The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  When she emerged Luc was in the process of discarding his clothes, and her heart faltered, then missed a beat as he shrugged out of his shirt.

  Broad shoulders were accentuated by superb musculature and smooth-textured skin. A smattering of chest hair tapered down over his midriff and disappeared beneath his waistline.

  She retained a vivid memory of what it was like to touch his warm flesh, to feel the flexing of muscle beneath her tactile exploration…with the pads of her fingers, her lips. The slide of her body on his, the faint hiss of his breath as he sought control. Her own barely audible groan as heat spiralled and encompassed every nerve-end until she became lost in shimmering sensation…sizzling, unprincipled, raw.

  Slim-fitting black silk hipster briefs barely covered tight buttocks, and as he shifted she caught sight of the powerful bulge of his arousal.

  Dear God, what was the matter with her that she stood here transfixed by the mere sight of him?

  How could she be turned on, when she believed she had every reason to hate him?

  With deliberate movements she sank down onto the edge of the bed and pulled on tights, smoothing them over each calf, then her thighs.

  Unbidden, her gaze flicked towards him, and became trapped in his own.

  For one heart-stopping minute everything remained still. There was only him, and the electric tension that fizzed between them like a broken live wire curling at random. Dangerous, deadly.

  Then in seeming slow motion he stripped the silk briefs from his body, and walked with blatant unconcern into his en suite.

  Seconds later the hiss of the shower acted as the catalyst that released her limbs from their trance-like state.

  With shaky movements she caught up her dress, stepped into it, then slid home the zip.

  Hair and make-up took longer than she anticipated.

  Her fingers shook as she pinned up her hair into a fashionable knot, and she winced more than once when she jabbed her scalp. The application of eye-shadow and eyeliner required a skill that had suddenly gone haywire, and she had to start over twice before she achieved a desired result.

  She was aware the moment Luc re-entered the bedroom, and she sensed his swift appraisal, felt the lick of heat sweep through her veins in damning recognition of his presence…and deliberately turned away to select minimum jewellery.

  It didn’t help that her senses were alert to the brush of silk against his body, the faint rustle of fine cotton as he added a shirt, or that her imagination ran riot at the thought of trousers by Armani being pulled up over powerful, hair-roughened thighs, followed by the almost silent snap of a waist fastener, the soft, sliding close of a zip.

  Sensual warmth pooled deep within, radiating to a heavy ache that heightened her senses to quivering need.

  Was he similarly affected? Somehow she doubted it.

  And she was caught in a web of pride, anger and resentment that forbade her making the first move.

  Was he game-playing? For a man with a high sex drive…

  Her mind came to a screeching halt, and her body stilled. Had he seen Celine in her absence? The mere thought that he might have tore the breath from her body.

  Dear heaven… No. The rebuttal was a silent scream. Fidelity. He’d given his assurance on that score, even put it in writing. Except they were only words. And Celine was a seductive temptress most men would find difficult to resist.

  Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. Wasn’t that the catch-phrase of the new millennium? Concisely translated…women wanted love; men wanted sex.

  ‘Problems?’

  Her fingers fumbled with the clasp at her nape. ‘I can manage.’ Except attaching the fastener remained elusive, and she was supremely conscious of him as he crossed to her side, removed the gold chain from her nerveless fingers and smoothly tending to its closing.

  Did he stand there a few seconds longer than necessary? Was the slight brush of his fingers against her nape deliberate, or merely accidental?

  Get a grip! The silent chastisement held self-derision as she slid her feet into stiletto pumps and caught up an evening bag.

  ‘Ready?’

  Ana turned to face him and met the bland expression in those dark eyes. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  Their hosts resided in a restored mansion right in the heart of Double Bay, where street parking was the only option and therefore made recognition of fellow guests’ cars almost an impossibility.

  Trendy cafés, narrow terrace houses converted into boutiques lent a cosmopolitan air where the wealthy lingered over lattes and watched the social élite mix and mingle.

  The mesh shrieked both old and new money that reflected an eclectic style not generally seen anywhere else in the city.

  Ten guests were assembled in the magnificent lounge, and Ana wasn’t conscious of holding her breath until she released it in a tiny rush on discovering Celine was nowhere in sight.

  She requested orange juice, and sipped it as she was drawn into conversation by a mutual acquaintance who seemed intent on lauding the expertise of the cosmetic surgeon currently in vogue.

  Scintillating conversation, she accorded mentally, wondering at the priorities in some women’s lives. Yet looking good was important if they wanted to keep a wealthy husband who provided the lifestyle they enjoyed, for there was always a younger version waiting in the wings, willing and eager to please.

  Working out, enhancing the muscle-toned body, the regular manicures, pedicures, hair-styling, facials, body massage, the designer clothes, jewellery…all to gild what they perceived as a required image. As the years passed, the more desperate they became, and ‘going abroad’ was a well-touted excuse to have the latest ‘nip and tuck’ in America, Switzerland or France.

  ‘What do you think, darling?’

  ‘You’d never know,’ Ana responded, dutifully endorsing the cosmetic surgeon’s success.

