Was this really a good idea?
‘Okay, I give up. You’re not going to ask me, are you?’
‘Sorry?’ Her friend stood on the doorstep late that night and Molly blinked. Angela was wearing a slinky, shimmery dress, her beads reached her waist and her hair was done up in some kind of fantastic arrangement of peacock feathers. Now she spun around for inspection.
‘I’m off to a Roaring Twenties party. Guy is turning thirty, poor lamb, so we’re having a last gasp at celebrating the twenties for him. Do you like my outfit?’
‘I love it.’
‘You know you could come.’
‘And you know I can’t.’
It was impossible, Molly thought. Social life was impossible.
Until Sarah died Molly had been running her estate agency on the coast. She’d been one of the most successful realtors in the business, going from strength to strength. Her love life, too, had been exceedingly satisfactory. Michael was the local solicitor and everyone had said they made the perfect couple.
Their combined life plans hadn’t included Sam, though. ‘Put him in a boarding school,’ Michael had decreed when Sarah died, but Molly hadn’t. Nor had she torn Sam away from his home in inner Sydney, though she was now starting to question the wisdom of moving here.
The city property market was hard to break into. Her cousin was a toad. Sam’s school was less than satisfactory, and she couldn’t afford to change him to a better one. Sam was miserable, and she was so darned lonely herself!
But leaving Sam with babysitters wouldn’t solve anything. He woke with nightmares and she had to be there. After all, she was all he had.
‘Hey, cheer up,’ Angela told her, watching her face. ‘You’re about to spend the weekend with Australia’s most eligible bachelor.’
She was, but the crazy thing was that she didn’t want to go.
Like Sam, Molly still felt like closing all doors. Since Sarah’s death the world had become a dangerous place. The newspapers hurled bad news at her, television shows seemed dark and threatening-and if it was like this for her, how much more so for a small boy who’d lost everything?
‘Is the frog okay?’ Angela asked.
‘He seems great.’
‘Thanks to Jackson.’
‘If it wasn’t for Jackson, Lionel wouldn’t be injured.’
But Angela was determined to state his case. ‘It was Jackson’s lawyer who did the damage. Jackson himself was kind.’
‘The man’s dangerous. He has a reputation to put Casanova to shame.’
‘Lucky you.’ Angela sighed theatrically. ‘My Guy is boring.’
‘Boring is safe.’
‘Now, that…’ Angela tottered into Molly’s living room on ridiculously high heels and fell onto a settee ‘…is why I’m here. To stop you being boring. To get back to my original question: you’re not going to ask me, are you?’
‘To do what?’
‘To be your chaperon.’
‘No.’
‘You intend to take Sam, right?’
‘Right.’
Angela took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’ve decided to forgive you for not taking me. Though why I should, I don’t know. Because with me there you wouldn’t get a look-in. I’d sweep the man off his feet in two seconds flat.’
‘But you have Guy. Your fiancé, remember?’
Angela grinned. ‘That’s right. I have Guy, and as nobility is my middle name-’
‘Oh, please!’
‘Don’t interrupt me when I’m being noble. I’ve decided to offer my services as babysitter. For Sam. And for Lionel. There.’ She beamed. ‘How noble’s that?’
‘Very noble.’ Molly winced. Her hand hurt, she was dead tired and she had mountains of paperwork to plough through before bedtime. And what her friend was suggesting was impossible. ‘Angela, thanks for the offer, but you know I can’t leave Sam.’
‘He’ll be fine with me.’
‘He’ll be stoic. He’s always stoic and it breaks my heart.’
Angela’s face softened. ‘So share the care. I love the kid too, you know.’
‘I know you do.’ Angela’s heart was huge. ‘But, Angie, there’s only a chink of room for loving anyone left in him, and that chink’s for me. And that’s only because I look like his mother.’
‘And where does that leave you?’
‘Right here. With him. Where I want to be.’
‘So what are you doing now?’
‘I’m going to bed.’ It was a lie. She needed to ring Hannah Copeland for the property details, read everything she could find on the place and sort out the Section Thirty-Two. But if she told Angela that she’d drop everything and help.
