Thirty minutes later she’d tied it all together, and ignoring her scheduled lunch break she slid into her car and drove to Main Beach and the Sheraton Hotel.
Alex was waiting in the lobby when she arrived, and together they descended the central staircase, walked out to the pool area, tossed around indoor and outdoor locations, the portrayed mood she wanted to convey, and fixed on a few possible time frames for the following week, subject to confirmation.
Stephanie extracted her diary, wrote in the dates and times, noted contact names at the film studio, advertising, wardrobe.
‘Okay, that’s it,’ she assured, replacing the diary into her satchel. ‘I’ll ring when I’ve pinned it down. Thanks,’ she added with a genuine smile as they reentered the lobby. ‘I appreciate your help.’ Her cell phone rang, and she wriggled her fingers at Alex as he departed for the lift, then she took the call.
Five minutes later she pushed the cell phone into her bag and made for the central stairs leading up to reception. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she’d had to forego lunch, and she contemplated whether to cross the footbridge to the shopping complex for a coffee and sandwich, or whether she’d simply stop somewhere and pick up something to eat on the way back to the office.
She reached the top of the stairs and made her way through the foyer. Coffee and a sandwich in a café overlooking the Broadwater won out.
‘Stephanie.’
It was an instantly recognizable male voice, the drawling faintly accented tone causing all her fine body hairs to stand up in protective self-defense as she turned to face the man who had indirectly caused her a sleepless night.
Raoul Lanier. Looking every inch the powerful executive, attired in a dark business suit, crisp white shirt and dark silk tie. Expensive tailoring emphasized his breadth of shoulder, accentuated his height and added to an overall aura of sophistication.
She looked…fragile, Raoul decided as he subjected her to a studied appraisal. Her eyes were the deepest blue, and there were faint shadows apparent that indicated she hadn’t enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep…any more than he had. Something that pleased him.
Stephanie saw that he wasn’t alone. Bruno Farelli, an attractive blonde, and a young child were with him.
Her cool gaze was controlled, her slight smile a mere facsimile. ‘Raoul, Bruno,’ she acknowledged.
‘A pleasure to see you again,’ Bruno enthused, and indicated the woman at his side. ‘Allow me to introduce my wife, Adriana, and our daughter, Lucia.’
The little girl stole her heart, she resembled a miniature angel, beautifully dressed with gorgeous blond curly hair and a winsome smile.
‘Adriana.’ Stephanie’s features softened as she greeted the child. ‘Hello, Lucia.’
‘Bruno mentioned you,’ Adriana offered warmly. ‘We have just emerged from a long lunch.’
Stephanie responded an appropriate platitude. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay here.’
‘You must join us for dinner,’ Adriana pressed with a smile. ‘I believe you have a little girl of Lucia’s age. It would be delightful for them to meet. Are you free tomorrow evening?’
Oh hell. How did she handle that? With grace, she decided reluctantly. Bruno Farelli was a very influential man, and the agency she worked for was handling his account. To refuse would not only be impolite, but a bad move, professionally. She could only hope Raoul Lanier wasn’t included in the invitation.
‘Thank you, I’d like that.’
‘Shall we say six, at our apartment?’
Her cell phone rang, and she reached for it, ascertained the combination of digits displayed in the window, and offered an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll have to take this. If you’ll excuse me?’ She focused her attention on Adriana. ‘Six, tomorrow evening. I’ll look forward to it.’ She inclined her head briefly, then she turned and activated the call as she made her way toward the main entrance.
Definitely a latte and sandwich, she decided minutes later, and she ordered, then ate beneath a shade umbrella, opting to check Bruno’s lingerie boutique window display whilst in the shopping complex.
It was almost three when she entered the office, and what remained of the afternoon was caught up with numerous phone calls together with the completion of a lengthy report.
Consequently it was well after five when she collected Emma from the day care center, and the headache that had bothered her most of the day developed sufficiently to warrant medication.
