll go to bed now.’ She turned back to Jarrod and the sulky look left her pretty face. ‘No one around here understands me,’ she murmured with a sigh. ‘I can sympathise with you, Jarrod. I’d cut and run if I had the chance too.’ And with a flounce she left them.

Lockie grimaced at Jarrod and picked up his sister’s suitcase. ‘Give us strength! How about some coffee? I could do with a shot of caffeine and I put the kettle on just before you arrived home. Want a cup, Jarrod?’

He inclined his head. ‘Thanks.’

Georgia moved towards the kitchen and to her consternation Jarrod followed her, watching silently as she set out the coffeemugs.

Flashes of conversation came disjointedly back.

‘Isabel sent for me.’

‘You’re still more of a hunk than you have a right to be.’

‘I’m about the same age Georgia was…’

And with torturous clarity she saw again Morgan’s small hand on Jarrod’s arm.

‘How’s the coffee coming?’ Lockie appeared behind Jarrod, fragmenting the atmosphere of solid tension in the kitchen. ‘Morgan’s decided she’s not going to bed and she’ll have a cup too,’ he added, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, and Georgia automatically reached for another mug.

When she’d poured hot water over the coffee grains she set the steaming mugs on a tray, but before she could lift it Jarrod had taken the tray and motioned for her to precede him into the living room.

Morgan was already in the room and had draped herself over a chair. As Jarrod passed her a mug of coffee she smiled up at him.

‘Thanks, Jarrod.’ Her young voice was softly husky. ‘I suppose you’ve noticed a few changes around the area,’ she continued brightly. ‘The new shopping complex and then all the houses that seem to be sprouting up like mushrooms.’

‘Well, he has been away for four years, Morgan,’ Lockie said scornfully. ‘And I’m more interested in the States. Tell us about that, Jarrod.’

He shrugged and sat down. ‘Not much to tell really. I’ve been working pretty hard.’

‘That’s sacrilegious!’ Morgan exclaimed, and her glance slid to her sister. ‘You sound like Georgia. That’s all she ever does. Work, work and more work.’

Georgia sank wearily onto the sofa, yearning for the solitude of her bed, the oblivion of sleep. ‘You’re exaggerating, Morgan.’

‘And it’s a pity you don’t do a bit of work.’ Lockie frowned at his younger sister. ‘Instead of swanning around with your friends all day.’

A flush washed Morgan’s cheeks and she sent Lockie a withering look. ‘I don’t swan around. And jobs aren’t exactly thick on the ground around here, brother dear.’

‘We know that, Morgan,’ Georgia put in placatingly, but before she could continue Morgan held up her hand.

‘I can feel a lecture coming on so I think I will go to bed after all.’ She stood up and set her coffee-mug on the table with a bang. ‘You know, I really think you two will be disappointed if I don’t go and get myself into mega-trouble.’ She flounced out of the room.

Lockie muttered under his breath. ‘Seems to me Steve and Morgan are quite prepared to play at being grown-ups but they’re too young emotionally to handle the situation they’ve got themselves into.’ He paused and turned, frowning, to Georgia. ‘Into trouble? You don’t think she’s taking drugs or-well, that she could be…?’

Georgia’s hands tightened on her coffee-mug, her knuckles whitening with tension. Her gaze rose to meet Lockie’s and he reddened, his eyes falling from hers.

‘No. Of course, she wouldn’t be that stupid,’ he contradicted himself quickly, and gave a nervous laugh. ‘Anyway, enough of Morgan. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all this, Jarrod.’ He glanced back at his sister. ‘Never a dull moment around here, is there, Georgia? And you must be exhausted, arriving home from a hard day at work then having to go racing out to bring Morgan home.’

Georgia nodded and took a gulp of her coffee. It wasn’t work or the drama with their sister that was responsible for her feeling like a piece of chewed string.

If only she was on her own so she could rationally evaluate her reactions. Yet how could she have known just how radically the reappearance of Jarrod Maclean would affect her? Because, as much as she wished she could deny it, the fact was that he did still have the power to turn her emotions upside down.

