conditions—which she was. ‘What are they?’
‘I’m a bit pressed for time. I need to be in Cairns—Palm Cove, precisely. I have an important meeting. And I need to be out at Haywire the following day for a few days. It’s the only free time I have before my brother gets married, and anyway—’ he looked at her over the rim of his glass ‘—it will set the scene for you.’
‘You—want me to come to Palm Cove and then on to this Haywire place with you?’ she queried a little jaggedly.
He nodded. ‘Not only am I pressed for time, but logistically it makes sense. The best way to get you to Haywire is for you to fly out there with me from Cairns.’
‘Do I,’ Holly gestured, ‘actually have to see this Haywire place?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
He sat back and shoved his hands into his pockets with a slight frown. ‘That doesn’t sound like a dedicated journalist. Why wouldn’t you want to see it?’
‘Mr Wyndham,’ she said carefully, ‘You have not only accused me of being a serial socialite and a gold-digger, you’ve mentally undressed me often enough to make me seriously wary of being stuck somewhere out beyond the black stump with you!’
Like lightning, a crooked grin creased his face which didn’t impress Holly at all.
‘I apologize,’ he said then. ‘I was—’ he paused to consider ‘—not in a very good mood—not at the lunch, anyway. However, you’d be quite safe at Haywire. There’s staff up there, and I’m not in the habit of forcing myself on unwilling women.’
Holly chewed her lip then said finally, ‘What are the other conditions?’
‘I mainly want to talk about the work I do—so nothing personal, unless it’s ancient history. And I want to vet it before it gets published.’
Holly blinked several times, then she said frustratedly, ‘Why me?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? Not only are you a journalist, but you’re interesting.’ He looked amused. ‘I’ve never been walked-out on before, as you did at the lunch. I’ve never been told I was making a pass in a French accent. And I’ve never been accused of being as bad-minded as a leopard.’
Holly realized she’d been staring at him openmouthed. She shut it hastily and watched him twirl his beer bottle in his long fingers before pouring the last of it into his glass.
‘But what really decided me,’ he continued, ‘was your mother.’
‘My mother?’ Holly repeated in dazed tones. ‘How come?’
‘I thought what she did was quite brave. Maybe it’s mistaken maternal faith—we’ll see, I guess—but I liked her for it.’
Holly was seized by strong emotion and had to turn away to hide it as her eyes blazed. If it killed her, she would dearly love to prove to Brett Wyndham that her mother’s faith in her was not mistakenly maternal, even if it meant spending some days with him at Palm Cove and beyond the black stump…
After all, there was bound to be staff at the station, and Palm Cove was highly civilized, wasn’t it? It was not as if she’d be stranded in some jungle with him. It would actually be quite difficult to be stalked by him up there, as predator and prey, and she was no silly girl to be seduced by palm trees and mango daiquiris.
Was that all there was to it, however? Was simply to be in his company seductive? Was he just that kind of man? She couldn’t deny he’d had a powerful effect on her a couple of times—without even trying too hard, she thought a little bitterly. But surely that was in her power to control? Well, if not control, ignore.
After all, was she not getting gold in return for a little self-discipline?
She opened her mouth, looked frustrated and said, ‘You never give interviews. So I’m having a little difficulty with that.’
‘I’m branching out in a new direction that I was going to publicize anyway. I’ve read some of your pieces, you have your father’s touch and I thought you could do justice to it.’
Holly’s lips parted and he could see the quickening of interest drowning the doubt and suspicion in her eyes. ‘Am I allowed to know what it is?’
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. But it’s the very good reason for you to see Haywire.’
Holly looked unamused. ‘I find you extremely—annoying at times,’ she told him.
Brett Wyndham’s lips twisted; he wondered what she’d say if he told her how annoyed he’d been when they’d first met. He’d been annoyed at the lunch; he’d arrived annoyed, then got further annoyed at finding himself feeling a niggle of attraction towards the kind of girl he’d castigated to himself so thoroughly. When she’d walked out, the niggle had become tinged with a grudging kind of admiration—that had also annoyed him.
Then her Holly Golightly hauteur had claimed his attention, and on discovering it was the same girl his annoyance had turned to intrigue. He was still intrigued by this version of Holly Harding—even more intrigued because he was quite sure he’d stirred some response in her…
Still, he reflected, these were improbable lengths to go to over a smattering of intrigue to do with a woman, particularly for him. But he had liked her fresh, slightly zany style in the pieces he’d read, he reminded himself, and he had even considered the possibility of offering her some publicity work for his new venture.
‘So?’ He lifted an eyebrow at her.
Holly meditated for a moment then replied quite candidly. ‘I’d love to say no, because you’ve pressed a few wrong buttons with me, Mr Wyndham. But—’ she flipped her hand ‘—you’ve also pressed a few right ones. My mother was an inspired one, in more ways than one.’ She cast him a strange little look from beneath her lashes. ‘Then there’s my editor. How I would explain to him I’ve knocked back this opportunity, I can’t even begin to think.’
She paused to take several breaths.
‘There’s more?’ he queried with some irony.
‘A bit more. You’ve got to be interesting—you’ve certainly captured the public’s imagination—so, on a purely professional level, I can’t turn it down.’
‘Am I expected to be flattered?’
Holly searched his eyes and could just detect the wicked amusement in their dark depths. ‘Yes,’ she said baldly. ‘I’m usually no pushover.’
‘OK, take it as read that I’m flattered.’ He stopped, flagged a passing waiter and ordered a bottle of champagne.
‘Oh. No!’ Holly protested. ‘I didn’t mean…’
‘You don’t think we should celebrate?’ He looked offended. ‘I do. It’s not every day I score a coup like this. Besides, I thought you liked champagne.’
‘You’re making fun of me,’ she accused.
‘Yes,’
