A tall male figure slid into the empty seat beside Annaliese and, when the speech was concluded, Annaliese performed the necessary introductions.
Not that one was needed. Aaron Jacob was equally well-known as an eminently successful male model as he was as a star in a long-running television series.
A heartthrob and a hunk, Gabbi acknowledged in feminine appreciation of a near-perfect male specimen. Pity he had an inflated ego and a reputation for changing his dates as often as his socks!
As a couple, Annaliese and Aaron were guaranteed to have their photo prominently displayed on the society page in tomorrow’s newspaper. Perhaps that was the purpose of their date? Be nice, Gabbi silently chided in self-admonishment as she sipped her wine.
Soon the DJ would increase the volume of the music and invite guests to take to the dance floor. It would be a signal for everyone to mix and mingle, dance and provide an opportunity for the society doyennes to flaunt their latest designer gowns.
‘More wine?’
Gabbi turned slightly and met Benedict’s warm gaze. ‘No, thanks. I’d prefer water.’
One eyebrow lifted in silent enquiry, and she offered him a brilliant smile. ‘I thought you might like me to drive home.’
‘Considerate of you.’ His quiet drawl held a degree of musing cynicism, aware as she was that he rarely took more than one glass of wine with an evening meal and that therefore the offer was unnecessary.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’
‘Benedict.’
Monique’s intrusion commanded his attention. ‘I’ve managed to get a few tickets to Phantom of the Opera, Wednesday evening. You and Gabrielle will join us, won’t you?’
Was it coincidence that Monique had tickets for the same night that Gabbi and Benedict had invited Francesca and Dominic to make up a foursome?
‘Thank you, Monique. I already have tickets.’
‘Perhaps we could arrange to meet afterwards for supper?’
Familial togetherness was a fine thing, Gabbi acknowledged. But Monique’s stage-managing was becoming a little overt.
‘Unfortunately we’ve made other arrangements.’
‘Annaliese and Gabrielle are so close, and see so little of each other.’ Monique injected just the right amount of regret into her voice then moved in for the figurative kill. ‘It seems such a shame not to take advantage of every opportunity to get together while Annaliese is home.’
Oh, my, her stepmother was good. Gabbi almost held her breath, waiting for Benedict’s response.
‘Another time, Monique.’
‘You must come to dinner. Just family. Monday, Tuesday? Either evening is free.’
Persistence, thy name is Monique!
‘Gabbi?’
That’s right, she thought wryly; pass the buck. Avoiding the dinner was impossible, therefore decisiveness was the only way to go. ‘Monday. We’ll look forward to it.’ Were polite lies considered real lies? If so, she’d be damned in hell. Yet she felt justified in telling them for her father’s sake.
‘Shall we dance?’
Now there was a question. Dancing with Benedict inevitably became a dangerous pleasure. ‘Thank you, darling.’ She rose to her feet and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.
The Celine Dion number was perfect, the lyrics revealing a certain poignancy that echoed most women’s hopes and dreams.
Gabbi’s body fitted the contours of his with easy familiarity, and she had the crazy desire to discard her conventional hold and wind her arms round his neck.
Did he sense how she felt? He was the very air that she breathed. Everything she wanted, all she would ever need. In a way it was frightening. What if she ever lost him?
‘Cold?’
She lifted her head and looked at him for a few seconds without comprehension.
‘You shivered,’ Benedict enlightened her gently. Get a grip, Gabbi, she chided herself. She summoned a smile and dismissed it lightly. ‘Old ghosts.’
‘Want to go back to the table?’
‘You think I need to conserve my strength?’ she queried solemnly as he led her to the edge of the dance floor.
‘Tomorrow’s Saturday.’
She shot him a sparkling smile. ‘An hour of morning decadence before enjoying a late breakfast on the terrace?’
‘Early-morning decadence, breakfast on the terrace, followed by a drive to the airport.’
‘We’re escaping?’ Gabbi looked at him with due reverence. ‘Alone? Where? No, don’t tell me. Someone might overhear.’