‘It’s only nine o’clock.’
‘I’m injured.’
‘Not very injured. Come to our party.’
‘And leave Sam? I don’t have any choice in this, Angie, so let it be.’
Angela glared at her friend. ‘It’s so unfair.’
‘Life’s not fair.’
‘It should be. You sure you won’t change your mind about going alone? Leave Sam with me for just this once?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Then I’ll be here on Sunday night and I want a blow-by-blow description. Leaving out nothing.’
‘You and Trevor both. He’s already demanded a Sunday night debriefing.’
‘He would.’ Angela hesitated. You know…’ Her face changed and Molly knew what she was about to say. It would achieve nothing.
‘Angela, don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Try to solve the problems of the world.’ Molly gave her friend a push towards the door. ‘Go on. Back to Guy.’
‘Well, at least tell me what you’re wearing tomorrow,’ Angela demanded as she was propelled into the foyer.
‘Boring. Business. Black suit. White shirt.’
That stopped Angela in her tracks. ‘You’re never wearing boring for Jackson Baird?’
‘No. I’m wearing boring for me.’
‘This is the opportunity of a lifetime.’
‘To get myself seduced? I don’t think so.’
‘Molly, there’s seduced and there’s seduced. Boy, if Jackson Baird wanted to put his boots under my bed…’ Angela chuckled. ‘And honestly, Moll…’ She turned and faced her friend. ‘When I saw you both looking down at that little frog…’
Molly grinned at the picture that conjured up. ‘Romantic, wasn’t it?’
‘It was,’ Angela said firmly. ‘You looked like you could be the future Mrs Jackson Baird.’
‘Oh, yeah. In your dreams.’
‘Well, why not? He’s single. You’re single. He’s rich. That’s a recipe for marital bliss if ever I heard one.’
‘Angie, go!’
‘Only if you promise you won’t wear your business suit.’
‘Maybe I should wear jeans.’
‘No!’
‘What would you suggest?’
‘Something short. And slinky.’ She chuckled again and looked down at her very slinky dress, complete with slit almost to her thigh. ‘Something like this.’
‘Sure. Complete with ostrich feathers. To show a man over a farm and to care for an eight-year-old.’
‘And to marry a millionaire,’ Angela added. ‘Or a billionaire. Think big, girl.’
‘I’m thinking goodnight,’ her friend managed, and pushed her out through the door before she could say another word.
Jackson wasn’t sure who he’d expected as Molly’s chaperon. In fact if he’d thought about it at all-which he hadn’t-he would have said that he didn’t expect her to bring anyone-but the bespectacled child at her side was a shock.
As was Molly.
She looked stunning, he thought, watching her approach over the tarmac. There was no other word to describe her. She was about five feet four and neatly packaged, with a handspan waist and a halo of dark curls that bounced about her shoulders.
Yesterday she’d worn a business
suit. Today she was wearing jeans and a soft white shirt that buttoned to the throat. It should have made her look prim, but instead it just made her look inviting. She looked fresh as a daisy, and as she got within speaking distance and smiled up at him it took a whole five seconds before he could answer.
‘Good morning.’ She was still smiling, but somehow he forced himself to ignore her lovely smile and tackle the issue at hand. Which was speaking. It should be easy, but it wasn’t.
‘Good morning,’ he managed.
Unknown to Jackson, Molly was doing her own double take. Yesterday in his dark business suit Jackson had seemed very much an urbane man of the world-handsome, but completely out of her league. Dressed today in soft moleskin pants and a short-sleeved shirt, his throat and arms bare, he looked…
Well, he might be having trouble keeping to the business at hand, but so was she!
At least she could concentrate on Sam. ‘Mr Baird, this is my nephew, Sam. Sam, this is Mr Baird.’
So she wasn’t a single mum, Jackson thought. But if not why bring a child? It wasn’t the sort of thing any woman he’d ever dated had done before. But then this was business, he reminded himself. Business! Not a date.
