Читать книгу Shadows Of The Past - Frances Housden - Страница 9

“I’ve had a wonderful evening.” Maria’s whisper reached Franc from somewhere below the level of his chin.

Soon it would be midnight. The lights were low, the music soft, and Maria was exactly where he’d wanted her from the first moment he’d observed her entering—in his arms, her body a mere heartbeat from his. Every few seconds her breasts brushed his chest, and on the turns his leg slid between hers. It was torture of the worst kind. And he never wanted it to end. “The evening’s not over yet.”

“But it will be, like all good things. That’s life.” Her voice sounded regretful, as if she didn’t want to be wakened from the dreamlike state they were dancing in.

“I don’t want to know that. I want to stay in the here and now and forget about tomorrow. This is a night for stolen kisses.” He trailed one down her temple. “Soft touches.” His fingers shivered down the skin covering her spine. “And secrets, lots of secrets.”

“I already know your secrets.”

“You what?” His head reared back, breaking the moment. Had Randy been running off at the mouth?

How the hell had Randy found out that practically before his dad’s body had gone cold, his father’s best friend and partner against crime in the New Zealand police had outed Milo Jellic as being a drug dealer.

As if Milo’s suicide hadn’t been bad enough.

“I’m sorry.” She hid her eyes from him, but the way her white teeth pressed down on her lip was telling.

One look wiped his annoyance aside. “I hope Randy left me some secrets to share.” His gaze dipped to the lip her teeth had left bee-stung. He’d taste that for himself before the night was over.

As Franc’s face cleared, Maria’s roiling stomach settled down. She hadn’t ruined her night.

“It’s nothing personal, just the new project.” She galloped on, afraid to stop as his eyebrows met in a line. Perhaps personal would have been better? “I work on your project at Tech-Re-Search. It sounds so exciting to make a thread that carries…? Darn. I guess I shouldn’t discuss it here.”

Heavens, she’d just caught herself before she apologized again. Nothing was worse than sounding whiny.

“It’s fascinating, but I’m not allowed to mention it at work…we have this Chinese wall deal…you know, no one can discuss the projects they are working on. But I think it’s great that you guys are ahead of the game…” Was he never going to butt in and save her?

“So it’s you who make sure we don’t infringe on someone’s copyright or spend a million dollars inventing something that’s already out on the market. Somehow I had the impression that you’d met Randy through working on reception at Tech-Re-Search.”

“No, I was called to reception since he wanted to hand over the envelope of data personally.” She felt Franc’s hand tighten round hers.

“Understandable. We don’t just want anyone getting their hands on our data. That’s why I was surprised you knew about our project.” He hesitated then asked, “You don’t discuss our research with Randy?”

Maria shook her head. So far, her only contact with Randy had been that day when he’d said he’d driven into the city specially to deliver the data to her at the research library. Heaven only knows what she’d done to spark off his need to stalk her.

“Good. This project is my baby, my idea. The research you’re doing has saved us a lot of time but you understand, with its military applications, secrecy is vital.” He huffed out a breath. “But of course you do. The only reason Tech-Re-Search got the contract was because of its security clearance.”

“I hope your project succeeds.” From the light in his eyes, and the determined thrust of his chin, she couldn’t imagine him failing.

“You were right. This isn’t the place to discuss it. One day, you can come see what we’ve done for yourself.”

“I’d like that.” Suddenly her mind was grasping at straws. Hoping her fairy tale wouldn’t end with the ball. She had no illusions about forever, but even a little while would be nice.

Better than nice. Wonderful.

She allowed herself to hope.

Tomorrow, she’d start a new chapter in her personal journal.

Franc pushed out a long whisper of air. Spaced each breath, to slow his heart rate. He wanted her to himself away from the crowded dance floor. “Let’s go out to the courtyard and dance in the dark. The stars are out. Do you know where to find the Southern Cross?” Next moment he heard Brent announce, “Last dance, folks, make the most of it.”

“I should have thought of it earlier.” Disappointment rocked him with intensity as he anticipated her departure. But he’d no time for soul-searching as nearly everyone squeezed onto the floor and space was at a premium.

The lights went out.

With Maria in his arms he stayed in the middle of the crowd, swaying slowly, feet barely moving. The slippery texture of her dress flowed like water under his palm. He let them drift lower until they slipped round the soft swell of her buttocks. He wanted to shape her curves with his hands, to pull her closer and rock her in the cradle of his hips.

