The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  It was after six when she arrived home, the owner of two new tires, for when she’d called in to collect the repaired spare, the young man shook his head.

  ‘Couldn’t fix it, ma’am. It’d been cut.’ At her faintly puzzled expression, he elaborated, ‘Slashed. With a knife, I’d say.’

  How? More importantly, who? ‘I guess I need a new tire.’

  ‘Two, in the front, make ’em even.’

  She didn’t even blink. ‘Can you do it now?’

  ‘We’re due to close soon.’

  ‘Please. I really need my car.’

  ‘Okay, for you I’ll make an exception. Take a seat.’

  Ten minutes later she wrote a check, then slid into the car and drove home.

  Indoors, she changed into shorts and a singlet top, then crossed into the kitchen. She’d prepare a tossed salad and have it with some cold chicken, then follow it with fresh fruit.

  After she’d shower, pull on a robe, and put in a few hours at the laptop. But first she’d call Celeste and catch up on Emma’s day… A ferry ride and a visit to Taronga Park Zoo, she learned, and tomorrow they were going to ride on the monorail.

  ‘You’re spoiling her,’ Stephanie protested, and heard her mother’s chuckle.

  ‘No, we’re having fun.’

  It was reassuring not to be missed, but she experienced a very real feeling of loss at not hearing her daughter’s voice, the hugs, the kisses.

  Work, she determined, as she set the laptop onto the dining-room table more than an hour later, would occupy her mind.

  It did, and she became immersed in entering data, saving it on disk ready to print out at the office in the morning.

  The doorbell ringing startled her, and she checked her watch, wondering who on earth would call in at nine in the evening without using the telephone to check it was okay.

  The security door was locked, she had a safety chain on the door, as well as a peephole. There was no sense pretending she wasn’t home, for the lights indicated otherwise.

  The doorbell rang again, jerking her into motion, and she moved quickly to the front of the house.

  One look was sufficient to determine it was Raoul who stood on her doorstep, and with nerveless fingers she dealt with the chain, the lock and undid the security door.

  ‘Hi.’ As a greeting it was inane, and Stephanie felt the warmth creep into her cheeks as he let his gaze roam over the short silk robe, her bare legs, before returning to settle on her expressive features.

  ‘Were you in bed?’

  He sounded indolently amused, and she ran a check on the tie of her robe, then pulled the edges more tightly together.

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I was working.’

  He was something else, his height and breadth of shoulder impressive. His exclusive brand of cologne teased her senses, and her eyes were mesmerized by the sensual curve of his mouth. He’d removed his jacket and held it hooked over one shoulder.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’ he queried gently, and she stood aside at once.

  ‘Of course.’

  Raoul stepped down the hallway and she followed him. ‘Would you like some coffee?’

  He came to a halt in the lounge and turned to face her. ‘Not unless you’re making some for yourself. Otherwise a cold drink will do fine.’

  She went to the refrigerator and fetched a can of cola, pulled the tab, then extracted a glass and handed both to him.

  ‘Did you eat on the plane?’ Of course he’d eaten on the plane, she derided silently. It was after nine, for heaven’s sake!

  He poured the dark sparkling liquid, then took a long swallow. ‘Yes.’

  ‘How was your meeting?’ She was aware of the need to make polite conversation, and equally aware he found it amusing.

  ‘Successful.’ He placed the empty can down onto the bench, and subjected her to a slow, warm appraisal.

  ‘The contract is signed, the deal completed.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing to keep you here.’

  The glass followed the empty can, and he leaned one hip against the edge of the bench. ‘Yes,’ he denied indolently. ‘There is.’

  Something twisted inside her stomach.

  His gaze didn’t waver, and she felt as if she was teetering close to a precipice.

  ‘You,’ Raoul stated solemnly.

  That was certainly direct. But in what context? Given Ghislaine’s venomous revelation, there was only one possibility.

  ‘As a temporary diversion?’ she posed, and saw his gaze narrow fractionally.

  ‘A diversion from what?’

  ‘Ghislaine, and your forthcoming marriage.’

