Shadows of the Past (15 page)

Oh, yeah. No doubt about it, the little fling he’d embarked on so readily was bound to cost him dearly, one way or another.

“I brought you something.”

Franc blinked into the moment, shook the erotic images from his mind as Rosa handed him a small parcel, saying “Open it here, now, while we’re alone.”

He could feel the smooth ridge of a frame under the plain gold paper as he slid his finger beneath the tape holding it closed. He forced himself to say, “I hope this isn’t some sort of gag present that’s going explode.”

The upward flash of her eyes said, “As if I would.”

It was the photo of Maria at seventeen, a smaller version. He stared down at it, his throat working, wondering how her mother had been able to bring herself to parcel up the picture and frame after it had upset her so badly, when he’d unearthed a similar one from the box in Maria’s closet.

“My daughter, my Maria’s told you, hasn’t she?”

“About what happened, just after this? Yeah, she told me.”

“You’re a good man, Franc Jellic. You should keep the photo. I don’t think it can hurt any of us anymore.”

The urge to tell Rosa why Maria was really staying with him tangled with both the relief and dismay that she trusted him with her daughter. Befthe words could bubble to the surface and he betrayed Maria, her mother abandoned the emotion she’d showed earlier and asked briskly, “What’s through here?”

He showed her. “It’s nothing fancy.”

It seemed she agreed. Nodding, she said, “More white.”

“I was thinking of buying a few ferns.”

“That might help,” she agreed, but without enthusiasm. Then she spied the bath. “Oh, is this a spa bath?”

“I don’t use it much.”

Her expression was innocent, but her words caught him on the hop, as she picked up a pair of white lace panties drying on the heated towel rail. “Maybe you’ll make more use of it when you marry my daughter.”

“Oh, Mamma! How could you?”

Maria had gone looking for Franc and her mother to tell them lunch was ready. She heard the voices and followed them to the en suite. The last thing she’d expected to overhear was Mamma’s blatant coercion. And for once in her life Maria intended setting her mother straight. “This is the twenty-first century, Mamma. Just because a couple sleep together, it doesn’t necessarily lead to marriage.”

Two more steps into the crowded en suite aligned Maria with Franc. She laid her hand on his arm, wanting to emphasize the two-against-one odds on her mother winning this round. His skin was warm under her palm, but though she’d expected his muscles to be tense, his arm felt quite relaxed.

“Don’t get upset, hon. I don’t blame your mother for doing her job. I expect it comes with the territory.” He reached for the panties her mother was holding. “These feel dry now, better put them away.”

Suddenly, Franc was in control, taking charge of the situation. He ushered her out of the en suite. “Take a look at what your mother gave me.”

Mamma, who had been remarkably silent up till now, followed them into the bedroom as Franc placed her old school picture in her hands. “You don’t mind, do you, darling? I’m sorry about the fuss I made over the photo when you were home at Christmas.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” To show her mother all was forgiven, Maria went over and pulled her mother into an exuberant hug. She couldn’t help looking at the photo she still held. Had she really ever looked that angelic? She swung round but kept one arm about her mother’s shoulders. “Take a look, Franc.” She held the photo next to her face. “What do think? Doesn’t look much like me now, does it?”

“You’ve grown up,” he said. His voice was rough. It skittered over her nerve endings like a runaway train jumping the track, and though he was more than two yards away and her arm was still round her mother, she wanted him.

Franc was right, she had grown up, but it had only happened in the last week when he had treated her like a woman. A sensual being with wants and needs that only he could fill.

It was a shame their relationship had a stopwatch counting down the days, the minutes, the seconds. Theve had something good together, but it hurt too much to put a name to it yet. A shame that the answering glow, the smolder she recognized in his eyes, would never really be fulfilled.

Ambition and success didn’t come without sacrifices.

“Let me take another look at that picture,” her mother said, holding out her hand, impatient as always.

