by Daphne Clair
Sometimes they talked, seldom about personal things, but occasionally he learned something about her child hood, or her relationship with her parents and her grand mother. She'd been happy, he gathered, until the tragedy that had taken her mother and left her father only a shell of the man he had been. Touching on that time made j her clam up and he learned to keep away from it.
The day he made her laugh unconstrainedly with some mordantly humorous remark, he felt an adrenaline surge that was almost like sex.
When one evening she voluntarily sat beside him on the stairs to drink coffee that Mick brought them, not so close that they touched, but only inches from him, he counted it as a victory.
Rhiannon scraped out the last of the mortar in the con tainer beside her, buttered a triangular piece of tile-with the mixture, and carefully pressed the tessera into place.
Putting down the trowel, she stretched, releasing cramped muscles, and climbed down, doing a few more stretches on the landing. She needed to mix another batch of mortar, but first she made for the water cooler on the ground floor, drank thirstily and splashed her face.
About to climb the stairs again, she looked up at the work she'd done, feeling a certain satisfaction. Of course there was a long way to go but she'd outlined the major features down to the scaffolding and begun filling them in. The higher corner was the most difficult part, reach ing up from the scaffolding to place each piece. She still had to finish that.
She massaged a stiffness in her right shoulder. Then jumped as a hand descended on it, replacing hers.
'Sorry,' Gabriel said. 'Didn't you know I was here?'
'I didn't hear you.' He was wearing sneakers and she'd been too preoccupied to notice his approach.
His hand was still on her shoulder, and he began kneading it, then both of them. His fingers were strong and seemingly impersonal. 'Does this help? Tell me if you want me to stop.'
Rhiannon could feel the muscles loosening. She stood under his hands, surprised at her own willingness to sub mit to his touch. 'I think it helps,' she admitted.
He gave a satisfied little grunt and continued the rhythmic movements.
'Better?' he asked when finally his hands ceased their movement, to rest lightly on her shoulders.
'Thank you.'
'Maybe you've done enough for today.'
'I want to finish that top corner,' she said, gazing up at it. 'I was just about to mix some more mortar.'
'It's high.'
'That's why my shoulder's a bit stiff.'
'Can't I help? If you tell me what to do, it's an easy reach for me.'
'Well... I suppose if I did the buttering and handed the tesserae to you...' It had been more tiring than she'd expected, and more difficult. She didn't want to end up with a repetitive strain injury.
They stood side by side on the scaffolding, Rhiannon gauging what pieces were needed and picking them out, telling Gabriel where to put them. He caught on quite quickly, and in what seemed no time the tricky comer was done.
'The rest will be easier,' Rhiannon said with relief. 'I haven't done anything quite like this before.'
'You're not sorry you took it on?'
'Of course not. It's a great opportunity.'
'One you weren't afraid to take.'
'No.' She shot him a glance before moving away to clean her trowel. Looking at her watch, she was surprised at how late it was. 'Can I leave all this overnight...?' she indicated the tools and materials on the boards '...since tomorrow's Sunday?'
'Sure. Leave everything until tomorrow...or as long I as you need.'
Struck by his tone, Rhiannon looked at him again, finding his gaze fixed on her. Then he smiled and, going to the end of the scaffolding, leapt to the floor, straight ened easily and held out his arms to her.
'I prefer the safe way,' she said, shaking her head, and opted for climbing down. He put a hand on one of the bars as if to steady it.
'You would have been safe,' he told her when she reached the floor. His eyes were smiling, although his mouth remained grave. 'I'd have caught you.'
'I know.' She stepped back, wrapping her arms about herself.
'And let you go,' he said slowly, 'if that's what you wanted.'
Rhiannon wasn't sure it would have been what she wanted. Which was a shock in itself. She turned her head to stare blindly at the colours on the wall. Coward, an inner voice mocked her.
She forced herself to look at him. He hadn't moved. 'I know,' she repeated, her voice husky.
He waited for a moment as if debating whether to say what was in his mind, before he asked quietly, 'Then what are you afraid of, Rhiannon?'
