Читать книгу Shadows Of The Past - Frances Housden - Страница 8

“Vanity, thy name is woman,” Maria Costello told herself, even as she snapped the clasp of her evening purse closed over her glasses and ditched the last particle of her normal librarian look. If there was one thing she didn’t need tonight it was anything that smacked of timidity.

No, if she was to face up to her bête noire, then she had to look as if all the power was in her hands, whether it was true or not. She took a deep breath, tilting her chin, and stared after the lights of her departing cab. Without her glasses they were just two fuzzy red balls zooming into the deep blue of a New Zealand summer twilight.

On any other day, the soles of her feet would have itched to dance to the music pouring out of the early New Zealand colonial edifice that housed the Point restaurant, but tonight nothing could distract her. Not even the song rocking off the overhanging verandas that sheltered sidewalk diners. Tonight the tables were empty. All the action was taking place inside at the party she intended gate-crashing.

Of course, if Mamma knew what she was about to do, she would think Maria’s sense of proportion had gone haywire. An opinion that would be voiced in a mixture of English and Italian, the exact mix dependent on the level of her excitement.

Somehow, Maria was positive tonight it would be Italian all the way. One look and Mamma would know she’d gone over the top with her plum-colored dress. Its nunlike high neckline and long sleeves fooled everyone until she turned around.

She’d needed a confidence boost and this was the first time since buying the dress she’d hauled it out of the wardrobe and worn it outside her bedroom.

All her best glamour products, and for what? For the sake of turning the tables on the man she believed was stalking her.

Some people might think she was taking a gamble denouncing him with no more proof than he’d been the only person she’d recognized when the sensation prickled up her neck. But it hadn’t started until just after she’d been called to reception at Tech-Re-Search and Randy Searle had handed her some documents from Stanhope Electronics. Nearly every time she turned around quickly, she’d caught him dodging out of sight.

She shuddered, switching her thoughts back to her mother before fear could sneak in a low blow and turn her away from her goal.

The way Maria looked at it, in this life you either had to laugh or cry and she was done crying and ready to do battle.

Clenching her back teeth so hard it hurt she walked into the pool of light spilling from the restaurant door. The happening inside was the Christmas party of Stanhope Electronics, the firm that employed Randy Searle. She’d convinced herself that by confronting him face-to-face, even if he tried to bluster his way out of it, people would know, and in future he’d leave her alone.

Her shoulder-length hair, caught up in butterfly clips, tugged as her scalp prickled, the way it did when she felt him around.

Watching.

No! No more letting her mind take that track.

One more indrawn breath, one more step, and she crossed the threshold into a world of pure sound.

A quick sidestep helped avoid a collision with the couple leaving. Laughing over their shoulders, they waved goodbye, calling out, “See you next year.”

At the last moment they noticed her. “Oops, sorry.” The tall blonde’s blue-eyed gaze held hers with the soft bleariness of someone who’d had just enough to drink.

“No harm done,” said Maria, standing to the side to let them exit, hoping the smile on her face hid her apprehension.

The male half of the couple endowed her with a sloppy grin, and just when she thought she was safe, shouted, “Hey, Franc, hang about, we’ve got a live one here.”

A live one? What kind of party was this?

As she hesitated, he said, “Go right on in. Better late than never, it’s one hell of a party.”

His blond companion tugged at his sleeve, snagging his attention. “And it can only get better.”

A look passed between the two. A look of naked need and desire that pinched at Maria as she watched him practically carry the blonde down to the street in their haste to be alone.

Distracted, she wondered what it felt like to want someone so badly you didn’t care who knew.

Mentally reproving herself to get back to the task at hand, she let her eyes adjust to the soft glare of candles reflected in the old-fashioned white-and-black tiles that had first adorned the walls when it was a butcher’s shop.

“Looking for someone?”

Maria turned in the direction of the rough-honed male voice and almost replied, “You. I’m looking for you. I have been all of my life.”

