by Daphne Clair
'These are for you,' the man said, thrusting the bou quet towards her.
She stared at it, the scent rising from the beautiful blooms nauseating her.
Peri had reached her side, and looked up from sur veying the damage. 'Here,' he said. 'I'll take them.'
The carrier relinquished them with relief. 'Sorry about that,' he said again, backing away from the broken glass on the floor. 'Shame.'
On his way out he stood aside for a male customer who looked curiously at Rhiannon and Peri and com mented, 'Had an accident?'
Peri said, 'Be careful where you step. We'll have it cleaned up in a jiff.' He looked at Rhiannon. 'You okay?'
'Yes.' Get a grip. 'Take those away and bring a brush and pan, would you, please?'
She picked her way through the glass to her place behind the counter.
By the time the customer left, Peri had swept up all the glass. He handed her a small white envelope. 'This was with the flowers.'
She hesitated before she lifted the flap that was tucked into the top and drew out a card bearing a single, bold initial G.
'Oh...' She slumped against the counter.
'My guess is your angel Gabriel,' Peri said. He waited, and when she didn't say any more asked, 'What shall I do with the flowers?'
Her first thought was Throw them away. She said, 'You can have them.'
Peri looked dubious. 'You sure about that?'
She opened her mouth to say yes, then hesitated, watching two women enter from the street. 'No,' she said. 'Find a vase and...' she looked around '...some where to put it. Maybe our customers will appreciate them.'
Peri smiled. 'Right, boss.' He arranged them in a bul bous china bowl and set them on a plinth inside the window among several artworks.
At just after five Rhiannon looked up from serving a customer and saw Gabriel standing outside, looking at the roses.
He caught her eye through the glass, raised a hand in greeting and came to the door. When the customer had gone he approached the counter. 'You gave my flowers pride of place?' he said.
'Peri did.' He'd put them as far from the counter as he could.
'At least you didn't dump them.'
She felt her eyes widen as her head jerked up. How could he know...?
'Ah...' Gabriel said softly, leaning on the counter. 'You thought about it. I'd hoped you'd got over being angry with me.'
Rhiannon swallowed. Her pulses gradually steadied. 'I'm not angry with you, but...' she breathed in deeply, '...it might be best if we kept to a business relationship in future.' She'd thought it over last night, and in the early hours of the morning had come to a decision.
Gabriel straightened, frowning. 'Why?'
'It's not a good idea to mix business and personal relationships. It's too easy to...to cross the line.'
It had all seemed terribly logical in her mind. Now she was bungling. Making her voice crisp, she said, 'I'm sure you don't make a habit of dating your employees.'
'You're not an employee. You're an independent art ist, and we have a contract.'
'Nothing in writing.'
'Verbal agreements are legally binding.'
If they could be proven. But that wasn't what this was really about. 'Going out with you is no part of it.'
'I'll insert a clause,' he said. At her swift recoil, he amended impatiently, 'You know I don't mean that. But aren't you cutting off your nose to spite your face?'
'You have a pretty high opinion of yourself!' Rhiannon shot back, astonished at her own temerity, but experiencing a surge of bitter triumph when a slight col our appeared.along his cheekbones.
The triumph faded when he flattened his hands on the counter between them, his expression turning deadly. 'Unless you're a much better actress than I take you for,' he said, 'you were having a thoroughly good time last night. Until I spoiled it for you.'
His stance, looming over her, and the way he was looking at her as though barely containing his temper, didn't help her peace of mind.
Perhaps Gabriel realised it. He straightened again. 'Are you going to let one crass mistake ruin what might be something pretty damn wonderful?'
Was she making a scary mountain out of an insignif icant molehill? Aware that she was oversensitive about some things, Rhiannon wavered.
Peri emerged from the back room holding a piece of paper. 'Hi,' he said to Gabriel. 'Excuse me a minute— Rhee, I can't read this address.'
She deciphered it for him, and Gabriel stood back as two people came through the door and began browsing.
