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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.

‘Will you come in?’

‘No,’ she responded quickly. Too quickly, for she saw the sudden gleam apparent in his eyes, and caught the slight quirk at the edge of his mouth. ‘Enjoy your meal.’

’Merci.’

No man had the right to look so darned sexy, or possess a voice that sounded like melted chocolate being dribbled over ice cream. Smooth, very smooth, she perceived. Yet there was tensile steel beneath the smoothness. The hardness of a man well-versed in the frailties of his fellow men.

Without a further word she turned and retraced her steps. In her aunt’s kitchen she set about cleaning up, then when it was done she made herself a light, fluffy omelette, added a salad, and took the plate into the dining room.

Tomorrow night she’d serve him everything stuffed…carpet steak with an exotic sauce, stuffed mushrooms, zucchini, tomatoes and potatoes. She would even bake a vanilla sponge for dessert and stuff it with fresh strawberries and cream whipped with kirsch.

And Monday… She positively glowed at the thought of what she could do with seafood.

Anneke prayed fervently that if he didn’t already have an ulcer, her epicurean offerings would soon provide him with one. Revenge, she determined, would be sweet.

Very sweet, she determined, upon waking next morning to the shrilling sound of an electric skill-saw cutting through wood.

Anneke spared a glance at her watch. Six-thirty. A half-hour earlier than yesterday. At least this morning she wasn’t the victim of only a few hours’ sleep.

If Sebastian Lanier was playing a game, then so, too, would she.

A slight smile played over her lips and she slid from the bed. A visit to the bathroom, then she pulled on briefs, shorts, and a singlet top. Her hair she deftly twisted into a single braid and let it fall between her shoulders. Then she slipped her feet into joggers and went to the back door with a ready smile in place.

He wore the same faded stonewashed jeans from the day before, and a different tee-shirt. Nice muscle structure, tight butt, firm waist, with no visible fat apparent on that mean frame.

‘Good morning,’ she greeted as she ran lightly down the few steps. ‘I had no idea Aunt Vivienne needed more repairs. What is it today?’

He pulled the switch on the electric saw and straightened as he turned to face her. The dark hair was neatly bound, but he had forgone the morning shave. It gave him a distinctly piratical look, and heightened the planes of his face, sculpted hard cheekbones and emphasised the strength of his jaw.

If he’d suffered a restless night due to indigestion, it didn’t show.

‘A section of the picket fence needs replacing. New posts, new palings.’

She widened the smile, and her eyes took on a sparkling gleam. ‘How kind. Aunt Vivienne will be pleased.’ She turned towards the path leading down to the beach, then cast him a backward glance over one shoulder. ‘Have a nice day.’

Anneke broke into a leisurely jog, and on reaching the sand she crossed down to the water’s edge and ran parallel to the shoreline until she reached the outward curve of the bay, then she slowed to a halt and went through her usual morning exercise routine.

She deliberately took her time, and when she returned to the cottage Sebastian was nowhere in sight. The carpenter’s horse, any wood cut-offs had been cleared away, and a brief glance along the length of picket fence displayed the new section in place.

A muted throaty purr from an engine sounded loud in the morning’s silence, and she turned towards its source. Reversing from Sebastian’s garage was a late model Range Rover, with, she soon saw, Sebastian at the wheel.

So he was going out. Good, she thought happily as she let herself into the cottage. She had a few household chores to perform, then she’d shower and put a call through to Aunt Vivienne. After lunch she intended to curl up in a comfortable chair and read until it was time to begin preparing Sebastian’s dinner.

Anneke had just finished lunch when the phone rang, and she crossed the room and lifted the receiver from its handset.

Her usual cheery greeting brought no response, so she repeated it. Still nothing. She was about to hang up when she heard the soft sound of human breathing.

Even, steady, it became louder and faster, until there could be no mistaking the implied simulation.

She cut the connection in one quick movement, then stood transfixed for several seconds before shaking herself free from momentary shock.

It was simply a random call, she attempted to rationalise. Perhaps some kid with too much time on his hands was getting his kicks from indiscriminate dialling.

Yet it gave her an eerie feeling, one that was difficult to dispel as she tried valiantly to lose herself in the plot of the current mystery she was reading.

Preparations for Sebastian’s dinner didn’t take overlong, and at a few minutes to six she took the loaded tray and carried it across to his cottage.

Sebastian appeared at the door seconds after she knocked. A white tee-shirt was teamed with black jeans, and both fitted snug on his frame.

He surveyed her with interest, caught the seemingly pleasant smile, and wasn’t deceived.

His gaze flicked to the tray in her hand, and he didn’t know whether to castigate or commend her.

Much depended on whether last night’s meal had been a one-off, or if she’d duplicated dishes of which, while each separate one was a gourmet delight, the combination left something to be desired.

He thought of the rich bombe au chocolat reposing on a shelf in his refrigerator. Death by chocolate? Somehow he had the feeling the dessert was meant to be his bête noir.

‘Enjoy.’

‘Thank you,’ Sebastian acknowledged as he took the tray, watching as she took a few seconds to fondle Shaef’s ears. Then she turned towards Vivienne’s cottage, and he viewed the elegant sway of her hips with male appreciation before taking the tray to the dining room table.