Uh-oh, was her mouth gaping? She shut it with a snap. In a near daze, she dragged her eyes from the guy’s lopsided grin. A grin she’d thought exclusive to her favorite movie hero. Now she knew better. And for worse.

It was as if someone had played a sick joke on her. She’d never thought to meet a man who could actually make her heart jump into her throat. Truth be known, she’d hadn’t been sure if she wanted to. But to happen tonight of all nights! Swallowing her instincts to flee, she answered, “Randy. Randy Searle, is he still here?”

Head cocked to the side, he gave her a once-over that was almost insolent in its laziness. “Too bad,” he drawled. “I’d hoped you were looking for me.”

Her hands fisted tightly round the strap of her purse until her nails dug into her palm. Real life intruded on her fairy-tale moment and let loose the beast to steal her peace of mind. Hopefully a crowded place would keep her safe.

“Am I too late?”

He turned his wrist to check. Dark hairs showed above a gold watch where the cuffs of his white silk shirt folded back. “Not that late, nine-thirty.”

“Is…is he still here?” she stuttered, watching the only guy to ever make her mind crash come closer, moving with all the lethal grace of a male confident of his own attractions.

His glance caught hers. Brown like her own, but more intense in color—bitter chocolate—his eyes held hers until she forced herself to look away.

Franc had never seen eyes quite that color before, never been one to play favorites, but then…times change. Dark brown washed with violet, they were almost the color of her dress.

And if her eyes had stolen his breath, her mouth stopped his heart, the full top and bottom lips pouted naturally as if shaped by a kiss. Immediately the thought my kiss was born. A tiny black mole enhanced the top right-hand corner and definitely required closer investigation.

“Randy?” he replied slowly, snatching time to think of something other than how her mouth would taste, and stop him cursing that Randy had supped there first.

“Do you know him?”

“Sure. Just give me a minute to think where I last saw him.” Which would make at least two minutes since he’d watched her halt in the doorway. One glimpse had sent him hurrying between the tables lining the miniature dance floor, praying she wasn’t a trick of his imagination, brought about by a period of abstinence that had ceased to bother him, until now.

“Hmm, maybe he went upstairs, there are a couple of quieter rooms up there by the bar…” His words trailed off as he realized he had seen Randy heading in that direction, but he hadn’t been alone. Kathy Gilbertson from the experimental electronics lab had been with him, and Franc wouldn’t have laid bets on which of them was in the most hurry to reach the scattering of sofas in the secluded upstairs bar.

“Okay, I could be wrong. Randy is more likely to be in the courtyard out back where all the action is.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll try there.”

Her words lacked enthusiasm, and at the sight of one of her white teeth nipping at her bottom lip he decided to give her an out. “Then again that might not be a good idea unless you’re wearing insect repellent. I heard some of the ladies complaining about mosquitoes. I’d hate you to get bitten.”

By anyone but me.

He’d wanted to touch that honeyed satin skin bare from neck to waist from the moment she’d turned her back to let Hailey and Joel pass. At that moment he wouldn’t have given a damn if the rest of her hadn’t lived up to his fantasy that a goddess had come calling.

Two days early, Santa, but who was he to complain?

Her hair was as dark as his, but no butterfly could ever look half that good on him. She sported at least ten that seemed to flit around her head. Fists bunched, he held back from trying to capture one, but knew his resistance was almost shot.

Hell, what was a guy to do when he that knew up close and personal was never gonna be enough?

From the moment she’d turned to face him, Franc had known he’d been deluding himself. No woman so beautiful, fabulous eyes, generous mouth, not to mention that mole, could possibly be here without a partner.

Soon as she’d proved him correct he’d wished the words unsaid. Randy Searle? The guy was the last person he’d have predicted. And he’d say the goddess standing before him was the last person Randy expected since he’d bet any money the sales rep was more interested in Kathy at the moment. Maybe he could save both of them from an embarrassing situation and do himself and the goddess a favor at the same time.

Her grateful smile almost floored him as she said, “Then that’s no problem, I never get bitten. Guess I’m the wrong blood group or something.”

