Read Online Heart of the Outback by Lynne Wilding - Free Book Online

That would have set her up well enough, if she’d used it carefully. She never had. The bank had informed him the cheque had been returned and the money credited back to his account. Damned independent woman, Mary Williams. Then, in the wink of a mere second he was swept by an aching, desperate longing to know about the child. About Mary. To try to make amends for the wrong he’d done both of them, but that was impossible. Too many years had passed and, for all he knew she was most likely happily married to someone else.
    Even so, his right hand reached for the bottom drawer of the desk. He opened it and retrieved an oldtin. Rummaging through the contents he found a photo and pulled it out. The photo was dog-eared and badly faded. It showed a young woman in a cotton dress.
Mary.
    It wasn’t often he admitted the error of his ways, he was too bullheaded and ruthless to dwell on them and the finer points of life. But in Mary’s case he should have done more. Made her take the money and seen her set up so that she’d be comfortable, only at the time he’d felt so damned guilty over what he’d tried to get her to do, he’d wanted to get as far away as he could from Coober Pedy. She had once been very important to him but not as important as his dream of being successful. He had allowed nothing, not Mary, not Brenda, not even his son Richard to come before that.
    Nostalgically his thoughts returned to his son, gone, forever. His mouth turned down in a travesty of a smile. Perhaps God was finally getting even with him for what he’d done to Mary. Well, he was paying a higher price than he’d ever thought possible.

CHAPTER THREE
    A den Nicholson leant his tall, trim frame against the office door jamb to better observe the woman bent over a large drawing board. A fax sheet lay loosely in his right hand and he slid his left hand into his trouser pocket. A contemplative smile hovered around his mouth as he watched her, while silently he marvelled that she could remain so still, or relatively still, for so long.
    Francesca Spinetti, Francey to everyone, Chief Assistant Architect at Nicholson, Drew and Carlyle, was such a bundle of energy and Italian volatility that her ability to concentrate when she was drawing up a plan constantly amazed him. Aden had enough nous though, considering her capacity to speak her mind at an instant’s notice, not to mention it to her. Francey had come to work for the firm after graduating with honours from Sydney University. In a few short years she had livened up the traditional thinking of hisarchitectural firm more so than any other architect had done in Sydney for years with her
nouveau
architectural designs, her love of colour and of mixing the traditional with the ultra modern.
    “You know I don’t like people looking over my shoulder when I’m working.” Her tone was soft, a touch husky, and she spoke without lifting her head from the drawing board.
    “Is that the thanks I get for lobbying the partners to let you have your own office with good light?” Aden retaliated as he came into the room. “I’m not watching what you’re drawing,” he added softly, “I’m watching you.”
    Francey’s mop of long dark curls that swayed at every twitch and turn of her head jerked up from the drawing board as she turned to look at him. “Well, it’s nice to know that the boss has so much leisure time.” Her direct gaze studied his angular features, the dark hair, the wide shoulders. He would strip well, she thought. Yoicks! What on earth had made her think that? He was her employer, for God’s sake. His remark, personal without a doubt — I’m watching you — had set her thoughts along lines not at all related to work.
    He grinned boyishly as he sat on the side of her desk. “Mmmm, one of the perks of being the boss, wouldn’t you say?” He liked the way they fenced verbally with each other and especially liked the undertone of attraction that shivered invisibly between them. It