  He didn’t move, but it seemed his long muscular frame uncoiled and became a formidable force.

  Stephanie caught a glimpse of the persona he undoubtedly presented in the business arena. There was a dangerous stillness apparent, a waiting, watchful quality that revealed nothing and gave no hint of his reaction.

  ‘Ghislaine possesses a fanciful imagination,’ he drawled. ‘Fostered by overindulgent parents in a desire to link Chabert to Lanier.’ Facial muscles shifted and reassembled over chiseled bone structure. ‘A business merger is out of the question, and there are no marriage plans.’

  ‘Ghislaine appears to think differently.’

  ‘And you believed her?’ His voice was quiet, deadly.

  Her eyes sparked blue fire, and the anger she’d managed to hold at bay for the past few hours rose to the surface. ‘She was very convincing.’

  ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged cynically. ‘I imagine she was.’

  ‘There’s no purpose to this,’ Stephanie refuted, sorely tried.

  ‘I disagree.’

  Her chin tilted. ‘Why? The result remains the same.’

  ‘You’re so sure about that?’

  I’m not sure about anything, damn you! But even with the most generous heart, I can’t see it happening any other way. A proposal and happy-ever-after belong in fairy stories.

  ‘Raoul,’ Stephanie commanded unsteadily. ‘Go home. Please.’ She wanted him out of here, now, before she did something totally stupid. As it was, her eyes ached with repressed emotion. ‘I really do have a few hours work ahead of me.’

  He looked at her, saw the tiredness, the emotional strain evident, and subdued the anger he wanted to direct against Ghislaine for having caused Stephanie grief.

  Without a word he caught hold of her shoulders and pulled her into his arms, curving a hand beneath her nape as he slid the other down to splay over the slight curve of her bottom.

  She twisted against him in an attempt to break free, then fought against dissolving into him as his lips sought the vulnerable hollow at the edge of her neck.

  ‘Don’t.’ The word emerged as a despairing groan. She didn’t want this. She couldn’t afford the sweet slide into emotional ecstasy, and she doubted her ability to survive the exquisite passion without fragmenting into a hundred shimmering pieces.

  How long they stood together she had no idea. There was the sensation of it being right, as if some ephemeral force was at work. And dear heaven, it was so good to lean against him, accept his strength, his assurance.

  Like this, she didn’t care how long it lasted. It was enough he was here, and they had the night. So what if there were too few nights left? The truth was she didn’t want to deny herself the ultimate pleasure of shared intimacy with him. Was that so bad?

  Slowly, gently, he disentangled her arms and stood back a pace. Then he caught her chin between thumb and forefinger, lifted it, and tried not to drown in those dark sapphire depths.

  ‘Go do whatever it is you have to do to finish on the computer,’ Raoul bade easily. ‘I’ll get the coffee.’

  Stephanie opened her mouth to protest, only to close it again. Her lashes swept wide as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, then he trailed his fingers down the curve of her cheek and let them rest against the edge of her mouth. He leaned down and dropped a soft kiss on the
tip of her nose, then he pushed her gently in the direction of the table, and the computer.

  It took her almost two hours, and there was a sense of satisfaction in pressing the Save key and transferring the data onto disk.

  She’d been conscious of Raoul sprawled comfortably at ease on the large sofa in the adjoining open plan lounge. He had the television on low, and he looked totally relaxed. Every now and then she’d been conscious of him sparing her a watchful glance, and experienced the answering tremor as her body leaped in response.

  With automatic movements she closed down the program, then disconnected the power inlet.

  She didn’t hear Raoul move, and a slight gasp escaped her lips as she felt his hands close over her shoulders.

  His fingers began a deep soothing massage of her shoulders and neck muscles, gradually easing out the kinks until she sighed and let her head roll forward in a gesture of total acceptance.

  It felt so good, so very good, it was all she could do not to express her pleasure in a purr of gratitude. When he began on her scalp she closed her eyes and surrendered to the magic.