When Peri disappeared again, Rhiannon approached the customers, offering information about the pieces they were looking at.
Usually she just greeted people, invited them to look about and ask questions if they wanted any information. She didn't like pushy sales people herself, and anyway felt more comfortable behind the counter. But she needed a breathing space.
Gabriel began to wander unobtrusively—inasmuch as he was ever likely to appear unobtrusive—in the background, until Peri reappeared. Then he picked up one of the coloured glass sculptures that had arrived that morn ing and started talking to the other man in a low voice.
He was still there when the other customers left empty-handed. After replacing the sculpture on the shelf, he strolled towards her, and Peri busied himself straight ening the books on the rear wall.
Rhiannon took up her station again behind the counter. Gabriel came to stand before it, his hands in his pockets. His gaze rested on her almost speculatively. 'Have a drink with me, and we can talk about what's bothering you.'
'I'm sorry, I have things to do.' She'd planned to stay late after closing the gallery. It was time to do her GST return, and the tax department wouldn't wait. That helped to stiffen her resolve.
She was relieved when more last-minute customers breezed in. 'I'll try to get that quote to you within a week or two,' she promised.
Gabriel stepped back. 'Fine. I'll see you again,' he said pleasantly, at last making for the door.
She told herself it wasn't a threat.
* * *
Gabriel silently cursed himself as strode away from the gallery, knowing that he'd blundered. The last thing Rhiannon needed was scare tactics. Not that she hadn't stood up to him, with that crack suggesting he was full of himself.
His mouth turned down. Maybe he was over confident; maybe he'd grown arrogant and self-satisfied. Certainly he'd never had to work so hard at getting close to a woman. Being unaccustomed to rejection, he wasn't sure how to tackle the problem.
But growing angry and exasperated wasn't the way to win Rhiannon's confidence.
Trying to pump Peri hadn't worked either. Obviously the two of them got on well, and an oblique, apparently idle comment to that effect had elicited no information. 'She's a good boss,' Peri said, 'and a good woman.' His hard stare when Gabriel lifted his eyes from seeming absorption in the heavy sculpture in his hand seemed to indicate that Peri would punch the lights out of anybody who suggested differently. Then, out of the blue, he'd added, 'If you want my advice, don't send her any more flowers.'
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. Was he being warned off the grass? Softly he said, 'Would you care to explain that?'
Peri's gaze slid to Rhiannon, apparently deeply engaged with her customers, and he transferred his atten tion back to Gabriel with an oddly intent look, flexing his splendid shoulders. 'Just take my word for it, mate.'
Gabriel hefted the sculpture he held. When he'd come to fetch Rhiannon before the show she'd been standing close to Peri, his hand touching her hair, and she had been laughing at something he'd said. There'd been warmth in the way she smiled. Gabriel had felt a pang of jealousy, aware that she'd never smiled at him in that way—without the least hint of strain. 'Are we talking dog-in-the-manger here?' he inquired.
Peri scowled. 'Huh? Look, Rhiannon isn't like other women. She's...' He looked over at her again, then back to Gabriel, aggression in his face. 'All I'm saying is, you be careful.
Okay?'
Then Rhiannon's customers left and Gabriel headed for her side, but didn't manage to get there before she'd barricaded herself again behind the counter, as if the solid bit of furniture between them was something she needed for protection.
He should have waited until she was closing the gal lery, Gabriel told himself, cutting a preoccupied swathe through the home-going throng on the narrow pavement. Only he hadn't been able to wait a moment longer to see her and try to mend the damage of last night. He'd wanted to be on the doorstep first thing this morning, until caution had urged him not to be pushy. The flowers had seemed a good compromise. A silent apology that had often worked in the past. With other women.
Rhiannon isn't like other women. Peri's words re echoed. Unconsciously scowling, Gabriel almost knocked down a little old lady, and stopped to sincerely apologise as he steadied her with both hands.
"That's quite all right.' The woman twinkled up at him with faded blue eyes. 'My eyesight isn't as good as it used to be.'