He consoled himself with drinking in her perfume, brushing his cheek against the tiny whispers of curls escaping round her hairline. He had an ache in his groin hard enough to make a grown man cry. His teeth clamped down on a groan as her palms flattened against his chest and her head rested on them. Close, but not close enough.

He hoped the dance would never end. They circled one tiny spot on the floor in what felt like a dream, and in the dark no one existed but the two of them. His hard flesh throbbed and flexed unbearably against her hip. He wanted more than this tease. He wanted to be inside her, thrusting deep and fast till they both screamed their release.

His moan dampened her skin where the curve of her neck met jaw. Damn, I’m thirty-four, too old for this, too old to be worrying about Maria knowing I want her. The hell with it! His palms shivered over the silky fabric and curved round her slender shape, drawing her tight against his aching need just as the music stopped.

The song finished, ending the dance, ending the closeness. Maria didn’t move, couldn’t move. A fire blazed inside her, leaping the barrier of clothing to meld her to him. Could he feel her shake? If he moved would she fall? She hid behind closed eyes. It didn’t mask the sound of people wishing each other Happy Christmas or good-night. Franc’s lips skimmed her forehead as his hands loosened their grip, leaving her bereft.

“Merry Christmas, Maria,” he whispered.

It was over. Time to go home.

The gruff timbre of his voice echoed in her tremors. Tilting her chin with one large hand, he sought an answer in her eyes. The pad of his thumb stroked her bottom lip and released a sigh. In that instant she changed her mind about the color of his eyes. Not bitter chocolate, bittersweet. Like the moment binding them. She wanted to remember this. She would remember this. Always.

The last time she expected she would see him. Tears blurred her vision. His face floated above hers like a mirage, until his mouth slanted and he took hers, blinding her with his nearness, his kiss, until only touch and sensation remained.

God! She tasted sweet; Franc had known she would. Her lips parted on a sigh and his tongue swept past them for a taste of the honey he knew lay within. Almost tentatively her tongue touched his and he felt her hands tremble and flutter like butterflies across his chest. It was more erotic than if she’d answered his passion with one of equal demand.

“Stay with me tonight. My apartment’s just next door.” The words grated from his throat as emotion took over. For one second he wished he hadn’t said them. But only one.

As the lights came on she pulled away, her eyes huge, more violet than brown. They flicked from side to side, grounding her in the present. The party was over.

“No!”

Franc hesitated in mid-farewell-wave to a departing group. What did she mean, no? She couldn’t mean it. Did she think he didn’t know she wanted him as much as he wanted her?

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said quietly.

Maria backed away, breaking the contact, taking her heat. Franc shivered. “Why?”

“We’ve had this evening. Why spoil it?”

“We could have tonight and no one would be spoiled but you. Let me spoil you.”

His breath stirred long tendrils of her hair against her cheeks. She pushed them behind her ear, remembering how they’d gotten that way. Franc’s fingers forking through her hair as he held her head still. “I need to call a cab.”

She needed to get out of here before she did something stupid.

“I don’t mind driving you home.”

“No. I insist. It’s better this way. Let me take a cab.”

“All right. Tell me where you want to go and I’ll call one.”

Maria turned in her seat and watched out the back window of the cab, and without resorting to her glasses, she saw his tall figure soon blend into the shadows.

Franc Jellic was almost irresistible. And that six-letter word, almost, was her saving grace. She’d never met a man like him. Never been tempted until now, though she had been curious about her sexuality.

For a moment the answer to the puzzle had been within her grasp, until she banged into a wall of reality and the image of what might have been shattered as she hit. To bare her body, her scars would mean explanations. Explanations she couldn’t give him. Explanations that wouldn’t help her find the way out of the maze left by her abduction.

A sigh racked her body. She hugged herself to stop the tremors and tried to look on the bright side.

One thing for sure, she’d learned a lesson tonight. Learned how easily one could become trapped, brought to one’s knees by a glance, both tender and wild at once. A glance that promised to teach all she wanted to know as it sent her body into meltdown and her heart into overdrive.

Yes, curiosity was all it would take. His kiss…how would it feel in the secret places where her body had throbbed as they danced? Would it ease the ache or sharpen the pain?