At eight, with Emma safely asleep, she took a leisurely shower, luxuriating in the relaxing jet of warm water as it soothed the kinks from her neck. Rose-scented soap left her skin silky smooth and exuding a delicate fragrance. Toweled dry she added matching dusting powder and pulled on a freshly laundered T-shirt.
Not exactly an ultrafeminine image, she mentally derided as she caught a glance of her mirrored reflection. Not that it mattered one little bit, for there was no man in her life to tease and tantalize with silk and lace.
Nor did she want one, she silently assured as she applied a thin film of night cream to her face, smoothed the excess onto her hands, then switched off the light and crept into bed.
So why did she lay awake haunted by one man’s profile? And have her thoughts stray as she imagined how his skin would feel beneath her touch? Would his muscles flex as he sought control? And at what point would he lose it?
He had the look, the touch, she acknowledged, that promised unbridled primitive passion. The skill and intimate knowledge to drive a woman wild.
Thinking just how wild was an infinitely dangerous exercise, for it brought a vivid reminder of her relationship with Ben…a man who had taken his pleasure without consideration for her own. And she, through reticence and naiveté, had enjoyed the closeness and warmth, while longing for more.
Blind trust and immature love, she acknowledged with innate honesty. Had she been older, wiser, in the ways of men, she’d have seen the weakness, the selfishness for what it was. Instead she had made excuses for him and blamed herself for his shortcomings.
Fool. How long before she would have seen him for what he was? Her pregnancy had been an act of God…and a gastro bug, which destroyed the contraceptive pill’s effectiveness at the most crucial part of her cycle.
Emma, dear sweet Emma. Ben’s reaction had been so abhorrent, from that moment Emma had become hers, solely hers.
With a determination Stephanie barely recognized in herself, she’d left Sydney, family and friends, and relocated to the Gold Coast, carving a niche for herself at what she did best…marketing. She’d worked up until two weeks before Emma’s birth, taken a month’s maternity leave, then returned to the workforce.
Her mother visited twice a year, and took Emma back to Sydney for a few weeks, and Stephanie returned there for her annual holidays.
For almost four years she’d been happy and content with her life. Until now, when Raoul Lanier had appeared on the scene, disrupting her carefully chosen lifestyle, attacking her libido, and causing her to long for something that could only bring grief.
The only way out was not to see him again. A silent bubble of laughter rose and died in her throat. How did she do that, when he had involved himself in one of her work assignments? Everywhere she went, he seemed to be there. Legitimately, she had to concede.
She closed her eyes then opened them again to stare into the room’s darkness.
A week or two, then he’d be gone. Surely she could survive that length of time?
The shrill peal of the phone jerked her instantly into a sitting position, and she reached for the bedside lamp with one hand and the extension receiver with the other.
Her voice was breathless, startled, apprehensive, and she inwardly cursed herself as she checked the time.
‘Did I wake you?’ Raoul’s voice was deep, and vaguely husky.
She wasn’t conscious of holding her breath, until it released in a rush. ‘No.’ She clutched the receiver, and mentally counted to three. ‘No, you didn’
t. What do you want?’
‘You neglected to return my call.’
‘I wasn’t aware it was necessary,’ she said coolly. ‘Besides, I understand my secretary asked you to call back.’
‘I didn’t have the opportunity until now.’
‘It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’
‘Michel requests you fax him an update on estimated marketing and advertising expenses. He wants to check them against the preliminary figures. Have you a pen and paper handy? I’ll give you his e-mail address.’
‘Just a minute.’ She opened the pedestal drawer and extracted a pad and pen. ‘Okay, what is it?’ She wrote it down, then repeated it. ‘I’ll get on to it first thing in the morning.’
‘There is just one more thing,’ he drawled.
‘And that is?’
‘I’ll collect you and Emma at five forty-five tomorrow evening.’
She closed her eyes and opened them again. Why, for one minute, had she thought he might not be included in Bruno’s invitation? ‘No. I’ll drive to the hotel.’
‘Sacré bleu, why must you be so independent?’