  ‘He’s incredible. Frightfully expensive, of course. But then…’

  ‘One must do what one has to do.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  The guest moved on, and seconds later Luc curved an arm across the back of her waist.

  ‘Don’t you think you’re taking togetherness a little too far?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Forgive me. I forgot we’re playing a game.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Happily married,’ she said without missing a beat.

  His gaze narrowed. ‘Careful, kyria. There’s a limit to my patience.’

  ‘As there is to mine.’

  It was at that precise moment the hired help ushered in the last guest, and all heads turned as one at the sound of that husky feminine laugh.

  Celine. The dark hair was beautifully coiffed, her make-up spectacular; the woman could rival any international model. Add stunning looks, symmetrically perfect features, and she was a knock-out.

  Partnering her was her handbag for the evening…a handsome man whose polished good looks and manner were almost too much for any mortal male.

  A model? A gentleman escort who hired out his services?

  Not nice, Ana alluded cynically, and mentally chastised herself for being uncharitable.

  The air-kiss routine was a little too contrived to be genuine, Celine’s gaze brittle, and there was a lack of warmth in her smile.

  Like a pre-set guided missile she turned towards Luc and shot him a stunning glance that conveyed to everyone present just who she intended to target her attention.

  Ana could almost hear the unspoken threat…and felt her stomach muscles clench in silent antipathy.

  ‘The evening’s entertainment has arrived,’ she said quietly, and felt Luc’s fingers tighten at the edge of her waist.

  ‘Behave.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.’ She hardly had time to take a breath, and Celine was before them, exuding an exotic blend of expensive perfume, and a gown that looked as if it had been sprayed on, so lovingly did it hug her slender curves.

>   ‘Luc, darling.’

  The brush of her lips to his cheek was more than a mere salutary greeting, and Ana gritted her teeth in vexation.

  ‘Celine.’ An acknowledgment that was polite to the extreme, and her smile a mere facsimile.

  The seating at dinner was either badly mismanaged or created by adroit manipulation on Celine’s part.

  One could almost be amused by it, Ana decided with resignation as she sank into a chair opposite Celine’s partner.

  There were numerous ways she’d choose to spend an evening, but observing her husband’s ex-mistress eating him alive across the table wasn’t one of them.

  It was a great shame she couldn’t indulge in a glass of wine to dull the edges, and food didn’t quite do it for her. In fact, given the way her stomach was behaving, she had to wonder whether food of any kind was advisable.

  ‘Dieting, darling?’

  Implication was the mother of invention. ‘Coping with a migraine.’ Not entirely untrue, for a few hours in Celine’s company was guaranteed to provide Ana with a headache.

  Celine effected a faint moue, and directed at Luc a warm seductive smile.

  Ana speared a prawn with unnecessary vigour, and attempted to do justice to the delectable starter.

  The main dish followed, and she took minuscule servings, which she subsequently picked at, only to discard her cutlery after a few morsels.

  Conversation flowed, as did the wine, and she had to wonder if she was the only person who noticed Celine’s increasingly seductive behaviour.

  There was a moment where Celine cast Luc a particularly blatant smile and deliberately moistened her lips, causing Ana to gnash her teeth.

  She was sorely tempted to pick up her glass and throw iced water in Celine’s face. If nothing else, it might cool her down.

  Except such an action would only cause an unforgivable scene.

  It was during dessert that she felt something touch her leg.

  Accidental, or contrived to draw Ana’s attention to the fact Celine was grazing a sheer Lycra-clad toe against Luc’s leg beneath the table…or worse?

  Enough, Ana decided, was enough.

  ‘Lost your shoe, Celine?’

  Ana had to give her credit…the woman was a superb actress.

  ‘No. What makes you think that?’

  Give it up, Ana decided. Here, now, was not the time or the place for a showdown. Instead, she curled the fingers of her left hand into a fist beneath her napkin, and barely restrained herself when she felt Luc’s hand close over her own.

  To what purpose? Silent commiseration, or an attempt to soothe her suspicions?

  With a surreptitious movement she shifted her fist to his thigh, and dug her nails into solid muscle…hard.

  To give him credit, he gave no indication there was a silent battle of wills being played out of sight. Instead he merely uncurled her fingers and lifted them to his lips in a gesture that brought a slight stain of pink colour to her cheeks.

  Only Ana glimpsed steel beneath the projected warmth evident in that dark gaze…and something else she didn’t care to define. Anger, annoyance?

  She told herself she didn’t care.

  ‘One trusts you enjoyed your sojourn on the Coast?’

  Why did she have the impression no conversation with Celine was safe? The words were politely couched, the tone innocuous. Except she knew all too well how Celine operated, and innocence wasn’t on her agenda.

  ‘It proved to be a pleasant break.’

  A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose fractionally. ‘Alone?’

  Oh, my, it was like tiptoeing through a minefield!

  ‘You find that surprising?’

  ‘Luc appeared a little distracted by your absence.’

  Ana swept his strong features with amusing warmth, lingered over-long on his generously curved mouth and endeavoured to control the shivery sensation feathering down her spine. ‘How nice to be missed.’

  He still retained hold of her hand, and she attempted to pull it free without success.