Christmas Eve had arrived with a bang. Heat sizzled in puddles of tar on the road and sunburned leaf tips spangled trees meant for the northern hemisphere with bronze. The only cloud in the sky was the leaden one hovering over Maria’s head advertising her failure.

She mulled over her problems as she stood at the top of the driveway, waving to Tess and Linda, who she shared the villa with. “Bye, have a happy Christmas and a lovely holiday,” she called, her thoughts nothing to do with the joys of the season. Soon she, too, would be hitting the road back to the bosom of her family.

Bosom being the appropriate word. There would be hugs all round. Papa and Mamma squeezed so tight, sometimes she could hardly breathe. It was their way of showing they loved her.

The word suffocating reared its head. Flushing, she pushed the thoughts away. Of course they were protective of her. They still tended to see her as the teenager who’d been abducted.

It was a weird situation. She couldn’t remember anything. Yet it was impossible to forget the incident. Her family’s concern kept it in the forefront of her mind.

Yes, incident was a better word.

It was real, yet unreal. A story told from someone else’s point of view. Lately, she’d begun to waken in the dead of night in a panic from nightmares. It dated from the moment she realized someone was shadowing her footsteps.

A faint ping sounded at the back of her mind like the first warning note of an alarm. The impression sent her spinning round to scan the front garden and faded just as quickly when she saw the old man next door raking the pebbles on his driveway. Being unable to carry through last night’s plans had left her jumpy, knowing Randy Searle was still on the loose, didn’t realize she was on to him or that she knew his name.

Alone in the house, she cleared the festive lunch table where they’d exchanged gifts. The other girls had protested, but saw her logic, conceding her journey home was less lengthy than the ones facing them.

She pushed her glasses up on her nose, her spare pair. On her way home this afternoon she’d stop by the restaurant to see if her others had been found where she’d placed them on the table. But before she left, since she had plenty of time, she’d walk around to the shop next to Northcote Point cinema and buy her mother a box of the handmade chocolates she loved.

As she washed up, flashes of memory from the night before filled her thoughts. Could any woman ever forget her first real taste of romance?

The trick would be to make sure no memories of Randy Searle were allowed to taint it. Thank heavens she’d made time to write it all down in her journal before sleep overtook her.

Franc wrote his signature on the check with a flourish. Stanhope’s annual Christmas party didn’t come cheaply, but it was worth it for the goodwill and camaraderie it engendered in the staff. He passed the check over the tall, narrow desk to the manager. “How much of this covers breakages?”

Paul Start, the manager of The Point restaurant, grinned. “You got off lightly, no more than two or three glasses.” Always one for an eye to business, Paul winked. “Come back next year. You’re the kind of customer we like.”

Just as astute, Franc took his receipt, glanced at the figures again and said, “Next time, I’ll ask for a discount.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed, calculated. “Do that. Next time, you might get one. But for now, how about having lunch? On the house.”

“Thanks, I will.”

He should have known that eating lunch in almost the exact spot he’d held Maria in his arms wouldn’t aid his digestion.

He looked up at the entrance and relived his reactions of the night before when he’d watched her walk through it.

He’d likened her to a goddess, and when his ardor had carried him away, she’d spurned him. Didn’t mean he was going to give up or take his rejection as absolute.

There had to be a way.

No sooner thought than found.

Paul slid into the seat opposite. “I forgot to hand over these.” He twisted fragile-looking rimless glasses in his fingers so they caught the light. “One of the cleaners found them at the table by the potted palm.”

Franc recalled how her pupils had been huge as they turned the lights on at the end of the dance. Could the look that had enchanted him been slightly myopic?

Taking the glasses from Paul, he slid them into the pocket of his thin chambray shirt. “Thanks, Paul. I’m sure I know who these belong to.”

Mind made up, he tossed his napkin onto his plate and pushed his chair away from the table. “Her place is on my way, so I’ll drop them off.” He’d written the address down when he’d called her cab, though he’d been sure it was one he wouldn’t forget.

“Good idea. I couldn’t see a thing through them, so she’s probably lost without them.” Paul stood up, saying conversationally, “So where are you off to this afternoon?”

Knowing that Paul had often commented on his many lonely dinners, Franc just tapped his pocket. “Anywhere that takes me past where she lives.”

Maria couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken the car out. Working in the city, she traveled mainly by bus. It was convenient and less hair-raising than driving over the Auckland Harbour Bridge each morning and evening.