'Are you sure you're not hurt?' He felt birdlike shoul der bones under his fingers.
'Not at all. In fact you've made my day. It's a long time since I got so close to a handsome young man.'
His mood momentarily lightening, Gabriel grinned down at her. 'Thank you. But you just said your eyesight isn't so good.'
She chuckled. 'I'm near-sighted. Close up, I can see perfectly. If only I were forty years younger...'
'You must have been a knockout. You still are.'
Her eyes sparkled again. 'You've got a way with you, haven't you? I bet you've got a nice young girlfriend. Lucky woman.'
Watching her retreat along the street, Gabriel wished that Rhiannon shared her opinion. Why couldn't all women be so gracious about accepting an apology?
Admittedly he'd had more to apologise to Rhiannon about. He wondered if it was true she was busy tonight. Or was she punishing him for his transgression?
Almost immediately he dismissed the thought. One thing he was sure of—Rhiannon wasn't one of those women who blew hot and cold just to keep a man on his toes. She didn't even seem to know how to play the kind of games that one or two of his previous lovers had enjoyed—until he grew tired of indulging them and broke off the relationship.
Last night he'd had every intention of kissing her be fore they parted. A real kiss that would leave her, he hoped, dreaming of him all night and craving more.
That blasted security light with its merciless bulb hadn't helped. But, face it, by then the damage had been thoroughly done anyway. Her mood had switched dra matically in the taxi.
And her anger had been fuelled, he was certain, by fear.
Who had frightened her that much? What had he done to her? And when?
His hands had curled into fists. Deliberately he relaxed them, and fished for his car key. If he could persuade Rhiannon to confide in him she might get over... whatever it was that was inhibiting her natural response.
He sat in his car, staring absently at a concrete wall, his fingers clenched hard on the steering wheel.
She'd said she liked him. He wanted a whole lot more than liking. He wanted passion, a wild, wanton loving. And something told him that despite her repressed ex terior and her obvious reluctance to admit to sexual desire, if he could only break through the barriers she pro tected so fiercely, making love with Rhiannon would be unlike anything he'd known.
He started the car and backed out. A sign fixed to a pillar warned proceed with caution.
'Good advice,' Gabriel murmured. He'd be wise to take it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rhiannon stretched stiff muscles, pushing away the completed tax form. Maybe she should get an accountant to do the paperwork. She'd always enjoyed dealing with figures, but there was only so much time in the day, and if it came to a choice she'd prefer to spend more of it on her art.
Which reminded her of her promise to Gabriel.
And of Gabriel himself. He stepped into her memory in vivid colour, big and confident, and too clever for her peace of mind, awakening dormant emotions that until recently she'd found it easier to live without.
She'd been comfortable then, contented and safe, co cooned in the life she'd painstakingly built for herself.
Now she wasn't comfortable anymore. Her equilibrium was askew, and it was all Gabriel Hudson's fault.
The picture of the angel was pinned to the wall over her desk, so she would see it several times a day, helping the creative process.
Maybe that was why it was so difficult to banish his mortal namesake from her thoughts. Inevitably one brought to mind the other.
She stared for a while at the picture, drew a sheet of blank paper towards her and began to draw.
Several hours and a dozen sheets of paper later she returned to the real world.
The traffic noise that hummed all day and most of the night was strangely missing. The clock over her desk told her she'd worked into the early hours. And she was cold.
But she knew what she wanted to do with the blank wall in the Angelair Building.
Blinking, she reached for the phone, not fancying the car park at this hour, and called a taxi to take her home.
A few hours later her alarm woke her at the usual time and she stumbled out of bed.
Janette, making coffee in the kitchen, gave her a cu rious glance. 'You were in late. Heavy date?'
'Work,' Rhiannon replied, getting herself a cup. 'Sorry if I woke you.'
'No, I'd just got in myself. Working night and day isn't good for your health, you know. How long since you had a date?'