  This close she was aware of the subtle and expensive brand of his cologne mingling with the fabric of his clothes, the warmth of his skin. Apparent was a sexual energy, giving hint to a raw primitiveness that was exciting and vaguely frightening.

  It brought forth vivid memories of their lovemaking…the wildness, the hunger, and the tenderness.

  She missed the closeness, his touch, the times she lay in his arms living the moment when it was almost possible to believe he cared.

  Except there was always a degree of control, something he never quite lost, and she wondered what it would take to have him become totally mindless.

  Did he know how she felt? Dear heaven, how could he not?

  ‘Shall we adjourn to the lounge for coffee?’

  Ana opted for tea, and sipped the mild brew slowly as she stood at Luc’s side.

  Celine seemed intent on bewitching her companion for the evening…an action surely designed to make Luc aware what he was missing.

  Were fellow guests observing Celine’s charade? Or was she being overly sensitive?

  ‘Finished?’

  She glanced at Luc as he removed the cup and saucer from her hand. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Shall we leave?’

  A faint smile curved the edges of her mouth. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  Playing polite for the past few hours had taxed her acting skills. Get used to it, a tiny voice taunted.

  His gaze narrowed. ‘Tired?’

  ‘If I say yes, will it invite a lecture?’

  ‘Without doubt.’

  ‘Then no, I’m not tired.’

  ‘You’re pale,’ he observed.

  ‘And your beard-shadow is beginning to show.’

  A humorous gleam showed momentarily in those dark eyes, then it was gone, and she tried not to stiffen as he placed an arm across the back of her waist.

  It took a while to reach the car, for there were the shared reminders of upcoming events, two extended invitations to consider, and the inevitable delay before the last ‘goodnight’ was exchanged.

  The vehicle purred through the quiet street, and Ana leant her head back against the cushioned rest and closed her eyes.

  She didn’t feel like rehashing the evening, or querying any one of Celine’s actions.

  Soft music floated out from the speakers, and she felt the breath sigh from her body as tense muscles began to relax.

  There was a part of her that wanted to weep for what she couldn’t have; another part needing to scream at Celine for deliberately setting out to take what little she did have.

  Instead, she did neither, and when the car drew to a halt in the garage she released the seat belt, slid to her feet, and as soon as Luc deactivated the security system, she entered the house and made her way upstairs without uttering so much as a word.

  He didn’t follow, and she undressed, removed her make-up, then unpinned her hair and slid into bed.

  It was a while before Luc entered the bedroom, and he unhooked his jacket, released his tie, toed off his shoes, then stripped down to silk briefs before crossing to stand looking down at the woman who was his wife.

  Vulnerable in sleep, she appeared almost fragile. Her skin had a translucent quality, and he wanted to brush the pads of his fingers over its softness, and push back the swathe of hair that rested against her cheek.

  Slender shoulders, feminine, muscle-toned arms, and delicate hands. Capable hands, which were quick and deft, slim fingers with nicely shaped polished nails.

  He winced at the memory of how they’d dug into his flesh only hours before, and the edge of his mouth quirked in humour at the reason why.

  There was the knowledge he could slide in beneath the covers and reach for her, aware that in sleep she wouldn’t resist. The touch of his lips to the sensitive hollow at the edge of her throat, the fleeting trail of his fingers to the swell of her breast…the unerring path to the moist crevice at the apex of her thighs. />
  He could cajole with expertise, utilise unfair persuasion, and she would be his.

  Except he wanted her awake and aware, to come to him with warmth and need in her heart. More, much more than that, he wanted all that she could gift him…with her generous willingness of spirit, from the depths of her soul.

  And that, he accepted, wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ANA had nominated a restaurant not far from Blooms and Bouquets for lunch with her father.

  Although the occasion proved something of an anticlimax, for he arrived late, greeted her affectionately, then he apologetically declared he couldn’t stay long.

  Of average height, he’d always had a presence. It was in the way he held himself, the easy way he moved. Yet today he seemed… Diminished, she perceived a trifle sadly.

  They ordered from the menu, and sipped chilled water as they waited for their food.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  Was it something in her tone that caused the pain reflected in his eyes?

  ‘Luc told you.’

  To pretend ignorance was a useless exercise, and she hated the guilt that momentarily haunted his features.

  ‘Did you think he wouldn’t?’

  He had the grace to look embarrassed.

  What would his reaction be if she confided Luc had used the knowledge as leverage to effect a reconciliation?

  A waiter served their order, and they both ate, mindful of the need not to linger.

  ‘I only have one question,’ Ana began without preamble. ‘Why?’

  ‘There was a woman…’ Her father paused, then continued with obvious reluctance. ‘By the time I discovered she was playing at least three men against each other, I’d run up a fortune on credit.’

  The most immediate question came to mind. ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘Sell the apartment, and try to rebuild my reputation. Overseas,’ he elaborated. ‘I have connections in New York.’

  Maybe it would be a good move, and she told him so.

  ‘Did you enjoy the Coast?’

  ‘It’s good to be back.’ A fabrication, yet the stark truth wasn’t something she was prepared to confide. Although there was something she could share, and did. ‘How do you feel about becoming a grandfather?’