She passed it over, and her mother stared down at it for long seconds, as if she’d never seen it until that moment. “He was a brilliant photographer, he caught everything that was good and decent about you, except for your sense of humor. He forgot your smile.”

“Let me see?”

“Oh, don’t you start, too, Franc. The photo’s a fraud. I was every bit as mischievous as anyone else in my class.” She poked her mother in the ribs. “We got up to pranks even you never knew about, Mamma. Do you want to know what we did with Sister Constance’s bloomers? Now,
there
was a big lady.”

“I don’t want to know, so don’t soil my ears with such nonsense. Besides, I thought your man was hungry and needed to be fed?”

“That’s what I came to tell you. Lunch is ready.”

Her mother went first and Maria followed her to the door as Franc put the frame down on the black marble table, among the candles he’d lit the night he’d really treated her like the goddess he kept comparing her to. When she thought about it, they had probably been Mamma’s first clue.

“Oh, don’t put it there, big guy. It makes the table look like an altar.”

His hand was on her shoulder, ready to leave the bedroom, when he looked back at the photograph then down at her. “Your mamma was right, he was a brilliant photographer, an artist. The photograph is perfect, but it’s a still life and doesn’t capture what I see when I look at you.”

She leaned up against him, careless of whether her mother saw them in the doorway or not. After the panties, nothing was going to shock her mother. “Just for that,” she whispered, stretching up to his ear as if she was going to say something sexy she didn’t want anyone else to hear, “you can have two helpings of lasagna.”

“Uh-uh, my choice…” His voice tailed away and she wasn’t absolutely positive she’d heard correctly, but she thought he said, “I choose you.”

H
ands linked and arms swinging as they walked, Franc escorted Maria across Takapuna esplanade on Sunday after lunch. He carted an old cabin bag stuffed with towels and drinks and lotion
s, while Maria carried an old plaid car rug he’d had forever.

Brilliant sunshine slanted up off the golden sands, almost blinding him, yet he kept his sunglasses pushed on top of his hair as he glanced down at Maria hurrying beside him with two steps to his one.

It was stupid, he knew that, but someho shrank from darkening her image through his Polaroid lenses. She’d started it with this fancy she had about someone’s shadow coming over her and the thought had become contagious. From the moment he’d slipped on his shades to leave the apartment, he’d sensed a shift in perspective that dissolved the promise of a brilliant summer’s day into something darker that hid beyond his peripheral vision.

Maria caught his glance, her eyes reflecting the tinge of apprehension his gaze held. “What’s wrong, big guy, too much sunblock on my nose?”

“Nothing like that. I can’t remember the last time I spent a day at the beach, and here we are all togged out like a couple of teenagers about to hit the sands.” His family had taken an aversion to the North Shore beaches after his father’s car, with him in it, had done a nosedive onto the rocks at Torbay about fifteen kilometers up the coast.

She flung back her head and laughed so that her hair kissed the tops of her shoulders. “A teenager? God, don’t remind me, it was Agonyville. My days at the beach were over before I had a chance to enjoy that age. But being with you makes me feel I could cope with anything.”

He looked down at the one-piece swimsuit she had on. “Not confident enough to buy that bikini I liked.”

“I should hope not, but don’t you like knowing that I keep some things labeled for your eyes only.”

“Now,
that
I can go along with.” He scanned the strip of beach bordering the Pacific for a less crowded spot than the area next to Takapuna boat ramp. He should have figured on the last Sunday of the year bringing the local sun worshipers out in droves.

“You weren’t saying that when I couldn’t make up my mind which one to buy. And now I see why. One-thirty in the afternoon and everyone got here before us. We should have bought a take-away lunch to eat on the beach.”

He untwisted his fingers from hers and changed the subject as they reached the steps to the beach. “Lift up the hem of your sarong, hon. I wouldn’t want you to trip.”

