MEGAN finished doing her morning rounds, ensuring her work orders were being followed, checking for any problems, chatting to the families who still lived on the station, subtly assuring them that the status quo was not about to change. They were to carry on as usual.

She should have felt relieved that the sombre mood hanging over everyone for the past few days had lifted this morning, but the reason for it was a major irritant. Johnny had arrived. Never mind that Ric Donato and Mitch Tyler were also here. It was Johnny who put smiles on everyone’s faces. Just the thought of him was enough to do it.

Charm…

It was as natural to him as breathing.

And it always reminded her what a hopelessly naive little fool she’d been to see it as something else when applied to her. There was no differentiation. He ladled it out to one

and all—his trademark in the pop world where he was a big star, a master of light entertainment. It meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Having finally recognised that, she’d tried to bury the hurt of it and move on. It would have helped if he’d gone completely out of her life—out of sight, out of mind—but he kept coming back, making her feel bad about herself because it was stupid, stupid, stupid to still feel attracted to him. His interests lay elsewhere, wrapped up with his

glittering successes overseas. Their lives did not mix.

Never would.

Why hadn’t her father seen that? Why?

Had he only thought of the money needed—choosing the one person who could probably shed a few million dollars without even noticing it was gone?

Money as meaningless as charm.

Megan grimly determined to accept only what she absolutely had to in order to keep Gundamurra running. There was no avoiding confronting Johnny Ellis over what was to be done. He was here now, having come yesterday with Ric, flying his own plane in as he always did.

No doubt Mitch had told him about the will. Though even without that pressing business, he wouldn’t have stayed away, not from her father’s funeral. She could only hope that having started a new career in movies, he might be content to be an absent shareholder in Gundamurra. After all, her

father was gone. No more mentoring readily available from Patrick Maguire.

As she walked back to the homestead, tears blurred her eyes. She didn’t want to feel betrayed by what her father had done, yet the grief of losing him was so much harder to bear because he’d left her in this intolerable position of having to accept Johnny Ellis as co-owner of Gundamurra.

Her shock at the terms of the will had been followed by a wild surge of rebellion, a violent need to fight it. She’d argued fiercely with her sisters, but Jessie’s and Emily’s flat refusal to go against their father’s decision left her without

any support from them in a legal action to have it overturned.

In sheer desperation she’d broached the issue with Mitch Tyler, putting to him that Johnny might well have unfairly influenced her father. After all, she’d argued bitterly,

he wasn’t known as Johnny Charm for nothing.

Those laser-blue eyes of Mitch’s had cut her down for even suggesting it, and his subsequent words had shamed her. ‘Is that worthy of your father, Megan?’

He’d waited for her answer.

When she’d maintained a stubborn silence, squirming inside at the pertinent criticism of her viewpoint, Mitch had flatly stated, ‘If you want to dishonour his will, I’m not your man. I’m here on Patrick’s behalf, to help facilitate what he wanted. It’s the very least I owe him for all he did for me.’

His high-minded integrity had goaded her into trying to bring it down a peg or two, force out some human weakness in him, make him empathise with what she was feeling. ‘Why Johnny? My father took you in, too. And Ric. The three of you stayed in his life. Don’t you feel slighted that he passed you over for…for a pop-star?’

It wouldn’t have been so…difficult…having to share the property with either of his other boys. And there was no denying she needed help in these current circumstances.

Ric would have dealt delicately with the problems, caring about her feelings. Mitch would have handled her needs from the city with efficiency and absolute integrity. But Johnny Ellis…whose whole life was about playing to an

audience who loved him?

Mitch’s straight black brows had beetled down. ‘You don’t understand your father’s choice?’

‘Do you?’ she’d challenged.

‘Yes. So does Ric. I think you need to talk to Johnny before taking any hostile step, Megan. You might not ever appreciate where he’s come from, but…’

‘I know what he is now,’ she’d snapped.

‘You’ve just pasted a label on the man which I know to be very superficial, Megan. Johnny has not yet reached the fulfilment of the person he is. I think…’ He’d paused, his gravity giving way to a gleam of whimsical irony. ‘Did Patrick teach you to play chess?’

‘Yes. We played sometimes.’

‘He always favoured a knight attack.’ ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

‘It was a strategy, Megan. Your father thought out his strategies very carefully. Don’t devalue the thought he put into his will when you talk to Johnny. Remember that Gundamurra was Patrick’s life, as well as yours, and he knew how to share it.’

The sting of those words still hurt. She wasn’t mean- hearted. She hadn’t felt jealous of her father’s pride in his three bad boys who’d made good. Nor of his affection for them.

She just didn’t want Johnny Ellis constantly trampling through her life. She wished he’d married one of the gorgeous women he mixed with in his star-studded world so he wasn’t free to drop in on her world whenever he liked.

At least, after the funeral, he’d have to go back to his

cowboy movie. Hopefully he’d ride off into the sunset— anywhere else but here! She didn’t begrudge him the fulfilment he was still 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 still 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 all 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 Ellis—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 all 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 Ellis’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 really 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 Ellis embracing Evelyn made it worse.

It wasn’t fair that he looked like a strong, steady rock to

lean on. His life was all about image, Megan fiercely told herself. Her gaze fixed scornfully on his riding boots—still 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 million-dollar 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 telling 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 welling 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’ll 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 totally 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.

‘Especially 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 will be most appropriate. You’ll 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 Ellis. Couldn’t welcome him.

Having reached the top of the steps she turned, her gaze skating around all the outbuildings that made Gundamurra look like a small 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. All the land to the horizon was brown, and above it the sky was a blaze of blue, no clouds, 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 will, making Johnny Ellis 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 hall 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 carefully. 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 Ellis 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. Physically 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 Ellis occupy it while they talked.

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 all the millions he’d made as a pop-star could not change that!