CHAPTER FOUR

      THE DINNER PARTY was a reasonable success. Maeve smiled and said the right things but still kept her distance and seemed a little flat to Simon. His stepmother was her own gorgeous self and treated both young women as if they were long-term friends of hers, and his father said very little but smiled every time his eyes rested on his wife or daughters.

      Louisa was in her element because she loved dinner parties and seeing the family together. She was always happiest when children were around.

      And young Tara, dressed in skin-tight, very stressed jeans that showed glimpses of skin beneath the ragged material moulded to her lush little body, drew his eyes like a magnet every time she walked past to the fridge on some errand for Louisa.

      His father came to stand beside him. ‘Mia says you seem to get on well with Tara.’

      ‘She’s easy to get along with.’

      Tara laughed at something Louisa whispered as she walked past again with a platter of fruit for dessert and both men sneaked a glance.

      Angus looked away first. ‘I think our Tara’s had an interesting life. She’s a tough little cookie, on the outside at least.’

      Simon glanced at his father’s face. ‘Lots of people have tough lives.’

      ‘Guess so.’ Angus took a sip of his beer. ‘What happened to Julia?’

      ‘Didn’t work out. Said I didn’t pay her enough attention. Let my work come between us.’

      ‘Did you?’

      ‘Maybe.’ Simon thought about it. ‘Definitely. Spent a lot of time apologising for leaving and heading into work. Started to enjoy work more than home and she found another guy.’

      ‘Took me a while to find Mia. It will happen to you one day and you’ll recognise it.’

      They both looked at Angus’s wife. ‘If I find a woman like Mia I’ll be very happy.’

      ‘Would you settle here?’

      ‘So this is a job interview?’

      ‘Cheeky blighter. Would you?’

      ‘Not yet. But in the future I’m not ruling it out.’

      Angus nodded then added innocently, ‘Can you do three days for me, starting Monday?’

      Simon laughed. ‘I knew this was leading somewhere. Why?’

      ‘Seeing as you’re here, and Mia’s had a big birthday last week, I thought I might take her up to Brisbane to do Christmas shopping. She loves it. Take her and the girls for a mini-holiday.’

      Simon laughed. ‘Can’t see you shopping with Christmas music in the background.’

      He grimaced. ‘It’s only a couple of days. I’m going to sit back and watch my women. Need more of that when you get to my age.’

      ‘Poor old man.’

      ‘Absolutely. So, will you?’

      Simon had done the occasional shift in the small hospital over the last few years when one of the senior partners had had to go away, and he’d enjoyed most of the small-town country feel of it. Angus knew that. ‘Sure. Why not? Andy will be point me in the right direction if needed. Haven’t done much general medicine for a few years, though.’

      ‘You’ve got a young brain. You’ll manage. And it’s almost December. Louisa wants the decorations up.’

      Simon laughed. ‘Thanks. And no doubt you’ll bring her back something new I’ll have to assemble.’

      Tara walked past again and Simon’s eyes followed. Angus bit his lip and smiled into his drink.

      The next morning Tara heard Simon go out not long after daylight. It would be pleasantly cool before the heat of the day, she thought as she pulled her sheet up, the blanket having been discarded on the floor, and she wondered drowsily where he was going.

      And then, as her fantasies drifted, wondered what he was wearing, wondered if he wore his collar open so she’d see his lovely strong neck and chest. Funny, that—she’d never had a throat fetish before.

      She grinned to herself and snuggled down further. Nice make-believe. And Mia was amazing. They all were, and yesterday, as far as Tara was concerned, had been an intriguing insight into the Campbell family and Simon in particular.

      Watching the dynamics between Simon and his father had been fascinating. She certainly looked at Angus differently after some of the exploits Mia had mentioned. Who would have known?

      She’d never seen such equal footing between father and son but, then, her experience was limited to snatches of dysfunctional family life. Maybe it was because Simon had made it to twenty before he’d even met his biological father. Angus was certainly proud of him and the feeling looked to be mutual. And both of them obviously adored Mia and the girls.

      She’d have felt a bit like the Little Match Girl looking in the Christmas window if it hadn’t been for Maeve, who, despite looking like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine, had looked more lost than she had. Why was that?

      Maeve was who she should be concentrating her thoughts on. Especially if she agreed to join Tara’s caseload.

      An hour later she wandered down to the kitchen and Maeve, immaculate in designer maternity wear and perfectly made up, was there, picking at a piece of toast as if she wanted to eat it one crumb at a time. Perhaps her pregnancy hormones still gave her nausea in the mornings. Tara had seen lots of women like that well into their last trimester of pregnancy.

      ‘Morning, all.’ Friendly but not too pushy, she included Maeve and Louisa in her smile as she sat down. Louisa liked to fuss and judging by the tension in the room Maeve didn’t appreciate it.

      ‘Hello, dear.’ Louisa cast her a relieved glance. ‘What are you doing today?’

      ‘Have a young mums’ class this afternoon but happy to do whatever if you need something, Louisa.’

      ‘No. I’m off to bingo with a friend down at the hall and I wondered if you and Maeve could fix your own lunches.’

      ‘No problem.’ She smiled at the younger woman. ‘We’ll manage, won’t we, Maeve?’

      The girl barely looked up. ‘Of course.’

      ‘Still nauseous?’ Tara could see she looked a little pale around the cheeks.

      Maeve grimaced. ‘Getting worse, not better. And I’m starting to get this insane itch that’s driving me mad.’

      Tara frowned. A tiny alarm pinged in her brain with the symptoms but she let it lie for a moment. ‘Not fun. What have you tried?’

      ‘Pretty well everything.’ She shrugged. ‘Pressure-point armbands. Ginger. Sips of cold water. Sips of hot water for nausea.’ She absently scratched her belly through her shirt. ‘And just calamine for the itch but I only put it on the places you can’t see. I never liked pink as a kid and it’s too embarrassing to be painted pink all over.’

      Tara laughed. ‘That’s the thing with