The Seduction Season (HQR Presents)

by Helen Bianchin

Anneke heard them in the depths of her subconscious mind and slowly drifted into wakefulness. Still the noise persisted.

  What the hell…? She opened one eye and looked at the clock atop the bedside pedestal. Dammit, it was only seven. On Saturday.

  Surely her aunt hadn’t arranged for a contractor to do some work and forgotten to mention the fact?

  Maybe if she buried her head beneath the pillow she could go back to sleep, she decided, suiting thought to action, only to groan out loud minutes later as the sound still penetrated with no seeming loss of intensity.

  Annoyance had her sliding out of bed and pulling on a pair of shorts, and she paused briefly to drag a brush through the length of her hair before storming into the hall to assess where the hammering seemed loudest.

  Rear, she decided, and made for the back door.

  Quite what she’d expected to see when she opened it she wasn’t sure. Certainly not Sebastian Lanier’s tall, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, jean-clad frame perched partway up a ladder, wielding a hammer as he stroked in one nail after another.

  ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  Well, now, there was a pretty sight to tempt a man’s eye at this early hour. Nice legs. He followed the slender calves, the well-shaped thighs. Good muscle tone, he noted approvingly.

  Narrow hips, neat waist, and the slight swing of her breasts made him itch to slide his hands beneath the oversize tee-shirt and see how well they fit his palms.

  Slowly he lifted his eyes and took his time examining her mouth, and remembered the feel of it beneath his own.

  He moved up a few inches and looked straight into a pair of bright, furious eyes whose emerald depths threatened nothing less than murder.

  Sebastian smiled. A long, slow, curving movement that lifted the edges of his mouth and showed the gleam of white teeth. ‘Good morning.’ He positioned another nail and hammered it in.

  Clean-shaven, his hair bound neatly at his nape, he looked almost respectable. It was the ‘almost’ part she had trouble coming to terms with. None of the men in the circles in which she moved resembled anything like this man.

  Calm, she must remain calm. ‘Do you know what time it is?’

  Of course he knew what time it was. He’d been up since six, had orange juice, gone through his daily exercise routine, then assembled a high-protein drink in the blender and sipped it while he scrolled through his e-mail.

  ‘Am I disturbing you?’

  Oh, he was disturbing her, all right. Just how much, he was about to discover. A last attempt at civility, then she’d let him have it with both barrels blazing. ‘Perhaps you’d care to explain what exactly it is that you’re doing?’

  She possessed a fine temper. He could see it in her eyes, the tilt of her chin, the way she stood.

  ‘Yesterday I removed a section of worn guttering. Today I’m putting up new.’ He held another nail in position and nailed it in. Then he turned his head to look at her. ‘I arranged it with Vivienne.’

  There was that faint smile again. Anneke gritted her teeth.

  He moved down the ladder and shifted it, checked its stability, then stepped up again. And hammered in another nail.

  ‘I suppose you’re one of those irritating people who manage to get by on an indecently few hours of sleep?’

  ‘Five or six.’ He lined up another nail and rammed it home.

  Anger coursed through her body, heating her veins, and erupted in voluble speech. ‘You’re doing this deliberately, aren’t you?’

  He cast her a long, measured glance, noted the twin flags of colour high on each cheek, the firm set of her mouth. ‘Is that an accusation?’

  ‘Damned right it is,’ she bit out furiously.

  Sebastian hooked the hammer into his toolbelt and descended down to the ground. ‘Let’s get one thing clear. I boot up my computer at one in the afternoon. Vivienne needs something fixed; I fix it for her. In the morning.’

  His voice was quiet, almost too quiet. And silky, she decided. ‘You have to start at seven?’

  ‘I’m due in town at ten,’ he explained reasonably. ‘I won’t have time to do anything when I get back from town except grab some lunch, and—”’

  ‘Go boot up the computer,’ Anneke finished for him. ‘And you just had to finish this section before you left.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Today.’

  ‘It could rain,’ he responded solemnly.

  Most unlikely. Her voice rose a pitch. ‘You waltz over here and begin hammering shortly after dawn?’

