The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE impetus to continue shopping was sadly lacking. She needed a different image, something to distract her from dwelling on Adam’s bitter invective.

  There was a multiple number of cinemas within the shopping complex. She’d go buy a ticket and choose a film to view.

  A film about the Titanic was currently showing, and it was after six when she entered the car park, located her car and slid in behind the wheel.

  Her mobile phone message-bank listed that two calls had been received during her cinema sojourn. One was from Sebastian, the other from the police. She contacted the duty sergeant at the designated number, who relayed the fact that trace on her aunt’s telephone had been successful, then contacted Sebastian.

  He picked up on the second ring. ‘Lanier.’

  A concise, deep voice that had the ability to raise goose-bumps on the surface of her skin.

  ‘Anneke.’ She barely paused a second. ‘I’m leaving now.’ She cut the connection, then switched on the ignition and eased the car down several floors to street level.

  The drive to Byron Bay was uneventful, and soon after crossing the Queensland-New South Wales border she passed paddocks high with mature sugar cane. Banana plantations dotted the distant rolling hills, and there were avocado farms, and rich, fertile soil revealing row upon row of pineapples.

  Dusk fell swiftly, the shadows lengthening and deepening as light gave way to dark, and it was almost nine when she pulled in beneath the carport adjacent her aunt’s cottage.

  She switched off the ignition, left her numerous purchases in the boot, then locked the car and trod the path to Sebastian’s back door.

  Five minutes, ten at the most, then she’d leave.

  The screen door was unlocked, and Shaef stood on the other side, tail swishing back and forth in welcome.

  Anneke knocked and entered the kitchen, then moved down the hall. Sebastian had had part of the wall between two bedrooms removed. A large executive desk complete with a state-of-the-art computer sat in the middle of one room, and the other was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. In the centre of the room was a large antique buttoned leather armchair, with a matching ottoman, and a standard lamp. Combined, it made a large office-cum-library.

  He looked up from the sheaf of papers he was studying, and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Take a seat.’ He indicated one of two sited on the other side of the desk.

  ‘I’d really prefer to keep this short.’

  He noted the weary curve of her shoulders, the faint lines of strain marring an otherwise smooth forehead.

  Shaef moved forward, nuzzled her hand, then slumped at her feet.

  Sebastian sent her a long, considering look. ‘Sit down.’

  ‘Still giving orders?’

  He ignored the sally, his eyes dark and far too discerning. ‘Have you eaten?’

  Food, in any shape or form, would probably make her ill. ‘I had something earlier.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  ‘I’ll make some tea.’ He rose to his feet, crossed round the desk, then moved into the hall.

  Anneke could hear the distant sound of water flowing from a tap, the faint hum of an electric kettle as it heated, the chink of crockery.

  She closed her eyes. It had been a hell of a day. And it wasn’t over yet.

  Sebastian re-entered the room, saw the fringe of lashes touching each cheek, the pale, translucent skin.

  She was beat, and without doubt emotionally exhausted.

  He placed the cup and saucer near the edge of the desk, and watched her nostrils flare slightly as the aroma of bergamot teased the air. Her lashes lifted, then swept upwards in a slow, curving arc.

  ‘Thanks.’

  It was hot, heaven, and sweeter than she preferred. She took another appreciative sip, then put the cup carefully back onto the saucer.

  ‘I guess you know the police scored a positive trace to Adam’s mobile phone?’

  Sebastian leaned one hip against the edge of the desk. ‘Yes.’

  She tilted her head and looked at him. ‘Thank you for your concern.’ He deserved that. ‘And your help.’

  ‘As I recall, you weren’t too keen to accept either,’ Sebastian said drily.

  No, she hadn’t been. ‘You were very controlling.’

  One eyebrow rose, and his mouth curved with a tinge of humour. ‘I’m surprised you don’t add “manipulative”.’

  ‘That, too,’ Anneke agreed.

  ‘Did it ever occur to you to question why?’

