And real live men had real live eyes, she was forced to accept by the time she went to bed. Her meagre weight loss of late had not transformed her from an ugly duckling into a graceful swan. She had a long way to go before she would be really pleased with what she saw in her mirror. But dammit, she aimed to give it her best shot this time. Not with a silly crash diet either. That never worked. She had to tackle her weight problem another way.

Ava fell off to sleep that night full of determination, waking the next morning with her new optimism still intact. As soon as Byron went to work, she was down in his gym, working out on just about everything she could manage. A few minutes on the exercise bike, then on the step walking machine, then on the trampoline. She even did some chest and leg presses. If it had been warmer, she might have jumped into the pool for a few laps. But it wasn't. Not that the pool was in a fit state to be swum in. That was another of the jobs that had to be seen to before too long.

Ava felt so exhilarated after her hour of exercises that she went through the housework like a whiz, and without knocking into a thing. Breakfast was a sensible plate of muesli with fresh fruit, followed by black coffee and no sugar. She winced at the bitter taste but drank it anyway, telling herself she would get used to it in time. Ten-thirty saw her about to dash out to visit her favourite boutique for fatties when the telephone rang. Normally, she regarded the intrusive sound with irritation, but this time, she raced to answer it with a suddenly fluttering heart.

It might be Vince. He'd promised to ring some time today.

But it wasn't Vince. It was Nathan.

'Hi, there, Ava,' he said in that smoothly elegant voice of his. 'I wanted to find out if you were all right.'

'All right?' she repeated blankly, thrown by Nathan telephoning her. He'd never done so before.

'Didn't you have an accident yesterday? Wasn't it you on the telephone to Gemma when I came home last night?'

'Yes. . .yes, that was me. And yes, I did have a small fall.'

'Gemma and I were concerned about you, love. We would have come over if you'd needed us, you know.'

Ava was at a loss for words. This wasn't like Nathan at all. She wondered if she'd missed something along the line.

'Ava? Are you still there?'

'Yes, Nathan. I guess I'm a bit speechless. I'm not used to the male members of my family making solicitous phone calls, or enquiring about my well-being.'

Nathan laughed. 'Gemma said you had a dry sense of humour. I'm beginning to see what she means.'

'Gemma is sweet.'

'Not like her husband, eh?' he drawled.

'You can be nice, Nathan. When it suits your purposes.'

'How calculating you make me sound.'

'If the cap fits. . .'

There was a short sharp silence, during which Ava had a few moments to ponder this surprising new side of herself. Normally, she would never dare to speak to anyone like this, let alone Nathan. What was happening to her?

'You've never liked me much, have you?' he finally said in his usual cool fashion.

Not true, Ava thought. There was a time when I was madly infatuated with you. But that was a long, long time ago.

'It's hard to like someone you don't really know.'

'You know me pretty well.'

'No one knows you, Nathan.'

His low chuckle sounded bitter. 'My, my, now you've really surprised me, Ava. You have hidden depths.'

'Not as hidden as yours.'

She heard him suck in a sharp breath, but when he spoke again, his voice was chilling. 'I think we might leave this conversation-right there, Ava. Clearly your bang on the head hasn't in any way impaired your brain-power. Though perhaps a word of warning might be in order. . .

'Don't ever presume to meddle in my affairs, especially my relationship with Gemma. I wouldn't like you to think you would tell her anything that might be misconstrued. Do I make myself clear?'

'Are you threatening me, Nathan?' Ava was astonished to find that her voice was quite calm, even though her heart was beating madly.

'Advising you, that's all.'

'Then let me give you a piece of return advice. I've had it up to my ears with other people telling me what to think and say and do. I will do as I please from now on. Do I make myself clear?'

She hung up before he could say another word. And even though she was trembling from head to toe Ava felt highly satisfied with herself. Finally, she hadn't quivered in her boots when someone had shot at her. She'd shot right back, and done it with style!

Yet once her sense of personal triumph faded, Ava was left worrying about Gemma. That marriage was doomed, as any marriage to Nathan was doomed.

Ava might have brooded over Nathan and his marriage to Gemma for ages if the telephone hadn't rung again. Nevertheless, her hand reached to lift down the receiver in a somewhat distracted fashion and her 'h.e.l.lo' was a mite vague.

'Is that the answer of a confident, up-and-coming artist?' demanded a gruff male voice.

'Vince!'

'Right in one. How's the head this morning?'

'Oh -er. . .' For a second she was tempted to claim a splitting headache. It would be nice to hear soothing sympathetic words, to have Vince fussing over her again, even if it was only over the telephone. But a deeply ingrained honesty waylaid her before her tongue could put the temptation into action.

'It's fine,' she said with a sigh.

'Are you sure? You're not just saying that?'