“Good for you, let me lead the way through the crush. How about I get you something to drink on the way out?” he asked, hoping delay would give him time to formulate plans.

Hell, Randy was in a jam. The least Franc could do was help him out of it. Too bad he couldn’t claim his motives were entirely altruistic.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

He got the distinct impression his goddess was just as eager to put off the meeting, and a spark of hope blossomed that all wasn’t well in the house of Searle. “Okay, red or white?”

She rubbed the tip of her tongue over the spot her tooth had nibbled, his mouth watered for a taste of raspberries. What other flavor could lips that color be?

“A merlot would be nice, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No problem, Ms….”

“Maria. Maria Costello.”

She held out her hand…their fingers touched, skin sliding on skin…the world stopped spinning and threw him off.

He took a deep breath before he ended up with a foot between his teeth. He just couldn’t get past the idea of Randy and the goddess as an item. The guy had all the inclination of a Casanova with none of the expertise. But filling his mouth with his own shoe leather wouldn’t help his cause.

“I’m Franc Jellic.”

Faint streaks of color fanned her cheeks. “Oh, I’ve heard of you. Nice to meet you at last.”

“Heard of me?” He didn’t like the sound of that one bit. It made her association with Randy resonate with words like long term. The back of his neck prickled. Funny place for a conscience, but he’d swear that’s what it was, though he was a bit long in the tooth to start worrying about moving in on another guy’s woman.

“I’ve read of your work in the business section of the Herald.”

He remembered the article; it had likened him to some sort of wunderkind. “I hope you took everything it said with a grain of salt. I’m not that good.”

“Hah,” she chuckled. “They always manage to get something wrong, and where I work, I tend to collect a fund of useless information. They never once mentioned modesty.”

“Got me. Okay, now the introductions are over let me snag you a glass of wine.” Guiding Maria through the crowd, he grabbed a full glass of wine from the small bar in the corner, hoping it was merlot. It was definitely red but he didn’t have time to inquire. It would be just like Randy to arrive before Franc had time to hustle Maria out of the dining room.

“This way.” Guiding Maria past the kitchen and out to the courtyard was both a bonus and a nightmare. He slipped one arm behind her and opened a passage into the courtyard with the other. The moment his fingers brushed bare flesh his heart jolted as if he’d touched a live wire.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured. Sliding his palm closer to the top of her hip, which had no calming effect on his equilibrium whatsoever, Franc made a pretense of checking out the courtyard. Laughter and conversation were more prevalent than in the other room and most of the tables were occupied by more than two. Using the excuse of the music stealing through the corridor behind them, Franc leaned closer and spoke a bare inch from her ear. “I don’t see him, do you?”

Maria took a step back as she turned to answer. “No, I don’t.” He saw her lip tremble as the glow of the Chinese lanterns highlighted the faint bloom of sweat beading her top lip and forehead. The step she’d taken pushed her close to the curve of his arm and through his shirtsleeve her skin felt on fire.

“You’ll be better out here, where it’s cooler than inside. I’ll find you a table to wait at while I look for Randy.” He found one overhung by ivy and a potted palm that filtered the pink lantern light.

A fat yellow candle burned in a ceramic pot and Maria motioned to it as she sat down. “I see someone took care of the mosquitoes.”

“Huh?” he looked at her, his mind blank as she tipped up her glass and drank. Were his lies catching up to him?

“Can’t you smell the candle? It’s citronella.”

The only scent teasing his nose was Maria’s perfume and it reminded him of crushed rose petals. “You can be comfortable then while I send out a search party.”

Sitting sideways, she leaned an elbow on the table, her wineglass swayed in the hand above it as she crossed her legs. “Don’t go to too much trouble.”

“I don’t mind.”

Her foot jiggled in midair, making a liar out of her. It was obvious she couldn’t wait for Randy to arrive. Well, he’d see about that.

Her toenails were painted to match her dress and he found himself staring at them as he wondered if he could get Randy out of the restaurant before Maria became suspicious.