She could see herself at seventeen again. That had been when Jarrod had come home after graduating. Georgia had been playing tennis and had been hot and dishevelled from the long cycle home. She’d walked in and he’d been there, in that same chair. When she’d entered the room he’d stood up, and he was a good four inches taller than her brother. Her eyes had lifted too, over his long, lithe body, to meet those fantastic blue eyes.

From beneath her lowered lashes Georgia watched Jarrod take a sip of his coffee, his strong neck muscles working as he swallowed.

Did he remember too? Probably not Why would he?

‘What were we talking about?’ Lockie continued. ‘Oh, yes. The changes around here.’

‘I thought I’d taken the wrong exit when I headed out along the highway the day I arrived,’ Jarrod remarked easily. ‘But once I turned onto that road outside I knew I was back. At least our little bit has stayed the same.’

Lockie’s eyes ran over the high-ceilinged lounge of their large old house. ‘Mmm. Lucky your father never had to sell off his land. Minus this little plot he sold to our father. Fifty acres, isn’t it?’

Jarrod nodded.

Georgia’s nervous system felt as if it had been constricted into a tight block, shaky and volatile. How could the three of them be sitting here so amicably discussing something as mundane as this while the awful events of four years ago sat with them?

‘They must have been good friends back then, Dad and Uncle Peter,’ Lockie was saying. ‘I mean for Uncle Peter to sell our father and mother this place.’

At that particular moment Georgia’s eyes were on Jarrod’s hands and with a shock she watched his knuckles whiten as his fingers tightened around his coffee-mug. Her gaze flew to his face and she saw a flicker of a nerve beating in his suddenly tensed jaw.

What could have sparked off his reaction? Surely he didn’t begrudge her parents this land? After all, Geoff Grayson had bought this house and had had it moved onto this block at least ten years before anyone had been aware that Jarrod even existed.

Georgia continued to surreptitiously watch him but his long lashes now safely shielded the expression in his eyes. He seemed intent on the remains of the coffee in his mug.

‘Of course this place needs a few running repairs now,’ Lockie continued easily. ‘Dad’s always just about to start on it when he gets a job working on someone else’s place. I’ve promised to give him a hand to paint the outside when he gets back from the coast. And the wiring needs attention too.’

Jarrod smiled stiffly, crossing one long denim-clad leg over the other, the rasp of the thick material echoing loudly to Georgia’s sensitised hearing, and she swallowed.

‘These old colonial styles are beautiful but there’s quite a bit of upkeep on them,’ he said evenly.

‘And how.’ Lockie glanced at his wrist-watch and when the phone rang he grinned broadly. ‘Right on time. That’ll be Mandy. She said she’d ring to let me know she’d arrived safely. If you’ll excuse me, Jarrod, I’ll take it on the extension in the kitchen.’ He stood up and raced along the hallway.

Georgia blinked in surprise at Lockie’s sudden exit. Her brother really was the limit. Leaving her alone with Jarrod was developing into a harrowing habit. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat.

‘Mandy, Lockie’s fianc&e2;e, flew home to New Zealand today to visit her family,’ she got out. ‘I suppose you met her last time you called in.’

He shook his head. ‘No, she was working. But Lockie told me they were engaged.’

‘She’s very nice. Everyone likes her. She’s become part of the family.’ Georgia knew she was babbling inanely but couldn’t seem to stop herself. ‘They plan to marry later in the year.’

‘I’m surprised. At Lockie tying himself down,’ he expanded. ‘Even though he’s-what, nearly twenty-eight? Somehow I find it hard to cast Lockie in the role of family man.’

Georgia caught back the bitter laugh that rose inside her. She’d been prepared to settle down with him when he had been younger than Lockie was now.

‘But I guess I’m four years behind. I’m afraid I still see Lockie as a gangling youth with a guitar.’ He smiled faintly and Georgia couldn’t prevent her eyes from shifting to meet his. And she was held captive by the achingly familiar wonder of his attraction.

