The Single Dad's Patchwork Family. Claire Baxter

when the quotas were cut in the late eighties. His father was a tuna boat owner and Dad inherited the boat when he died but he saw that the future of the industry was in farming, not fishing.’

      ‘A man of vision.’

      She chewed a mouthful of bread slowly and swallowed it before going on. She was proud of her dad; he’d played an integral part in establishing a whole new mentality for Port Lincoln. The major industry of the town had been in trouble when it had been completely turned around by the techniques of sea culture. Her dad and people like him had been responsible for the new industry’s survival and resurgence after a couple of disasters.

      Their family business was nowhere near the biggest or most lucrative, but their name was well-respected and, having reverted to her maiden name since her divorce, she intended to keep it that way.

      ‘Never having a son of his own, Dad hoped to pass the business on to his grandsons, but he died just after my second son was born.’

      ‘Unexpectedly?’

      ‘Very much so.’ She resisted the memories that came rushing at her. ‘Heart attack,’ she said in a flat voice.

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘It was a shock at the time, but I’m over it now, of course.’ She cleared her throat, which was tightening despite her statement.

      ‘And then you took over the business?’

      ‘No. Not right away. My husband took over.’ She let her gaze slide away and over the other tables without seeing the people seated at them. ‘I had a baby and a toddler so I didn’t take an interest in the business. I left it to him to manage.’ She snorted. ‘Big mistake.’

      She took a deep steadying breath. Giacomo—or, as he’d preferred her to call him, Jack—with his classical good looks and charming ways had let her down all round. It had been a tough time, and she could hardly believe she was telling this stranger about him.

      Was it because she’d never see him again? Was it like talking to a fellow passenger on a plane—that sense of being able to say anything because their paths would never cross again?

      Or was it because, for some strange reason, she felt a connection to him? As if he was someone she could trust. As if he was a friend.

      Either way, she’d probably said enough.

      ‘What happened?’

      She turned back and met his gentle, encouraging gaze. Her resistance crumbled and the words flowed out before she could stop them.

      ‘He had no idea what he was doing. Oh, he talked as if he knew all about the industry but, when it came down to it, he had no business sense whatsoever. We nearly lost everything.’

      ‘But you found out in time to save it?’

      She winced. ‘I found out when he left me. Left me, his children, the business.’ She spread her hands, palms up. ‘The whole lot.’

      She saw a flash of anger in his eyes but it was followed by concern and he waited silently for her to go on, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his linked hands.

      ‘That was when I took over. I didn’t have a choice. Everyone depended on me. The employees. My family. I had to support my children. And I didn’t know much about the business except what I’d learned from listening to Dad.’ She made a frustrated gesture.

      ‘Rather from overhearing him talk about it. He’d never tried to teach me anything because he didn’t think there was any need to.’ And he probably wouldn’t have thought of her as a successor. Growing up, he hadn’t thought about her much at all to be honest, too consumed in making the business a success. The knowledge was like a lead weight in her stomach.

      She’d told Chase she hadn’t a choice, but in truth she had. No one had forced her to take over the business. She could have let it go and found herself a job. Strictly nine-to-five.

      But could she have coped with the shame of allowing the family business to be destroyed? With seeing the employees—all those people—out of a job because of her husband’s bad business mistakes?

      Not a chance.

      She’d felt a compulsion to clear up the mess that Jack had made. She couldn’t possibly let all her father’s work be wasted. But that wasn’t all—she’d suddenly had an irrational need to show her father she could do it. He might have been dead but Regan had still been looking for his elusive approval.

      And, at the same time, she’d thought it was the best way of supporting her children. It had been a lucrative business in her father’s day. If she could turn around the damage, she knew it could be lucrative again. And, when the boys were old enough, she could hand it over to them to manage. It was their heritage.

      Of course, she’d underestimated how difficult it would be to juggle the demands of the business and her desire to be there for her children.

      But she’d coped. Just about.

      ‘How long ago was this?’ Chase jogged her from her thoughts and she refocused on his face.

      ‘Five years. And it’s taken almost all of that time to get the business back on track.’

      He nodded. ‘It’s going well now?’

      ‘Touch wood.’ She tapped two fingers against the dark timber table. ‘Yes, it’s ticking over nicely. I’m about to tie up a contract with a Japanese restaurant chain and that will set us up for several years. The pressure will be off. Finally.’

      The waiter brought their meals and she leaned back while he arranged a plate in front of her. No matter how encouraging Chase was, she really should stop talking now.

      ‘Well, I’m very impressed,’ he said as the waiter left.

      She made a dismissive gesture.

      ‘No, really. What you’ve done is amazing.’

      She could have sworn her whole body blushed. She dropped her gaze to the fish and picked up her fork. ‘That’s enough about me. What do you do?’

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘SO, YOU do nothing?’ Regan looked down at the food on her plate and Chase thought he caught a flash of disapproval as she dropped her gaze.

      He took a sip of water. Regan had declined wine, which was probably a good idea considering what had happened earlier, so he’d chosen mineral water, too. Technically, yes. In employment terms, he did nothing, but he wouldn’t describe his lifestyle in Leo Bay like that.

      Regan probably had him pegged as one of those characters the current affairs shows were keen on spotlighting. Bludgers who survived on taxpayers’ money while they spent their days catching waves.

      The idea of her thinking badly of him sat uncomfortably in his stomach and he hurried to explain. As she reached for her glass, he said, ‘I’ve taken time out of my career to raise my daughter.’

      Her face changed, brightened, and hell, she had a lovely smile.

      ‘You have sole custody, too? When was your divorce?’

      ‘I’m not divorced.’ He frowned. ‘My wife passed away three and a half years ago.’

      After a moment’s stunned silence, she said softly, ‘I’m sorry.’

      His head twitched in acknowledgement. He’d never got used to accepting sympathy.

      ‘How did she…?’ Flapping a hand, she said, ‘No, of course you won’t want to talk about it.’

      ‘It’s okay.’ He paused while the waiter refilled their glasses.

      He could talk about Larissa. Now. When he’d first moved from the city, he hadn’t been able to. Hadn’t been able to even think about her without breaking down. But that had changed. Living in Leo Bay had done that