‘Witch,’ he murmured close to her ear.
Dessert was served as they resumed their seats, followed by coffee and after-dinner mints.
Annaliese drifted onto the dance floor with Aaron, then paused and posed for a vigilant photographer.
‘May I?’
Gabbi glanced at Dominic and rose to her feet. Benedict broke his conversation with James and cast her a quick smile.
‘Benedict is selective with men who want to partner his wife.’
Gabbi cast Dominic a startled glance as he led her towards the dance floor and pulled her gently into his arms.
‘Don’t you believe me?’
How did she respond to that? Her light, amused laugh seemed relatively noncommittal.
They circled the floor, twice, then Dominic stepped to one side as Aaron and Annaliese suggested an exchange in partners.
Gabbi smiled as she moved into Aaron’s clasp, then winced as he pulled her close. Too close.
‘Watch my show?’ The query was smooth, and she felt reluctant to enter the game he expected every female to play.
‘No, I don’t.’ She tried to sound vaguely regretful, but it didn’t quite come off.
‘You don’t watch television?’
The temptation to take him down was difficult to resist. ‘Of course. Mainly news and documentaries.’
‘You’re a brain.’
Gabbi wasn’t sure it was a compliment. ‘We all have one.’
‘In my business you have to look after the body. It’s the visual thing, you know? Nutrition, gym, beauty therapist, manicurist, hair stylist. Waxing’s the worst.’
‘Painful,’ she agreed.
‘Oh, yeah,’ he conceded with a realistic shudder. ‘I’m jetting out to LA next week. Been offered a part in a film. Could be the big break.’
She attempted enthusiasm. ‘Good luck.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Mind if I cut in?’
Gabbi heard the quiet, drawling tone and detected the faint edge to her husband’s voice.
‘Sure.’ Aaron relinquished her without argument.
‘You interrupted an interesting conversation,’ she said mildly as Benedict drew her close.
‘Define interesting.’
‘Waxing body hair. His.’
‘Up front and personal, hmm?’
She stifled a bubble of laughter. ‘Oh, yeah,’ she agreed in wicked imitation.
As they circled the floor she wondered how he would react if she said she hungered to feel his skin next to her own, his mouth in possession of hers in the slow dance towards sexual fulfilment.
‘Darling Gabrielle. Isn’t it about time I danced with my brother-in-law?’
No. And he isn’t. At least, not technically. However, the words stayed locked in her throat as she graciously acknowledged Annaliese and moved into Dominic’s arms.
‘I was outfoxed,’ Dominic murmured, and Gabbi offered a philosophical smile. ‘Want me to complete a round of the floor, intervene and switch partners?’
‘No, but thanks anyway.’
A few minutes later there was a break in the music and they returned to the table.
Gabbi collected her evening bag and with a murmured excuse she moved towards the foyer with the intention of freshening her make-up in an adjacent powder room.
There was a queue, and it was some time before she was able to find free space at the mirror to effect repairs.
A number of people
had escaped the ballroom to smoke in the adjoining foyer, and Gabbi exchanged a greeting with one guest, then another, before turning to re-enter the ballroom.
‘Ah, there you are, darling.’ Annaliese projected a high-voltage smile. ‘I was sent on a rescue mission.’
‘By whom?’
Annaliese’s eyes widened in artful surprise. ‘Why, Benedict. Who else?’
‘An absence of ten minutes hardly constitutes theneed for a search party,’ Gabbi said evenly.
Annaliese examined the perfection of her manicured nails.
‘Benedict likes to guard his possessions.’
Attack was the best form of defence, yet Gabbi opted for a tactical sidestep. ‘Yes.’
‘Doesn’t it bother you?’
‘What, precisely?’
‘Being regarded as an expensive ornament in a wealthy man’s collection.’