Rhiannon's teeth bit into her lower lip. A lot of things. 'Not of you,' she said, and something flashed in his eyes before he narrowed them, veiling whatever emotion was responsible. 'I know you wouldn't hurt me.' The truth, and it should have been liberating. But... 'It's compli cated,' she said lamely.
'Too complicated to tell me about?' His hand shifted slightly on the steel bar he clutched, drawing her eyes. His knuckles had turned almost white.
She brought her gaze back to his face. He was looking at her as if willing her to confide in him. As if it was important to him.
'When I was seventeen,' she said, almost whispering, 'something...happened to me.'
'I know,' he said, and as her heart lurched and she tensed, her stomach churning, he dropped his hand from the scaffolding. 'I mean, I guessed you'd had a bad ex perience. I didn't know what it was...or when.' He paused, and since she didn't enlighten him, gathering her composure around her like a protective cloak, he asked evenly, 'Some guy attacked you?' Rhiannon swallowed. 'Not...exactly.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
Not exactly? Gabriel wondered what exactly she meant by that. A date rape? A petting session that got out of hand, so that she blamed herself for leading the guy on because he didn't stop when she said no? 'If he did something you didn't want him to,' he told her, 'it wasn't your fault.'
Her head came up at that. 'I know it wasn't my fault!'
'Okay,' he said carefully. 'So are you going to tell me what did happen?'
While Rhiannon hesitated, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes as if hypnotised, heavy footfalls sounded on the tiles below, and then Mick appeared at the foot of the stairs, peering up at them. 'That's coming on, isn't it?' he said. 'Evening, Mr. Hudson. Didn't know you were here.'
Gabriel cursed under his breath. 'We're working,' he said curtly, knowing it was no use. The moment had been thoroughly broken.
Mick blinked at Gabriel's tone, and Rhiannon, clearly welcoming the interruption, said, 'We have been, but we've finished now. What do you think?' A smile fixed to her face, she almost ran down the stairs, ranging herself alongside the older man to look upwards but avoid ing letting her gaze light on Gabriel.
Gabriel watched her, a peculiar pain squeezing his chest. She was running from him, relying on another man for protection. From him.
Mick looked relieved. 'I'm not much into abstract art,' he confessed. 'But the colours are nice.'
Rhiannon's smile was turned to him. 'I'm glad you like them. You won't get the full effect until it's finished, of course. I'm planning to complete the top half first, so the scaffolding can come down before I do the lower part.'
Tired of being ignored, Gabriel said, 'We're leaving the stuff here overnight, Mick. It should be safe until Rhiannon comes back tomorrow.'
Guessing he wasn't going to get any more out of Rhiannon tonight, Gabriel let Mick escort her out of the building, suppressing a pang of bitterness at the obvious tension leaving her face when he suggested it.
Rhiannon hardly slept. Her mind kept replaying old I memories, memories she'd successfully buried now coming back to haunt her.
She knew all the theories about confronting the dark- ness, bringing her fears into the light of day and rea son—she'd been there, done that. And had never in tended to go through the process again.
Tonight she'd
come too close. And now she was thrown right back to reliving the nightmare, her body possessed by cold, sweating fear, her mind darting fran tically about, hunting for escape.
By morning she was consumed with what she knew very well was an unfair resentment against Gabriel.
Determined not to let the demons dictate her actions, she forced herself to go back to the mosaic. And hoped that Gabriel would have the sensitivity to stay away.
Instead, she found him waiting for her on the stairs.
'I thought,' he said, as she slowly went to meet him, 'we might take up where we left off.'
Rhiannon didn't answer, choking on a range of con flicting emotions—something, she thought with rancour, she was accustomed to in his company—hating him for a variety of reasons, not least of which was the fact that even before she reached the landing she could feel her skin tingling, a liquid heat softening her bones.
Though her gaze resolutely remained on the cans and tools laid out ready, she sensed he was looking at her with that light in his eyes that always made her feel he was trying to penetrate her soul. And she knew he wasn't talking about the mosaic.