‘Sam’s brought Lionel along with us.’ Molly motioned to the box under Sam’s arm. ‘We hope you don’t mind, but we thought a convalescent farm was just what Lionel needed.’
‘Right.’ The frog. He took a grip, and held out a hand to Sam. They were standing on the helicopter pad and any minute now the machine would roar into life, drowning out all conversation until they wore headsets. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Sam.’
Sam looked gravely up at him as they shook hands, his eyes huge behind his glasses. ‘Are you the man who trod on my frog?’
‘I told you he wasn’t,’ Molly said gently. ‘Mr Baird is the man who bandaged Lionel.’
‘Molly says he might die anyway.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Molly sighed. ‘I just said frogs don’t live very long.’ She cast a despairing glance at Jackson.
‘I expect he will die,’ Sam said sadly, clasping his box as if there were only a few short frogbeats left to his beloved Lionel. ‘Everything dies.’
Jackson’s gaze flew to Molly’s, and Molly gave an inward shrug. There was nothing like getting to the hub of things fast.
‘Sam’s parents were killed in a car accident six months ago,’ she told him. If she’d had her way she would have warned Jackson, but it was impossible now. Her eyes didn’t leave his, searching for the right response. ‘Since then he’s had a pessimistic outlook on life.’
Jackson nodded gravely, and to her relief his response was curt and to the point. ‘I can understand that. I’m sorry about your family, Sam.’
Move on, Molly’s eyes warned him, and she led the way. ‘I told Sam that Lionel might live for ages yet.’
‘I had a pet frog when I was eight,’ Jackson said thoughtfully, rising to the occasion with aplomb. ‘He lived for two years and then he escaped to find a lady frog. Maybe Lionel will do the same.’
Sam stared at him, disbelief patent. Silence. Let the helicopter start, Molly thought. This silence was desperate. But Jackson and Sam were eyeing each other like two opponents circling in a boxing ring.
Then Jackson seemed to come to a decision. His fast brain had worked overtime and now he stooped so his eyes were at Sam’s level. Man to man.
‘Sam, I’ll tell you something else you might like to know.’ His gaze met the little boy’s and held. Molly was totally excluded. He was focused only on Sam. ‘When I was ten years old my mother died,’ he told him. ‘I thought the end of the world had come, and, like you, I expected everything else to die. I expected it and expected it. It made me desperately frightened. But you know what? No one else died until I was twenty-eight years old. Ancient, in fact.’
Silence while Sam thought this through. Then he said, ‘Twenty-eight’s the same age as Molly.’
Jackson’s deep eyes flashed up to Molly and there was the trace of laughter behind his serious gaze. ‘There you go, then. I told you. Ancient. My grandpa died when I was twenty-eight, but for the time between being ten and being twenty-eight not a sausage died. Not even a frog.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ He grinned. ‘So maybe you’ll be that lucky.’
‘Maybe I won’t.’
‘But maybe you will.’
Sam considered. ‘I’ve only got Molly left. And Lionel.’
‘They both look healthy to me.’
‘Yeah…’
‘You’re keeping them well fed? Lionel looks good and plump to me, and so does Molly.’
‘Hey!’ That was Molly, but she was far from minding.
For the first time Sam let himself relax. The corners of his mouth twitched into a quickly suppressed smile. ‘That’s silly.’
‘Good feeding is important,’ Jackson told him seriously. ‘You can never overlook it. That and plenty of exercise. I hope you don’t let Molly watch too much TV.’
Sam was grinning now, and the tension had disappeared like magic. ‘She watches yucky programmes. With love and stuff.’
‘Very unhealthy. I’d put a stop to that at once.’ Jackson grinned with the wide, white smile that made Molly know exactly why the women of the world fell in love with him. Oh, for heaven’s sake, the way he was treating Sam she was halfway to falling in love with him herself! She felt like hugging the man! He rose and held out his hand again to Sam. ‘You want to come in my helicopter?’
Sam considered, and the whole world seemed to hold its breath. Then, as if coming to a major decision, Sam put out his hand and placed it in Jackson’s.