This could get nasty without any effort at all. ‘A trophy wife?’ Gabbi arched one eyebrow and proffered a winsome smile. ‘Did it ever occur to you to examine the reverse situation? In Benedict I have an attentive husband who indulges my slightest whim.’ She ticked off the advantages one by one. ‘He’s attractive, socially eminent and he’s good in bed.’ She allowed the smile to widen. ‘I consider I made the perfect choice.’
A flash of fury was clearly evident before Annaliese managed to conquer it. ‘You seem a little peaky, darling. Pre-menstrual tension?’
‘Sibling aggravation,’ Gabbi corrected her, resisting the temptation to add more fuel to her stepsister’s fire. ‘Shall we return to the ballroom?’
‘I intend to use the powder room.’
‘In that case...’ She paused, and effected a faint lift of her shoulder. ‘See you back at the table.’
The minor victory was sweet, but she entertained no doubt that the war was far from over. However, a weekend away would provide a welcome break from the battlefield. The thought was enough to lighten her expression and bring a smile to her lips.
Benedict was deep in conversation with Dominic, Aaron and Monique were conducting animated small talk and James seemed content being an observer. Gabbi took the vacant seat beside her father.
‘Would you like some more coffee?’
She shook her head. ‘You could ask me to dance.’
A smile slanted his mouth. ‘Dear, sweet Gabbi. I’m honoured.’ He rose to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Shall we?’
‘Enjoying yourself?’
Gabbi considered his question as they circled the dance floor, and opted to counter it. ‘Are you?’
‘Monique assures me such occasions are a social advantage.’
‘I suspect she considers you need a welcome break from wheeling and dealing,’ she teased lightly, and incurred his soft laughter.
‘More likely a woman’s ploy to justify spending a small fortune on a new gown and half the day being pampered by a beautician and hairdresser.’
‘Which men are content to allow, in the knowledge that said social occasions provide equal opportunity for proposing or cementing a business deal.’
He spared her a thoughtful glance. ‘Do I detect a note of cynicism?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Benedict adores you.’
She could accept respect and affection, but wasn’t adore a little over the top? Fortunately with James there was no need to perpetuate the myth. ‘He’s very good to me.’
‘I would never have sanctioned the marriage if I hadn’t been convinced that he would take care of you.’
The music wound down for a break between numbers, and Gabbi preceded her father to their table.
Annaliese had taken an empty seat next to Benedict, Monique was conversing with Dominic and Aaron was nowhere in sight. Musical chairs, Gabbi decided with a touch of black humour as she slid into a vacant one.
Guests were slowly beginning to dissipate. In half an hour the bar would close and the DJ would shut down for the night Any time soon they could begin drifting towards the foyer, take the lift to the main entrance and have the doorman summon their car.
Benedict lifted his head at that moment and cast her a searching glance, raised one eyebrow a fraction, then smoothly extricated himself from Annaliese’s clutches. Literally, as the scarlet-tipped fingers of one hand trailed a persuasive path down the fabric sheathing his forearm, followed by a coy smile and an upward sweep of mascaraed eyelashes in a deliberate attempt at flirtation.
Gabbi tried to assure herself that it didn’t matter. But it did.
She smiled graciously all the way to the main entrance, completed the air-kiss routine with Monique and Annaliese, brushed lips over her father’s cheek, bade Dominic and Aaron goodnight, then slipped into the passenger seat of the Bentley.
Benedict eased the car towards the busy main street, paused until he gained clear passage into the flow of traffic then quickly increased speed.
Gabbi leaned her head back and focused her attention on the view of the city. Bright flashing neon signs and illuminated shop windows soon gave way to inner-city suburban streets and shuttered windows, some dark, others showing a glimmer of muted electricity. And, as they began to ascend the New South Head road, they gained a view of the harbour, its waters darkened by night and tipped with ribbons of reflected light.
‘You’re very quiet.’
She turned her head and examined Benedict’s shadowed profile. ‘I was enjoying the peaceful silence after several hours of music and noisy chatter.’ It was true, but she doubted he was fooled by her explanation. ‘If there’s something you want to discuss...’ She trailed off, and gave a slight shrug.