She laughed. 'No, Vince, I'm definitely not just saying that.'

'In that case why aren't you up there in that studio of yours, finishing some of those paintings?'

'Goodness, what a slave-driver you are!'

'Well, you don't become successful in life sitting on your b.u.m. Up and at it, Ava. When I get there tomorrow night, I want to see at least my painting finished and ready for framing. You know the one I mean. I want to buy that one.'

'You want to buy it?'

How else am I going to get it? I wouldn't expect you to give'it to me for nothing. Or isn't it for sale?'

'I. . .I hadn't thought about it. I guess it is.'

'Good. How much?'

'How much? I. . .1 have no idea. How much do you think it's worth?'

'Good G.o.d, woman, is that any way to get a fair price for your pain, sweat and tears? Look, how about you ask Giuseppe to put a price on it and I'll pay whatever he says it's worth. Fair enough?'

'He'll probably say it's worth nothing,' she muttered. But I don't understand, Vince. Won't you be here when Giuseppe's here?'

'Afraid not. He refuses to look at an artist's work at night. So he's dropping by Friday afternoon instead, if that's all right with you.'

'Yes, of course it is,' she said with much more confidence than she was feeling at showing her work to an expert. He'd probably take one look at her paintings and want to throw up.

'Good. Can't stay and chat. I'm ringing you from my car phone and I'm just turning into the building site now.'

'What building site?'

'The one I'm working on at the moment. I'll see you tomorrow night around seven. That's not too early, is it?'

'Seven will be fine.' she said, her heart fluttering when she suddenly realised she would be alone with him again.

'You're very accommodating, do you know that? But I like it. See you then, Ava, and promise me you won't go running down those d.a.m.ned stairs.'

'I promise.'

'Have you ordered the carpet yet?'

'No.'

'Do it today.'

'Yes, Vince.'

Bye. See you tomorrow night.'

'Bye, Vince, and. . .thanks. . .'

He didn't hear her thanks because he'd already hung up. Ava took some time to hang up herself. It was as though by keeping the telephone to her ear she might pick up some lingering vibrations of Vince's amazing energy and drive. His enthusiasm and confidence were catching when she was actually talking to him, but as soon as she hung up the old insecure Ava raised her ugly head again. Her head began spinning with all she had to do that day. There were clothes to buy, paintings to finish, carpet to order, more exercises to be done, fat-free dinner menus to plan. . .

She took a revitalising breath then picked up her car keys and headed for the garages. One step at a time, Ava, she kept telling herself. One step at a time.

The following morning -Friday -Ava could hardly tak e even one step. She woke to find that every muscle in her body had seized up, like an old car engine without any oil. Getting out of bed was agony. In the end she rolled out, groaning aloud as she put her full weight on to knees that refused to straighten.

A long Radox bath achieved a measure of mobility, as did some gentle stretching. By mid-morning, Ava felt almost human. A representative from the carpet manufacturer she'd contacted the previous day came in person to show her a wide selection of samples. She picked one, a subtle grey, not the royal blue Vince had suggested, telling the man that she would place the order on the following Monday after her handyman told her how much she would need.

Of course, she would eventually have to mention what she was doing to Byron -even Melanie would not have installed new ca rpet without consulting him - but she would put off the inevitab le for a few days yet. If the worst came to the worst, and he vetoed carpet on the stairs, she would use it to carpet her studio. She was rather fed up with the polished floor in there too.

Friday noon saw her sitting at her easel, staring at the painting Vince had so admired. A few dabs of sky in one corner and it would be finished. The paint was mixed, her brush was ready, but every time the brush approached the picture-her hand began to shake. It was incredible!

Finally, she had no choice but to put the brush down and abandon the idea. Vince would be so mad with her, but better not to finish it than ruin it completely. Maybe she was suffering from a crisis in confidence. Maybe she was nervous about what this Giuseppe person was going to say about her work. A real artist would surely see faults Vince would not even begin to see. There again, perhaps her nerves had nothing to do with her painting. Perhaps they were due to the prospect of seeing Vince again that night, but for undeniably the last time.

For what was to keep him coming back after tonight? Absolutely nothing. Men like him didn't date women like herself, no matter how accommodating they were, she thought bitterly. Or how hard they worked to make * themselves look as good as they could.

Her mind turned to the new outfit she'd purchased yesterday, a silk trouser suit in a bronze colour. The loose-legged culottes and cleverly cut jacket top flattered her figure, the colour complementing her golden- blonde hair colour. She'd also purchased drop earrings in the same gold that rimmed the self-covered b.u.t.tons of the jacket, as well as low-heeled bronze shoes. Most of this month's allowance had been reduced to zero in one fell swoop.