Her sarong, thin opaque cotton in a mix of oranges and yellows over red, had come in a set with the red one-piece, and tied around the waist. They’d bought the outfit in a Takapuna store less than an hour ago. “And don’t worry about being a little late, what man is going to say no to his own personal swimsuit parade? To go in and grab one off the rack wouldn’t have been as much fun, just faster. And as for eating lunch, I hate sand between my teeth.”

His fingers petted the satiny skin above her waist as she walked with him down the steps. Maria was beautifully shaped, graceful; he loved to watch her move around his apartment, loved the way her hips swung when she walked, loved everything about her. Especially the way she’d laughed when he complimented her figure, saying, “It’s all the pasta Mamma fed me.”

On the sands, Maria leaned into his side, their arms crossing as he felt her thumb hook over the waistband of his cargo shorts. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with mischief as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

That was all it took, a look, a lick. Blood flooded his groin. And to complicate matters, she said, “And we both know you don’t fast.”

Her voice had a compelling huskiness that usually signaled she wanted to make love.

“I
do
thorough, and take pride in my work as you well know.”

She rubbed her hip against the top of his thigh, reminding him of how much shorter she was. Over the last few days he’d learned she was his equal in all the ways that counted. But if he wanted to be able to walk across the sand without everyone knowing how horny she made him, he had to keep his mind off sex.

Great sex. Fantastic sex. The best sex anyone ever had, any place, anytime. Oh, man, was he ever in trouble.

“Do you want me to get arrested? If so, carry on. I’ll be the happiest guy in Takapuna lockup.”

“They’d have to lock me up with you, big guy. You promised me until the end of the summer break and after today, I have another three days outstanding.”

Her reminder was something he could have done without.
Dammit all to hell!
He’d begun to wish he’d never put a time limit on their association. It showed in the urge he obeyed to slip his sunglasses down over his eyes. Maria had learned to read him too well. No sooner than he felt a shadow racing toward him. One he couldn’t stop or duck away from, since it belonged to Old Man Time.

Contrary to what he’d told himself earlier, his sunglasses had made it easier to search out a spot on the sand that wasn’t already occupied. “C’mon, hon. I’ve found us an opening.”

Two minutes later, the plaid rug was spread out, the cooler within reach and the suntan lotion in Franc’s hand.

A quick glance around him showed that maybe he hadn’t been so lucky after all, too many buff young guys with great bods in the vicinity, most of them staring at Maria unwrapping her sarong as if she were peeling the paper off a belated Christmas present. The sight of a couple of volleyballs didn’t imbue him with much hope that they would take themselves off closer to the water, to play on the hard-packed wet sand.

He’d allow them two accidental throws in Maria’s direction, any more and he’d show them how to make points the hard way.

Franc stripped off his navy polo shirt as Maria sank to her knees on the rug. The high-cut legs of her suit made her thighs look long and sleekly muscled. As he unzipped his cargo shorts, quickly stepping out of them, he had a flashback of her legs locked around his waist. Too many flashbacks and his black swim shorts wouldn’t leave much to the imagination.

He dropped to the rug beside her and placed the bottle of suntan lotion in her hand. “You promised to rub this on my back.”

She unscrewed the top and poured some into her palm. “And I always keep my promises.”

He lay down and let her hands move across his back, firmly massaging the lotion into his skin, and thought about promises. Only three more days after today, and the time he’d promised her was up. What would it take to get an extended deadline?

As she sat on her own, Maria decided Takapuna beach was becoming more and more croed and the jerks outnumbered the good guys like Franc about six to one.

At least that’s how it felt when she heard a voice call, “Hey, Maria, I didn’t know you came down here.”

She looked up. The sun was behind him, throwing a completely misplaced shimmer of gold around his silhouette, like a picture of Saint Peter her grandmother in Italy had once sent her. Tony Cahill, trolling for chicks, she supposed.