She was mesmerised by the shape of his mouth, the upward tilt of the corners, the white slash of strong teeth against his tanned skin, the two creases that deepened when he smiled, running furrows in his cheeks. And she wanted to follow their course with the tip of her tongue, follow them right to the corners of his mouth and within. Georgia dragged her libidinous thoughts back from that so dangerous ground.

‘It’s incredible how quickly the years pass.’

‘Is it?’ The bitter words were out before she had consciously formed them and he looked across at her, suddenly still. Georgia forced herself to relax a little. ‘I thought it was only elderly people who complained about that,’ she added quickly with a forced-sounding laugh.

His mouth twisted in self-mockery. ‘Then perhaps I’m getting old.’

That same awkward silence fell between them and Georgia took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee.

‘Peter missed you this week,’ he said softly, his words taking her by surprise.

‘I’m sorry.’ Her eyes flitted about the room. ‘I’ve been fairly busy, and with you coming home-well, I…’ She shrugged.

‘You didn’t want to take a chance on running into me,’ he finished quietly.

‘Don’t be silly.’ Georgia flushed guiltily. ‘Why would I feel like that? I thought your father would want time alone with you. And, as I said, I’ve just been busy.’

‘Yes, it seems you have. I’ve been here twice and missed you both times.’ He slid his empty coffee-mug onto the tray and stood up, taking a couple of stiff-legged strides across the carpet ‘We had to meet eventually, Georgia. Surely you knew that?’ he said flatly.

‘Of course I knew.’ She swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘Really, Jarrod, you’re reading far more into this than is there.’

‘Am I, Georgia?’ He turned back to her, folding his strong arms across his chest. The worn denim of his jeans pulled tautly across his thighs, and she felt her heartbeats quicken in that old familiar way.

And it was familiar, she realised with total shock. Although in four years no man had touched on those intoxicating emotions, suddenly the years slid away as though they’d never been and she was physically alert to the muscular nuances of his body, the deep tone of his voice. Georgia’s mouth dried as panic rose inside her. Not again, she admonished herself. She wasn’t going to let him hurt her again.

‘I’m sorry, Georgia.’ He sighed. ‘You know if it hadn’t been for Peter I wouldn’t have come back. I had no control over that.’

Georgia’s heart twisted painfully. Well, she told herself brutally, if she was harbouring any illusions about his return she’d be advised to nip them in the bud before they grew to envelop her again. There had never been any chance that he had returned to her. How could she be so foolish to imagine he might have? Even if she’d wanted him to…

‘But as I am here—well,’ he continued with a grimace, ‘like it or not, we’re going to run into each other once in a while.’ ‘That needn’t be often,’ she said with an evenness she was proud of. ‘I suppose you’ve taken over your father’s business, so you’ll probably be working, and so will I. I can visit your father when you’re at the office so we needn’t see each other at all.’ She steeled herself to hold his gaze.

A pulse flickered in his jaw. ‘If that’s what you want.’

Georgia swallowed. What she wanted was to wipe away the four years and that fateful night, have everything back to normal between them. His love. Her belief in his integrity. So many things. But that was impossible.

She pushed herself to her feet and stood facing him, her chin held high. ‘I think perhaps that might be best, Jarrod, considering-well…’ She shrugged uneasily.

‘Considering?’ His blue eyes had narrowed.

‘Considering all that…’ Georgia paused again ‘…all that happened. I’m a lot older now, and a lot wiser. So please don’t worry that I might make another distasteful scene. That’s all behind me.’

His eyes burned into hers across the few feet separating them. ‘I don’t recall saying that you would, Georgia.’ He ran a strong hand through his dark hair. ‘Look, we used to be friends. Let’s start again and try to at least be civil to each other.’

His deep voice struck more raw and tender chords and Georgia bit off a sharp, incredulous laugh. ‘Civil? I’m sure we can. You. Me. And Aunt Isabel.’




CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_25861f9f-ee04-52cc-ac4f-966335c0bd3d)


JARROD’S lips thinned and a faint flush seemed to colour the line of his high cheekbones.