Janette was good at minding her own business, but there was genuine concern behind her casual air.
'The night before last,' Rhiannon defended herself.
'Oh?' Pouring hot water into a cup, Janette paused. 'Was it good?'
'Yes.' It had been good, until... 'Janette, supposing a man you'd met looked up your address without your knowledge...would it bother you?'
'Hmm.' Janette sat down at the breakfast table and waited for Rhiannon to do the same. 'Depends,' she said judiciously. 'If I really liked him, and he did it to send me flowers or something I'd probably be rather pleased. As long he didn't use it to stalk me or anything like that.'
Rhiannon stirred sugar into her coffee. She shivered, and drank some of the hot liquid to warm herself.
Janette said, 'Are you worried?'
Logic told her that Gabriel Hudson was unlikely to be so desperate. And Janette was an utterly sane, down-to- earth sort of girl, so her opinion held weight. 'No.'
For the rest of that week, every time someone came into the shop after five, Rhiannon looked up with expectant trepidation, but Gabriel didn't appear.
At the weekend she finished the church commission and had no excuse to keep relegating Gabriel and his project to the back of her mind. Or at least pretending to.
During the following week she did a final sketch plan of her proposal for the mosaic wall, and over the next weekend she visited several suppliers.
By Monday she'd drawn up a pricing plan, and while Peri dealt with customers, she sat at her desk staring at the phone for several minutes, braced herself and picked it up.
When she was put through to Gabriel she had to take a deep breath. 'I have a final design for you,' she told him, 'and a price,' quickly rattling it off.
He didn't respond immediately, and she said, 'I know it sounds a lot, but it's not over-expensive for—'
'It's a fair price,' he interrupted. 'I won't quibble about it. But I'd like to see the finished design before we agree on a contract.'
'Of course. I was going to suggest that.'
'If you don't want to leave the gallery I can come to you. Is eleven-thirty a good time?'
In business hours. 'Yes,' she said, feeling oddly blank. She'd frozen him off and he was adhering to her ex pressed desire to keep their relationship strictly profes sional. She ought to be pleased.
'I'll be there.'
Almos
t brusque, Rhiannon thought as she put the phone down and realised that her palms were damp, leaving a fading bloom on the plastic. She took a tissue from a box on the desk and wiped them, trying to dismiss a sense of dismay.
Gabriel put down the phone and scowled at it, idly turning a ballpoint pen end over end against the open ap pointments diary his secretary had placed on his desk.
His impulse had been to go round to the gallery right away. The same impulse he'd fought all last week. But pragmatism intervened. At eleven-thirty there was a chance he could persuade Rhiannon to have lunch with him. A business lunch, he'd tell her. If he could find something in the design or the contract to cavil over, that might work...
Unless she used it as an excuse to withdraw from the project. His hand stilled.
He was pretty sure she was committed to the mosaic, excited about it. It was his trump card. Once he had the contract in his pocket she couldn't completely withdraw from his life until that was done. And he'd keep a very good eye on progress—she'd agreed he could watch her work.
That was something to look forward to.
He was deliberately fifteen minutes late for their ap pointment, armed with apologies about a fictitious meet ing that had run overtime. There were several people in the gallery, and he had to wait another few minutes for Rhiannon to be free.
She brushed aside his excuse. 'You'd better come out the back,' she said, leading him through the door.
As she crossed to a desk in one corner Gabriel took a swift inventory of the room. Bigger than he'd have expected, but very much a work and storage space, giv ing little hint of anything personal.
'This is the design.' Rhiannon laid a large sheet of heavy paper onto a wide work counter. 'I hope you ap prove.'
He came to her side, holding one side of the paper against its tendency to curl, while she anchored the other.
The colours echoed the Internet picture she'd shown him, and although the effect was abstract, there was a surreal suggestion of the angel's robes and silver wings, even on closer inspection a face, and long, streaming golden hair merging into the rest of the design. That and a streak of silver running right across the page were suggestive of speed and light.