  ‘Dawn was five-thirty, daylight saving time,’ Sebastian informed her mildly.

  ‘I don’t give a tinker’s cuss when dawn was.’ She advanced a step, and crossed her arms across her chest. ‘I want you to stop hammering so I can get some sleep.’

  ‘Ask me nicely.’

  Her jaw went slack. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  His lips twitched. ‘Ask me nicely,’ he reiterated.

  So he was amused. Well, she’d wipe that smile right off his face! ‘You can go—’ she enunciated each word carefully ‘—jump in the ocean.’

  The phone rang, its peal issuing an insistent summons she chose to ignore. Temporarily.

  ‘That’ll probably be Vivienne.’

  It didn’t help any that he was right. Elise was stable; the unborn twins were fine. However, Elise would stay in hospital, probably until the twins’ birth, anticipated prematurely. Naturally Aunt Vivienne would remain in Cairns.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ The older woman’s voice was achingly sincere. ‘I feel a little easier in my mind knowing Sebastian is close by.’

  A sentiment Anneke didn’t share.

  ‘You’ve met him, of course,’ Aunt Vivienne continued. ‘Such a thoughtful, caring man. And so handy. Oh, dear, I almost forgot—”’ She broke off, paused, then launched into an explanation. ‘I have an arrangement to prepare his evening meals. Anneke, could you?’ A hesitant apology swiftly followed. ‘I hate to ask, but would it be too much of an imposition?’

  Yes, it would. If she never saw Sebastian Lanier again, it would be too soon! The thought of preparing a cooked meal for him every night was unbearable.

  However, being Aunt Vivienne’s guest, enjoying her aunt’s home, made it difficult to refuse. ‘I’ll organise it with him,’ she agreed, hiding her reluctance.

  ‘Thank you, darling.’ Aunt Vivienne’s relief was palpable. ‘You’re such a good cook, far more adventurous than me. He’s in for a gourmet feast.’

  The word ‘gourmet’ struck a responsive chord, and Anneke allowed herself a slight smile. If Aunt Vivienne wanted her to prepare Sebastian’s evening meals during her sojourn here, then she would. However, meat-and-potatoes-with-vegetables would definitely be off the menu.

  A contemplative gleam entered her eyes. Sautéed brains, stuffed pigeon, pig’s trotters. She gave a silent laugh. Maybe this might be fun, after all.

  ‘I’ll take care of it, Aunt Vivienne.’ Oh, she would, indeed! ‘Is there anything else you’d like me to do?’

  ‘No, sweetheart. Thank you. I’ll ring again in a day or two, or before if there’s any news.’

  ‘Give Elise my love.’ Anneke replaced the receiver, and noticed the absence of hammering.

  Had Sebastian finished? Or was he merely being courteous? She moved towards the back door and saw his lengthy frame bending over a stack of neatly piled wood.

  Nice butt, she acknowledged. Some men looked good in tight, worn denim, and he was one of them. As she watched, he straightened and turned to face her.

  ‘Good news?’

  She was on the verge of retorting that it was none of his business, but managed to catch the words in time. ‘Elise is stable; the twins are expected to deliver prematurely.’

  Succinct, with just a touch of resentment, he mused, wondering how she would react if he took all that fine anger and turned it into passion.

  Probably try to hit him. He banked down a silent laugh and deliberately d
rooped his eyelids so the gleam of humour was successfully hidden. It might even be interesting to allow her to score the slap.

  Anneke regarded him through narrowed eyes, unable to read him. And the inability didn’t sit well. Usually she had no difficulty in pegging the male species. Smooth, charming, vain, arrogant, superficial, blatant. Whatever the veneer, the motive remained basic.

  Yet instinct warned that this man didn’t run with the pack, and that made him infinitely dangerous.

  Damn his imperturbability. She wanted to shake that unruffled calm. ‘Is six o’clock convenient for your evening meal?’

  One eyebrow slanted, and she could have sworn she glimpsed a gleam of amusement in those dark eyes. ‘Vivienne frequently shared dinner with me.’

