Legally Addicted - By Lena Dowling Page 0,14

but Georgia wouldn’t bite. If she was going to convince the board of the shelter to run with her idea for the addiction centre, she needed to stay in this hideous woman’s good books.

‘Yes, I imagine Georgia’s knowledge must be a real asset to your organisation, not to mention her professional success; she’s quite an inspiration. But then, with your own experience, Caro…’

Caro silenced Brad with the look of a knife-thrower about to spear her target. Georgia was wondering what he could be referring to when Caro surprised her by taking her arm, steering her away from the reception desk where she was supposed to be on duty.

‘Yes indeed, Bradley. The other board members are already waiting in the meeting room. Georgia, we’ve lost our minute secretary, you don’t mind do you?’

‘But…reception,’ Georgia hesitated, worrying who would make the evening admissions if she left her post.

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ve organised for one of the other volunteers to cover reception.’

Caro released her arm and was already on the move, heading towards the meeting room in full expectation that Georgia would follow.

‘Yes, Georgia, I’m sure you have all the skills to make an excellent secretary,’ Brad said in an irreverent voice, pulling a silly face behind Caro’s back.

Georgia sniffed in mock indignation, trying not to laugh, but Brad had broken the tension. It was good to know she wasn’t the only one who found the woman tedious.

Moments later Georgia was sitting in the shelter’s small meeting room taking notes as Caro, imperious in her role as chair, took the meeting through the agenda.

For once, being cooped up in close quarters with Brad wasn’t a trial. With Jake possibly still lurking outside, it was good to have someone around who would have the physical strength to deal with him. While she doubted Jake would barge his way into a brightly lit, well attended building, you could never be sure with a drug addict. Substance withdrawal could make a person unpredictable. Brad’s six foot, broad-shouldered presence was reassuring.

The meeting progressed efficiently. Whatever else she was, Caro was an effective chairwoman who kept to the agenda.

Brad impressed Georgia by asking thoughtful, pre-prepared questions, as if he had done some background work on the organisation before the meeting, and more than once he stopped other committee members in mid-sentence to ask for information or clarification. He seemed interested and, for once, given the gravity of the issues being discussed, Georgia managed to keep her buzzing hormones in a holding pattern, fizzing just below the surface.

‘The last item we need to consider is finalising the arrangements for the annual gala dinner benefit.’

Caro ticked off a series of items previously discussed on the agenda.

‘Evelyn Spencer has always organised a spectacular event for us, but I appreciate that organising dinner dances might not be your thing, Brad,’ she said, with a girlish laugh.

‘That’s true. I don’t have the time to commit to a gala or possess, I’m sorry to say, the impressive social know-how that my mother would have brought to the task.’

Brad’s reference to Evelyn Spencer’s reputation as Sydney’s foremost society matron prompted a polite chuckle from the other committee members.

‘I thought, perhaps, we could go over the arrangements together, Bradley,’ Caro purred. ‘We could get started next weekend.’

Caro already had her diary open, poised to nominate the time and place.

‘I can’t, I’m afraid. Georgia and I will be away then, up at my shack, won’t we, Georgia?’

Brad sent her such an exaggerated pleading look that his dark eyes reminded her of a beagle, the only thing missing a set of floppy brown ears. Georgia laughed. She was about to protest, ironing out the false impression about the nature of their relationship that Brad had given everyone, until the mixture of curiosity and horror on Caro Marsden’s face changed her mind. After Caro’s behaviour out in reception earlier, there was a lot more satisfaction to be had in letting her think that Georgia Murray, daughter of an unknown father and a deceased drug addict mother, had breached the defences of Sydney high society.

Barricades specially designed to keep people like her out.

‘Yes, I see, any other business, no? That being all, the meeting — ’ Caro had gone into overdrive trying to wrap things up.

‘There is the proposal for the addiction centre,’ Georgia said, seizing the opportunity to raise her proposal for the establishment of a specialist addiction centre in front of the entire women’s shelter board.

‘I don’t remember us having discussed an addiction centre before, have we,