Even as part of her jeered at her timidity, she told herself that her past was none of his business, she'd given him no right to delve into it. She cleared her throat of some obstruction, and although her voice wasn't quite normal she made it steady, uncaring. 'I don't need you.'
'Sure? Yesterday we had a pretty good thing going, I thought. Why not carry it through?'
'Yesterday was difficult. I can manage on my own now.'
She set her chin and walked purposefully forward, risking a glance at his face, and seeing it set like a gran ite mask, only a dismaying glitter in his eyes betraying any emotion.
'Okay.' His voice sounded clipped. 'Whatever you say.'
He didn't stay, taking the stairs up to his office, but later he brought her coffee and one for himself.
Rhiannon reverted to her old habit of resting her back against the stair rail on one side. After one hard, mea suring glance, Gabriel took up a matching position at the other side. Stretching his long legs, he looked down into, his cup. 'Last night,' he said, 'you started to tell me something.'
'That was a mistake.' Swiftly, she took a gulp of her coffee. 'Anyway, I got over it ages ago.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes.' She glared at him, the scepticism—almost sar castic —in his face sending her back to burying her nose again in the cup.
'Did you see a trauma counsellor or someone like that?'
Rhiannon lowered the cup and drew her lips together. 'A psychotherapist,' she admitted reluctantly. 'For nearly a year.'
'Maybe it should have been longer.'
Rhiannon gave an acid little laugh. If he only knew... 'You think I'm loopy?'
'Certainly not. I think you're locking up your emo tions and that isn't healthy.'
She tossed off the remainder of the coffee and stood j up. Looking down on him, she felt more confident, and the resentment she'd almost lost came flooding back, j 'Thanks for your concern. You're not the first man to subject me to this kind of psychoanalysis. All right, I'm sexually repressed and emotionally dysfunctional. Actually I'm perfectly fine with that, thank you.' At least she had been until he came along. And she desperately wanted to return to that circumscribed but secure state of mind—and body. 'If I'm frigid I can live with it.' A loud crackling made her aware that she was crushing the cup in her hand. Distractedly she looked about for a bin.
'Frigid?' Gabriel put down his own cup and stood up, negating her advantage. 'I don't believe that.'
'Believe it. I've been told so by experts—one expert, anyway.' She clamped her mouth shut. She'd talked too much already.
Gabriel looked grimly puzzled. 'Who?'
'Never mind.' Rhiannon dropped the mangled cup onto the drip sheet. She'd dispose of it later. She crossed to the paint and brush she'd been using.
Snake-fast, Gabriel moved and grabbed her arm, bringing her round to face him. 'Your therapist?' he guessed. As if realising the strength of his grip, he dropped his hand, but with her back to the scaffolding and him standing so close she could see herself reflected in his eyes, she couldn't easily escape. 'Was this person any good?' he asked. Patently doubting it.
'He was very well qualified, and he has a respected reputation.' Something he hadn't hesitated to remind her of.
Frowning, Gabriel said, 'Did you ever ask for a sec ond opinion?'
She gave another brittle laugh. 'I've had plenty of second opinions. Yours is only the latest.'
His mouth tightened again. 'It wasn't some crude line to coerce you into sex. I wanted to help.'
He was close enough for her to lean on his chest if she wanted to...and she did want to. Instead she braced herself. 'I don't need help. Not yours, not anyone's.'
'All right,' he said after a moment, his gaze unblink ing. 'If you say so.'
He didn't believe her. Nettled, she turned away from him again and stalked back to the wall.
'You've hardly had five minutes' break,' Gabriel pointed out, sounding unusually irritable.
'I just want to get on with it.'
Gabriel tossed the remainder of his coffee down his throat, and muttered almost inaudibly, 'So do I.'
He stuck around, watching in a rather brooding fash ion, giving her a distinct feeling that he was purposely trying to unsettle her with his silent, watchful presence. She worked more slowly than usual, afraid of making some mistake because she couldn't shake her prickly lt; awareness of him, yet determined not to let him know
it.
After what seemed an age, he left, and she didn't see him again before Mick let her out of the building.