  She drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. She even managed the semblance of a smile, albeit that it held a degree of cynicism. ‘An example I have no intention of following.’

  ‘You have an aversion to friendliness?’

  Anneke could feel the anger rise, and didn’t try to contain it. ‘An aversion to you.’

  His expression didn’t change, although anyone who knew him well could have warned the stillness held ominous implications.

  ‘You don’t know me,’ Sebastian intoned softly.

  ‘Believe I don’t want to.’

  ‘Feel free to stow your bag in the boot of the car and drive back to Sydney.’ His eyes were level, and resembled obsidian shards. ‘The loss of a prepared evening meal won’t negate my obligation to complete necessary chores for Vivienne.’

  She drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. She could, she knew, easily do what he suggested. Aunt Vivienne would accept she’d changed her mind, and be concerned about her ambivalence.

  Except she didn’t want to return to the city. Given a choice, she’d have preferred her aunt’s company, her wisdom. And the solitude of a sandy stretch of beach in a gently curving bay where she could walk alone, meditate, and allow fresh emotional scars to heal.

  A solitude she wouldn’t gain if she went back to her small city apartment. Friends, concerned for her welfare, would ring and try to entice her to join them at any one of several parties, or attend the cinema, the theatre. Suggest lunch or dinner and attempt to play amateur psychologist.

  Unburdening her soul and having her every word, every action dissected and analysed didn’t form part of her agenda.

  ‘I intend to stay,’ Anneke responded with equal civility.

  Sebastian hadn’t been aware the small knot of tension existed until it suddenly dissolved in his gut. Nor could he explain the reason for its existence.

  Sure, Vivienne’s niece was a sassy, long-legged blonde whose captivating green eyes invited a second glance.

  His mouth formed a slightly bitter twist. He’d known several sassy, long-legged women in his time, and bedded more than a few. Only to discover they’d coveted his wealth first and foremost. With the exception of Yvette, with whom he’d shared one precious year. In an unprecedented twist of fate, she’d been victim of a random road accident on the eve of their wedding.

  For two years he’d buried himself in work, diced daringly in the world of high finance, only to wake one morning and opt for a complete change of lifestyle.

  He owned apartments, houses, in several major capital cities around the world, and for a while he’d lived in every one of them.

  It was in Paris, the country of his birth, where he’d first begun to pen a novel, the idea for which had niggled at his brain for months. The state-of-the-art computer which linked him to his various business interests had acquired a new file.

  A file which had grown and totally absorbed him. His path to acceptance and publication had been a dream run. At a time when virtual reality teased the readers’ senses, his futuristic upbeat plots had been a hit. International success soon followed, and in a bid for anonymity he’d returned to Australia, sought and found relative isolation in a picturesque bay in the Northern Rivers area, and snapped up a cottage he took pleasure in slowly renovating and refurbishing during the morning hours.

  Once a year he flew to the States for the obligatory book launch. And each Christmas was spent in Paris. Occasionally he looked up old friends and joined the social set for a while, only to find the life palled, the new plot beckoned, whereupon he returned to the place he’d called home for the past five years.

  Now he looked into the clear green gaze of the first sassy blonde who’d shown an active dislike of him, and relaxed his features as he proffered a faint smile. ‘Six o’clock will be fine.’

  Where had he been during that long minute of silence? Anneke told herself she wasn’t interested. And knew she lied.

  She inclined her head stiffly, and matched her voice to the gesture. ‘I intend going back to bed.’ Her eyes held his, fascinated by dark slate-grey depths whose expression was difficult to discern. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d stop hammering so that I can catch up on some sleep.’

  ‘OK.’

  She couldn’t believe he intended to comply. ‘You’ll stop?’

  Those sensuously moulded lips curved slightly. ‘You asked me nicely.’

  Anneke opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  She watched in silence as he removed the ladder and stored it, gathered up the used section of roof guttering and collected his tools.

  Without a further word he turned and covered the distance to his cottage with an easy, lithe stride.

  Denim hugged every curve, hinted at superb thigh and calf muscle, and emphasised the length of his legs. Lean waist, fluid muscular grace evident in the breadth of his shoulders denoted more than average strength.