‘I don’t intend to defend myself again, Georgia. I’ve done more than enough of that. Perhaps I was asking too much for us to leave the past where it is, behind us. But I would have liked you and me to remain friends,’ he said slowly, as though he was having trouble forming the words, and then he sighed. ‘It’s late. I guess I should be going. I’ve got an early start in the morning. Peter wants me to visit the Gold Coast branch.’

You used to take me with you. Georgia longed to say the words. Her eyes rested on him, her breathing becoming shallow as more old memories rose to haunt her. No! Concentrate on now, she instructed herself angrily. But the present meant looking at him, drinking in the tall length of him.

His body came the closest to perfection of any man’s she’d ever seen. Those strong legs, muscular thighs, narrow hips, taut buttocks, straight back, broad, well-built shoulders, solid arms that wrapped around you, making you feel safe and warm and wanted.

Georgia swallowed painfully, her fingers curling into her palms. Forget the past, she told herself with feeling. And forget his body. That was all he was. A body. Part of a yesterday she didn’t need to remember.

He had moved towards the door, but when he stepped into the hallway he stopped, turning back to face her. ‘Say goodbye to Lockie for me. And Georgia, at least come and see Peter. He misses you.’

With that he was gone.

Later Georgia fell into bed, expecting to lie awake, but exhaustion won out and she slept deeply, without having to think about Jarrod Maclean and the disturbing knowledge that the effect he had on her was just as devastating as it used to be.



‘Georgia! Hey, Georgia!’ Lockie called as he bounded up the front steps.

‘Why does he have to be so noisy?’ Morgan muttered to no one in particular. She was lounging in a chair, idly flipping through a glossy magazine.

It was just a week since the night Jarrod had driven Georgia to collect Morgan and things were gradually settling back into a relative degree of normality. Not that they had made much headway with Morgan. She was unusually subdued and flatly refused to discuss anything with anyone, even Steve, who tried to phone her each day. All she would say was that Steve had suggested they get engaged and she hadn’t wanted to be committed to him or anyone.

Jarrod they hadn’t seen, and Georgia told herself she was very thankful for that fact. She could almost convince herself that she’d imagined his return, that there was still the width of the Pacific Ocean safely between them.

‘Georgia?’ Lockie repeated.

‘What’s wrong now?’ Georgia glanced up at her brother as he burst into the living room. She was trying to finish an assignment for part of her course in business management.

‘Bloody everything!’ Lockie threw himself into a chair.

‘Swearing won’t help.’ Georgia smiled faintly at him.

‘Maybe not. But it relieves my tension. Want to hear the good news or the bad news?’ He sighed loudly and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hand.

‘I should be over the moon about this but…’

Georgia raised her eyebrows, glancing across at Morgan before turning back to Lockie. ‘But? And over the moon about what?’

‘About the booking I just got for Country Blues,’ Lockie told them.

‘What booking is that?’ Georgia’s mind was still on her assignment, so she was only giving Lockie part of her attention.

‘The booking, Georgia. The one I’ve been after. The one you told me to go out and get.’

Georgia looked up at him then. ‘The one I told—? You mean the Country Music Club in Ipswich?’

Lockie nodded and beamed from ear to ear.

‘Hey! That’s great, Lockie.’ Morgan made a thumbs-up sign.

‘Yes, Lockie, that’s wonderful,’ Georgia agreed.

‘You’re telling me! I walked in and they took us on. Well—’ Lockie looked a little sheepish ‘—it wasn’t quite that easy. I’ve been working on them all week. It turns out the band they had booked had a car accident or something and had to cry off at the last minute. Bad luck for them but fantastic for us. I was in the right place at the right time for once.’

‘It must have been fate,’ Morgan retorted drily, but Lockie ignored her.

‘It’s our big chance, Georgia. We’ve worked damn hard to get it and we were due for a lucky break. It’s what all the practising and the taking of those bit engagements has been all about.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘There’s no telling where this booking could lead. The Country Music Club is the first place anyone who’s anyone will look.’