She unlocked the car and slid inside, placing her purse on the passenger seat along with the chocolates she’d just bought. If she started the car, she could leave it running while she went in to change out of her lilac crop top and shorts.

Key in the ignition, she turned it, pressing down on the accelerator at the same time. The starter engine turned over a few times then faded away. She turned the key again with less success than before.

Nerves tightening, aware there was no one she could ask for help, she gripped the key in a death lock. The third attempt ended in a couple of clicks.

She recognized that sound, it meant the battery was dead or the connection was loose. Her brothers were always on at her to turn over the engine occasionally between her visits home. Now she wished she’d taken their advice. In contrast to her vision, her hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

In no time at all, she’d popped the hood and stood blinking into its dark depths. The battery was easily recognized. She wiggled the connection. It seemed nice and tight apart from the green gunk sprouting from under the plastic cover.

Shifting her exploration to the trunk, she grabbed the tool kit and unrolled it on the concrete. The huge screwdriver looked handy, so she grabbed it.

As she stood, she felt the back of her neck tingle as if someone had laid a cold hand on her nape. Her stomach plummeted like a bird in freefall while the rest of her was shocked into immobility.

He was here.

As she began to take stock, Maria wrapped her hand round the metal shaft of the screwdriver, holding it like a club as she took a deep breath then whirled around.

The heavy frames on her old glasses slid down her nose as she spun. Great, now she could see nothing. She pushed the black frames higher on her nose with the back of an oil-smudged hand.

Over the last month there’d been times when she’d balanced on the edge of panic. Since the first day she’d felt someone’s eyes on her, there had been other occasions with no one in sight when she knew he’d hidden to watch.

Like now.

The air bristled with static energy that prickled her skin as if a storm was brewing, but with not a cloud in the sky she knew that wasn’t the reason.

On the edge of the garden, the bushes stirred between the villa she and her friends rented, and the one next door. She started to shake. Why had no one put in fences? They helped keep people out.

Stop!

This is what he wants. Don’t give him the satisfaction. A few deep breaths in out, in out, that’s it. Calm down and find the courage you took to the party last night. He can’t scare you if you don’t let him.

The next-door neighbor’s cat, Mimzie, sauntered out of the bushes, tail high. It looked straight at her, as if to say, “It’s only me.”

Only him. She wanted to believe that desperately.

But the creepy sensation she got when she felt him watching her hadn’t gone. And to pretend that it had would be a cop-out.

“Everything all right, Maria?”

Her eyes lost their focus as her thoughts turned inward. Someone was walking up the driveway; he wore a white T-shirt and dark blue jeans. Not Randy, thank heaven. It was one of the young guys from a house down the street. “My car won’t start…Tony, am I right?”

He reached the top of the driveway and moved into the shade of the carport. One hand pushed a lock of straight surfer-blond hair from his eyes. His smile was cocky. “That’s me, Tony Cahill, the one and only. What happened? Wouldn’t that huge screwdriver scare the motor into submission?”

“I thought the problem might be the battery leads. I was going to try tightening them up with this.” She waved the screwdriver at him. “Or if that didn’t work, take the wooden handle and knock off all this verdigris that’s growing out of it.” She turned around and looked at the engine.

He was tall, which meant he had to duck to fit under the hood. “Let me have a look.” He moved in close, his shoulder brushing hers. “You’re right, it does look a bit of a mess.”

Maria flinched as his arm snaked round her back. His arm sweated on her bare skin as his hand skimmed the underside of her breast and lingered before he reached under her arm for the screwdriver. “Let me see what I can do.”

Maria was trapped, but she wouldn’t let go of the screwdriver, What if she needed it to defend herself? She elbowed him in the ribs. “Creep! I think you’ve done quite enough. You can go now. Your kind of help I can do without.”

Franc had parked on the road. He could see Maria and some lanky kid bending over the open hood of a car, arguing. Urgency lengthened his stride. “Is this a private tussle or can anyone join in?”

The kid jerked his arm away from Maria and a huge screwdriver bounced off the chrome bumper of the outdated Ford and onto the concrete paving, where it lay humming like a tuning fork.

Maria recovered quickly and literally threw herself into his arms. Not that he minded or needed reminding how she’d felt in his arms last night. “Franc! I thought you were never going to get here.”

