By Request Collection 1. Jackie Braun

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a late dinner. She pushed away the remains of a tasty chicken casserole. ‘You’re not going to believe this, but I got the Brett Wyndham interview after all.’

      Sylvia uttered a little cry of delight. ‘Holly! That’s marvellous. I wasn’t sure I did the right thing. I know you tried to gloss over it, but I wasn’t sure whether you really approved.’ Sylvia paused and frowned. ‘But why do you have to go to Cairns?’

      Holly made the swift decision to gloss over that bit and murmured something about Brett being short of time.

      Sylvia mulled over this for a moment, then she said, ‘He’s very good-looking, isn’t he? I mean he has a real presence, doesn’t he?’

      ‘I guess he does.’

      ‘Holly,’ Sylvia began, ‘I know that awful thing that happened to you is not going to be easy to get over. Actually, you’ve been simply marvellous with the way—’

      ‘Mum, don’t,’ Holly interrupted quietly.

      ‘But there has to be the right man for you out there, darling,’ Sylvia said passionately.

      ‘There probably is, but it’s not Brett Wyndham.’

      ‘How can you be so sure?’

      Holly moved the salt cellar to a different spot and sighed. ‘It’s just a feeling I have, Mum. For one thing, he’s a billionaire, so he could have anyone and there’s nothing so special about me. And, for me, I suppose it started with the way he behaved that day of the lunch. Then I read that he’d broken off his engagement to a girl who would have thought she was the last in a long line of women he’d escorted. And it seems,’ she said bitterly, ‘He’s a master at getting his own way.’

      ‘In view of all that,’ Sylvia replied a shade tartly, ‘I’m surprised you’re going to Palm Cove and the bush.’

      Holly shrugged. ‘I once made the decision I wouldn’t be a victim, and what really helped me was my career. I can’t knock back this opportunity to further it.’

      Glenn Shepherd said to Holly the next morning, ‘So it’s all set up?’

      ‘Yes. But there’s no personal side to it, Glenn, other than “ancient history”—I guess that means how he grew up—and he wants to have final say. It’s his work he wants to talk about, and some new project.’

      ‘Even that’s a scoop. So, you’re off to Palm Cove and points west?’

      Holly nodded then looked questioningly at her editor. ‘How did you know that? I mean, so soon?’

      ‘His PA has just been on the phone. They offered to pay for your flights; I knocked that back, but they will provide accommodation in Palm Cove—they own the resort, after all.’

      Holly grimaced. ‘I’d rather stay in a mud hut.’

      ‘Holly, is there anything you’re not telling me?’ Glenn stared at her interrogatively.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘No,’ Holly replied. ‘No.’

      ‘Enjoy yourself, then.’

      Cairns, in Far North Queensland, was always a pleasure to visit, Holly reflected as she landed on a commercial flight and took the courtesy bus out of town to Palm Cove. With its mountainous backdrop, its beaches, its lush flora, bougainvillea, hibiscus in many colours, yellow allamanda everywhere and its warm, humid air, you got a delightful sense of the tropics.

      It was also a touristy place—it was a stepping-off point for all the marvels of the Great Barrier Reef—but it wasn’t brash. It was relaxed, yet still retained its solid country-town air.

      Palm Cove, half an hour’s drive north of Cairns, was exclusive.

      Lovely resorts lined the road opposite the beach and there was a cosmopolitan air with open-air cafés and marvellous old melaleucas, or paper-bark trees, growing out of the pavements. There were upmarket restaurants and boutiques that would have made her mother’s mouth water. The beach itself was a delight. Lined with cottonwoods, casuarinas and palms, it curved around a bay and overlooked Double Island and a smaller island she didn’t know the name of. On a hot, still, autumn day, the water looked placid and immensely inviting. Whilst summer in the region might be a trial, autumn and winter—if you could call them that in the far north—were lovely.

      The resort owned by the Wyndhams was built on colonial lines. It was spacious and cool and was right on the beach.

      Holly unpacked her luggage in a pleasant room. It didn’t take her long; she was used to travelling light and had evolved a simple wardrobe that nevertheless saw her through most eventualities. She’d resisted her mother’s attempts to add to it.

      She was contemplating going for a walk when she got a phone message: Mr Wyndham presented his compliments to Ms Harding; he had some time free and would like to see her in his suite in half an hour.

      Ms Harding hesitated for a moment then agreed.

      As she put the phone down, she felt a little trill of annoyance at this high-handed invitation but immediately took herself to task. This was business, wasn’t it?

      She had a quick shower and put on jeans and a cotton blouse. But the humidity played havoc with her hair, so she decided to clip it back in order to control it.

      That was when she found a surprise in her bag. Her mother had been unable to let her come to Palm Cove without some maternal input: she’d tucked in a little box of jewellery. Amongst the necklaces and bangles was a pair of very long, dangly bead-and-gilt earrings.

      Holly stared at them then put them on.

      Not bad, she decided, and tied her hair back.

      Finally, with her feet in ballet pumps and her tote bag on her shoulder, she went to find Brett Wyndham’s suite.

      It was on the top floor of the resort with sweeping views of Palm Cove. Although the sun was setting in the west behind the resort, the waters of the cove reflected the time of day in a spectrum of lovely colours, apricot, lavender and lilac.

      It was a moment before she took her eyes off the panorama after a waiter admitted her and ushered her into the lounge. Then she turned to the man himself, and got a surprise.

      No casual clothes this time. Today he wore a grey suit and a blue-and-white-striped shirt. Today he looked extremely formal as he talked into his mobile phone.

      Merely talking? Holly wondered. Or in the process of delivering an extremely cutting dressing-down as he stood half-turned away from her and fired words rather like bullets into the phone? Then he cut the connection, threw the phone down on a sofa in disgust and turned to her with his dark eyes blazing.

      Holly swallowed in sudden fright and took a step backwards. ‘Uh—hi!’ she said uncertainly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Maybe I’ll just go until your temper has cooled a bit.’ She turned away hurriedly.

      He reached her in two strides and spun her back with his hands on her shoulders.

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