  With just a few words their conversation had taken a subtle shift, and she wasn’t comfortable with the change. ‘Maybe we can continue this another time.’ She stood to her feet, and immediately wished she hadn’t, for it brought her much closer to him than she would have liked. ‘Although it really isn’t necessary, is it?’ She took a backward step, and missed the faint gleam of amusement apparent in those dark eyes.

  ‘You think not? Perhaps I’d better clarify it.’ He reached for her shoulders and pulled her forward until she stood anchored between his thighs. Then he slowly lowered his head and brushed his lips against her temple. ‘Are you beginning to get the picture?’

  One hand slid down her back and cupped her buttocks, while the other slipped up to hold fast her head.

  ‘Sebastian—’

  His lips feathered down to the edge of her mouth, lingered there, then teased a trail of light kisses along the full lower curve.

  ‘I don’t think this is a—’

  ‘Good idea?’ He slid his tongue between her lips and felt rather than heard her breath catch.

  ‘No,’ Anneke whispered, as her heart raced to a faster beat, and heat flared through her veins.

  His mouth was a soft caress as his hands moulded her close.

  A kiss, she told herself. That’s all it is. Why, she could even persuade herself that it didn’t mean anything. Nothing at all. Men had kissed her before, in friendship, affection, and with a lover’s passion.

  She lifted her hands and linked them together at his nape, then leant in against him to enjoy the sensation of closeness. And came seriously unstuck when his mouth firmed on her own.

  He’d kissed her before, as a questing, seeking experiment, and as a form of angry punishment.

  This, this was different. Very different. It was both possession and promise. And it made her feel terribly afraid.

  He had the touch, the instinctive skill of a man well versed in a woman’s needs. His hands, his fingers, knew when to glide, where to caress, to drive her wild.

  It was as if every sensitive nerve-end quivered in anticipation, then shrieked at each teasing stroke, every light pinch.

  Dear God, she was silk, her skin satin-smooth, and each erogenous zone reacted like fire to his touch. He wanted to free her beautiful body of the restriction of clothes, to explore each indentation, each curve, until she moaned with delight, then begged for release.

  That it would be him, only him she saw when he drove himself into her and made her his own. And him, only him, who had the power to take her to the brink, then tip her over the edge. He who held her tight and caught her when she fell.

  His fingers sought the clip fastening of her bra and deftly released it, then he slid his hand to cup the fullness of her breast, teased its hardened peak, then trailed his mouth down her throat to the creamy crest. And felt her resistance.

  What was she doing? This had gone way beyond mutual exploration, or mutual gratitude.

  Anneke could feel the evidence of his arousal, the hard potent shaft beneath the zip of his jeans as it pressed high against his belt. Sensual heat emanated from his skin, and the beat of his heart was hard and deep.

  His mouth settled on hers, persuasive, evocative and devastatingly sensual.

  It would be easy, so very easy to let him take her wherever he wanted to go. To give in to the magic he promised and just enjoy whatever the night might hold.

  Yet, no matter what the enticem
ent, casual sex wasn’t her style.

  It took considerable effort to retreat, to drag her mouth from his and push herself to arm’s length. More to quieten her fast-beating heart and attempt to regain her breath.

  ‘I think,’ Anneke enunciated unevenly, ‘it would be best if I left. Now,’ she added, dropping her hands from his arms.

  ‘Best for whom?’

  ‘Me. You. Us,’ she added for good measure. ‘I mean, there is no us.’ This was getting worse with every passing second. ‘It’s just—’

  ‘Quit while you’re ahead,’ Sebastian advised gently, watching the fleeting change of expression chase across her features as she struggled for control.

  He could pull her close, wreak havoc with that beautiful mouth, and take her here. On the desk, the floor. It didn’t matter.

  And that was the part that bothered him. He’d always displayed finesse with a woman. Wining, dining, flowers, pretty compliments. Sex by mutual consent, albeit that it might be wild or restrained. Rarely had he felt the urge to tear clothes from a female body, abrade her skin with his mouth, his hands, and join himself with her like a plundering conqueror.