He flashed one last look at her toes as he turned. They would keep. “You just enjoy your wine while I go look for your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend! Maria supposed that was the impression she’d intended—at first. Before Franc.

Quickly, she took her glasses from her purse, put them on her nose and glanced round the courtyard to make sure Randy really wasn’t there. After taking them off, she took a sip of wine. It had the full-bodied flavor of a cabernet sauvignon. Maybe it would bolster her courage. Suddenly, the idea that confrontation would solve all her problems before she went home for Christmas seemed like the worst she’d ever had.

Wasn’t it just like her luck to take a holiday on the night she met Franc Jellic. After years of knowing she had to keep herself safe from men, to meet a man who made her want to throw her heart into the ring and forget all her problems. He could almost pass for the description of the guy she’d told Mamma she was dating. She just hadn’t believed such a man could be real.

But her imaginary man friend existed solely to prevent Mamma from insisting she go to Italy to pick out one of the nice Italian boys the family would parade in front of her. She’d acted secretive about the guy she was seeing, telling Mamma she wouldn’t let him run the gauntlet of her family until she was sure of her feelings for him.

But, deep inside she was sure no other man could evoke the reaction she’d had to Franc. And in all probability, in a few moments he’d be ejecting her from the premises. What was it about him that called to her in this innately sensual way? Stirring her hormones. Filling her head with ideas about losing her innocence at last. Not that she’d dare give in to the devil prompting her imagination.

Sometimes her imagination was her worst enemy.

Her family was convinced that losing all memory of when she was abducted at seventeen was a good thing. They hadn’t allowed for the scenes that ran through her mind each time she touched her scars and tried to picture how she’d gotten them.

More reason for her to confront Randy Searle tonight and put this stalking business behind her, once and for all.

She took another sip and another. The alcohol skipped her stomach and targeted her brain. She’d hardly eaten all day. Nerves. But if she were slightly numb, maybe giving Randy Searle his comeuppance wouldn’t seem so daunting.

In the last few weeks he’d invaded her life, crushed her sensitivities with his grubby mind, violating her privacy. She was here to demand face-to-face that he stop stalking her.

Six feet and a crowded table away from the stairs, Franc’s pores broke into a sweat at the sight of dark-clothed legs heading down them. He was at the foot of them before he recognized Brent, his general manager. “Hey, buddy, am I glad to see you.”

Brent was almost as tall as his own six-four, but his slighter build made him look taller. “Whatever it is, no. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me tonight, replaced every empty glass with a full one and danced with every wallflower until it feels like I’m wearing someone else’s feet. I’d say that’s enough favors for one night.”

Franc gripped the banister and moved a step closer. “And it’s all appreciated. But I kid you not, this one you’ll enjoy. I want you to help me get rid of Randy Searle.”

His friend’s jaw dropped. “What? No way. You know I love you like a brother, Franc, but not enough to kill for.”

Franc rolled his eyes, giving Brent a punch on the shoulder to emphasize his point.

“Idiot. I fancy the woman like crazy, but murder’s too high a price even for a goddess.”

“A goddess? I take it you aren’t talking about Kathy, because that’s who’s with Randy. The pair of them were over each other like a rash. It got so bad I had to leave my bolt-hole and you know I’m a pretty tolerant guy, but man…”

Grinning, Franc said, “That’s because you’re a man of good taste, unlike Randy. No need to worry. That rash isn’t catching.”

He and Brent had been friends for years, working in the same line, electronic design, when the chance for a top job with Stanhope Electronics had come through a family connection—no nepotism involved. If he’d come up short on the qualifications, his new brother-in-law, Rowan McQuaid Stanhope, wouldn’t even have considered him, or Brent, whom he’d taken with him.

“The guy’s simply inconvenient. And what I’d like is Randy to leave and the woman who’s called for him to stay.”

“Let me guess. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.” Brent counted on his fingers. “How many times have I heard that?”

“A few, and not for at least a year, but this time I mean it for real. She’s goddess material.”