‘So what’s the bad news you mentioned?’ Georgia queried. ‘What could possibly be bad about that?’

‘The bad news is we have to start Friday night and Mandy’s still in New Zealand.’ He stood up and paced the floor. ‘Where the hell am I going to get a replacement singer at this late date? Good ones sure don’t grow on trees.’

‘Can’t you manage without Mandy?’ Georgia asked sympathetically.

‘Probably. But you know how it is. We’re just starting to make our name. With a female lead. Besides, the band needs a good-looking bird to give everyone something to look at apart from our ugly faces.’ He stood up, legs apart, his hands on his hips. ‘I mean, our music’s great, I really believe in it, but the whole programme we’ve been working on for over a year depends on a girl up front. The boys are going to love this when I tell them. Blast Mandy!’

Morgan closed her magazine and threw it on the coffee-table. ‘If you like I’ll volunteer to don a skimpy outfit and stand up there on stage for you, but I somehow can’t see me thrilling everyone if I open my mouth and try to sing.’

Lockie gave a reluctant laugh. Morgan’s tone-deafness was a family joke and Georgia joined in their laughter.

‘If you rang Mandy couldn’t she fly back in time?’

‘I tried. She’s not there.’

‘Then surely you could find someone to stand in for Mandy till she gets back?’ she said, smiling up at her brother, and his eyes narrowed on her.

‘Just a minute,’ he breathed. ‘I’ve got it. We’re saved.’ He raised his eyes skyward in thankfulness. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it right away. You can fill in for Mandy on Friday night, Georgia.’

Georgia stared at him blankly and then shook her head. ‘Oh, no. Not me, Lockie. We’ve been through all this before Mandy joined Country Blues. You know how I feel about performing in public. And, in case you hadn’t noticed, I already have a job, at the bookshop.’

Her brother held up his hand.

‘No, Lockie,’ Georgia repeated adamantly. ‘I like singingI won’t deny that. I used to enjoy it. But privately, not on any stage.’

‘Georgia, please.’ Lockie came over to stand in front of her. ‘It would only be for two nights. Then we’d have all of next week to get in touch with Mandy and talk her into coming back early.’

‘Try phoning Mandy again. She could easily be back here by Friday,’ Georgia told him, and Lockie threw his hands in the air.

‘I told you she wasn’t there. Don’t you think I phoned her as soon as I got the job? I did. Her mother says she’s gone off touring and then she’ll end up in the back woods somewhere visiting cousins. They can’t contact her until Sunday anyway, so there’s no way she’ll make it back.’

‘I’m sorry, Lockie.’

‘Georgia, you know all the songs. You know the band. You’ve jammed with us often enough. And I reckon Mandy’s costume would even fit you; you’re about the same size.’

‘Well, almost,’ Morgan put in amusedly, and Lockie shot a warning glance at her.

‘But I don’t care for singing in front of an audience,’ Georgia reiterated firmly, standing up so that her brother didn’t have the advantage of his height looming over her.

‘Look, Georgia—’ Lockie’s hands clasped her shoulders ‘—you’re great, if only you’d realise it. Haven’t we always said that? Almost as good as Mandy. Isn’t that the truth, Morgan?’

‘Better than Mandy,’ Morgan remarked, and Lockie decided to let that go and turned back to his other sister.

‘I know you can do it. You are great.’

Georgia shrugged her brother’s hands off. ‘Don’t try to sweet-talk me, Lockie. And don’t pressure me.’

‘Sweet-talk you!’ Lockie muttered something under his breath. ‘OK, let me put it like this, Georgia. Friday night is our big chance. And you know what Mandy said. No more two-bit jobs. Well, I’ve pulled off the best-an engagement at the Country Music Club.

‘But now I’ve got it we need a female lead. It won’t be Country Blues without one. Surely you can see that? You’re the only one besides Mandy who knows our arrangements. We’d only need to run through them with you tomorrow evening and you’d be right for Friday night.’

‘I can’t do it, Lockie. I’m sorry.’