Still, it had been worth it if she could face Vince tonight looking as good as she possibly could. She'd need all the confidence she could muster, Ava reckoned, after Giuseppe's visit this afternoon. Lord, whatever had possessed her to put her so-called talent on the line like this?

Seven-twenty that night saw a primped, preened and perfumed Ava sitting stiffly in an armchair in the family- room, her eyes on the flickering television screen but her ears straining to hear the sounds of a car arriving on the gravel driveway. She'd deliberately turned the volume down so that she could hear more easily. Minutes ticked away, her tension increasing with each silent second, dismay only a heartbeat away. Was he simply late, or had he decided not to come? Surely he would have rung if he couldn't make it? Surely he. . .?

What was that?

A shudder of relief reverberated through Ava as she recognised the crunching of a vehicle coming to a halt outside the front steps. She jumped up and began to run, stopping only when she encountered the slippery marble on the foyer floor. The prospect of sliding on her bottom over to the front door filled her with horror. But it was her sudden vision of her flushed, excited face in the mirror on the wall that really brought her up with a jolt.

Get a hold of yourself, you stupid fool. Where is your pride? Since Vince has been kind enough to come back a second time, the least you can do is present yourself with some dignity, not like some fl.u.s.tered over-exuberant schoolgirl.

Tempering her face into what she hoped was an elegantly cool expression, Ava had just enough time for her galloping pulse-rate to calm to a respectable trot when the front doorbell rang. Swallowing down the last persistent symptom of her nerves, she walked regally over to the front door, opening it with what she hoped was a smooth flourish.

'Sorry I'm late, Ava;' Vince said as he strode in, a frustrated scowl on his handsome face. 'I had a small problem with my car, which meant I had to drive one of the trucks.' He waved an impatient hand at the battered utility parked in front of the house. 'd.a.m.ned thing ran out of petrol in the middle of the Pacific Highway. I'm going to kill whatever brother of mine is responsible when I get home.'

'But isn't it your fault if your car ran out of petrol?' Ava asked, rather confused by his outburst.

'It wasn't my car that ran out of petrol!' he explained frustrat edly. 'One of my brothers borrowed that for the night. Probably Marc, now that I come to think of it. Presumably to impress the latest fluffy-headed female he's taking out. That boy has no taste! Naturally, with a hot date on his mind, he wouldn't have had his brain in gear when he finished for the day and ' forgot to fill up the petrol tanks as he's supposed to at the end of the week in readiness for the following Monday.'

Vince pushed up the sleeves of the black sweatshirt he was wearing and propped his hands on his hips, drawing Ava's gaze to his jeans-clad legs. Not the same tight blue ones he was wearing the other day. These were a faded grey, but just as tight.

'Once I realised my car was missing,' he grumbled, 'and I was running late, I just jumped into the first vehicle I could find and took off, not looking at the gauge. I nearly blew a gasket when it put-putted to a stop in the middle of an intersection.'

'So I can see. But all's well that ends well, Vince. You're here safe and sound and you're not too late, so calm down,' she soothed. 'It's not worth getting so het up about, is it?'

Vince glared at her for a moment, before a wry smile tugged at his lovely mouth. 'You're so right, Ava. I guess I'm a bit stressed out tonight. Today's been h.e.l.l at work and I was worried that you might think I wasn't coming. So tell me. . .what did Giuseppe say?'

Ava's lips began to twitch with a sudden unexpected sense of mischief. 'Well, first of all he wanted to know why you hadn't told him what a fine-looking woman I was. . .'

That randy old devil! I knew I shouldn't have let him come here without me!'

'And then he asked me if I'd be interested in modelling for his anatomy cla.s.ses. . .'

'Good G.o.d, is there no stopping that man? You do realise his models pose in the nude, don't you? What did you tell him?'

Ava's laughter was incredulous. 'No, of course.'

'Thank G.o.d for that. Can't have you posing nude.'

Ava bristled. 'And why not, pray tell?'

'Why not? What do you mean, why not? Because I'd worry my guts out about you, that's why not! Who knows what one of those male students might do after ogling you all night? You might get crudely propositioned, or raped, or worse!'

'Oh, truly, Vince,' she dismissed scornfully. 'Do you really think some man is going to go into a l.u.s.t-induced rampage after seeing me in the nude?'

Those beautiful brown eyes of his blazed with angry lights as they raked over her. 'Why not? As Giuseppe said, you're a d.a.m.ned fine-looking woman. Don't underestimate your attractions, Ava. There's a lot of men out there who like a well-rounded female. Italians are especially partial to voluptuous curves.'

Maybe so, but not the one standing in front of me.

His sudden grin distracted her from imminent depression. 'Look, why are we arguing about a hypothetical situation? You've already said no to the modelling offer. What I want to know now is what Giuseppe said about your paintings!'