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saying, sliding onto one of the high bar stools along the counter. She suddenly saw him as what he was. The Cattle Baron. A man of the great outdoors. He was superbly fit, every movement full of languid grace and perfect co-ordination. The fact that he looked particularly good in formal clothes was just an added bonus. His body gave class to whatever he wore.
    “I hadn’t intended to start quite so soon.” She spooned coffee into the stainless steel basket. “But hang on. Maybe I can get a grant from the Arts Council? Unless Gramps has influence there too?”
    “How do you know your chance doesn’t await you right now?” he countered.
    She gave him a long considering look. “You’re telling me to go for broke?”
    “You must have a little money put aside?”
    “Hey, I’m not in your league. I’m probably somewhere between broke and doing nicely provided I have a steady income. I lease this apartment. I don’t own it.”
    He looked back, a slight frown between his strongly marked brows. “I bet your landlord loves you. I’d say you make the perfect tenant. Only they allow you to hang all the paintings on the wall? Holes in the plaster and so forth?”
    She stared back with frosty eyes. “Sure the Body Corporate didn’t send you?” She waved the spoon, like a teacher with a cane. “A good friend of mine bought the apartment for an investment—”
    “And he’s allowed you to rent it.” He nodded as though he quite understood.
    “Who said it was a he ?” She came close to throwing the spoon.
    “Just a lucky guess.”
    “You’re not improving my temper, MacFarlane,” she warned.
    “Why so aggressive all of a sudden?” He threw up his hands. “Though I bet you’re a real firecracker when you get going. I meant no offence, ma’am. Just a guess.”
    “I’m not a firecracker. I have a lovely nature.” For some reason a tear slid down her cheek.
    “Why, Amber!” He stood up immediately, radiating warmth and a comforting male presence.
    “Don’t you dare touch me!” She dashed at her eyes. “That tear got away from me. It’s anger, by the way.”
    “Sure. Let me finish that off.” He walked around the counter, took the percolator off her, screwed it together tightly, then set it on the hotplate.
    She stood for a moment watching him. Everything he did was so precise. “You must really need that cup of coffee.”
    “I didn’t get one for breakfast so I’m suffering withdrawal.”
    “So what’s the plan?” She was desperate to hear it. She busied herself setting out coffee cups and saucers. Fortunately, she had some very fancy chocolate biscuits on hand, though she went easy on biscuits and cakes.
    “One I’m sure is going to lift your spirits. At least I hope it does.” He turned to face her, his green eyes alight. “How would you like a long vacation on one of the nation’s premier cattle stations? You said you wanted to write. Start your saga there. Colleen McCullough used a sheep station for one of her settings in The Thorn Birds . Why not a cattle station? Jingala has a lot to offer. Have you ever been Outback?”
    She didn’t think she could sustain the epic pace.
    “Well, have you?”
    “I’m too amazed—nay too grateful —to speak.”
    “So you accept my offer?”
    She took a deep breath, her voice unsteady. “I didn’t say that at all. I said—”
    “You were grateful. Think about it. You’ll come as my guest. That means you won’t have to find a cent. You didn’t answer my question. Have you visited the Red Centre, the Channel Country, the Kimberley?”
    She gazed back at him, turning a little pink. “I think I’ve seen more of Europe than my own country, outside the big cities and tropical North Queensland. Now I’m ashamed to say it.”
    “As you should be.” The censure was unmistakable. “So now’s the time to discover the real Australia. I promise you it will be an experience you won’t forget.”
    “I’m sure.” She was feeling more agitated