Her mind was filled with the scene in the restaurant, Brad, and the electric presence of the man seated within touching distance.
‘Thanks for dinner.’ Politeness had been ingrained from a young age. She reached for the door-clasp, and froze as his hand captured her wrist.
‘Is your ex-husband likely to confront you?’
She paused a few seconds too long. ‘Why would he do that? He has no control over my life.’
Jace had questions he wanted to ask, but now was not the right time to get answers…even if she’d be willing to give them to him. ‘I’ll be in Melbourne for a few days with Luc. I’ll ring you.’
‘There’s no need.’
He leaned closer and slid a hand to capture her nape, tilting her head so she had to look at him. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘There is.’
For a heart-stopping second she thought he was going to kiss her, and she unconsciously held her breath, aware that a part of her craved the feel of his mouth on her own.
There was a hunger she couldn’t quite control, and she trembled with it, wanting in that moment to be absorbed by this man. To have him take her to a place where she could temporarily forget the vindictiveness that lived inside Brad Somerville, and begin to repair the damage caused to her emotional heart.
She heard a faint sound emerge from his throat, and she swallowed painfully as he brushed his thumb over the curve of her lower lip, tracing its fullness.
His eyes were dark, too dark to determine his intent, and she felt the tension in him, the restraint, and knew instinctively the next move was hers.
All she had to do was use the edge of her teeth, the tip of her tongue on the tip of this finger to offer an unspoken invitation.
Dear God, she wanted to, she wanted him. Except she hesitated too long, and she thought she glimpsed the gleam of a faint smile, sensed the slight edge of his regret as she pulled back.
Then he did smile, and the hand holding her nape gentled and soothed the tension there for a few seconds, then he released her and eased back in his seat.
She felt as if her limbs were fused together, restricting mobility, and she was intensely aware of the sensual electricity apparent. Explosive and primitive, it shimmered as an elusive force, poised to shatter the shell she’d painstakingly erected around her fragile heart.
‘Goodnight.’ The word emerged as little more than a strangled sound, and she fumbled for the door-clasp, almost breathless in the need to escape.
Except the constraint of the seat belt stopped her, and she uttered a silent cry as his fingers sought the safety clip and unfastened it.
Within seconds she slid from the car and she almost ran the few steps to the haven offered by the entrance to her apartment building. The keys were plucked free from her purse and she selected the appropriate one as she punched the security code freeing the external door into the lobby.
From there it took only a moment to use her key to gain the area leading to the triple bank of lifts.
She was trembling by the time she reached her apartment, and inside she made for the kitchen, extracted bottled water from the refrigerator and gulped several mouthfuls before seeking a chair.
The evening was over. Although instinct warned whatever she shared with Jace was far from done.
It was as if something deep and primal was being resurrected from her soul, his. The sane, sensible part of her brain questioned any metaphysical connection, but the illogical part queried if they hadn’t been joined together in a previous life, and their souls were forcing recognition.
Then there was Brad. She tamped down the memories and the pain. A few years was but a small window in the picture of her life. Hadn’t that been the professional advice given at the time?
The sudden peal of the phone startled her, and she stood to her feet to take the call, except she was unable to reach the handset and pick up before the answering machine cut in.
Her automated greeting was brief, and she hesitated, wary as to who would be calling at this time of night.
‘Having fun with your new man, sweetheart?’
It was followed by a click as the caller replaced the receiver.
Rebekah felt the blood drain from her face.
Brad. There was no mistaking his voice.
Shock jolted her senses and was quickly replaced by a sickening fear.
Her telephone number was unlisted. What ruse had he used to gain it? Had he also gained access to her cell-net number?
She crossed her arms and hugged them together across her midriff as her mind whirled with facts and possibilities.
The restraining order she’d had to take out against him was still in place. If he chose to violate it he’d face the legal consequences.
Her body began to rock a little until she stilled the movements and crossed to sink down into a chair.
Please, please, she begged silently. Don’t let the nuisance calls begin again.
Once, only once following her divorce had she dated another man. Immediately afterwards Brad had begun a series of phone calls. It had taken complaints to the police, written reports, warnings, and finally the filing of a restraining order to get him to stop.
Now, tonight, a chance meeting had started it all over again.
Thank God she was safe in her apartment. She’d chosen it deliberately for its high-tech security measures, and had installed double locks on her door as well as a safety chain.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged hard. It was coincidence…wasn’t it? Brad couldn’t be having her followed? Even more frightening, monitoring her every move away from Blooms and Bouquets?
CHAPTER FOUR
THE day began much as any other, with the usual pre-dawn visit to the flower market, followed by setting all the blooms into troughs of water at the boutique.
Rebekah booted up the computer, downloaded orders, printed out hard copies, then checked whether she needed to order more stock.
Ana arrived around nine, and together they dealt with orders, customers, and the many phone calls that made up a typical day.
‘Are you going to tell me how dinner with Jace went last night, or must I prise it out of you?’ Ana queried during a momentary lull.
Rebekah added another spray of baby’s breath to the bouquet she was assembling, made a deft adjustment, then gathered in the sheet of Cellophane. ‘It was OK.’
