The Outback Bridal Rescue (4 page)

At least, after the funeral, he’d have to go back to his cowboy movie. Hopeful y he’d ride off into the sunset—

anywhere else but here! She didn’t begrudge him the fulfilment he was stil 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 stil 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 al 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 El is—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 al 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 El is’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 real y 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 El is embracing Evelyn made it worse.

It wasn’t fair that he looked like a strong, steady rock to lean on. His life was al about
image,
Megan fiercely told herself. Her gaze fixed scornful y on his riding boots—stil 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 mil ion-dol ar 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, his hand beckoning her forward, taking charge, assuming control!

Not of me! Never!
Megan silently and savagely vowed.

‘Evelyn was just tel ing me about your father…how he’d been clutching your mother’s photograph from the bedside table in his hand when you found him,’ he went on softly, sadly. ‘I guess—’

‘Yes.’ She cut him off, feeling tears wel ing up again. ‘I hope he’s with my mother now. He missed her very much.’

Fighting her way out of a storm of emotion, she waspishly added, ‘I wonder if you’l ever know that kind of love, Johnny?’

His face tightened as though she had slapped him.

Evelyn gave a shocked gasp.

Acutely aware that the personal remark had slipped out of her previous thoughts and was total y inexcusable, Megan almost bit her tongue in chagrin. She had to deal with this man. That was best done by keeping as much
impersonal
distance from him as possible.

‘I think finding that kind of love is rather rare in today’s world,’ Johnny answered in a measured tone.

‘Especial y yours,’ flew out of her mouth before she could stop it.

‘Miss Megan…’

Evelyn’s reproof faded into a heavy sigh.

Megan gritted her teeth, refusing to take back what she believed. She glared defiance at the man who’d probably slept with thousands of women without giving any one of them any serious commitment. Her words had clearly struck a nerve and she took fierce satisfaction in the way his eyes glittered at her. No sympathy now.

‘Rare in your world, too, Megan,’ he countered, using his voice like a silky whip. ‘Unless you’ve met the man of your dreams since Christmas.’

‘Too busy,’ she loftily retorted.

‘Which reminds me…’

‘We need to talk,’ she leapt in before he could take charge of their
business
meeting. ‘When you’ve finished your breakfast, perhaps you wouldn’t mind coming to the office.’

‘Whatever suits you,’ he returned obligingly.

‘That wil be most appropriate. You’l find me there.’

She quickly closed the door and strode outside, marching off a mountain of turbulent energy as she headed for the front entrance of the homestead and the steps leading up to the verandah which skirted the huge house—

a verandah that welcomed people out of the sun that could too often be pitiless in the Australian Outback.

She hadn’t welcomed Johnny El is.

Couldn’t welcome him.

Having reached the top of the steps she turned, her gaze skating around al the outbuildings that made Gundamurra look like a smal township from the air; the big maintenance and shearing sheds, the prize rams’ enclosure attached to the lab, the cottages for the long-term staff, the bunkhouse for jackaroos, the cook’s quarters, the supplies store, the schoolhouse.

She was twenty-eight years old and this was her life—

the life she’d chosen—the life she loved.

She didn’t
need
a man.

Certainly not a man who peddled charm.

What she needed was this whole area to be an oasis of green again. Even the foliage on the pepper trees looked brown, coated with dust. Al the land to the horizon was brown, and above it the sky was a blaze of blue, no clouds, no chance of rain.

no chance of rain.

If only the Big Wet had come this year, breaking the drought, her father might not have decided to write that wil , making Johnny El is a permanent fixture in her life. The pressing question now was…how was she going to pry him out of it? Or at least, minimise his presence to next to nothing.

He didn’t belong here.

With this thought firmly entrenched in her mind, Megan went inside, passing through the great hal that bisected this section of the homestead, moving onto the verandah that skirted the inner quadrangle, heading straight for her father’s office.

Once there, she found herself drawn to the chess table by the window, remembering what Mitch had said, that her father thought through his strategies very careful y. The black and white pieces were set up ready to play, which had to mean his last game with Mitch—played by e-mail—

had been completed.

Game over, she thought, and on a deep wave of sadness, laid the black king down. She stared at the white knight, fretting further over why her father had thought Johnny El is was the right man to ride in to the rescue, then gave up on trying to figure it out and moved on to sit in the large leather chair behind the desk.

It was a big chair made for a big man. Physical y she didn’t fit it, never would, but at least her father had granted her the right to sit here in his place, and no way in the world was she going to let Johnny El is occupy it while they talked.