‘You’re already staying at the Sheraton,’ she stated with cool logic. ‘Why collect me?’
‘You would prefer to drive home at night to an empty house with a young child in your care?’
This was too much. He was too much! ‘I would prefer it if you weren’t there at all tomorrow night,’ she flung angrily.
‘My presence unsettles you?’ Raoul pursued with mocking amusement.
‘You flatter yourself,’ she said icily. ‘If there’s nothing else you need to discuss, I’d like to go back to bed. And in future,’ she added for good measure, ‘please keep business calls to business hours.’
He laughed, a deep-throated chuckle that incensed her to such a degree she hung up on him.
Insufferable man. She thumped her pillow, snapped off the light, then pulled up the covers and settled down to sleep.
Except sleep was never more distant, and she cursed him to hell and back as the dark hours crept slowly to midnight and beyond.
The insistent peal of the alarm clock brought her sharply awake, and she depressed the button before slipping wearily from the bed.
Feed and dress Emma, feed the cat, take out the trash, make coffee, eat, pack Emma’s lunch and fill drink bottles ready for day care…
Stephanie went through the motions automatically, completed essential household chores, then she dressed for work, delivered Emma to the day care center and drove in to the office.
It proved to be a day where anything that could go wrong, did. She needed every organizational skill she possessed to arrange the smooth transition from delivery of stock to television promotion. A company drivers’ strike provided a delay while she arranged alternate mode of transport. Wardrobe didn’t supply the right size or the right color for the model promoting the product. Phone calls weren’t returned, and she had to chase up advertising.
When she left the office at five all she wanted to do was collect Emma, go home, relax and unwind. Instead she needed to bathe and dress her daughter, grab a quick shower, throw on some clothes, apply makeup…all in the space of twenty-five minutes.
There was a part of her that wanted to ring and cancel, except that would amount to a cop-out, and she was damned if she’d allow Raoul Lanier the satisfaction. She’d attend, and enjoy herself. For Emma’s sake, and that of her hosts. The indomitable Frenchman could, she decided, go jump for all she cared.
It was nothing short of a miracle that she was ready on time. Elegant evening trousers with matching camisole in a deep ultraviolet highlighted her cream textured skin and emphasized her eyes. Emma wore a pale blue print dress with white shoes and socks. Her very best outfit, Stephanie mused, taking pleasure in her daughter’s delightful anticipation of the evening ahead.
From a personal aspect, she hadn’t had the opportunity to give it more than a passing thought. Now that they were on the verge of leaving, the prospect of spending yet another few hours in Raoul Lanier’s company bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
‘Okay, sweetheart,’ she said gently as she collected her keys and evening purse. ‘Let’s go.’
They made it to the front door, only to have the bell peal as Stephanie reached to open it, and her heart raced into overdrive at the sight of Raoul Lanier standing on the porch.
‘You shouldn’t have come,’ she said at once, doing her best to remain polite in Emma’s presence.
He spared her a long hard glance. ‘I said I would collect you.’
He was angry, she could tell from the set of his jaw, the slight thickening of his accent. It was becoming a battle of wills—hers, his—and for some reason, despite her determination, she felt she was treading shaky ground.
Raoul turned to greet Emma, who, an innocent traitor, appeared delighted not only to see him, but excited at the prospect of being driven in a different car.
A large late-model sedan, Stephanie saw at once. ‘I’ll need to get Emma’s booster seat,’ she indicated, and crossed to the garage. ‘She’s under the legal age to be able to travel without it.’ One of the reasons I would have preferred to use my own car, she added silently, then caught Raoul’s perceptive look, and knew he wasn’t fooled in the slightest.
Three more minutes, and their cars would have passed in the street. He wanted to shake her. Independence in a woman was a fine thing, but this particular young woman was intent on carrying it too far.
Raoul drove with care, traversing the northbound highway with the ease of a man well used to handling both left-and right-hand drive.
Emma’s excited childish chatter precluded the need to search for conversation, and Stephanie experienced a mixture of apprehension and trepidation as Raoul swept the car into the underground parking lot beneath the Palazzo Versace.
