His Christmas Pearl

by Renée Dahlia

  ‘Relax. I’m not going to stab you.’

  ‘Excellent. I take it you’ve just had a bad break up or something?’

  He shook his head. ‘I think that’s been quite enough speculation about my life.’ The last thing he expected was her laughter. The sound seemed to trickle through his veins and warm his heart. Damn it. A hint of sweet perfume reminded him of cupcakes, the type created by Flick, the pastry chef at Christophe’s restaurant, piled high with icing and decadence.

  ‘Perhaps I’m just fascinated by you …’ She shook her head again, the Christmas earrings swaying. ‘I mean—crap. I’m going to be quiet now.’

  He also hadn’t expected to smile today, and yet Zoe had made him smile twice since her surprise arrival in the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t be. I’m just having a bad day—well, a bad few months—it’s not your fault that I’m grumpy.’ Kiet wasn’t usually so talkative but there was something about this Zoe that made him want to unburden all his problems. He shouldn’t trust that sense, not when he didn’t know who to trust.

  ‘Oh. Makes sense. Everyone is here today because we have nowhere else to go for Christmas. People will understand because we are all lonely together.’

  ‘How many assumptions are we up to now? I’m just here to deliver the oysters.’

  Zoe’s shoulders slumped and he was immediately sorry he’d spoken. ‘I’m sorry. I figured you were here for Xander, I mean, Christophe’s party.’

  ‘I wasn’t invited.’ It was the truth—not the whole truth—his brother Sam had the invitation, not him. He was just the fill-in.

  ‘I’m sure Christophe won’t mind if you stay. And it looks like there is plenty of food.’

  ‘Food, huh? Sam was supposed to do today’s delivery …’ He rolled his eyes. ‘His ex was also invited, and he wanted to avoid her. He claimed awkwardness points or some nonsense and he sent me instead.’

  Kiet still didn’t know what it was about Zoe that had him spilling all the details of his brother’s problems. He stabbed an oyster harder than necessary. All thanks to his damned brother who chickened out at the last minute. Now he was late for this party, that he’d hadn’t been invited to, and he was rushing to try and catch up time. The oysters should have been served already. He’d probably blurted that out because he was annoyed at Sam’s cowardly behaviour, but then if Elizabeth was stealing from petty cash, he didn’t blame Sam for not wanting to see her again. The idea of seeing her made his blood boil.

  ‘Have you seen a medium height scrawny woman with red-brown hair and an odd crinkly smile?’ Kiet knew he was being unkind. Elizabeth was quite striking if you liked the thieving type. Charming too, hence she’d been able to get away with her villainy for so long.

  Zoe shook her head. ‘I haven’t been out there yet with the others. I don’t know who is here.’

  ‘I’ll finish up here and we can go out together if you want.’ He wasn’t sure why he’d offered, and he wanted to press his hand against his forehead. He breathed in deep and focused on the task at hand. He only had a dozen left to shuck, so it wouldn’t take too long to get this job done. Then he could wash up, shake hands with Xander and Christophe, and get out of here. A couple of beers on the jetty at home overlooking the farm would be just the ticket right now.

  ‘Yeah, alright. Can I help at all?’ Zoe sounded genuine—or was he falling under the spell of her charms?

  ‘Not unless you are an accountant.’ He was glad he didn’t voice that thought. No one needed to know his family business was in financial trouble.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Yes you did. Something about needing an accountant.’

  Kiet swallowed back a curse. Had he said that aloud? Bugger. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Sure. Because people mumble about their desire to have accountants solve their problems all the time.’ Zoe rolled her eyes and giggled.

  ‘I suppose you are an accountant.’

  She smiled and he tried not to stagger backwards a step as her red painted lips stretched. In that moment, the smile took her from pretty to absolutely stunning.

  ‘Yes. I work for Xander.’

  ‘One of his lost orphans who need entertaining on Christmas Day.’ Kiet fell back onto sarcasm to get her away from his own issues. She tensed, standing completely still, and stared at him. Crap—maybe she was an actual orphan, like him.