He was ten years her senior but that didn’t give him any He was ten years her senior but that didn’t give him any authority over her or what was to be decided in this room. It was she who owned fifty-one percent of Gundamurra…she who had the whip hand…and al the mil ions he’d made as a pop-star could not change that!

DEAL
kindly with her…

Ric’s admonition was playing through Johnny’s mind as he approached Patrick’s office, but Megan’s attitude towards him made it damned difficult to keep it fixed there.

Icy politeness from her last night and the least possible amount of contact. This morning, rejecting his sympathy point-blank, actual y turning it into one of her snide hits on him, not even caring that Evelyn heard it, too.

Al the same, he shouldn’t have let himself be goaded into hitting back. Especial y about the lack of any special love in her life. That was a low blow, especial y when she’d just lost her father. Johnny grimaced over the insensitive lapse in his control. He had to do better in this meeting, not let Megan get under his skin. He was older than she was, had more people skil s. It was up to him to…
deal kindly
with her.

At least he didn’t have to worry about Jessie’s and Emily’s feelings. The two older sisters had welcomed him warmly last night, making it clear that their only concern was Megan’s future on Gundamurra. The situation on the sheep station was grim. Like Patrick, they were counting on him to ensure there was a future here for her.

And he’d do it.

Even against Megan’s prickly opposition he’d do it.

Though he hoped she’d be reasonable.

The situation demanded she be reasonable.

He paused at the office door, took a deep, calming breath, gave a courtesy knock to warn of his imminent entry, al owed Megan a few seconds to get her mind into appropriate gear, then moved in with every intention of being at his diplomatic best.

But he wasn’t prepared for the scene Megan had set and his sense of rightness was instantly jolted. She was sitting in Patrick’s chair, taking Patrick’s place before he was even buried. It was too soon. It was…

Johnny checked himself, took stock of the woman he had to deal with.

The defiance in her eyes could mean she was making a statement by taking her father’s chair—a statement of empowerment that she might feel a need for in this situation. And being seated there put the desk between them, a decisive distance that possibly suggested she was feeling vulnerable about having to deal with him.

They were the kindest thoughts Johnny could come up with.

‘Megan,’ he acknowledged softly, nodding for her to take the lead in this meeting.

‘It was good of you to come, Johnny…’

Which was a pleasant enough greeting until she added,

‘…being in the middle of shooting your first movie.’

Kind thoughts flew out the window. He eyebal ed her in furious chal enge, every muscle in his body taut with aggression at this belittling of his feelings for her father.

Patrick had been the most important person in his life and Megan could not be ignorant of how very much their relationship had meant to him.

Not one word passed his lips, but the force of his anger obviously got through to her. A tide of heat burned up her neck and scorched her cheeks, lighting up the freckles that added a cuteness to her pert little nose. Except Johnny wasn’t thinking
cute
right now. He was thinking
little.
No way was she big enough to take over from her father, not in any sense.

She gestured to the chairs at the chess table, her gaze shifting from his. ‘Please take a seat.’ The words were husky, as though she was pushing them through a very tight throat.

Satisfied that he’d wrung some shame from her, Johnny stepped over to the chess table to move Mitch’s chair—not Patrick’s—into a face-to-face position with Megan. The fal en black king caught his eye. What was this? The king is dead…long live the queen?

Johnny pul ed himself up again. Mitch might have laid the chess piece down—a symbol of Patrick resting in peace.

Leaping to hasty and possibly false conclusions was not conducive to a fair meeting. He rol ed the chair out from the table and closer to the desk, then sat down, tel ing himself to watch and listen, refrain from stirring any more hostility in Megan’s mind. Though what he’d ever done to earn it was a total mystery to him.

He stared at her, waiting for her to start. The scarlet heat had receded from her face, leaving her skin pale and the freckles more prominent. She wore no make-up, hadn’t done for years, though he remembered her experimenting with it in her teens. She’d been a happier person then, enjoying his company. They’d had fun together, laughing easily, chatting easily. Then she’d gone away to some agricultural col ege and something had changed her.

She could have been quite strikingly beautiful if she’d put her mind to it…good bones, big expressive eyes that could twinkle like silver or brood like storm clouds, a ful -lipped mouth when it wasn’t thinned with disapproval of him, and a glorious mane of red curls, currently pul ed back into some tight clip at the back of her neck. A lovely long neck it was, too.

Apparently she didn’t care how she looked. Being a woman was not her thing. When had she last worn a dress?