Save your nerves for a few hours’ time when you leave, she admonished silently. Although with luck, Raoul would indulge in a few glasses of wine during dinner, and she could insist on taking a taxi home.
Two hours, three at the most, then she could leave, social obligation complete, and thereafter contact with Bruno Farelli would be restricted to office hours and confined to business matters.
Some hope, she realized with a sinking heart, as the evening progressed. Luck wasn’t on her side, in any respect.
Emma and Lucia, with the natural instinct of children, bonded immediately. To the extent it seemed as if they’d known each other from the cradle.
Adriana’s warmth and sparkling humor made it impossible to retain a polite distance. Both she and Bruno were friendly convivial hosts who went to great pains to ensure Stephanie felt at ease.
They would have succeeded handsomely if it hadn’t been for Raoul’s presence. For it was he who set her nerves on edge. He who caused her heart to beat faster as she forced herself to sample the various courses, sip a little wine, and converse with apparent ease.
Did any one of them realize just how tense she was beneath the relaxed facade? Could anyone detect the way her pulse thudded at the base of her throat? Or how her body tingled with electrifying awareness because of the man seated at her side?
The food was superb, she was certain of it, except her taste buds appeared to have gone on strike.
This was madness. A divine insanity that had no base in her reality.
How long before she could escape? There was dessert still to come, followed by coffee. Another hour?
‘Which theme park would you recommend for Lucia’s benefit?’ Adriana queried. ‘We are only on the Coast for such a short time.’
‘Dreamworld is wonderful,’ Stephanie answered automatically. ‘And Seaworld. Each have various rides and attractions. I’ve taken Emma to both, and while she enjoyed Seaworld, Dreamworld was her favorite.’
‘Bruno has Saturday free. We’d love you and Emma to join us. The girls get on well together, and it would be so nice for Lucia to have Emma’s company.’
‘Dr
eamworld,’ Emma parroted with excitement. ‘Please, Mommy.’
‘Si,’ Lucia echoed. ‘Dreamworld.’
‘English, Lucia,’ Adriana admonished gently.
‘Perhaps Stephanie already has plans for the weekend,’ Raoul indicated, offering her a silent challenge to refuse.
‘Saturday is fine,’ Stephanie answered evenly in a determined effort to prove she wouldn’t rise to his bait. ‘Thank you. We’d be delighted to join you.’
Adriana looked pleased as she stood and gathered up the dinner plates. ‘I’ll get dessert. I hope you like tiramisu?’
‘Love it,’ Stephanie assured. ‘Can I help with anything?’
‘You’re very kind, but everything is organized.’
Coffee followed the superb dessert, and it was almost nine when Stephanie indicated she must leave.
‘It’s been a lovely evening,’ she said warmly, extending her thanks. ‘I’ll look forward to Saturday.’ She meant it, for Adriana was delightful, and Emma would love sharing the adventures of Dreamworld with Lucia.
‘Let me have your telephone number.’ Adriana beckoned for her to cross to an escritoire, where she extracted pen and paper. ‘I’ll ring and arrange a time to meet.’
Stephanie withdrew her cell phone. ‘I’ll call a taxi.’
Adriana gave her a thoughtful glance, and opted to remain quiet.
A few minutes, the dispatcher relayed, as a taxi had just dropped someone off at the Sheraton.
Collecting Emma, bidding her hosts good-night, was achieved in minimum time.
‘Cancel the taxi,’ Raoul instructed with deadly quiet as they made their way toward the lift.
‘No.’
His expression hardened, and his eyes resembled dark gray slate. ‘Cancel, Stephanie,’ he voiced quietly. ‘Or I will.’
She shot him a cool glare, which changed to scandalized surprise as he calmly took the cell phone from her hand, pressed Redial, and canceled the taxi.
She badly wanted to tell him to go take a flying leap, except such behavior would only startle Emma. It would have to wait, she decided vengefully, until they were alone.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 233