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eyelids grow heavy. And she tried, frantically, to sort out a strategy in her mind for dealing with Seth Reardon.

CHAPTER THREE
    S ETH stood on the back veranda, staring out into the rain without really seeing it. Instead, he kept seeing a lovely young woman and her cute little daughter, so happy together, and the image gnawed at a private pain he’d tried very hard to keep buried.
    With an angry groan he strode to the far end of the veranda, and stared out into the black, rain-lashed night, willing his reckless thoughts to the four winds.
    He’d invited this woman and her child into his home, and already today, during a simple walk down a bush track, he’d let down his guard. But he knew that he mustn’t allow a single mother’s warm brown eyes and her daughter’s appealing ways to slip under his defences.
    It seemed there was no other man in the picture for Amy and Bella, but so what? Seth had given up all thoughts of domestic happiness, and he’d done so with the fierce determination of a smoker, or a gambler giving up an addiction.
    Women, he’d learned after too many mistakes, were a health hazard. Families looked cosy and attractive when viewed from the outside, but he knew from bitterfirsthand experience that the inside story could be something else entirely.
    Closing his eyes, Seth saw his own mother—slim, elegant and beautiful, her sleek, dark hair framing her face like a satin cap. He remembered her tinkling laugh and the way she’d smelled of delicate flowers. Remembered her infrequent hugs.
    He remembered, too, the many evenings he’d stood, nose pressed against the glass, watching her from his bedroom window as she stepped into a limousine. She’d always looked remote, like a goddess, in a glamorous red evening gown, in sequins, or gold lamé—a glittering evening bag in one hand, cigarette in the other.
    Mostly, he remembered the day she’d left him for good.
    The departure of females had become a pattern in Seth’s life.
    He was done with relationships.
    This evening, he had to remember to be very careful when he talked to Amy Ross. There were important things about Rachel Tyler that he needed to know—an awkward mystery that he needed to clarify—but he couldn’t allow himself to be sidetracked by any further discussion of Amy’s life as a single mother. If she’d been abandoned by a gold-plated jerk and left to struggle with a baby on her own, Seth didn’t want to know about it.
    He didn’t want to feel pity for her and her daughter. And he didn’t want to feel concern. Or longing.
    He simply needed to get to the truth.
     
    When Amy heard the soft tap on her door she felt a hot rush of adrenaline. Anxiously, she snatched a glance at her reflection and hoped she’d achieved a small improvement by changing into a fresh T-shirt and jeans.
    Her hand was pleasingly steady as she reached for the door knob, but as soon as she saw Seth, tall and dark and filling her doorway, her steadiness deserted her.
    She stepped outside quickly, and through the open doorway he sent a silent glance to the bed where Bella slept.
    ‘Yes, she’s out to it,’ Amy said quietly and she let out a huff of breath, hoping it would settle her nerves.
    ‘Would you like coffee?’ he asked. ‘Or something stronger?’
    ‘Not especially,’ she said, wanting a clear head, although she suspected she would benefit from a stiff drink right now.
    He gave a curt nod towards the back veranda. ‘Perhaps we should go out there, if it’s not too wet. We shouldn’t disturb Bella, but you’ll still be able to hear her if she cries.’
    ‘All right.’
    Leaving a single bed lamp on, she closed the door softly and followed him, and she felt nervous, as if she were going to a job interview she hadn’t prepared for.
    On the veranda, a wall light cast a soft glow over a trio of potted plants and two deeply cushioned cane chairs beside a wicker table.
    Amy took a seat and she peered out at the curtain of rain, which was