“That good, huh? So, it isn’t just a coincidence that this is the start of the summer break. Or, that you have almost two weeks on your hands when Rowan and your sister have forbidden you to work.”

“Never entered my mind.”

“Bull! You’ve thought of nothing but the project for the last year, and as a workaholic you don’t know how to switch off. Unless I miss my guess, you’re looking for a distraction.”

He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t already having withdrawal symptoms, Brent knew him too well, so he laughed, then said, “Wait till you see her. Just remember, you can look but you can’t touch.”

Brent ran his fingers through his sun-streaked brown hair, a habit that always made him look as if he’d just got out of bed, a woman’s bed, which was usually right. So Brent had no need to point a finger in his direction. “I’m surprised you can even find the energy to contemplate a relationship.”

“Okay, so you were half-right. I’m not talking relationship, just a holiday fling.” He hadn’t spent the last year working his butt off to blow it all now. If the project he and Brent were working on paid off, it would mean a partnership for him and a leg up in the company for Brent.

He caught a sigh building and pulled out before he could give breath to it. It was something he’d been aiming for since he was little more than a kid, to own part of something worthwhile. And as the son of a cop gone wrong there was no place to go but up. They hadn’t been much of a family for a lot of years, but he was determined not to let his sister or himself down.

There were many ways of making money in the electronics industry, secrets to sell to the highest bidder, but that was the route his father had taken by dealing in drugs. Been forced to take, to Franc’s mind because of all the mouths he’d had to feed on a cop’s salary, and if he’d learned a lesson from his father’s suicide, it was he travels farthest who travels alone.

Franc looked straight into the laughing derision in Brent’s eyes. “What if I said I need this?”

“Tell me what you want me to do? Though I warn you, the last time I saw Randy, the only thought in his head seemed to be the quickest way to get Kathy out of her bra.”

“How about you whisper a warning in his ear about the big guy downstairs looking for Kathy that could be her husband then show him the back way out through the kitchen?”

“So all’s fair in love and war?”

“I don’t think Randy’s much of a fighter, and you know me.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly, smiling as if he was about to tell a lie and wanted to lose the feeling. “I never fall in love.”

“Just remember you owe me big-time for this one.”

“Anything,” he conceded. And before Brent could make any demands, he was on his way back to Maria as if his life depended on it. Which should have made him take pause. In all his adult life he’d never depended on anyone but himself. He knew better.

Everyone he’d ever loved had up and died on him.

A huge shadow slid across the table blocking off the light. Maria’s heart bruised itself against her breastbone. She didn’t look up. Instead, she breathed deeply, sucked up her courage and sat higher in her chair, trying hard to ignore the cold pulse beating in her temple as loud as hail on a tin roof.

Of all the foolhardy ideas in her life, tonight’s had to be the worst. This was going to be harder than she’d first imagined.

Her hands shook as she lifted her gaze.

Franc slid into the seat opposite. His hands were full of wineglasses and snacks, the fingers of one cupping two glasses while he slid a plate of finger food onto the table.

“Thought you might be hungry.” His mouth looked grim. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but it looks like Randy went on someplace else. Could he have gone over to your house?”

God, she hoped not!

Thoughts of Randy peeking in her window were the last thing she wanted. Now they’d entered her mind, would they ever go away?

“No, not my place.”

For a heart-plummeting moment disappointment took her far away from the restaurant to a dark place inside her mind. When she’d calculated the risks of gate-crashing the party, Randy leaving early hadn’t featured as a worst-case scenario. How would she get through the holidays with this dread hanging over her?

“Have a fresh glass of wine. These are nicely chilled.” He pushed one over to her, and then picked up a lobster patty. “Delicious. You should try one.”

This was awkward. She was here under false pretenses, how could she accept his hospitality. “I really should go. You must have better things to do than sit here with me.”

“None that would please me more than sitting opposite a beautiful woman. I’m only human. Tell me about yourself. Do you work locally?”

“In the city, at Tech-Re-Search.”