So they were into playacting. “Sorry, sweetheart, time got away from me.” He took a chance and stole a kiss.

She moved into it like a true drama queen that had just heard “Lights, camera, action,” but the sigh and the flutter of her eyelashes weren’t put on. She was glad to see him. “My car won’t start.”

“I was trying to help her but she wouldn’t let go of the damn screwdriver.” The kid shook his head. His tow-hair shadowed the disgust in his eyes as he moved away from the car. “Women.”

“Thanks for your help, but I’ll take over now.” Franc narrowed his eyes and gave the kid the once-over as he held out his hand.

Hesitating under the scrutiny, the kid stuck out his fist and took Franc’s, saying “You’re welcome.”

As if to confirm the hours he’d spent in the gym weren’t wasted, Franc firmed his grip. “See you around.”

Tony rubbed his palm on the side of his thigh as he started moving away. “Sure, I got somewhere to go.”

As soon as the kid turned his back, Maria laid into Franc. “You actually—” her voice shook as gave what for her passed as a growl “—thanked him!”

“Did I have any reason not to?”

“Tony touched my breast.”

A curse not meant for women’s ears ripped out of his throat. “I should have broken his arm!”

From the bushes he watched them as he stroked the cat.

Watched Jellic’s hands on her as he held her close then turned her back toward the car he’d taken such care to disable.

A new player in the game added excitement, but two was too many. If the young one came back he’d have to make an adjustment.

He almost smiled at the thought.

And at the same time he might use the modification to make sure Jellic didn’t get too close to her. He’d recognized him straight away and knew his competition would be a force to be reckoned with.

Such care and attention Jellic took of her, as if she was fragile. But only he knew how truly fragile Maria was. Ten years hadn’t changed that, or removed her look of innocence.

The innocence he’d taken for his own.

Half an hour later when the jump leads from Franc’s battery to hers made no difference, he threw in the towel. In fact, he screwed it up in a ball and chucked it in disgust. “We’re going to have to get the car towed.”

“Marvelous. It’s Christmas Eve, no one’s going to want to know. How am I going to get home?” Maria knew she sounded selfish after all Franc’s efforts, but she’d been looking forward to a couple of nights at home with the family, the one place she knew she’d be safe from Randy Searle.

“Leave it to me,” he said. “I know a garage.”

Franc was as good as his word, as far as it went, but even he couldn’t get her car fixed on Christmas Eve. Close on an hour slipped away as if made of water as they waited for a tow truck.

Business was obviously too good.

“I need to ring home. Maybe one of my brothers can spare the time away from the wife and kids to come and get me,” she said as Franc drank his second cup of coffee.

She’d punched in the area code and the first two digits, when a shadow fell across her and loomed large on the wall. Habit sent a shiver to ice her spine, and she knew there was no way she could stay here tonight alone with only her fears to keep her company.

A glance was enough to dispel them for now. Franc filled the door frame with his shoulders, bracing one against the jamb while his hand gripped the frame overhead. “Leave that for now. I have a better suggestion. Let me run you home.”

“That would be an imposition. I couldn’t do that to you the night before Christmas. I don’t even know why you turned up here in the first place, but I am grateful you did.”

He tapped his shirt pocket. “Damn! I didn’t return your glasses. I see now there wasn’t a rush. In fact, the ones you’re wearing look pretty cute. They’re the kind that prove you can look like a librarian and still be sexy.”

In the narrow hallway the atmosphere hummed with tension left over from the night before. It licked up the back of her neck in a way that made her head spin. It was all she could do to give him a sensible answer. “I keep telling you, I’m not that kind of librarian. I’m a researcher.” The husky murmur she achieved was less than sensible, but she couldn’t take it back.

He quirked an eyebrow at her to ask, “Does that mean you’ll save me the research and tell me where you want to go?”

But it was his crooked smile that had her saying, “The family vineyard is on the other side of Matheson’s Bay. It normally takes about two hours from Auckland, but tonight the roads will be jammed with traffic both ways.”

No matter how much she wanted to get home, she had to warn him, “If you give me a lift, I can’t see you getting back to Auckland much before midnight.”

“No worries, I’m a night owl. Besides, didn’t you say your brothers have kids? I’d feel bad about them missing out on all the fun, of hanging stockings and setting out the presents.”

