Heart of the Outback Read Free

knowing everybody who was anybody, and she certainly knew Gareth Morgan.
    All her companions around the table looked in the direction of Jill’s gaze, all except Alida. She concentrated on pulling herself together to weather the conversation bound to follow.
    “Which one?” Suzanne asked, avidly scanning the string of people who were undoubtedly being ushered to their table by now. Although Suzanne Day was Alida’s work manager, she had not made that fateful trip to Riordan River with them. They had been cutting all unnecessary costs in those days.
    “Escorting his sister, Deborah Hargreaves,” Jill supplied.
    They all knew the wife of Max Hargreaves. As he was one of Perth’s more prominent entrepreneurs, Max Hargreaves was news. His wife liked to consider herself a trendsetter, and that made her news as well.
    “That’s Gareth Morgan?” Suzanne asked with awe.
    “That’s him,” Jill affirmed.
    Alida did her best to project a calm composure as both women turned their eyes to her. It was painfully obvious that her closest associates had talked about Gareth Morgan among themselves. Natural enough, she supposed, considering what had happened and how it had affected them. All of it could be dated to the time spent at Riordan River, and Jill had been there.
    Jill Masters was no fool. Putting two and two together was child’s play to her. Yet she had held her tongue where Alida’s personal life was concerned. Discretion was an important asset in an agent, Alida thought appreciatively. Probably the most important.
    “What a great hunk of macho man!” Ivan Poletti pronounced with admiring relish. “Lovely. Do tell me about him, Jill. Why haven’t we seen him on the social scene if he’s the delicious Deborah’s brother?”
    Alida tensed. Ivan adored gossip. He was Perth’s most fashionable interior designer, a dynamic, robust little man with a flamboyant personality. His bright brown eyes gleamed expectantly as he waited to be enlightened.
    “He owns and runs the Riordan River cattle station in the Macdonnell Ranges,” Jill supplied matter-of-factly. “He used to attend operas and classical concerts many years ago. Then his wife developed some disease—multiple sclerosis, I think—and their life narrowed down to Riordan River.”
    “Sad,” Ivan commented, trying to look socially mournful while not really caring. He was cogitating other things. “Riordan River. Why does that name seem familiar to me?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
    Alida knew it would click any minute. Ivan Poletti had a mind like a ferret, sharp and darting and acquisitive. “We took some location shots there for our first catalogue,” she said, trying to make it sound unimportant. “Jill arranged it.”
    “Yes. That was the catalogue that got our foot in the door,” Jill said with a triumph grin. “All we needed was the right gimmick, and what better than Outback settings?”
    Ivan raised a finger in acknowledgment. “I remember. Fabulous photographs.” He turned his attention to the newcomers.
    Alida couldn’t. She had too many memories.
    The Riordan River Station, Alida thought bitterly, one of the largest cattle stations in the world, measuring thousands of square miles in the red heart of Australia, and every mile of it owned by Gareth Morgan. If only Jill had told her he was married before they had gone there… Or if his wife had been at the homestead instead of having treatment in hospital… But would it have made any difference to how she had felt about Gareth?
    The attraction had been compelling from the moment she had first seen him. It had clutched at her heart: that air of indomitable male who could endure any adversity, a face carved with strength and a hard austere beauty, hair as black as midnight, piercing blue eyes that saw the far horizons, skin perpetually tanned from a merciless sun. One look at him and she had been his, to take as he willed. Madness…
    Alida tried to shake her mind free of him,