The Socialite and the Cattle King Read Online Free PDF Page A

him.
    ‘How was the ball?’ Mike Rafferty enquired of his boss the next morning.
    Brett lay back in his chair and appeared to meditate for a moment. ‘Interesting,’ he said at last.
    ‘Well, that’s got to be better than you expected,’ Mikereplied and placed some papers on the desk. ‘The lead up to the wedding,’ he said simply.
    Brett grimaced and pulled the details of Mark’s pre-wedding festivities towards him. ‘I just hope it’s not a three-ring circus. Oh hell, another ball!’
    ‘But this one’s just a normal ball,’ Mike pointed out.
    Brett did not look mollified as he read on. ‘A soirée, a beach barbecue, a trip to the reef—da-da, da-da.’ Brett waved a hand. ‘All right. I presume they’ve got someone in to organize it all properly?’
    Mike hesitated and then coughed nervously.
    Brett stared narrowly at him. ‘Who? Not…? Not Natasha?’
    ‘I’m afraid so.’
    Brett swore.
    ‘She is the best—at this kind of thing,’ Mike offered.
    ‘But I believe they had someone else to start with who made a real hash of things, so they called on Ms Hewson and she saved the day, apparently. She and Aria are friends,’ he added.
    ‘I see.’ Brett drummed his fingers on the desk then looked to have made a decision. ‘Mike, find out all you can about a girl called Holly Harding. She’s Richard Harding’s daughter—the well-known writer—and I believe she’s a journalist herself. Do it now, please.’
    Mike stared at his boss for a moment as he tried to tie this in with Mark Wyndham’s wedding.
    ‘What?’ Brett queried.
    ‘Nothing,’ Mike said hastily. ‘Just going.’
    On Monday afternoon Glenn Shepherd called Holly into his office, and hugged her. ‘You’re such a clever girl,’ he enthused. ‘I might have known I was laying down the gauntlet to you when I mentioned his name, but how on earth did you pull it off? And why keep it such a secret?’ He released her and went back behind his desk.
    Holly, looking dazed and confused, sank into a chair across the desk. ‘What are you talking about, Glenn?’
    ‘Getting an interview with Brett Wyndham, of course. What else?’
    Holly stared at him, transfixed, then she cleared her throat. ‘I—wasn’t aware that I had.’
    Glenn gestured. ‘Well, there are a few details he wants to sort out with you before he gives his final consent, so I made an appointment for you with him for five-thirty this afternoon.’ He passed a slip of paper to her over the desk. ‘If you’ve got anything on, cancel it. This could be your big break, Holly, and it won’t do us any harm, either. Uh—there may be some travel involved.’
    ‘Travel?’
    ‘I’ll let him tell you about it but of course we’d foot the bill where necessary.’
    ‘Glenn…’ Holly said.
    But he interrupted her and stood up. ‘Go get it, girl! And now I’ve got to run.’
    At five-twenty that afternoon, Holly glanced at the piece of paper Glenn had given her and frowned. Southbank was a lovely precinct on the Brisbane river, opposite the tall towers of the CBD. It was made up of restaurants, a swimming lagoon and gardens set around the civictheatre and the art gallery. It was not exactly where she would have expected to conduct a business meeting with Brett Wyndham.
    Then again, that was the last thing she’d expected to be doing this Monday afternoon, or any afternoon, so why quibble at the venue?
    She parked her car, gathered her tote bag and for a moment wished she was dressed more formally. But that would have involved rushing home to change, and anyway, she didn’t want him to think she’d gone to any trouble with her appearance on his behalf, did she?
    No , she answered herself, so why even think it ?
    Because she might have felt more mature, or something like that, if she wasn’t dressed as she usually was for work.
    She looked down at her jeans, the pink singlet top she wore under a rather beloved jacket and her brown, short boots. This was the kind of