  There was little sense of the passage of time, and she made a token protest as his hands slid to her shoulders, then caught hold of her waist.

  In one fluid movement he lifted her into his arms and carried her down the hall to the bedroom.

  ‘Raoul—’

  ‘Don’t think,’ he said huskily as he swept aside the covers and tumbled down onto the bed with her. His lips caressed the edge of her mouth. ‘Just feel.’

  He discarded his clothes with ease, shrugging out of his shirt, discarding trousers, shoes and socks, briefs, then he gathered her close and began a long, slow loving that had her begging for release.

  It was flagrant, evocative, as his mouth took a tortuously slow path over every inch of her body. Caressing, tasting, in a supplication that drove her wild. The blood sang in her veins as sensation spiraled to impossible heights, and he caught her as she fell, only to wreak havoc as he sent her soaring again and again.

  Skillful fingers knew where to touch, to stroke, as he paid sensual homage to every pleasure spot, each heightened nerve ending. Just as she thought she’d experienced it all, he followed the same path in a tasting feast that made her cry out in all-consuming ecstasy.

  Her whole body was one pulsating ache, and her response was unrestrained as she captured his head and dragged his mouth to her own.

  He took her then, melding his body to hers in one powerful thrust, stayed there, then began a tantalizing withdrawal, before plunging deeper in a slow primal rhythm that built in pace until there was only the raw passion of two lovers in perfect accord.

  Afterward they slept, held close in each other’s arms in a tangle of sheets as the moon disappeared and the night became shrouded in darkness.

  At some stage Stephanie stirred, felt the soothing slide of fingers down her back, and settled comfortably against warm skin and muscle, subsiding easily into relaxed somnolence.

  The shrill sound of the alarm was an impossible intrusion, and Stephanie automatically reached out to close it, only to come in contact with a hard, muscular forearm intent on the same task.

  ‘Six-thirty,’ a slightly accented male voice drawled with a degree of amusement. ‘Time to rise and shine.’

  ‘Shower’s mine,’ she voiced drowsily, then yelped in shocked surprise as his hand slid down to create renewed havoc, bringing her to orgasm with such tactile skill it stole her breath. ‘I think I should get up.’

  Raoul’s mouth nuzzled the soft hollow at the base of her neck. ‘Only think?’

  ‘Affirmative action is essential,’ she said weakly, and slid out from beneath his grasp. ‘Otherwise I’ll be late.’

  He rolled onto his back and linked his arms behind his head. Then he smiled, and Stephanie felt the powerful tug of desire.

  She couldn’t imagine anything she’d rather do than sink down onto the bed and give in to the hunger, the sheer sensual pleasure of his touch. To gift him a similar pleasure.

  What would it be like to wake every morning like this after a night of exquisite lovemaking, only to do it all over again?

  Sex. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. Very good sex. It wasn’t—couldn’t—be anything more. Could it?

  Oh God. What she felt wasn’t love. Was it? Realization washed through her body, quickly followed by apprehension. No, she screamed a silent denial. This wasn’t happening.

  Raoul observed the play of emotions chase across her expressive features, saw the shocked surprise evident in her eyes before her lashes swept down in a protective veil, and caught the faint tremor as she lifted a shaky hand to tuck back her hair.

  His gaze narrowed fractionally as she caught up her robe and made for the en suite.

  Minutes later she stepped into the shower stall, turned on the water and picked up the bottle of shampoo. Only to have it taken out of her hand within seconds of wetting her hair.

  ‘You can’t—’

  ‘Yes, I can,’ Raoul drawled as he poured thick liquid into one cupped palm, then he massaged it over her scalp.

  When he was done, he picked up the soap and began smoothing it over her body. It became a teasing, evocative action that brought a groan to her lips.

  At this rate, she’d need to forego breakfast. But oh dear Lord, it would be worth it just to savor his touch, to gift him a similar supplication.

  ‘Raoul.’ His name silvered from her lips, and anything else she might have said remained locked in her throat as his mouth closed over hers in a kiss that became a possession all of its own.