‘Annaliese.’
No doubt about it, he aimed straight for the main target. But two could play at that game.
The Bentley turned into their street, slowed as they reached the electronically controlled gates guarding their property, swept along the curved driveway and came to a halt inside the garage.
Gabbi released the seat belt, unfastened the door-clasp and slid out of the car, aware that Benedict was mirroring her actions. He attended to the house alarm and followed her indoors, keyed in the re-set code then drew her into the lounge.
‘Would you like a drink?’
She looked at him carefully, and chose a light-hearted response. ‘Champagne.’
He crossed to the bar, removed a bottle from the fridge, opened it, filled two flutes then retraced his steps.
Gabbi took one flute and raised it in a silent salute, then sipped the contents. ‘What particular aspect of my stepsister’s character do you want to discuss?’
She could read nothing in his expression, and she had no idea whether he intended to damn her with faint praise or offer a compliment on her remarkable restraint.
‘Annaliese’s determination to cause trouble.’
Gabbi allowed her eyes to widen measurably, and she placed a hand over her heart. ‘Oh, my goodness. I hadn’t noticed.’
‘Don’t be facetious.’
‘It’s obvious?’
‘Stop it, Gabbi,’ Benedict warned.
‘Why? I’m on a roll.’
‘Quit while you’re ahead.’
‘OK. Pick a scenario. Annaliese wants you, you want her. Annaliese wants you, you don’t want her.’
‘The latter.’
She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath, and she released it slowly. ‘Well, now, that’s a relief. I can kiss goodbye visions of throwing out monogrammed towels, ruining your hand-stitched shoes and cutting up every one of your suits.’ She gave him a hard smile that didn’t quite match the vulnerability apparent in her eyes. ‘I had intentions of being quite vicious if you decided on divorce.’
Humour gleamed in those dark eyes, and a deep chuckle emerged from his throat.
‘It’s not funny.’
‘No.’
‘Then don’t laugh. I was serious.’
Benedict took a long swallow of champagne and placed his flute down on a nearby pedestal. ‘Why in hell would I co
nsider divorcing a sassy young woman who delights in challenging me on every level in favour of someone like Annaliese?’ He removed her champagne flute and lowered it to join his own. Then he pulled her into his arms.
Gabbi didn’t have a chance to answer before his mouth closed over hers, and she drank in the taste of him mingled with the sweet tang of vintage French champagne, generously giving everything he asked, more than he demanded, until mutual need spiralled to the edge of their control.
‘I could take you here, now,’ Benedict groaned huskily as his lips grazed a path down her throat, and she arched her head to allow him easy access to the sensitive hollow at its base, the swell of her breasts as he trailed lower.
A soft laugh choked in her throat as he freed one tender globe and took a liberty with its peak. Then she cried out as he lifted her over one shoulder and began striding from the room.
‘Caveman tactics,’ she accused as he ascended the stairs.
He gained the upper floor, then headed for the main suite. When he reached it, he released her to stand within the circle of his arms.
‘Want to undress me?’
Her eyes sparkled with wicked humour. ‘Might be quicker if you did it yourself.’
‘That bad, huh?’
‘Yes,’ she said with honest simplicity, her own fingers as busy as his as clothes layered the carpet.
Their loving was all heat and hunger the first time round, followed by a long, sweet after-play that led to the slow slaking of mutual need.
Afterwards she lay with her head pillowed against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.
‘I don’t think I could bear to lose you,’ Gabbi said, on the edge of sleep, and wasn’t sure whether she heard or dreamed his response.
‘What makes you think you will?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
QUEENSLAND’S Gold Coast lay little more than an hour’s flight north of Sydney, and the Stanton-Nicols’ Lear jet ensured private airport access, luxurious cabin space and personalised service.
Cleared for take-off, the streamlined jet cruised the runway and achieved a rapid ascent before levelling out.
‘No laptop?’ Gabbi quizzed as she loosened her seat belt. ‘No papers in your briefcase?’
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 172