‘Morgan, you talk to her.’ Lockie appealed to his younger sister. ‘Make her see sense.’

‘Don’t bring me into it, Lockie. She’s the one who has to get up in front of all those people and sing.’ ‘You’re a great help.’ Lockie ran his hand through his hair.

Georgia sighed exasperatedly. ‘I haven’t got the time, Lockie. And I have late shifts at the bookshop. It would never work.’

‘It’s only Friday and Saturday, Georgia. I know you only work late on Thursday nights.’ ‘Substituting singers doesn’t sound legal to me—’ Georgia began.

‘I’ll tell them at the club, keep it all above board,’ Lockie put in quickly. ‘And Mandy can be back for next weekend’s gig. So where’s the problem? Two nights only, Georgia.’ ‘Lockie, please!’ Georgia brushed her fingers across her forehead.

‘Yes, Lockie, I think you’ve badgered Georgia enough for one night,’ Morgan intervened with an uncharacteristic concern. ‘Why don’t you sleep on it, Georgia? And tomorrow, if you feel the same, then that will be it. Lockie will just have to find someone else. OK?’

Georgia acquiesced and with a heartfelt sigh Lockie did the same.

‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘I need a cup of coffee and then I guess I should be off too. I’ll have to put the other guys in the picture.’ With a last appealing glance at his sister he went into the kitchen.

‘What will you do?’ Morgan asked.

‘I’ve always held out on this with Lockie,’ Georgia said dispiritedly. ‘Ever since we were teenagers and he formed his first band he’s wanted me to sing with him. I enjoyed it for a while, but-’ She stopped. But then Jarrod had arrived back and singing with her brother’s band had faded into a very poor second behind being with Jarrod, being held in his arms, making love…

‘If getting up on stage makes you so nervous—well—’ Morgan shrugged ‘-there’s no point in making more hassles for yourself. Still, I can see Lockie’s point. It’s a pity Mandy had to be in New Zealand now, just when Lockie’s got the band such a big break.’

Georgia nodded and slowly followed Lockie into the kitchen to begin preparing the evening meal. Lockie sat dejectedly at the table, staring into his mug of coffee.

He glanced up at his sister. ‘Georgia, we need the money the Country Music Club will bring,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Now come on, Lockie, I know we aren’t rich but we’re hardly destitute.’

Lockie’s face creased in a worried frown. ‘I need the money, Georgia.’ He paused as she looked at him, surprised by his serious tone. ‘You know the van’s under hire purchase? Well, I’m behind with the payments. It will be repossessed if I don’t catch up with it.’

‘Oh, Lockie.’ Georgia shook her head. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I could help—’

Lockie held up his hand. ‘No, Georgia. It’s my responsibility.’ He sighed. ‘And there’s Mandy. Do you think I like putting off our wedding? She deserves better than that. I want to be able to make it up to her for the last penny-scrimping year.’

Georgia could feel the tension in him.

“This is a big-time gig, Georgia, and it pays big time. We won’t have to be counting every cent if we can pull this off,’ he persisted. ‘Not Mandy and me. Not Andy and the boys. And not you. We’ll pay you for Friday and Saturday nights, and as you’re saving for a new car this will boost your bank account, believe me.’

‘Lockie—’

‘And Dad. Maybe we can send him on a holiday. He hasn’t had one since Mum died. Then there’s Morgan. We could help her out with a secretarial course. It would make such a difference; don’t you see?’

‘I see you using emotional blackmail,’ Georgia said tiredly.

‘Two performances, Georgia. That’s all I ask. I’ll talk to Mandy and she’ll come back. Please, Georgia?’

‘Oh, Lockie.’ She sighed. ‘All right,’ she agreed weakly. ‘But two performances only.’

Lockie’s thin face broke into a grin. ‘Thanks, Georgia. You don’t know how much this means to me.’ He stood up and gave her a bear hug. ‘I’m off to sort out a plan of attack with the boys. Just stick my dinner in the oven. See you later.’

