at the terms of the will had been followed by a wild surge of rebellion, a violent need to fight it. She’d argued fiercely with her sisters, but Jessie’s and Emily’s flat refusal to go against their father’s decision left her without any support from them in a legal action to have it overturned.
In sheer desperation she’d broached the issue with Mitch Tyler, putting to him that Johnny might well have unfairly influenced her father. After all, she’d argued bitterly, he wasn’t known as Johnny Charm for nothing.
Those laser-blue eyes of Mitch’s had cut her down for even suggesting it, and his subsequent words had shamed her. ‘Is that worthy of your father, Megan?’
He’d waited for her answer.
When she’d maintained a stubborn silence, squirming inside at the pertinent criticism of her viewpoint, Mitch had flatly stated, ‘If you want to dishonour his will, I’m not your man. I’m here on Patrick’s behalf, to help facilitate what he wanted. It’s the very least I owe him for all he did for me.’
His high-minded integrity had goaded her into trying to bring it down a peg or two, force out some human weakness in him, make him empathise with what she was feeling. ‘Why Johnny? My father took you in, too. And Ric. The three of you stayed in his life. Don’t you feel slighted that he passed you over for…for a pop-star?’
It wouldn’t have been so…difficult…having to share the property with either of his other boys. And there was no denying she needed help in these current circumstances. Ric would have dealt delicately with the problems, caring about her feelings. Mitch would have handled her needs from the city with efficiency and absolute integrity. But Johnny Ellis…whose whole life was about playing to an audience who loved him?
Mitch’s straight black brows had beetled down. ‘You don’t understand your father’s choice?’
‘Do you?’ she’d challenged.
‘Yes. So does Ric. I think you need to talk to Johnny before taking any hostile step, Megan. You might not ever appreciate where he’s come from, but…’
‘I know what he is now,’ she’d snapped.
‘You’ve just pasted a label on the man which I know to be very superficial, Megan. Johnny has not yet reached the fulfilment of the person he is. I think…’ He’d paused, his gravity giving way to a gleam of whimsical irony. ‘Did Patrick teach you to play chess?’
‘Yes. We played sometimes.’
‘He always favoured a knight attack.’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘It was a strategy, Megan. Your father thought out his strategies very carefully. Don’t devalue the thought he put into his will when you talk to Johnny. Remember that Gundamurra was Patrick’s life, as well as yours, and he knew how to share it.’
The sting of those words still hurt. She wasn’t mean-hearted. She hadn’t felt jealous of her father’s pride in his three bad boys who’d made good. Nor of his affection for them.
She just didn’t want Johnny Ellis constantly trampling through her life. She wished he’d married one of the gorgeous women he mixed with in his star-studded world so he wasn’t free to drop in on her world whenever he liked.
At least, after the funeral, he’d have to go back to his cowboy movie. Hopefully he’d ride off into the sunset—anywhere else but here! She didn’t begrudge him the fulfilment he was still looking for, as long as he stayed away and left her free to hold the reins at Gundamurra.
Maybe he could be persuaded to do just that.
With this purpose burning in her mind, Megan headed for the homestead kitchen. If Johnny was not still sleeping after his long trip from the U.S., he’d be there, being fed by Evelyn who’d be fussing over him with sickening adoration.
The housekeeper had been with the Maguire family all her life, born on the sheep station, and trained by Megan’s mother to run the household with meticulous efficiency, just as she herself always had before cancer had taken her life. Everyone loved and respected Evelyn, but her attitude towards Johnny Ellis—as though the sun shone out of him—grated terribly on Megan.
It was bad enough that she never tired of listening to his songs, playing them over and over again. No doubt she’d be cooking up all his favourite foods, regardless of the current strict budget. Megan tried not to feel too critical of this indulgence as she opened the kitchen door…and came to an embarrassed halt, finding the highly dependable housekeeper weeping on Johnny Ellis’s big, broad shoulder, his cheek rubbing the top of her head, one brawny arm holding her while the other was engaged in delivering soothing pats on her back.
It was instantly clear that the grief Evelyn had held in the past few days had suddenly overflowed and Johnny was comforting her. Megan stood rooted to the spot, realising that she and her sisters, wrapped in their own loss, had taken Evelyn’s services to them for granted, not really considering that she, too, might feel devastated by their father’s sudden death. It was Johnny who was giving her what she needed, sympathetic understanding and a shoulder to cry on.
What I need, too.
A painful loneliness stabbed through Megan’s heart. Jessie and Emily had their husbands. Ric and Mitch had their wives. With her father gone, she had no-one to hold her, soothe her pain. And the sight of Johnny Ellis embracing Evelyn made it worse.
It wasn’t fair that he looked like a strong, steady rock to lean on. His life was all about image, Megan fiercely told herself. Her gaze fixed scornfully on his riding boots—still playing the cowboy role—then noted how the denim of his jeans was tightly stretched around his powerful thighs, showing off how solidly built he was.
No doubt his female fans swooned over his macho sexiness, imagining his private parts were the ultimate in virility. Megan wondered just how many women didn’t have to imagine, having known him intimately. Did he have a different one every night? Two or three a day?
It would have to be so easy for him, a mere crook of the finger. His star status would assure him of groupies everywhere. Though strictly on a male appeal level, he had the lot anyway; impressive physique, a very masculine face accentuated by a squarish jawline, a strong, almost triangular nose with its flaring nostrils, wickedly twinkling greenish eyes which were quite strikingly complemented by tanned skin and toffee-coloured hair, and, of course, the wide mouthful of white teeth that flashed winning smiles everywhere, not to mention the million-dollar voice.
Which suddenly crooned, ‘I think this is the time for me to make you a cup of tea, Evelyn.’
The weeping had stopped.
With a choked little laugh, Evelyn lifted her head. ‘No…no…’ she said chidingly, reaching up to pat his cheek as he gently released her from his embrace. ‘Thank you for letting me unburden my sorrows, but don’t be taking away my pleasures now. You sit yourself down and let me get busy.’
Megan hadn’t gathered wits enough to effect a swift retreat before the two of them moved apart and Johnny’s swinging gaze caught her in the open doorway. Her stomach lurched as their eyes locked and she felt the sympathy he’d given to Evelyn being transmitted to her. She didn’t want it from him. Didn’t need anything from him. And be damned if she’d cry on his shoulder!
‘Megan…come on in,’ he invited,