The next time he stopped by to check progress his ca sually helpful manner had returned, and he said nothing, did nothing that Mick might not have done.
He didn't bring up the subject of her past again, and Rhiannon told herself that he'd forgotten all about her near-confession. She thrust the episode to the back of her mind, and gradually relaxed her vigilance, some times scarcely noticing Gabriel's visits, except for the tingling warmth that told her he was near.
She finished mortaring the top half on a Sunday afternoon while Gabriel watched. She pressed the last tes sera into place and stood up. 'I can't go any further here until the mortar cures.'
Gabriel offered her a hand as she climbed down to the landing, and without even thinking about it, she let him help her. Putting her other hand to her back, with a rueful grimace she said, 'I need some exercise.'
'How about a walk down to the waterfront?' Gabriel suggested. 'We could have a drink. This deserves a cel ebration.'
'Dressed like this?' Realising he still held her hand, she tugged it away and plucked at the front of the stained shirt she wore.
'It doesn't matter,' he said, 'but I can lend you a clean shirt if you like.'
Remembering what had happened last time they were together in his office, Rhiannon felt a knot tighten in her stomach, but he gave no sign of sharing her discomfort. Lately he'd seemed to be taking pains to put her at ease, with no probing into her private life. She knew by now that he would back off at the least hint that she was feeling crowded or threatened.
Beginning to shake her head, she paused. 'You keep spare clothes here?'
'Uh-huh. Sometimes it's more convenient than going home to change.'
She too sometimes changed before leaving work, keeping jeans and a couple of T-shirts and tank tops there for the purpose.
Her gaze fixed firmly on his face, she said, 'All right.'
Gabriel stopped himself from grabbing her and planting a kiss on her lips there and then. Instead he acted casual, leading the way up to his office and pulling a white evening shirt from a dry-cleaner's bag. 'There's a wash room through there,' he said, indicating a door.
When she emerged, with the sleeves of the shirt rolled to her elbows and the tails tied about her waist, her own garment in her hand, he allowed
himself only one swift, comprehensive glance, though he couldn't resist commenting, 'Looks better on you.' And to keep his hands from reaching for her and tearing the garment right off again, he turned abruptly to the door. 'Let's go.' She'd be safer in the street, where the presence of other people would inhibit his baser instincts. He had worked too hard at gaining her confidence to spoil it now.
They strolled past the graffiti-covered boards that hid the site next door, where the spoil had been carted away and diggers had begun on the foundations for a new building, and on down Queen Street to the Viaduct Basin. Among the numerous bars and restaurants Gabriel found one with outdoor seating where they could watch the water lapping against the wharves and admire the anchored yachts.
Gabriel ordered a bottle of sparkling wine. 'Something to eat?' he asked Rhiannon.
'If we're going to drink a bottle...' she said.
He grinned, and handed her the menu. 'How about a plate of nachos to share?'
They settled for that, and picked companionably at the generous dish while having a desultory conversation, un til Rhiannon yawned and said, 'Excuse me.'
'I'm that boring?' Gabriel inquired.
She laughed, shaking her head. 'You know it isn't that. You're the least boring man I know.'
He actually felt his heart skip a beat. 'How many men do you know?' he asked lightly.
She was dipping a crisp nacho triangle into sour cream. Her eyes lowered, she went on jabbing the corner into the soft mass. 'A few.'
He wondered how well. At a guess, not very. But there was Peri...
She put the nacho into her mouth, half turning to watch the ferry tie up, the ramp rattle down for the pas sengers. 'When I was a kid my parents used to take me on weekends to the North Shore for the day.'
'We could do that,' he offered.
She looked at him with surprise, then a smile curved her mouth. 'Really?'
Curbing a devout sense of astonished thankfulness, Gabriel shrugged. 'Why not?'
They took the next boat out, making their way to the bow where the sea breeze tugged at Rhiannon's hair and whipped colour into her cheeks. The city receded as the boat headed across choppy little white-tipped waves, strewn with small craft, multicoloured sails dipping and swaying, and motor launches cutting foam paths in the water. Distantly the islands of the Hauraki Gulf rose gently from the sea.