And later, with the dishes done, she returned to the living room and her assignment. It was particularly extensive and she decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet of the empty house. Morgan had gone out with friends and Lockie hadn’t returned since their discussion about Georgia’s performing with the band.

Soon she was involved in her research and she actually jumped in fright when a decisive knock sounded on the door. She glanced tentatively through the lattice panel to check on the caller before she opened the door, and her heart flipped in her chest. Jarrod. What could he want? Slowly she unlocked the door and swung it open.

‘Hello, Georgia,’ he greeted her softly, the veranda light highlighting the slight wave in his dark hair.

‘I’m afraid Lockie isn’t here,’ she began, and sensed him stiffen.

‘That doesn’t matter. Can I come in?’ he asked levelly.

Georgia paused and then stepped back, leaving the door open and preceding him into the living room. Without looking at him she collected her books and papers together and stacked them on the coffee-table.

He picked up a book, glanced at the title and raised his eyebrows. ‘Heavy reading.’

‘Research for my course,’ she told him without elaboration, and sank onto the edge of her chair.

‘You’re studying business administration?’

Georgia nodded. ‘I hope to finish next year. Did you want to see Lockie about anything in particular? I’m afraid I don’t know when he’ll be home.’ And it would be just like Lockie to pick this evening to be late, she reflected silently.

‘I’d prefer to talk to you about it.’ He replaced the book on the pile and sat down opposite her.

Could he hear her heartbeats thundering in her chest? she wondered, and fought to keep her expression bland. What could they possibly have to discuss?

‘It’s about Morgan,’ he continued. ‘Does she have a job yet?’

Georgia shook her head.

‘We may have a vacancy coming up in the office at Ipswich in a few weeks’ time and I thought she might be interested. Does she have any secretarial or computer training?’

‘Only what she’s done at school.’

‘If she’s prepared to go to night courses the job’s hers.’

‘Thank you,’ Georgia said slowly. ‘But you didn’t have to—’

‘I know I didn’t have to, Georgia,’ he cut in a little irritatedly, ‘but it’s a genuine offer. It’s up to Morgan if she wants it or not. If she is interested she can come and see me about it.’

‘All right. I’ll tell her.’

‘I also made some enquiries about her boyfriend, young Steve Gordon.’

‘Oh.’ Georgia looked across at him.

‘He seems a level-headed young bloke. His foreman says he’s one of the best apprentices we’ve got.’

‘I like him.’ Georgia tried to relax, leaning back in her seat, sliding her hands into the pockets of her trousers when she realised she was unconsciously clasping and unclasping her fingers. But she sat up, tense again, when she felt Jarrod’s gaze fall on the rise of her breasts as they thrust against the thin material of her cotton shirt. She pushed herself to her feet and began straightening her papers to cover her discomposure.

‘Did Morgan explain what happened that night at the flat?’ he asked, after the strained moment had passed.

‘No. And no one can get any sensible explanation out of her. I’ve tried, and so has Lockie.’ Georgia sighed. ‘She’s something of a handful, I’m afraid.’

‘Has Lockie talked to Steve?’

Georgia glanced up at him and then away again. Why did he feel he had to concern himself with their affairs? Didn’t he think they could get by without his wise counsel?

‘Of course,’ she replied sharply. ‘Steve maintains he didn’t intentionally hit Morgan. They’d had an argument and he swung around in anger, threw his arms up and accidentally caught her on the side of the face. He assured me he felt terrible about it but Morgan wouldn’t and still won’t accept his apologies.’

Georgia sighed again and turned quietly away from himaway from the unconscious magnetic appeal of him that reached out to her, began to entangle her in its seductive tentacles. ‘They’ll just have to work it out themselves if they want to be together,’ she finished flatly.

‘Do you want me to talk to Steve?’

‘No.’ Georgia lifted her chin and faced him again. ‘There’s no need for you to get involved. We can sort it out and, really. Morgan’s the one who has to decide what she’s going to do about it.’

‘I suppose so.’ Jarrod frowned. ‘She just seems so young.’

