Rachel had been her best friend since they were fifteen, and she really understood how BIG this night was.
Besides, Rachel was a single mum and a writer, and since her daughter’s birth she hardly ever got out. This party was a terrific chance for her to exercise her social skills before her first book was published and she became famous.
Amy had no doubt that her brilliant friend would become famous. Of course, she wasn’t surprised that Rachel was running late tonight—she’d probably had trouble leaving Bella with a babysitter.
The policeman tapped the invitation with a long finger. ‘Are you the same Amy Ross who’s listed as Rachel Tyler’s next of kin?’
A strangled cry broke from Amy. She tried not to think the worst, but she was gripped by numb terror.
‘I—I suppose Rachel might have named me as her n-next of kin,’ she stammered. ‘She has no family and I’m her b-best friend.’
‘Your name came up when we checked her driver’s licence,’ the policeman said gently. Too gently.
Shaking, Amy wished with all her heart that she didn’t have to hear what these men had come to tell her.
‘We found this invitation and realised you’d be here,’ he said.
Amy almost screamed. She wanted these men to go. Away. Right now.
Instead they were beating around the bush, driving her insane with terror. ‘Please,’ she sobbed. ‘Just—tell me.’
‘There’s been an accident,’ the older man said. ‘A fatal accident. Only a block away.’
AMY stood at the open window of the shabby hotel room in Far North Queensland, and watched a utility truck emerge out of the heat haze to the north. She felt an anxious flutter tremble from her stomach to her chest. The driver was almost certainly Seth Reardon.
Her hair was damp against the back of her neck and her cotton clothing stuck to her skin, but as the ute rattled down the street and came to a halt directly opposite the pub she wasn’t sure if her discomfort was caused by the tropical heat or her nervousness.
The driver’s door opened and, with an excessive lack of haste, a man unfurled from the cabin.
His build was tall and lean, a perfect match for his faded jeans and well-worn riding boots. He wore a milk-blue cotton shirt, with long sleeves rolled to his elbows to reveal sun-darkened skin on his forearms. His hair was very black.
From this angle, Amy couldn’t see his face, but he crossed the empty street with a slow and easy stride that commanded attention.
Without warning, he looked up.
And saw her.
Gulp.
She swung away from the window, her heart thumping strangely. She’d gained a fleeting impression of masculine strength, of a grim mouth and a proud and resolute jaw, and eyes that were a breathtaking vivid blue.
‘Oh, Bella,’ Amy whispered, sending a glance back to the two-year-old playing with a toy pig on the bed. ‘This man is your daddy.’
It was too late to change her mind, but suddenly, for the first time since she’d left Melbourne, Amy wondered if she’d done the right thing to come all this way.
Rachel had been so cagey about Bella’s father. She’d always confided in Amy—always—and yet she hadn’t breathed a word about Seth Reardon until Bella’s second birthday.
Rachel had finally made the big confession after the birthday party, a very casual gathering in her backyard—a few playgroup mums and toddlers, with colourful cupcakes, jelly oranges and chocolate frogs.
Afterwards, Amy had helped to wash coffee cups and once Bella had been tucked into bed she and Rachel had opened a bottle of wine and made spaghetti. They’d eaten on the back patio and talked long into the night.
When Amy brought up the subject of Bella’s father, Rachel groaned. ‘Do you always have to act like my conscience?’
‘But Bella’s two years old now,’ Amy protested. ‘And she’s such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t help thinking there’s a guy out there who’s missing out on so much by not knowing her.’
To Amy’s surprise, Rachel actually agreed.
‘You’re right,’ she said, and, after almost three years of silence, the confession tumbled out.
Rachel had met this absolutely amazing guy when she’d been working on a cattle property on Cape York, in Far North Queensland.
‘I suppose I was totally overawed by him,’ she admitted. ‘He was the most attractive man I’ve ever met.’
‘You mean,’ Amy whispered, ‘he was The One?’
Rachel’s face was white, her voice edgy. ‘Yes, I’m afraid he was—but that’s what scared me, Ames. That’s why I never kept in touch with him. If I’d told him about Bella, he would have wanted me to live up there with him.’
‘But if you love each other you’d live happily ever after,’ Amy declared. It seemed incredibly simple and romantic to her.
But Rachel’s mask slipped to reveal raw fear. ‘I couldn’t live there,’ she said. ‘He’s the boss of a massive cattle station. It occupies his whole life, and it’s so hot and wild and remote. I’d be mad with loneliness and I’d drive the poor man insane.’
A glass of wine later Rachel said more calmly, ‘You’re right, Amy. God help me, you’re always right. I really must make contact with Seth again. I do want to take Bella to meet him. I just need to find the right time.’
But she’d never found the right time…
Which was why Amy was here now, in the Tamundra pub, almost three thousand kilometres north of Melbourne.
When Seth Reardon heard footsteps on the bare timber stairs, he stood in the empty hotel dining room, facing the doorway, shoulders squared, hands lightly fisted at his sides.
He wasn’t looking forward to meeting this friend of Rachel Tyler’s, and he frowned, sensing something odd as he listened to Amy Ross’s approach.
He was here for a business meeting and he’d expected to meet her alone, but he could hear another set of footsteps—eager, small footsteps.
Without warning, a tiny girl burst, like a small torpedo, through the doorway.
‘Hello, man!’
Arms outstretched, the child greeted Seth with a huge grin, as if a reclusive cattleman, whom she’d never met, was the one person in the world she most wanted to see.
Seth’s stomach dropped as she headed straight