  He admired women…their strengths, their weaknesses, their passion. He respected their innate femininity. And he had enjoyed them. No serious commitment, no strings attached.

  Until now.

  Now he was captivated as never before by a smile, the way her mouth curved to tilt at the edges. The sweep of long lashes and the lure of a pair of green eyes which lightened or deepened according to mood.

  She was fire and ice, passion and fury. And he wanted her in a way that he’d never wanted a woman before.

  ‘Thanks for—’ Her voice wasn’t quite steady. ‘Being there for me.’

  He leaned forward and brushed a finger down the slope of her nose. ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘Really?’ A faint smile teased the edges of her mouth as she moved back a pace. ‘We’ve been at daggers drawn most of the time.’

  It was his turn to smile. There was a dangerous quality evident in the darkness of his eyes, a latent passion which, unleashed, would sweep her way out of her depth. It was there in his expression, the forceful set of his features, the stance that was studiously relaxed. Like the watching eye of a tiger, just waiting to pounce.

  Go, a tiny voice taunted. Don’t linger.

  Without a further word she turned and walked from the room, traversed the hall and let herself out of the back door.

  Shaef shadowed her steps as she crossed the path connecting the two properties, and she leant forward to fondle his ears as she unlocked the cottage, then sent him on his way before she stepped inside.

  The house was quiet, and she took a long, cool shower, slipped on a robe, then she delved into the refrigerator for a light snack.

  Television provided instant visual entertainment, but there was little that captured her attention, even less that held her interest.

  It had been a long day, and she took time to examine each and every incident in the hope that reflection would bring peace of mind.

  Fat chance. All it did was prove she was too wired to simply fall into bed and covet sleep.

  In desperation she selected a book, settled into an armchair, and tried to lose herself in the characters and plot of a favourite author.

  Five minutes later she thrust it down. On impulse she went into the bedroom, discarded the robe and slipped into shorts and top.

  Within seconds she left the cottage and made her way down onto the beach.

  The moon was high in the sky, bathing everything with a pale opalescent glow. Shadows from a clump of palm trees cast long fingers over the sand, and the sea was a mass of silver and dappled pewter that stretched right out to the horizon.

  Anneke walked along the damp sand left by an outgoing tide, and breathed in deeply of the clean night air.

  There was a whimper, a short bark, then Shaef fell in step at her side.

  ‘Unable to sleep?’

  She should have known Sebastian would investigate Shaef’s departure. Yesterday, even this morning, she would have resented his presence.

  ‘I figured a walk might help.’ It was impossible to detect his expression in the moonlight.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, and she was aware of him in a way she found vaguely frightening.

  Somehow she’d known he was trouble from the moment she first caught sight of him.

  At first she’d thought it was just chemistry. Sensual sexual magnetism at its most potent. An electric awareness that was both foolish and capricious.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  Anneke heard Sebastian’s words, examined them, and took solace from the shadow of semi-darkness. How could she say that it was he who was on her mind, him disturbing her thoughts?

  ‘Adam rang me this afternoon.’

  Sebastian’s voice became a silky drawl. ‘Foolish of him.’

  ‘Very,’ she replied in succinct agreement.

  ‘I imagine the conversation went from bad to worse?’

  ‘You could say that.’ She turned her head and looked out over the silver sea. There didn’t seem to be any need to fill the gaps in between, or repeat the vicious personal attack. It was over. That was all that mattered.

  By tacit consent they turned and began retracing their steps.

  ‘Have dinner with me tomorrow night.’

  Anneke directed him a faintly humorous glance. ‘You want me to prepare a meal for two, then sit down at your table?’

  ‘I had a seafood restaurant in mind, overlooking Byron Bay. Silver service, wine steward, waiters,’ Sebastian indicated with unruffled ease.