As young as she herself had been when she’d fallen in love with him, Georgia thought bitterly, and two years later he had been the one to do the hurting. He had shown no signs then of concern for her, for the havoc he had created in her life, so what right had he to be so solicitous about Morgan?

The silence stretched for immeasurable seconds-seconds that were a torture for Georgia. She despised him…Yet at the same time she yearned to turn back to him, have him hold her the way he used to do.

And she felt momentarily forlorn, dispirited, wanting to share her burdens with him, her worries about Morgan’s rebelliousness, about Lockie’s financial problems which meant he had to postpone his marriage to Mandy, about her guilty reluctance to sing with Country Blues. But mostly she wanted to share with him her own loss-the loss that was still part of her…and her pain.

No! She very nearly screamed at herself. She couldn’t trust him. Not ever. He’d only betray her trust and let her down again.

Jarrod’s sigh brought her back to awareness and she realised he’d left the chair, moved away from her to stand gazing out through the open window into the darkness. ‘I’d forgotten how quiet it was out here. After living in a big city the stillness is almost deafening.’

Georgia found herself studying his profile. It was exactly as she remembered it. Where he was concerned she appeared to possess a photographic memory. After all he’d done.

‘It’s amazing the things-normal everyday things-you remember when you’re away from home.’ He gave a wry laugh. ‘Do you know what I remembered most?’

Unable to speak, Georgia shook her head, while inside she cried out, No, she didn’t know what he remembered most, but she knew what he forgot.

‘The sound of the storm-bird. Every time the sky grew overcast and it turned cool, I’d be reminded of the storm-bird. When I was a kid I used to think its cry was the saddest sound I ever heard.’

So the forlorn bird’s cry, supposedly heralding the coming storm, was his fondest memory? Georgia’s lips twisted embitteredly. But then why should he remember a passionate, obviously physical affair with a gauche, gullible young woman who’d idolised him?

‘Thanks for going to see Peter last night,’ he said, when Georgia made no attempt to continue the conversation.

She shrugged and sat down again. ‘He was surprisingly well. Aunt Isabel said he’d had a comfortable day. I don’t suppose there’s any chance he’ll…’ Georgia left the question hanging and Jarrod shook his head.

‘The doctor says it’s only a matter of time. He’s had twentyfive years they said he wouldn’t have after his bad accident over in Western Australia so he considers he’s been lucky.’

‘I’m sorry, Jarrod,’ Georgia said, wishing the words didn’t sound so banal.

‘These things happen.’

They both looked up as the sound of a car broke into their mutual preoccupation. And the silence continued as footsteps rattled up the stairs.

‘Jarrod! Hi! Been here long?’ Lockie asked brightly. He shot a quick, assessing glance from Jarrod standing with his back to the window to Georgia sitting stiffly on the edge of her chair.

‘Not long.’ Jarrod shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I guess you’ve been practising. How’s the band going?’

‘Just great.’ Lockie’s eyes lit up. ‘Did Georgia tell you I’ve pulled off a fantastic booking? At the Country Music Club. It used to be Rusty’s. Remember it?’

Jarrod nodded.

‘It could be a major stepping-stone to-well, to anything. The sky’s the limit.’ Lockie rubbed his hands together. ‘If we make a good impression at the Country Music Club we could hit the big time. What do you say, Georgia?’

‘Nashville here we come,’ Georgia remarked drily, and Lockie pulled a face at her.

‘Very funny, Georgia. You aren’t giving this the right amount of reverence. But don’t worry-I won’t bear a grudge.’

‘And, let me guess, you’ll never forget the little people?’ Jarrod smiled at him, reviving old memories. ‘When’s the big event?’

‘Friday night.’ Lockie beamed at him and sat on the arm of a chair. ‘How about coming along and lending a bit of moral support?’

‘Sure.’

‘Great! It will be good to know at least one person will be clapping, won’t it, Georgia?’

‘One?’ Jarrod’s smile still lingered on his mouth and Georgia swallowed. ‘Three, counting Georgia and Morgan, don’t you mean? I suppose the whole family will be there.’




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