“I know the company, we have dealings with them. Is that how you met Randy?”

“Yes.” How else had he latched onto her? Known her comings and goings?

“So you work in the city in a research library and your name is Costello. Were you born in New Zealand?”

“Of course.”

His eyes flicked over her hair and face as he lifted the patty to his mouth and bit down. His teeth were white and even, and his face crinkled with laughter as his tongue captured a portion that broke off. He had an earthy confidence that exuded sexuality. Something reminded Maria of her long-ago visit to Italy, the way the men relished their food, wine and women.

“My roots in Enzed probably go back as far as yours.”

His eyes glittered. “You wanna bet on it?” She shook her head. “I guess I could raise you at least a generation, maybe two on one side, if there was anyone I could ask, but my family isn’t close-knit and the future interests me more than the past.”

“Why is how many generations your family has been in New Zealand so important anyway, like we had some sort of Mayflower society?”

“It’s a young country, how long ago your family arrived here is a sort of status thing.”

She rolled her eyes at him even though she knew he was correct. “Well, my parents weren’t born here, and probably because of that, in my family everyone likes to know what the others are up to.”

Except this latest venture of hers. Wasn’t a daughter obliged not to worry her parents? Maybe this was fate’s way of telling her to back off. For now at least.

A stray drop of wine coated her lips as she chased it with her tongue. She raised her eyes and caught Franc’s gaze.

“And what have you been up to, Maria?”

The question brought her back to the present with a start. What had she done to deserve Randy Searle stalking her? She’d only managed to catch a glimpse of him those few times, but she’d felt him. Felt his eyes on her and it gave her the creeps. It was as if her life wasn’t her own anymore. Not that it had been anyone’s idea of exciting. Her life had reached a plateau early on, what with studying for her degree by correspondence until she started work in Auckland three years ago, she’d only ever left home to take her exams at Massey University.

And if there had been little upswing in her social life since then it had been down to her own fastidiousness rather than a lack of opportunity. The friends she shared a house with were just the opposite. God, how she wanted to be like them, to be ordinary, to flirt, have on-and-off relationships.

The only bump in the even tenor of her life was being told she’d been abducted when she couldn’t remember a thing about it. Post-traumatic stress amnesia, it had taken Randy Searle to flip her back out of her staid orbit.

She focused her attention on Franc. The flickering candle reflected in his eyes. “I expect since I had to think it over, you’ve gathered I haven’t been up to anything exciting.”

Franc leaned forward. “Well, I find you very exciting. Maybe it’s the dress you’re wearing. As if you’re two different people.”

The candle appeared to flare as he spoke, and her heart quickened when she realized the flame that leapt was confined to his eyes, and like the flash of light, she was out of place and way out of her depth. “Thank you, I think?”

“You got it right, it was a compliment, though I obviously made a hash of it since you didn’t recognize it as one.” His voice was low, husky, as if she really was the woman the dress had been designed for. As if with the fading of the light everything had changed and in the dark anything was possible.

“Then, I really do thank you.” Had that sexy purr come from her throat? Or was it the sophisticate she pretended to be? As soon as she’d seen the dress she’d known it was meant for her by the sheer ambiguity of the style. Full of half truths like her, it was perfect for a woman who didn’t want to show her scars to the world. Especially the emotional ones.

Franc stood. He towered over her but there was no menace in him, simply the means to make her forget why she’d come here. “What if I said I’d rather have a dance than your thanks?”

She slid her fingers into his, her heart racing as she abandoned all thought of her previous goal. “I’d say, perhaps even two dances.”

He pulled her to her feet. Even in heels her eyes only came level with his chin, perfect for watching his throat move as he swallowed hard. “Why don’t we make that all? The rest of tonight’s dances are mine.”

His breath feathered across her eyelids. Made them flutter. Made them heavy, so heavy she wanted to close them and rest her head on his shoulder. The music grew louder as if it played in her head instead of at the other end of the passage.

Could this be her Cinderella night? What had she to lose but a slipper?