  Dammit, why was she standing here watching him, for heaven’s sake? Men weren’t her favoured species at the moment, and this man irritated her beyond measure.

  She retreated indoors, paused long enough in the kitchen to fill a glass with water and drink it, then she made for the bedroom and slid between the sheets.

  The anger hadn’t subsided; if anything it had intensified. Joined by the stinging realisation that she had no job, no salary, and running expenses to maintain on her apartment.

  On the plus side, she had an annuity from inherited investments, sufficient to live quite comfortably until she found employment, and there was a reasonably healthy savings account from which she could draw funds to meet weekly expenses.

  Anneke closed her eyes and deliberately summoned pleasant thoughts, employed meditation techniques, and resorted to counting sheep. Nothing worked.

  With an angry jerk she tossed off the sheet, rose and pulled on a swimsuit. A swim, followed by a walk along the beach, then breakfast. After which she’d examine the contents of Aunt Vivienne’s refrigerator and pantry, decide what to prepare for Sebastian’s dinner, then drive into Byron Bay and collect everything she needed from the supermarket.

  Anneke paused long enough to clean her teeth and run a brush through her hair, then she slid on a pair of sunglasses, caught up a towel, and made her way down onto the sandy foreshore.

  The sun was warm, with the promise of increasing heat as the day progressed. A faint sea breeze teased the ends of her hair, and she inhaled the tangy salt air with pleasure.

  There wasn’t another person in sight, and she relished the solitude, choosing to explore the familiar shoreline for several minutes before opting to wade into the cool water.

  Effecting a neat dive, she broke the surface and began a pattern of leisurely strokes parallel to the shore for a while, before emerging to towel the excess moisture from her skin and hair.

  It didn’t take long for the warm air to dry her swimsuit, and she wrapped the towel round her waist, then set out towards the outcrop of rocks at the furthest end of the bay.

  Anneke could feel her body relax as the tension eased, and she increased her pace to a light jog, enjoying the exercise, the morning, the solitude.

  It was almost an hour before she re-entered the cottage, and after a shower she dressed
in casual shorts and a top, then caught up a pad and pen as she examined her aunt’s pantry and refrigerator and noted what food supplies she’d need to collect from the supermarket.

  CHAPTER THREE

  BREAKFAST comprised cereal, toast and fruit, followed by ruinously strong black coffee.

  Anneke tidied the few dishes, then she caught up her car keys, slid the strap of her bag over one shoulder, and made her way out to the carport.

  Byron Bay was a pleasant seaside town, a popular holiday area, and the community centre for outlying banana, avocado and sugar cane farmers.

  Parking the car wasn’t a problem, and she took her time browsing through the supermarket as she selected her purchases and stacked them in the trolley.

  It was almost midday when she returned to the cottage, and after unloading her various purchases she took time to have lunch before beginning preparations for Sebastian’s evening meal.

  At five she showered and changed into jeans and a singlet top, bound her hair into a single plait, then returned to the kitchen.

  Artichokes stuffed and served with a rich cream sauce, marinated baby octopus, risi e bisi, two baby pigeons confits aux raisins, and, for dessert, her speciality—bombe au chocolat.

  Anneke hoped he had a supply of antacid on hand, otherwise he was certain to be a victim of indigestion.

  At precisely two minutes before six she trod the short path linking both cottages and knocked on Sebastian’s back door.

  She heard a deep bark, followed by a curt command, then the door swung open.

  Anneke saw the dog first. A huge Alsatian with liquid brown eyes, a dark velvet pelt, and possessing all the qualities of a trained guard dog.

  ‘Shaef,’ Sebastian qualified. ‘Let him become acquainted, then you’ll never need worry about him again.’

  Her eyes travelled over snug black jeans, a black open-necked shirt, to features that bore a faintly mocking expression.

  He was an arresting man, compelling, and possessed of a leashed quality that some would find vaguely frightening.

  Anneke didn’t question his authority with Shaef. She had a healthy respect for canines, and the Alsatian was an awesome breed.