‘You still have time for another tour of the Blue Mountain property,’ his lawyer interrupted, and was shot a look of dislike for his pains.

‘Thanks, but I’m more interested in the Copeland place. Now, seeing as Miss Farr has just suffered an injury and a shock, what better way to help her recover than to take her away for the weekend? Mr Farr, I assume you weren’t serious about sacking an employee for something so minor as bringing a frog to work?’

‘No…’ Trevor thought it through, and for Trevor thinking was a chore. ‘Yes. But-’

But Jackson was no longer listening. ‘Miss Farr, I would very much appreciate it if you could escort me to the property. Mr Farr, if your employee was to make such a sale I feel sure you’d be in a position to offer her her job back.’

Trevor gasped, but he wasn’t completely stupid. Once again he could see a fortune in commission flying out of the window, and he grabbed at it with both hands.

‘Maybe not. But I’ve just remembered I can come after all.’

‘I don’t wish to bother you.’ Jackson’s eyes were chilling. He turned to his lawyer. ‘Or Mr Francis, for that matter. If the Copeland place is the farm I’m thinking of, then frogs are the least of the temptations for Mr Francis’s ruthless shoe. So I believe Miss Farr and I will dispense with the middle men. Miss Farr, can you escort me to the Copeland property at the weekend?’

Molly took a deep breath. She stared wildly around-at Trevor-at the lawyer-and then at the tiny green frog sitting pathetically in Jackson Baird’s big hand.

Jackson’s eyes were gentle-kind, even-and she had no choice. Obnoxious cousin or not, she needed this job, and Jackson was offering her a way to keep it.

‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ she told him. And she couldn’t believe that she’d done it.

There was no disputing who was in charge. Ineffectual at the best of times, Trevor was completely overruled. Jackson was in organisational mode, and he hadn’t been declared Australia’s Businessman of the Year for nothing. The man exuded power.