LITMIR.BIZ

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adolescent, noisy and irritating. She’d actually been relieved by her father’s edict a couple of years back that she could not have a boyfriend till she was sixteen. It was the perfect excuse for her to turn down the invitations she received from her overeager admirers.

      And there were many. For Angie was a very attractive girl. In the past few months some people had started using the word ‘beautiful’.

      Yet she never made any attempt to enhance her looks or look older, as some girls might have. She never used make-up, always wore her long straight hair up in a simple ponytail, and was happiest wearing jeans or shorts, plus one of her father’s shirts.

      Today was no different. Angie had too much common sense to try to attract someone like Bud’s friend from Sydney. He was twenty-two, after all—one year older than Bud—and wouldn’t look twice at a fifteen-year-old girl. On top of that he was very, very rich—the only son and heir of one of Sydney’s wealthiest families.

      Perhaps it was this last factor that Angie found so fascinating. She’d never met any really rich people before, and the things Bud had told her about Lance’s home and lifestyle sounded very glamorous. Totally different from the simple country life the Browns led.

      Angie had been amazed to hear that after finishing high school Lance had travelled the world for a whole year before starting uni. He and Bud had not become friends till this last year, and no doubt now that their degrees were finished their paths would soon diverge. Next year Bud would have to go out into the real world and find himself a job, whereas Lance would be automatically given a cushy executive position in one of the family’s companies.

      Sterling Industries had many fingers in many pies—from food and cleaning products to furniture, from plastics to various mining interests. Apparently, Lance had offered to find Bud a job, but Bud had refused, and Angie was proud of him for that. Not that she was worried about her brother going out on his own in search of a career. Bud had enough drive and energy to succeed in whatever he put his mind to.

      The wire door creaked behind her, and Angie turned to see her mother coming out, wiping floury hands on the apron which was doing its best to circumnavigate her rotund middle. Though not yet forty, Nora Brown had long surrendered to her genes, plus her love of food.

      Not that she worried about her weight. Nothing ever worried Nora Brown. She was easygoing, easy to please and easy to love. If she had a fault it was her tendency to be blunt with others at times. She was not rude, just a little tactless on occasion. Still, everyone loved her—especially her husband, Morris.

      A very handsome man, Morris Brown could have had his pick of any number of local girls. He’d chosen Nora, who was short, plump, dark, and very ordinary-looking.

      It was a tribute to Nora’s totally natural self-esteem that she had never found this in any way amazing. She accepted Morris’s love as her due, and loved him back with all the love in her ample bosom. Twenty-two years later, they still adored each other.

      ‘Did I hear a car coming?’ Nora asked hopefully.

      ‘Flying, more like it,’ Angie said.

      Her mother stepped forward, dark eyes twinkling, a wide smile on her homely face. ‘I’ll bet that’s my Buddy driving. Dear me, but he’s a naughty boy when he gets behind the wheel of a car. I hope his father’s still down on the river flats and can’t see this.’

      The car came into view, sending some gravel flying as it lurched around a corner on its way up the hill to the house. Red and gleaming, it had silver wheels and the top down.

      The sounds of its manic approach sent the dogs shooting out from underneath the weatherboard house, barking in force. A motley lot, there was a brown kelpie named Betsie, a blue cattle-dog cross named Fang and a black Labrador who’d been a guide dog reject, suitably called Max, after the hero in Get Smart.

      ‘Betsie! Fang! Max!’ Nora called out. ‘Stop that racket and get yourselves back under the house before you get run over.’

      All three dived for cover just as the red Mercedes Sports came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the front steps. It wasn’t her brother’s Mercedes, Angie knew, since he didn’t own a car, but it was Bud behind the wheel all right; she saw that straight away. He was grinning his head off as he glanced down at his watch.

      ‘Made it before noon by a whole thirty seconds!’ he exclaimed excitedly, then gave his passenger a smug look. ‘You owe me twenty dollars.’

      The sound of a rich laugh sent Angie’s eyes swinging over to her brother’s friend, and her heart just stopped. As she stared his head turned slowly towards them, his hand lifting lazily to comb back his thick blond hair. He tipped up his perfectly sculptured face and set dancing blue eyes upon them, his laughing mouth showing dazzling white teeth and a dimple in his right cheek.

      ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Lance.’

      ‘Hi there, Mum,’ Bud called out. ‘Hope we didn’t scare the chooks too much.’

      ‘Yes, sorry about the ruckus, Mrs Brown,’ Bud’s friend apologised, still smiling that overwhelmingly engaging smile of his. ‘Your son here is insane when it comes to winning a bet.’

      ‘That’s all right, young man,’ Nora returned. ‘I already know my Buddy’s weaknesses, as well as his strengths. One seems to be picking very nice friends.’

      Bud groaned. ‘For pity’s sake, Mum, don’t flatter him. He’s already got a head as big as the Sydney Harbour Bridge.’

      ‘I’ll flatter whomever I like in my own house, you cheeky pup,’ Nora pretended to reproach him. ‘Now, get yourself out of that fancy car, come up here and give your old mother a hug. You too, young man. I’m partial to hugs.’

      ‘Coming right up,’ Lance chuckled, and with an extraordinary amount of grace and athleticism, leapt out of the car without opening the door, landing on long legs which supported a body as perfect as his face. Angie had an excellent view of it, standing there, encased in hip-hugging jeans and a muscle-moulding white T-shirt. When his legs moved to propel him up the three steps it looked even better.

      Lance had been long hugged by the time Bud made it out of the car and up the steps, by which time Lance had turned his attention to Angie.

      ‘Don’t tell me you’re Bud’s little sister?’ he drawled, those brilliant blue eyes of his narrowing upon her in a way which did incredible things to her insides. Her previously stopped heart was suddenly racing like a quarter horse in full gallop.

      ‘Do I get a hug from you too?’ he asked softly, not waiting for permission but immediately taking her in his arms and squeezing her tight.

      After a moment’s shock, Angie closed her eyes and let the feel of his firm embrace wash through every pore of her body. It was an experience alien to anything she had ever felt before, making her face flush and her legs go to jelly.

      Fear that she might slide down his body on to the veranda in a melted heap forced her to hug him back. But when she did so, he pulled her even more tightly against him, making her fiercely aware of the physical differences between males and females. Her breasts were squashed flat against the hard expanse of his broad chest, and there was a vague assortment of lumps and bumps pressing into her lower abdomen.

      ‘You can let her go now,’ Bud said, tapping Lance on the shoulder. ‘And don’t go getting any funny ideas about my sister. She’s only fifteen, you know.’

      Lance pulled back to hold her at arm’s length, his hands still resting lightly on her hips as he looked her over a second time.

      ‘She looks older,’ he said, his voice once again having dropped to that low, lazy timbre which sent little shivers running down her spine.

      ‘Who, Angie?’ Bud sounded sceptical. ‘Nah, she’s just tall, the lucky devil.’

      ‘Five foot ten in her bare feet,’ her mother piped up proudly. ‘Takes after her father. Buddy here takes after me,’ she added, tousling her

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