  ‘No. I’m estranged from my family.’

  ‘I suppose you used your accountancy skills to steal from them.’ What was it about her that made him blurt out all his secrets? She shook her head, and a big fat tear slid down one cheek. It had to be fake. No one could cry like a movie star on command like that.

  ‘Nothing that exciting. Just a difference of opinions.’

  ‘Quite the difference if you are estranged. Well, their loss.’

  ‘Everyone’s loss, I’d say.’ She hauled in a big breath, one that made her chest rise and fall so the fabric of her dress tightened over her breasts. The dress clung to her lush form, most of it hidden by the bench and sink between them. He could hear his mother berating him from her grave—no woman who is hurting wants to be ogled by some bloke they’ve just met. He should apologise for being so surly, but she tilted her head and looked at him with her eyes narrowed.

  ‘You have a business problem. You … Let me guess, you mentioned a woman using her charms, and your brother has just broken up with someone. You think she stole from you and you need an accountant to prove it.’

  He nodded. ‘That about sums it up.’ He thought back over everything he’d said, and admiration made his rage settle. She’d worked that out from the slimmest of clues, from paying attention to him. He let out the breath he’d been holding. Huh—people didn’t usually notice him like this. He wasn’t sure if he should push her away as a threat or hold her close and let her help him. He rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved left hand, unsure if he could trust her, and the metallic mesh scratched at his skin.

  ‘You must have an accountant for the business?’ she asked. He nodded, and she worried her bottom lip with her finger. ‘Oh, but you don’t trust them either?’

  ‘Yes. I trust my accountant. He’s looked after the business for thirty years and was a good friend to my parents. I trust him.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘I don’t have enough information yet.’ He wasn’t sure what else he needed and this morning, Sam had clammed up when he’d asked about Elizabeth.

  ‘How much are we talking?’

  ‘I wish I knew.’

  ‘What about your financial records? Won’t it be in there?’

  He shrugged. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Just that their yields over the past three years had been excellent, but their income didn’t match the improved yield.

  ‘Never mind. It obviously makes you uncomfortable to talk about. When you are ready, I’m happy to talk shop with you. Now, do you want help carrying these out to the rest of the guests?’

  ‘I’ll manage,’ Kiet croaked out a reply to her very sensible comment.

  She nodded once, then turned on her heels leaving him feeling rather off balance. He watched her dress—Christmas-themed with cartoon surfing Santas on the fabric of the skirt—swirl around her pale legs as she walked away. She obviously didn’t get outside much. He’d grown up with his parents’ love story—how his father had abandoned his studies to work on the farm alongside his mother, eager to spend all his time to be with her—and how they’d been in love until the end. Until that fated storm that had taken them both away from him and Sam. He heaved out a big breath. They’d be so proud of what Sam and he had built, except now the whole lot was at risk from a thief. A pretty thief—most likely Elizabeth. And here he was lusting after the next woman to step into his life. Zoe was probably part of the scam too. He couldn’t trust anyone right now. Time to finish these blasted oysters and get out of here.