Shaef cast him an enquiring look and pricked his ears.

‘That makes two of us,’ Sebastian murmured as he placed dishes onto the table, caught up cutlery, and removed covers.

It only took a glance to interpret Anneke’s meaning. Get stuffed. A slow, musing smile widened his mouth.

Vivienne’s niece had gone to considerable trouble to exact revenge.

With deft movements he consigned the sponge, strawberries and cream concoction to the refrigerator.

Pride had prevented her from serving up burnt offerings, or the blandest of fare. Pride, and loyalty to her aunt.

Well, he wouldn’t spoil Anneke’s game.

He, too, could employ a little subterfuge. If most all of the minor repairs around Vivienne’s property were completed within a week instead of the months she’d originally suggested, then so be it.

A slow smile curved his mouth, and the edges lifted in humour. And if he ran out of things to do, then he would invent some.

Sebastian sat down at the table and carefully removed a portion of stuffing from each vegetable, then sliced into the delectable-looking steak.

A man would need to be wary around a woman like Anneke. His lips twitched and his eyes gleamed with cynical amusement. If each prepared meal provided an indication of her mood, then the next week or two could prove interesting.

Afterwards he scraped discarded stuffing into the refuse bin, made recklessly strong coffee, then carried it through to the office, turned on the computer screen and began to work.

Intrigued to discover within a short space of time that a minor female character of his creation had developed a few traits that changed stoic to sassy.

Anneke surveyed the number of pots and kitchen utensils atop the kitchen benchtop and wrinkled her nose at the folly of creating culinary mayhem.

Rinse and soak, she decided, then she’d attack the dishes when she’d eaten her own modest meal of salad greens with nuts, fresh cantaloupe, mango and feta cheese.

Afterwards, she’d thumb through Aunt Vivienne’s numerous cookbooks and plot a menu for tomorrow evening’s meal, then list the ingredients she needed to buy.

At nine Aunt Vivienne rang, with an update on Elise’s health and the latest monitor results on the unborn twins. It was a case of ‘no change’ being good news.

Almost as soon as Anneke replaced the receiver, her mobile phone rang, and she indulged in a lengthy chat with a friend in Sydney before ending the call and retiring to bed with a book.

The morning brought a light rain, and after a leisurely breakfast Anneke showered and changed, then drove to Byron Bay to collect fresh seafood.

On impulse she opted to spend the day baking, and purchased ingredients to make a Christmas cake. Several small ones, she decided, would make excellent gifts for friends, wrapped in red and green Cellophane and tied with decorative ribbons. She could take them back with her, or, if she chose to lengthen her stay, then she could consign them via the postal service.

It rained on and off all day. Alternate heavy and light showers with very little time in between.

The kitchen was soon redolent with various aromas, as Anneke washed and soaked a variety of dried fruit in sherry and brandy.

By mid-afternoon shortbread, cut in fingers, lay cooling on baking racks. There was one tin filled with rumballs, another with fudge brownies. Tomorrow she’d bake Christmas cakes.

A quick glance at her watch determined it was time to begin preparing Sebastian’s evening meal.

A secretive smile teased the edges of her mouth. She almost wished she could see his expression when he uncovered a platter containing miso soup thick with seaweed and tofu, grilled eel in a rich oyster sauce, sushi with slices of raw fish and seaweed delicacies, and faux caviare. Flavoured tofu with fruit comprised dessert.

Sebastian heeded her knock, caught her carefully composed expression, and was immediately on guard.

He mentally conjured the thick T-bone steak he’d removed from the freezer earlier in the day, the makings for a salad he could put together in minutes, and sought to protect his palate.

‘Why not join me tomorrow night?’

‘I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your work,’ she responded with extreme politeness.

‘An hour or two won’t cause much damage.’

‘Damage’ was the operative word, and she didn’t covet an hour in his company, much less two. Besides, if she shared a meal with him she’d have to resort to conventional cooking, and that would definitely spoil the fun.

‘Maybe another time.’ Without a further word she turned and retraced her steps.

It was as well he liked Japanese food, although he conceded her choice of dishes was probably as deliberate as it was unusual. The dessert joined the chocolate bombe and the strawberry sponge sitting in his refrigerator.

Anneke checked the dried fruit, stacked shortbread into one of her aunt’s cake tins, then cleaned up the kitchen.

After a day of preparing food, she opted for something simple for her own meal, and followed it with a bowl of fresh fruit. She added ice to a glass, filled it with water, then carried it through to the lounge and switched on the television.

The phone rang at nine. She remembered the time, as she glanced at her watch. Even as she picked up the receiver she had the instinctive feeling this was going to be a repeat of yesterday’s nuisance call.

Bingo, Anneke registered as no one answered her greeting, and within seconds she could hear audible breathing on the line.

Who would do something like this? It couldn’t be aimed at Aunt Vivienne, surely? Yet who knew Anneke was here?

She cut the connection and replaced the handset, then stood staring at the telephone as if willing it to divulge relevant information.

For five minutes she hovered in the kitchen, wiping down bench surfaces that had already been wiped, checking cupboards, the refrigerator, the pantry. Just in case the call was repeated.

The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she should report it. But what could the police do, except relay advice she was already aware of?