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comment confirmed Brett’s suspicions that the only reason their semi-retired mother had requested he ‘keep an eye on business’ while she was overseas was because she still hadn’t given up the idea of having one of her children take over the running of her interior design business. Kathleen McAlpine’s driving ambition in life had been to establish a “true” family business which she could pass on to her children and grandchildren in due course. However, while her only two children had inherited their mother’s tenacity and eye for colour, they lacked her passion for building an interior design dynasty.

      Meaghan had started out following their father’s career path of fashion design, before falling into modelling for a short while and ultimately joint ownership of the agency with him. Brett, meanwhile, had completed an Arts and Communications degree, lucked into a job as a set designer, then used his good fortune to get a job as a researcher on a current affairs programme. From there, he’d gradually worked his way up to production assistant. His switch from working, quite literally, behind the scenes of current affairs to travel and lifestyle shows had been more a case of accident than planning, but one which allowed him to exercise his communication skills in tandem with his creativity.

      He wasn’t absolutely certain how long television production would continue to hold his interest, but he did know that when he was ready for a career change it wouldn’t be in the direction of interior decorating. It wasn’t that he doubted he’d be successful at it—he’d inherited both his fashion designer father’s eye for clothing and his mother’s flair for co-ordinating furnishings—he just couldn’t see any challenge or excitement in telling someone what colour to paint their walls or where to hang their Dali print. On the other hand, he’d recently come to the decision that opening a chain of stores selling quality furnishings to the upper and middle income earners had the potential to be a very lucrative investment. It might also be a way of appeasing his mother’s disappointment when he told her once and for all he wasn’t interested in taking over her busi—

      He and Karessa swore in unison as Meaghan jumped on the brakes with whiplash-inducing force. Their driver, however, was blithely unconcerned that she’d almost ran up the backside of the car in front of them—the driver of which had mistakenly assumed Meaghan took note of surrounding traffic and that using his indicator was sufficient notice that he was changing lanes.

      ‘By the way, Brett,’ she said calmly, ‘you’re going to need a car. I’ve got a friend who owns a BMW dealership who’ll do you a good deal if you’re interested.’

      Considering the number of cars Meaghan had gone through in the last seventeen years, he would have expected her to be on a first-name basis with every car salesman and panelbeater in Sydney. ‘Thanks, but I’m not in any rush. I’ll use Mum’s until I decide what I’m going to—’

      ‘No, you can’t.’

      ‘Let me guess,’ he groaned. ‘You’ve been exercising it while she’s been away and as a result it’s gone to the big car dump in the sky.’

      ‘For your information, smarty, it’s in A1 condition in her garage! It’s just that once Joanna gets her licence, she’ll need it to get to work.’

      He blinked. ‘Who?’

      ‘Joanna Ford—the—’

      ‘Oh, right. The one who helped you out at your last accident scene. Why’s she driving Mum’s car?’

      ‘Because she doesn’t have one and Mum said she could. How else is she going to get to work in the city every day?’

      ‘Well, last time I was here there were these things called buses.’

      ‘Get real, Brett!’ Karessa piped from the back seat. ‘You know what an uphill hike it is from Nan’s place to the nearest bus stop.’

      ‘Nan’s place!’ He straightened in the seat. ‘This Joanna’s living at Mum’s?’

      Meaghan nodded. ‘Has been for about two months now.’

      Oh, great! Here he’d been, imagining himself mentally and emotionally regrouping in blissful solitude, only to find out his absent mother had a model in residence. A damn model of all things!

      ‘Would you mind telling me why Mum would find it necessary to bring in a boarder?’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Brett! Joanna’s not paying to live there. Mum only managed to talk her into taking up the offer by telling her she needed a house-sitter while she was away. Of course, back then no one knew you’d suddenly decide to come home and need somewhere to stay.’

      ‘Gee, the warm welcome got cold fast Not long ago you claimed you were looking forward to having me home.’

      ‘I was—I am.’ She shrugged off the lack of conviction in her voice. ‘It’s just it would’ve been better for everyone if you’d had your own place to go to.’

      ‘Well, I’m not going to disagree there, kiddo,’ he said dryly. ‘But I could hardly tell Glen I wanted him and Tracy to move out of my place when she’s practically one contraction away from giving birth to their fifteenth kid in three years.’

      When he’d first decided to head overseas, renting his house to his newly married cousin for the two years he’d originally intended being away had seemed like a smart thing to do. Then, when he’d deluded himself into believing his future was with Toni, he’d extended the arrangement he’d made with Glen for a further three years. His cousin had since begun reproducing at such a rapid rate Brett suspected the guy had to be ignorant as to what was causing it, but when a guy had three kids under three and a fourth due any minute you didn’t chuck him out in the street.

      So, now he was stuck having to share his mother’s house until he could make alternative arrangements. Wonderful. ‘Exactly how long is this Joanna person going to be staying?’

      ‘As long as she wants to.’ His sister’s look was sharp.

      ‘You’ll really like her,’ Karessa assured him. ‘Won’t he, Mum?’

      ‘Just as long as he doesn’t like her too much.’ There was stiff warning in the statement, but before Brett could say he had no intention of getting tangled up with any woman in the immediate future, his sister launched into lecture mode.

      ‘I mean it, Brett,’ she said. ‘This kid has had a really tough time. When she first came into the agency she had a self-confidence reading of minus one hundred. She’s starting to come out of herself a bit now, but she’s still emotionally fragile. So if you so much as even think about doing a seduction number on her, I’ll personally tear you limb from limb.’

      ‘Trust me, Meaghan, the girl’s safe from my unscrupulous claws,’ he said facetiously. ‘The last thing I need after Toni is another model.’

      ‘She’s not a model. Too short. But she’s as far removed from that witch Toni as any other human being with a heart.’

      Irritated at having his plans disrupted, Brett grunted, wondering how long it would take him to find a decent place to rent. However, his sister and niece were still going on about Joanna and how sweet she was.

      ‘She’s a country girl who came into the agency to enrol in a deportment course right when I was looking to replace our receptionist...’ Meaghan was saying, obviously under the misapprehension that he was interested. ‘She had no job, next to no money and was staying in a bedsit in inner Sydney—’

      ‘Oh, well, it’s easy to see where common sense would advise lashing out on an expensive grooming course in those circumstances,’ he said.

      ‘As it happens, Mr Know-It-All, in Joanna’s case it was the most practical thing she could do! She’s an intelligent, ambitious girl, but she had absolutely no—and I mean zilch—sophistication. Apparently her parents were well into their forties when she was born, and from what I can gather more Amish than the Amish.’

      ‘Yeah!’ his niece endorsed. ‘Can you believe she hadn’t even seen a CD

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