  ***

  Ev
eryone had fawned over the oysters and he knew he should be thankful as he’d probably gain a few more customers from today’s experience. Christophe’s lunch had been amazing—an excellent display of his culinary skills. No wonder Xander gave him free rein over the restaurant. Most of the guests knew either Xander or Christophe, and Kiet couldn’t remember what Sam had said about who organised the party. He had far too much on his mind to figure out minor details like that. Christophe used his oysters and paid his invoices regularly—that’s what counted. With small towns being what they were, Kiet also saw a few familiar faces who he’d known since they were kids. Joe owned amazing market gardens with top-line glasshouses down the road, yet the way he typically snubbed the dress code by wearing thongs showed his connection to the land. His casual footwear made Kiet smile, but the way Joe’s gaze never left the pretty brunette with wolf-coloured eyes wiped away the flicker of good humour. The last thing he needed was a reminder of the femme fatale who drew a man’s attention away from what mattered. A short discussion with Flick, the new pastry chef at Christophe’s restaurant, only reinforced the notion because he couldn’t help baiting her about sleeping with the boss, Xander. She lashed out at him and he knew his instincts were all screwed up because he couldn’t decide if it was faux-anger on her part, or if she really cared for her rich lover. The party moved on around him, with people laughing and seeming to enjoy themselves. Zoe and her sister were chatting with a group of people. Someone leaned in to admire Zoe’s crazy Christmas earrings, and he had to outwardly shake off the tension in his shoulders. It should be him touching her earlobe, not whoever that was. He could either have another beer, which meant staying the night, or he could piss off home right now and lick his wounds. He probably ought to spend some of the day with Sam, his only family, even though they didn’t really celebrate Christmas. What was the point with just the two of them? And everything about Christmas reminded him of his mother, who had adored the theatre of the occasion.

  His phone dinged with a message. Sam: Is she there? Tell her I didn’t mean it.

  Kiet: Want me to come home? He could do with the excuse.

  Sam: Nah, piss off. Enjoy the party. She hates me anyway.

  Jeepers, his brother was drunk and maudlin. That’s it, he was staying here where people were laughing. A huge splash interrupted his thoughts and he spun around. Damn, someone had fallen into the pool. He started to move to help, only to see Christophe already on the scene pulling Emily out. Yet another person here who had gone to school with Sam. Her soaking wet dress clung to her very tidy body, yet it didn’t matter to Kiet. He’d rather see Zoe like that. Hell. He needed another drink—between Sam’s Elizabeth and Zoe, his brain was a mess.

  Kiet: She’s not here. He lied to his brother. It seemed kinder that way. Better that than tell him she’d already found her next target. Kiet walked towards the bar that Christophe had set up in the corner of his yard, turning his back on Elizabeth who was chatting up her next victim. Poor bloke.

  Chapter 3

  The party had reached that quiet stage, where most people had drifted home, and a few stragglers sat around nibbling on the leftovers and chatting quietly. Zoe had giggled with Flick, the new pastry chef at Christophe’s restaurant, over their car names. Didn’t everyone name their cars? Flick’s car had been written off in a freak accident, and she still hadn’t found a replacement. They’d laughed as they’d brainstormed new names before coming to the conclusion that you couldn’t name a car until you’d driven it a few times.

  Zoe smoothed down her dress over her full stomach and stared up at the sky. A thunderstorm was gathering on the horizon, with dark clouds forming to the south. She’d be grateful for a cool change to blow away the heavy heat of the day. Christophe’s roast turkey had been amazing, and she’d eaten way too much. Well, if you couldn’t indulge on Christmas Day, when could you? She didn’t miss her mother’s little jibes about her curves—her job didn’t exactly give her much time to devote to fitness. All that sitting in front of a computer wasn’t the greatest for having a slim backside. Urgh, why was she ruining a lovely party with these old thoughts? In the two years since her parents had declared they wouldn’t accept Jade in their house, Zoe had enjoyed the freedom to eat what she wanted without judgement. She’d put on a bit of weight, but so what? She was happy. No more stressing about living up to her mother’s impossible ideals. She walked to work, so it wasn’t like she ignored her health completely. Damn it, there she was again—still focused on her mother’s disparaging voice. Jade had disappeared somewhere with a friend—she’d text her later—and Zoe knew she probably should go home too. She’d deliberately only had one glass of champagne all day, so she could drive her car, Betty, home safely.