  ‘I get to wear stiletto heels, make-up?’ She laughed, a delightful light sound that held genuine mirth. ‘OK. You’re on. What time?’

  ‘Six.’

  When they reached Aunt Vivienne’s cottage he stood aside while she inserted the key into the lock, then he turned and cut a leisurely stride to his own home.

  She tried to tell herself she wasn’t disappointed he’d made no attempt to touch her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ANNEKE’S wardrobe of formal and semi-formal wear was reasonably extensive. The only problem being that most of that particular range of her clothes hung in the closet of her Sydney apartment.

  In her rush to escape her job, Adam and the city, she’d simply dragged down a suitcase and pulled clothes off hangers, out of drawers, and flung them willy-nilly into the case.

  Her proposed sojourn on an isolated beach had lent itself to including casual shorts and tops, jeans. Not elegant after-five wear, or extravagant high-heeled pumps.

  It was a clear choice between a classic black dress, or a long floral slip.

  The black dress won out, and she tended to her make-up with care, left her hair loose, and was about to catch up her purse when she heard Sebastian’s Range Rover pull into the driveway.

  Anneke reached the door as Sebastian trod the path, and the breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.

  Attired in dark tailored trousers, matching jacket, and white shirt and tie, he was the antithesis of the man she was accustomed to seeing every day.

  The image unsettled her. It was crazy to feel nervous, but she couldn’t prevent the heavy thud of her heart, or the unwarranted apprehension which curled round her nerve-ends.

  ‘Hi,’ she greeted brightly. Too brightly?

  Polite conversation had never been more difficult, and she waited until Sebastian reached the highway before querying, ‘How long have you lived next door to my aunt?’

  ‘Five years.’

  ‘Yet during each of my visits I’ve never caught sight of you.’

  He turned his head and cast her a quick glance. ‘I travel around a bit in between finishing one book and starting the next.’

  ‘Publicity tours?’

  ‘Yes. And research.’

  ‘You’d represent a publishing promoter’s dream. The height, the arresting looks, combined with
more than a hint of the dark and dangerous. The women would flock to the literary luncheons, the book-signings.’

  ‘A compliment, Anneke?’ he queried with deceptive mildness. ‘Or a condemnation?’

  She subjected him to a detailed appraisal, and took her time giving a considered opinion. ‘Oh, a compliment.’ Her eyes travelled up and met his briefly. ‘I don’t doubt you handle it all with consummate charm.’ Except there would be an absence of ego, she determined silently.

  She watched as he entered town and eased the vehicle into a car park. He cut the engine and removed the key from the ignition. ‘Shall we go?’

  The restaurant Sebastian had chosen specialised in seafood, and she ordered prawn cocktail as a starter, sea perch as a main course with vegetables, and she declined dessert.

  Sebastian merely doubled her order, added prawns and scallops to his dish, then requested the wine steward bring champagne.

  ‘We’re celebrating?’

  He dismissed the tasting ritual, and indicated both flutes be filled. Then he touched the rim of his flute to her own. ‘To friendship.’

  Friendship? Could a woman be friend to a man such as Sebastian Lanier? Somehow Anneke doubted there would be any half-measures. Sebastian might observe the courtship dance, with its seeking manoeuvres, but when he’d staked his claim it would be all or nothing.

  She had the strangest feeling that dinner this evening in semi-formal surroundings was the first step he intended she take to…what? His bed?

  Their starter arrived, and she bit into the first of three succulent prawns doused with a delicate sauce and set on a bed of shredded lettuce.

  It was difficult to sit opposite a man at a dinner table and not subconsciously observe the way he ate. Whether he stabbed his food with the fork, how he employed the knife. If his use of the cutlery was precise, or merely utilitarian. Body language, despite an adherence to good manners, tended to be revealing.

  ‘Where will you spend Christmas?’

  Anneke lifted her head and was unable to discern much from his gaze. ‘I haven’t made any definite plans.’ She lifted her flute and sipped some champagne, then replaced it down onto the table. ‘What about you?’