Franc had just flicked the off switch on her original idea. She couldn’t take her brothers away from their children on Christmas Eve, no matter how much she dreaded spending a night in the house alone. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be fair. I accept your offer, but I hope you don’t regret making it.”

“What’s to regret?” He made a joke of it. “I’ll do anything if it gets me an extra three hours with my favorite woman.”

Maria’s eyes widened a moment then fluttered closed, leaving Franc with a picture of bruised violets crushed underfoot to tug at his conscience, because there was an element of truth in what he’d said.

“I know you’re teasing since we only met last night, but I can’t take you from your family on Christmas Eve, any more than I could take one of my brothers away from his family.”

His family? Hell, his sister was the only member of it he’d met up with in years.

“That’s because you’re judging my family by your standards. We’re all pretty much loners. Or we used to be. My sister got married last year, so you can count her out, but my brothers will be working through the holiday. She’s the only one of us who’s married, the rest of us are married to our jobs.”

Drago, the eldest, would be up to his neck in his latest book on the wines of New Zealand. As for the twins, just above Franc in age, Kurt would be hip-deep in work on the lodge he would open next year at Aoraki, Mount Cook National Park, not far from Queenstown, a tourist resort that had two busy seasons, winter for the skiing, and the rest of the year for the tourists.

The other Jellic twin, Kel, could be anyplace on the Pacific Rim, investigating drug trafficking, as if he lived his life in a movie. But in his case, the danger was real. And so secret he hadn’t contacted Franc when he’d been in town a few weeks ago. Kel had been in Auckland only last month and hadn’t even given him a call.

“And tomorrow, what are your plans?”

“Much of them revolve around kicking back on my own, watching the Sports Channel and eating the giant turkey-and-cranberry pizza I have stashed in the freezer.” Now that he’d said it out loud, he guessed it didn’t sound like anyone’s idea of a perfect Christmas, but after a year spent slogging his guts out, it had been his notion of hog heaven.

“Let’s make a deal then. I’ll let you drive me home if you will stay the night.” Maria raised twin arched eyebrows over eyes that brought his protest stuttering to a halt. “You wouldn’t want me sleepless through worrying if you made it home safely?”

Franc wasn’t about to contradict her. The only way he wanted her sleepless was in his arms, in his bed, moaning because she couldn’t get enough of him…

A sensation that prickled like a warning crept through the short hairs at the back of his neck. It followed the thought, But would he ever get enough of her?

What the hell was the matter with him? He’d been given about two weeks out of his usual routine. Twelve days max to indulge in a lighthearted fling, with one of those days already struck off and another well on its way.

With a flick of his wrist he checked his watch, reading the time past the scratches on the glass. For all it was gold, its slightly battered condition usually raised a few eyebrows until he mentioned it had been his father’s. The nods of understanding this engendered always wanted to make him laugh. The timepiece wasn’t worn to remind him of his father, its job was to remind him not to follow in his footsteps.

His father had crossed the line for money, but Franc would far rather be an honest jerk than a dead one like his dad.

“Isn’t it a bit late to expect your parents to put up a stranger for the night.”

“You don’t know Mamma. For her, nothing is impossible. Please say you’ll stay, then I can call and tell her you’re bringing me home with a clear conscience.”

“Okay, I guess one night couldn’t hurt.”

Maria shrugged as she put down the receiver. Her mother had sounded odd when she asked if Franc could stay the night. The inquisition she’d expected had been glaring by its absence. Instead, she’d caught a hint of relief in the brisk no-nonsense acceptance that Maria was bringing a friend home—for the first time. Although, it might simply be gratitude that Papa wouldn’t have to drive all that way to fetch her.

“Point me in the direction of your bag and I’ll carry it out while you make sure the house is secure.”

“I was going to change first.”

His gaze traveled from the tips of her toes to her face, trailing a flush of color in its wake where the blood rushed under her skin. “I don’t see what’s wrong with what you’re wearing, but give me a whistle when you’re ready.”

This was the type of treatment her brothers dished out, they were as protective of her as Mamma and Papa. “If you insist, but my case really isn’t that heavy.”

The house was a Victorian villa with a shotgun hallway that ran from front to back. Like a lot of others on Northcote Point it had been built long before Auckland Harbour Bridge had been a twinkle in the designer’s eye. She dashed into her room, grabbed her clothes from the wardrobe then dived across the hall into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. It wasn’t that she had any reason not to trust Franc, quite the opposite. But the business with Randy had made her look at every man in a new light.

