‘Toasted cheese sandwiches. I burned the first two lots. We fed them to the dogs and then Jack took over.’
Myrna stared.
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘Don’t believe I burned the sandwiches?’
‘Well, of course I believe that. It’s a wonder you haven’t burned the whole house down by now. Your ability to not concentrate on your cooking is legendary. It’s just... Bryony, Jack Morgan...’
‘Why is it so amazing that Jack Morgan brought me home and visited my house and ate my cheese sandwiches? ’
‘Because he doesn’t visit.’
‘Doesn’t visit who?’
‘Doesn’t visit anyone. The man’s practically a recluse.’ Myrna grinned. ‘Well, with women, anyway. He has a past.’
‘Don’t we all?’
‘Speak for yourself.’ Myrna hugged her knees and looked around the room with affection. ‘This place is great—and not a nappy in sight. I think I’ll move in.’
‘Uh-uh.’ Bryony’s curls shook. ‘I’m off house-mates until next year. Harry’s my chaperon. I’m practising being an engaged lady.’
‘I imagine it must be a strange feeling, being engaged.’ Myrna sighed. ‘I wouldn’t know. I was single and then—wham!—I was married. I can’t remember anything about being engaged, except maybe the one morning Ian let me out of bed long enough to buy a wedding dress.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s why you have four kids and I have none. No self-control.’
‘Not when Ian’s in sight.’ Myrna sighed again, happily, and hugged her knees tighter.
‘You want a bucket of cold water dumped over you? Hey, Myrna?’
Myrna gave herself a shake, lost her cat-got-the-cream look, and mock-glared at Bryony. ‘You don’t feel this way about Roger? Like you only have to look at him and your knees turn to jelly?’
Bryony thought. ‘I guess. I mean, I suppose I do. Roger looks great in his Italian suits. Smooth.’
‘But does he look great not in his Italian suits?’ Myrna grinned. ‘The first time I saw Ian I had him undressed in my head in two minutes flat. Or less...’ And then she fixed Bryony with a look. ‘You always fall for suits. I don’t understand it.’
‘I love good-quality suits.’
‘So do a deal with Armani, buy yourself a suit and hang it in your wardrobe. And then get on with the important things in life. Like finding a man! Heck, Bryony, you had Jack Morgan in your house last night. How can that compare to a suit? Bryony, Jack Morgan is seriously sexy.’
‘He is, isn’t he?’ Bryony fiddled with her coffee mug, and blushed. Myrna looked at her sideways—looked again—and decided to ignore the blush. For now.
Myrna, comfortably plump and pretty, and gloriously happy with her Ian, wasn’t all that impressed with Bryony’s Roger. This had definite promise, but she knew better than to push.
‘So what gives with Maddy?’ she asked, carefully changing the subject.
‘Now there’s something I don’t understand. Maddy. Tell me about her,’ Bryony demanded. ‘That little girl has seen trouble.’
‘Well, you’re right there. She’s disturbed enough.’
‘So tell me why.’
‘I’m not sure.’ Myrna sighed. ‘Well. maybe I do know a bit. Maddy was born here.’
‘What—in Australia? I thought she was American.’
‘Her mother was from the States. Or maybe...more cosmopolitan, if you like. Georgia always made out she had contacts everywhere. Jack met her overseas when he was quite young, married her in the States and brought her here. Only she hated the farm, hated Australia. In the end she hated Jack. She whinged until we were all sick to death of her. She had Maddy and then, when the baby was about three months old, she skipped the country, taking Maddy with her.’
Bryony frowned. ‘Jack didn’t want his daughter?’
‘Jack wasn’t given the choice. He went away for a weekend to some important farming conference and when he got back they’d gone. He went to the States looking for them and there was talk he was trying to get custody, but he didn’t succeed.’
‘But he found her?’
‘I don’t know. All I know is that he came back here and buried himself in his work. Absolutely. The loss devastated him and he compensated by making money. Jack has one of the most profitable sheep studs in the country, and for a sideline he breeds and trains sheepdogs. His dogs are legendary. Jack Morgan is seriously rich, but he doesn’t enjoy a cent of it. Bitter, that’s what Jack is, isolated by choice. Then three months ago Maddy arrived.’
‘To stay?’
‘As far as we know. Jack’s not talking. And Maddy... Well, she won’t talk to anyone or go near anyone if she can help it. She goes to school, but she keeps to herself. Her teachers are at their wits’ end because she won’t communicate. I was stunned she was touching you yesterday.’
‘Mmm.’
Bryony thought back to the last time she’d seen the little girl, at ten o’clock last night. They’d played Scrabble on the rugs. Bryony had lost against the combined team of Jack and Maddy—for heaven’s sake, what sort of man knew a xyster was an instrument for scraping bones?—and then Bryony had walked out to the truck with them to say goodbye. Maddy had placed her arms round Bryony’s neck and clung. She was a little girl in need.
‘Will you see her again?’ Myrna asked carefully. She knew better than to ask whether Bryony was seeing Jack again. After all, despite Myrna’s disapproval, Bryony Lester was an engaged lady.
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, when?’
‘This afternoon,’ Bryony told her, and blushed all over. She glared up at Myrna. ‘And it’s not what you’re thinking, it’s work.’
‘Don’t tell me you talked Jack Morgan into redecorating? ’ Myrna looked hopeful. ‘Jack’s place is vast. We get a job like that and we can retire. Set up in the Bahamas.’
‘With or without your twins?’ Bryony shook her head. ‘No. Luckily for the twins and your Ian, it’s only Maddy’s bedroom. It seems it’s sparse and Jack’s trying to get her interested in re-doing it. Only she isn’t. Then last night she said she wanted a bedroom just like mine.’
‘Like yours?’ Myrna’s face went blank. ‘You mean... she saw your bedroom?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did Jack see your bedroom?’
‘Yes.’
‘You did tell him you were engaged?’ Myrna demanded, suddenly anxious, and Bryony laughed.
‘Yes again, goose.’
‘If he’s seen that bedroom, he has the wrong idea about you,’ Myrna said gloomily, and Bryony thought about it
‘No. Every girl should have a bed like mine.’
‘If every girl had a bed like yours, the production of this country would hit zero, except for kids. Bryony, you must be nuts. He’ll think you’re sex-starved...’
‘Why, for heaven’s sake?’
‘Bryony, you have black satin sheets! I have never known anyone with black satin sheets, except someone with a red light on their front door. It’s a good thing Maddy was there, otherwise you deserved to be ravished on the spot.’
‘I