‘Yes, please,’ he said.
Molly smiled and smiled, and Jackson looked at her smile and thought suddenly, It’s going to be a great weekend.
He hadn’t expected efficiency. From the time he’d walked into Trevor Farr’s office, Jackson had suspected if he wanted to find anything about Hannah Copeland’s property he’d have to do it himself. But Molly’s preparation stunned him. As soon as they were in the air she handed over titles, building plans, profit and loss statements, staff lists…
‘How did you do this?’
‘We do the same for all our clients.’
‘Now, why don’t I believe that?’
She threw him a wry grin. In truth this was the sort of property deal she loved-a farm with broad acres. She’d had to work until three this morning, but the presentation he had was first rate. Just like old times.
‘Stop casting aspersions and read,’ she ordered, so he did. But more and more he was aware of Molly and Sam in the seat opposite. Woman and child against the world…that was how they seemed, and their presence touched him as he hadn’t been touched in a long time.
They?
She was a business acquaintance, he told himself, and Sam was nothing to do with him at all.
The Copeland place was stunning. The pilot took them on a wide sweep of the property. The farm started where the mainland formed a narrow strip and then broadened out to a vast spit reaching into the sea.
‘The whole spit’s the Copeland place,’ Molly told him through the headsets, and he smiled and held up her printed plans. He already knew.
But no plans or photographs could do justice to this place. The sea lapped around the spit in sparkling sapphire glory. The beach was a wide ribbon of golden sand, and the hills and plains, dotted with placidly grazing cattle, looked lush and wonderful.
From the helicopter they saw streams trickling through hilly bushland towards the sea. There were waterfalls and tiny islands. As they came in to land a mob of kangaroos bolted for cover, and Jackson thought-This is paradise!
Paradise or not, he had to be businesslike, he told himself. This was a future for him and for Cara. He didn’t make decisions with his heart. He made them with his head.
‘It looks…well kept,’ he said, and his words sounded lame even to him. He looked back to find Molly and Sam both gazin
g at him in surprise.
‘Didn’t you see the waterfall?’ Sam demanded. ‘It looks ace. Don’t you think it looks ace?’
‘Ace,’ he agreed, and Molly grinned.
‘I won’t have to be a saleswoman if Sam’s here.’ She gazed out as the helicopter blades whirled to a halt. ‘In fact, I don’t think I have to be a saleswoman at all. If you have the money then this place will sell itself.’ Her eyes danced, teasing. ‘And if you don’t have the money I can arrange a very appealing finance package.’
‘I’m sure you can.’ He said it dryly, but he was impressed for all that. She’d done her homework.
‘There’s no other property like this on the market anywhere else in Australia,’ she told him. ‘I don’t know what you want this place for…’ She let the question hang, but she wasn’t enlightened so she let it slide. ‘But whatever it is I think you’ll find Birraginbil will provide it.’
‘Birraginbil?’
‘You know that Birraginbil is the name of the property?’ She grinned. ‘Now, ask me why I haven’t put that in big letters at the top of your presentation.’
He looked at her, considering. She looked supremely self-assured, he thought and it hit him suddenly that she was doing something she loved. Despite the appalling Trevor, the woman before him was an astute professional.
He grinned back at her, joining the game. ‘So tell me what it means.’
‘Place of leeches.’ She chuckled at the look on his face, and the matching look on Sam’s. ‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few itty-bitty leeches!’ She foraged in her handbag. ‘Look.’ She held out a small canister. “‘Be prepared” is what they taught us in property sales school. Salt. If there’s leeches here I’m ready for them.’
‘Wow!’ He was growing more and more impressed. She was some saleswoman!
‘Are there really leeches?’ Sam’s voice was tremulous and Molly hugged him close.
‘Yes, but only in the low-lying swamp. The estuaries around the beach are clear, and the deeper dams by the homestead are great for swimming.’
‘And for frogs?’ Jackson asked, and Molly raised her eyebrows. She smiled, grateful for his bringing Sam into the equation.
‘I’ll bet for frogs.’
A Millionaire For Molly Page 3