‘Just…OK?’ her sister teased.
‘If you’re asking whether it became deep and meaningful… No.’
Jace was far too astute to move too fast too soon, Ana approved, silently applauding his style as Rebekah anticipated the next query.
‘He said he’ll phone. Am I seeing him again? I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’
Because it’ll cause problems for which there’s no solution. The very reason she’d scaled her life down to a simplistic level. ‘Why?’ she countered. ‘He’s only here for a brief stay, then he’ll return to New York. What’s the point of starting something that has nowhere to go?’
She desperately wanted to confide about Brad’s appearance in the restaurant, his phone call, and the disturbing fact he’d somehow gained access to her private line.
Except something held her back. There was concern for Ana’s pregnancy, and besides it was too soon to determine whether Brad was bent on a single nuisance call or if he intended to resort to a repeat of his former behaviour.
She could only pray it wasn’t the latter.
At that moment a customer entered the shop, and within minutes everything went to hell in a hand-basket.
Luc’s former mistress, the glamorous, unpredictable Celine, confronted Ana verbally, then launched into a physical attack that happened so quickly Rebekah wasn’t swift enough to prevent it.
It was akin to a horror scene in a movie as Celine swept a glass vase to the floor, where it shattered, and a hard shove sent Ana down among scattered countless shards.
Rebekah gave an involuntary cry and flew to her
sister’s side, at the same time castigating Celine with pithy, unladylike language. ‘You bitch,’ just didn’t begin to cut it.
Everything after that became a blur as Rebekah phoned Petros, Luc’s manservant, contacted Luc on his cellphone, then she closed the shop and drove to the hospital, where she paced the visiting-room floor with all the pent-up anger of the demented as she waited for a medical professional to appear and provide a lucid report on Ana’s condition.
‘Your sister is fine. The ultrasound shows no sign of foetal distress. She’s being transferred to a room, and one of the nursing staff will take you to see her soon.’
Rebekah’s relief was a palpable thing, and she uttered a silent prayer in thanks.
It took only seconds to punch in Luc’s number, relay the update and learn he was about to board a flight back to Sydney.
There was time to call the owner of the boutique adjacent Blooms and Bouquets, explain and request she tape a notice detailing a family emergency to the door.
With that taken care of, she began to relax, and she crossed to the coffee machine, inserted coins and sugared the black brew.
Hot and sweet was the best compliment she could offer, but it served to soothe in the aftermath of the past traumatic hour.
With smooth efficiency she made a series of calls, arranged replacement staff during Ana’s enforced absence and notified a few regular customers their orders would be delayed.
Tears filled her eyes the instant she saw her sister sitting upright in bed with bandages covering her hand and forearm.
‘Don’t you dare cry,’ Ana warned, tempering the threat with a warm smile. ‘I’m OK.’
‘You might very well not have been.’ The hug was a very careful one, then she stood back and brought the shaky feeling under control. Just thinking about Celine’s crazy attack made her impossibly angry.
‘The shop—’
‘Is shut, and Jana has taped an explanation to the door.’ She met Ana’s clear gaze. ‘Don’t even think of suggesting I go back and leave you here on your own.’ A determined smile lightened her features. ‘I’m here until they throw me out.’ Or at least until Luc arrives, she added silently.
‘Promise me you won’t work late tonight.’
Rebekah crossed fingers behind her back. ‘You’ve got it.’ Did it matter her interpretation of late wouldn’t match that of her sister? A small transgression from the truth shouldn’t count.
She deliberately made no mention of Celine. If Ana wanted to talk about it, so be it. Otherwise the subject was best left alone…for now. Luc, no doubt, would take appropriate action.
Various members of the nursing staff moved in and out of the suite as they conducted routine checks, and a proffered tray of tea and biscuits proved welcome.
Not long afterwards Ana drifted into a light doze, and Rebekah slipped into the corridor to use her cellphone.
A tall, dark-suited figure strode towards her, and for a split-second her heart stopped. The two Dimitriades men were alike in height and breadth of shoulder, with similar features. Except this was Ana’s husband, not Jace.
‘Rebekah.’ Luc clasped a hand over her shoulder. ‘How is she?’
The words were almost cursory in his urgency to see his wife, and she offered him an understanding smile. ‘OK,’ she assured, and her eyes hardened. ‘You’re going to deal with Celine?’
His expression became harsh, almost lethal. ‘It’s done.’
She didn’t want to contemplate what action he’d taken, and didn’t ask. Whatever it was, she could only be glad she wasn’t the one on the receiving end of Luc’s wrath. He had the look of a predator who’d staked the kill, and by the time he finished with his quarry all that would remain would be skeletal bones.
‘Ana is asleep.’ She touched a light hand to his. ‘I’ll check in later.’
‘Thanks.’ Momentary warmth lightened his eyes, then he turned and entered the suite.
Rebekah drove to Blooms and Bouquets, popped in quickly to thank Jana for her help, then she unlocked the shop and set to work. A few regular customers were understanding of the circumstances and took up her offer for free delivery. The rest would have to wait until morning.