  Zoe wandered into the house, and a soft snore caught her attention. She turned to see Kiet asleep on the couch, with his lips slightly parted. He lay on his back with his arms behind his head, a position that pulled his shirt up to expose a slim gap of skin between his jeans and the hem of the polo shirt. The tiny strip of skin was tanned and scattered with a few black hairs. His strength was obvious as his stomach moved up and down with each breath, and a hint of defined abdominal muscles made Zoe’s fingers twitch. She had a sudden urge to slide his shirt higher, so she could see all his stomach and chest. Her lips dried—maybe she’d had more than one glass? Had someone refilled it without her knowing? No. She’d been vigilant over her single glass of champagne, knowing that she’d be driving home after the party. Zoe moved closer to Kiet and a whiff of alcohol made her gasp. He definitely wouldn’t be driving his van home tonight.

  ‘Hey, Kiet.’ She didn’t want to touch him, not trusting the way her body responded to seeing him in repose. He groaned then went back to his rhythmic quiet snores.

  ‘Kiet.’ Zoe’s hand hovered over his shoulder. Should she shake him?

  ‘What?’ he grumbled, not opening his eyes.

  ‘The party is over. I’ll drive you home.’

  He huffed and rolled over, leaving her staring at his back.

  ‘Just leave him there, ce crétin saoul.’ Christophe’s laughter filled the room, and Zoe whipped around to stare at the chef. She didn’t understand the phrase but the light-hearted way he’d said it made it sound like he thought Kiet was a silly drunk.

  ‘Do you need any help cleaning up?’ Years of training couldn’t be dismissed.

  ‘No. Nico will do it. It’s his job.’

  ‘I hope you are paying him.’ Zoe sniped at Christophe’s dismissal, but the chef simply raised his eyebrows in his usual sardonic fashion.

  ‘Says the bloody accountant.’ Kiet’s growly comment had her turning around again. At this rate, she’d get dizzy spinning between the two grumpy men. She put her hands on her hips and glared at them both in turn.

  ‘It’s my job to ensure everyone gets a fair wage for the job they do. And gets paid on time.’

  ‘And here I thought that accountants were only useful to prevent people from paying tax.’ Kiet’s sarcastic comment made her roll her eyes.

  ‘Don’t let Xander hear you talk like that.’

  Kiet snorted. ‘Why? I suppose he likes paying tax.’

  ‘Who knows? He has a big heart, so he’s probably good with paying for hospitals and the like.’ Christophe shrugged elegantly, then glanced at the front door. ‘Kiet, you are three sheets to the wind. Either stay here or get someone to drive you home.’

  Zoe nodded in agreement with the chef. Kiet was in no state to drive himself. ‘I’ll drop him off. I owe him one anyway.’

  ‘I’ll stay …’ Kiet hauled himself into a sitting position. He peered at everyone as if considering his options. ‘No. Zoe can drive me. I need her—’

  ‘Mate.’

  Zoe grinned at Christophe’s gruff warning. She could look after herself. ‘It’s fine. He means he needs my accountancy skills, not that he needs me. The very idea is absurd.’ Zoe knew that men didn’t lust after her; she’d never been one of the pretty ones at school. She�
�d barely talked to anyone outside her church youth group friends, listening to her mother’s caution about boys who didn’t know their place. She sighed—she’d probably internalised her mother’s idea that all men were dangerous. No wonder she was still single.

  ‘Not absurd,’ Kiet growled and stood up, swaying slightly before righting himself. ‘Come on.’ He marched out of the house, his steps steady and strong given his apparent drunken state.

  ‘I can make him stay if you aren’t comfortable driving him.’

  ‘Thank you for your concern, Christophe. I’ll be fine.’ Zoe stuck out her hand to shake Christophe’s, but he pulled her into a big hug, kissing her on both cheeks. Today’s party had more than made up for missing her family Christmas party—she’d found a new family of friends to spend her time with. None of them judged her sister for simply being herself, which was a huge tick in the positive column for all of them. If only Zoe could find the self-belief to just be whoever she wanted to be. She admired Jade for the way she knew and accepted her own desires, regardless of the personal cost.

  ‘They say liquor brings out your true personality. Kiet might be grumpy but he’s never shown me any signs of meanness. Just be careful.’