  Nothing else mattered as he slid her arms up to link at his neck, and when he lifted her close she simply held on, exulting in the shape and feel of him, his strength, his earthy taste and raw sexuality.

  She could almost believe he was bent on assaulting her senses…in an attempt to achieve what? she wondered idly as she snagged a towel and removed some of the excess moisture from her hair.

  Soft color stained her cheeks at the thought of her craven response, and how easily he was able to achieve it. In his arms she became a wanton, eager to sample every sexual delight he cared to introduce.

  Toweled dry, she went through the personal routine, collected fresh underwear, then hurriedly selected an elegant trouser suit, applied makeup, brushed her hair and slid her feet into high-heeled pumps.

  Stephanie didn’t even bother running a check on the time. It hardly mattered what the clock said, when it was obvious she was going to be late.

  She caught up her bag, crossed to the laptop and retrieved the disk, then moved toward the front door.

  He was right behind her, his holdall in one hand, his personal laptop in the other. He’d shaved, and in place of the suit he wore tailored trousers and a dark polo shirt.

  Stephanie crossed to the garage, used the remote to open the automatic doors, then swore beneath her breath when she saw her car had a flat tire. Something she wouldn’t have noticed had she not crossed around to the front passenger side to shift a garden rake, which seemed to have slid forward and lay resting against the bodywork of her car.

  ‘Problems?’

  Stephanie gestured toward the front wheel. ‘This is the second time I’ve had a flat tire in two days,’ she vented angrily. ‘If this one is slashed, too, I’m going to report it to the police.’

  ‘Slashed?’ Raoul queried with deceptive quiet, and she inclined her head.

  ‘That’s what the guy at the tire mart said. He fitted two new tires for me last night.’ She pushed a hand through her hair, and stifled an inward sigh. ‘I’ll get the spare.’

  ‘Leave it,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll drive you.’

  ‘Dammit, I need my car.’

  ‘And collect you from work. Give me the remote module, a spare key to the car and I’ll take care of it.’

  She opened her mouth to argue, then simply closed it again as he brushed the knuckles of one hand lightly along her jaw.

  ‘
No contest, ma cher.’

  It was easier to do as he said, and as he negotiated traffic she retrieved her cell phone and called reception, alerting her imminent arrival.

  Stephanie reached for the door clasp the moment Raoul swept to a halt outside the entrance to her office building, and she uttered a hurried ‘thanks’ as she slid from the car.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AS MORNINGS went, Stephanie’s was a doozy, and losing an hour merely made a bad situation worse. Everything that could go wrong, did. Worse, her secretary had called in sick, and her temporary replacement didn’t have a clue.

  Coffee, hot sweet and strong helped some, and she prioritized paperwork, telephone calls, and didn’t stop until one, when she deemed it sensible to take a lunch break. Otherwise she’d never make it through the afternoon.

  There was a café close by, one of a few which catered for staff working in the many tall office blocks in this part of Southport, and Stephanie covered the short distance, choosing a table outdoors.

  Numerous spreading tree branches provided shade, and there were bright striped awnings and umbrellas to protect patrons from the heat of the summer’s sun.

  The food was superb, the service swift, and within a very short space of time she was presented with a chicken and salad focaccia sandwich and a cappuccino.

  It was a beautiful day, and from where she sat she could see the park, the sparkling waters of the main channel, and beyond it the architectural white sails of the Marina Mirage shopping complex soared against the background of blue sky. Next to it stood the condominium complex of the beautifully designed Palazzo Versace.

  A view, she conceded with warmth, to die for. The café was well patronized, but not sufficiently so to warrant anyone requesting to share her table, and she took time to enjoy the food, the ambience. Entitled, she assured, by virtue of working late at home last night.

  Thinking about what had happened after she’d closed down the computer last night set every nerve-end tingling alive. Dangerous, she mused, definitely dangerous to focus overlong on the passion Raoul had aroused…and her answering hunger.

  Tonight’s cocktail party for the marketing executives was a “must attend” function. Although she need only stay an hour, two at the most, and she’d be able to leave.