She took time to ring the hospital, spoke to Ana, then Luc, and learnt her sister would be discharged the next morning.
It must have been after seven when she realised she’d hardly eaten all day, and she rummaged in the small refrigerator beneath the counter, discovered a pot of yoghurt and an apple, demolished both, then continued working.
At nine she locked up the shop and began deliveries. Fortunately they were contained within a fifteen-kilometre radius. Consequently it was almost ten-thirty when she entered her apartment, and she fed Millie before heading for the en suite, where she shed her clothes, then she took a leisurely shower and let the heated spray of water ease the kinks from a long, hard day.
Afterwards she donned a silk robe, then padded out to the kitchen. It was way too late to eat a meal, but something light with a cup of tea would take the edge off her hunger.
The message light on her answering machine was blinking, and she filled the electric kettle, popped bread into the toaster, then depressed the message-button in order for it to rewind.
Five, she determined as the first began to play.
A friend, suggesting they go to a foreign art film on Sunday; her doctor’s receptionist with a reminder to make an appointment for her annual check-up; Luc, with an update and quietly chiding her for working late.
The fourth message sent her heart slamming against her ribs. ‘Two nights in a row, darling? Unusual for you, isn’t it?’ A click as the message concluded. Then the fifth call ran… ‘Taken him to bed yet?’
Brad.
She clenched her hands until the knuckles showed white.
Just then the phone rang, and she stood locked into immobility for a few seconds, then, mindful it could be Luc, she snatched up the receiver, muttered a strangled greeting, then sank down onto the floor as Brad’s voice filtered through the receiver.
‘Nice of you to pick up, darling.’
Rebekah replaced the receiver, disconnected the handset, then retrieved her cellphone and rang the telephone company’s twenty-four-hour number, reported the nuisance calls, cited the restraining order, waited while her details underwent a computer check, and carefully wrote down the digits of her newly assigned private number.
Then she made a cup of tea, carried it into the lounge and switched on the television set in the hope of finding something light and humorous to view.
At midnight she crawled into bed and slept until the alarm woke her four hours later.
Habit was responsible for her mechanical movements as she dressed, drank strong, sweet coffee, dished fresh food for Millie, then she rode the lift down to the car park.
Dark streets with minimal traffic ensured a smooth drive to the flower markets, and with the day’s stock stored in the van she did the return journey to Double Bay.
Rebekah worked with efficient speed, paused at seven-thirty to call Luc and give him her newly assigned number.
‘Brad?’ Luc queried sharply, and she cut in before he could continue.
‘I’ve taken care of it. Don’t tell Ana, OK?’
‘Want me to intervene on your behalf?’
He was a force to be reckoned with, but she doubted even he could achieve any more than she already had.
‘Thanks, but it’s done. Give Ana my love. I’ll call in to see her after I close the shop.’
‘I’m taking her straight from the hospital to the beach house for a few days.’
‘Good idea. Tell her I’ll phone later this morning.’
‘Rebekah.’ His voice became clipped, serious. ‘Don’t be a hero. Brad calls you again, I want to know.’
‘You’ve got it.’ She replaced the receiver, dialled the hospital and was put through to her sister, whose reassurance was cheering.
‘I’ll be back at the shop on Monday.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘Oh, lord, don’t you start,’ Ana groaned in response. ‘If Luc had his way, he’d wrap me in cotton wool and confine me to the house.’
She managed a chuckle. ‘That’s not such a bad idea.’
‘Got to go. The medics have arrived to prod, intrude and note down personal questions.’
Rebekah laughed out loud. ‘Sounds like fun.’
‘Oh, yeah? Wait until it’s your turn, sister, dear.’
For a moment she caught a glimpse of the future, a family gathering on the lawn at Luc and Ana’s home, two small children scampering in the sunshine; herself holding a baby…her own, and beside her a man whose face was obscured as he looked down at her.
The image faded, then disappeared, and she shivered.
As if! It was fanciful thinking, stimulated by Ana’s pregnancy. And a desire for a child of her own? a tiny voice taunted.
Fool, she chastised as she turned back to the work table and ran a check of the day’s orders.
Ana’s replacement arrived at eight, a slim, dark-haired girl in her twenties named Suzie, and Rebekah breathed a sigh of relief as the girl proved to be quick and competent.
Together they coped with customers, readied orders for delivery, and Rebekah manned the phone.
When it rang for the umpteenth time she picked up and intoned her customary greeting.
‘Rebekah?’
The New York accent gave him away, and the timbre of his voice sent her pulse racing to a faster beat as she managed a cool acknowledgement. ‘Jace.’
‘I’ll be back in Sydney by late afternoon. Share dinner and a movie with me tonight.’
She tightened her grip on the receiver. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Dinner, or the movie?’
‘Both. Neither.’ Oh, lord, she was losing it! ‘No.’ She closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘I have to go,’ she said with a hint of desperation, and hung up.
Ana rang mid-afternoon, her voice light, warm, alive. It was wonderful to hear her sound so happy, and Rebekah said as much.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 154