So, where were your senses this afternoon when you gave Tony a chance to paw you?

After changing with the speed of a catwalk model, she whistled for Franc as instructed and discovered he hadn’t gone far when he appeared almost immediately, striding down the hall as if he owned the place. Some men carried an aura with them that made them at home anywhere. She guessed Franc was one of them.

She pushed back her bedroom door and pointed. “That’s my case on the bed. As you can see it’s quite small.”

His eyebrows shaped a V above the high bridge of his nose. “Are you sure you could get everything you need in there? We won’t drive halfway and discover you’ve forgotten something vital that means we have to turn around and fetch it?”

Franc’s question was a big giveaway to the type of women he was used to dealing with. For sure they weren’t like her. If she forgot anything, she was the one who had to go back for it. “Don’t worry. I keep a lot of casual gear at home. Most of my clothes here are strictly for business.”

Franc’s breadth made the bedroom walls close in on her. It was hard to be nonchalant about his presence beside her bed when what she wanted to do was quickly dodge past him to check that the windows were locked. She flicked a sideways glance at him from under her lashes, but his attention wasn’t on her. Following his gaze, she was mortified to see a pale pink lace chemise hanging out of the top drawer of the dresser, next to the bed.

She was usually so tidy, tucking everything in place the way the nuns had taught her at boarding school. Franc’s presence in the house must have flustered her.

And now her secret was out. Compared to the rest of her everyday wardrobe, her lingerie was hot.

It hadn’t seemed to matter that no one knew as it meant no one saw the scars her beautiful silk scanties were too small to hide.

Maria had been careful not to get into a situation that meant a man would expect to see her body, though the need to hide her scars hadn’t bothered her until now. Until Franc.

“Nice…” She heard the grin in his voice though his face never twitched.

She shaped her lips into a fierce grimace that only broadened his grin. “You never saw that,” she told him as she tucked the pink lace back where it belonged. “My mother would have a fit. She’s inclined to be old-fashioned.”

“When it comes to daughters, most mothers are,” he answered, yet his eyes said more. Touched more. He was doing it to her again, taking her libido on a journey it had never traversed before. Something shifted inside her, a need, a wanting, an ache.

She did her best to ignore it.

Franc studied her single bed as he picked up her case to leave. Neat and virginal, with family photographs on the nightstand; under its flower-sprigged quilt was hardly the place to conjure steamy dreams in the middle of the night. Unlike in his bed last night. Dreams stymied until he confronted Maria and his bed in one and the same place.

It didn’t seem to matter any longer that he’d first met her while she was looking for Randy. The last few hours made him certain that associating with Randy had done nothing to taint the innocence she exuded. How would it feel to have Maria surrender that innate innocence to him?

For Franc Jellic, it would be an unmistakable first.

Maria reached up to check the catch of the old-fashioned sash window closest to her bed. It was undone.

Newly formed ice, at odds with the temperature inside the room, slicked over her skin as she swiveled the small lever into place. Her gaze landed on the drawer she’d divested of its lacy adornment. She never treated her clothes that way or left her room untidy. Her training was too ingrained.

Her eyes searched the garden, focusing on the bushes Mimzie the cat had disturbed, unmoving now as if weighed down by the heat. Had someone been in her room? Randy?

Or was her imagination working overtime?

Wasn’t her journal farther over on the nightstand than she could easily reach from in bed? She grabbed it and put it in her purse. Hurrying to leave before Franc came back to look for her, she glanced over her shoulder, scanning the room, remembering the position of every ornament, every picture frame.

No matter how terrifying the prospect, she just had to know if anyone came into her room and touched her things while she was away. Then, on an impulse, she turned back, reopening the drawer to scoop up an armful of silk and lace underwear. Quivering, she tossed every last piece into the laundry basket.

Whether anyone had gazed at her ultrafeminine garments with lust in their heart she had no way of knowing, but the thought of it made her wonder what would happen if she told Franc. Would he help her see that Randy Searle got what was coming to him?

Or would he put it down as a flight of her imagination.

As she locked the door behind her, she remembered the cat next door sidling out of the bushes between the two properties. She still had the feeling she wasn’t alone and she wasn’t thinking of Franc.

Her last thought as she slid into the passenger seat was a prayer that he wouldn’t follow her home.