About Barbara Hannay
Reading and writing have always been a big part of BARBARA HANNAYâS life. She wrote her first short story at the age of eight for the Browniesâ writerâs badge. It was about a girl whoâs devastated when her family has to move from the city to the Australian Outback.
Since then, a love of both city and country lifestyles has been a continuing theme in Barbaraâs books and in her life. Although she has mostly lived in cities, now that her family has grown up and sheâs a full-time writer sheâs enjoying a country lifestyle.
Barbara and her husband live on a misty hillside in Far North Queenslandâs Atherton Tableland. When sheâs not lost in the world of her stories sheâs enjoying farmersâ markets, gardening clubs and writing groups, or preparing for visits from family and friends.
Barbara records her country life in her blog, Barbwired, and her website is www.barbarahannay.com
THE sports car was very low, very bright and shiny. Very red. It growled to a throbbing halt right in front of Bella, and the driver killed the motor.
âMorning, Bella.â His faintly amused gaze dropped to the overnight bag at her feet. âGoing somewhere?â
Damon Cavello. Again?
Twice in one week was too much.
Damon ⦠with the same wild, dark hair and brooding, bad-boy looks sheâd fallen in love with in high school.
No, not now. I canât deal with this now.
In the last ten years, sheâd seen him many times on TV, of course, in a flak jacket reporting from a war zone, or poised precariously above raging floodwaters in South America, playing the ultimate foreign correspondent.
But it was a very different matter seeing him again in the flesh, especially on this morning of all mornings.
Bella felt as if sheâd been snap-frozen. She couldnât have smiled even if sheâd wanted to, and she had to swallow before she could speak.
âHello, Damon. Iâve come straight from the hotel.â Last night had been her hen night. âIâve had a call about my grandfather, Paddy.â
She nodded in the direction of the sign for the Greenacres retirement home on the stone wall behind her. Then with businesslike briskness she picked up her bag, dismissing Damon Cavello with a coolness that she hoped matched his. âSorry, I canât chat. Itâs important family business.â
About to hurry inside, she was dismayed to hear the driverâs door opening.
âHang on a minute,â Damon called as he got out.
With the flashy sports car as a backdrop, he should have looked cocky or faintly comic, but he looked neither.
Unfair. He was dressed in a faded black T-shirt and jeans, and in these clothes, with the added advantage of darkly lashed grey eyes and rumpled dark hair, he was as disturbingly sexy as ever.
âI said I canât talk, Damon. I have to go. Paddyâs disappeared.â
âTake it easy, Bella. I can tell you whatâs happened.â
Dumbfounded, she gaped at him.
He said, âYour grandfather has run away with my grandmother.â
A wave of dizziness threatened Bella. Her knees sagged. She really couldnât deal with this now.
A mere hour ago her fiancé, Kent, had left her hotel room with her diamond engagement ring in his pocket and a new lightness in his step. Minutes later, sheâd received a phone call from Greenacres with the news that her grandfather had apparently disappeared.
Sheâd assumed the old trickster was simply playing hooky. It had happened before. Any minute now thereâd be news that Paddy had been found at the bowls club, or on the banks of Willara Creek, fishing. Sheâd never dreamedâ
âThe Greenacres people rang me an hour ago and Iâve been checking it out,â Damon said. âFrom all accounts, Paddy and Violet took off from here last night in Violetâs car.â
âFor heavenâs sake. A joy-ride?â
âIâve spoken to the fellow who runs the servo on the outskirts of town. He says they woke him up some time past midnight and begged him to fill their tank. They told him it was an emergency and they were heading north.â
âAn emergency?â She frowned. âItâs not a joy-ride, then. How far north?â
âThatâs the burning question. They could be heading anywhere up the coast, possibly all the way to Cairns, and thatâs at least two daysâ drive. An elderly couple might take longer. The guy at the servo reckons they were on some kind of mission, and they were headed north-east, for the coast road.â