“Hi, Tony.” To be polite, she gave him a meager wave, wishing she had the courage to give him an Italian salute she’d seen one of her brothers use. He deserved it after copping a feel of her breast the day her car wouldn’t start.

“Wheeew.” The long sigh didn’t help. Didn’t change things. Franc had gone to buy ice creams and until he returned she was on her own. Or had been, until Tony turned up.

What would happen when Franc came back? She’d seen him bristle, a low growl rumbling at the back of his throat every time the guys playing volleyball made some ham-fisted shot that landed beside her.

Though, if she was being honest with herself, it hadn’t been nearly as exciting as watching Franc’s muscles ripple as he leaped for a high shot and punched the ball back at them. He’d looked tough, and dangerous, a combination that made her heart flip over as the sight took her breath away.

Digging her toes into the sand under the rug, she hugged her arms around her knees so Tony had no chance to look down her cleavage.
Where was Franc with that ice cream?

Her desire for something cold evaporated.

The moment Franc had left the rug and trudged across the soft sand to the truck on the esplanade, shivers had iced her spine.

Automatically, her gaze had spun round, as it had the first time the sensation had crept up on her as she walked down Wellesley Street to catch the bus home. That day, she’d felt the first tentative fingers of fear stroke the back of her neck, like an elongated shadow from the past she couldn’t remember, stretching out to pull her into its embrace.

And now in the full glare of a sun so harsh, where the only place for specters should be straight down, six feet under the sand, it had touched her again. Stroked her again.

It had to be Randy, but in a crowd this big how could she pick out one face when so many sun-bleached male heads surrounded her? Before Tony had turned up, she’d been fighting an urge to run, to blend into the crowd and disappear, hide, until Franc returned, which only went to show how she was beginning to depend on him.

The thought that she might be playing into Randy’s hands had stopped her flight. That might be exactly what he wanted, to fluster her into running somewhere Franc couldn’t protect her.

Then Tony had arrived.

With the flight-or-fight urge still winging through her veins, she reached for the sarong that matched her swimsuit. Though cut low at the back and high at the legs, the swimsuit Franc had helped her pick was sexy but not see-through. It hid her scars. Yet, from the way Tony stared, it appeared there was every chance of him having been born with X-ray vision.

“I noticed how your car isn’t back in the carport. If you want to catch a ride home from the beach, just say the word.”

She knew which word she’d like to use but it wasn’t ladylike. Although…if the situation ever called for it…?

“Thanks,” she lied. “But I have transport. You remember Franc? He’ll be back any second now with ice cream.”

“Yeah, remember the guy.”

Fed up with staring at his knees, Maria shaded her eyes with her hand. From Tony’s expression, it wasn’t one of his favorite memories.

“Saw him take off. Was hoping he’d gone home. Noticed he couldn’t fix your car, either. Saw it getting towed.”

“I guess you see most things from your house, it’s on one of the highest sections of the street.”

“Yeah, usually see you trotting off to work and walking home from the bus. To see you in your prissy work suits, no one would guess you could look like a babe.”

She shivered as Tony’s shadow fell across her, blocking the sun. She must be the only icicle on the beach. She signaled with her hand. “Do you mind? You’re shading me.”

Big mistake. He obviously took it as an invitation to sit down and plunked his towel next to the plaid rug. “Ought to wear that color more often, red suits you.”

He didn’t touch her physically; he didn’t need to, with his eyes doing an imitation of a slug crawling over her shoulders.

Desperate, she looked behind her and heaved a sigh as she caught a glimpse of Franc. He was literally hotfooting it across the sand to her, dodging between groups of sun lovers.

At last she was able to breathe easy.

She knew Tony and his friends in the corner house were university students, sharing the rent the way she did with her friends, but he was younger and should have his sights fixed on someone closer to his own age.

What was it about her lately that attracted all the wrong men?

She listed them in her head, as if counting down the seconds till Franc reached her. Randy, Tony, Arthur, the guys tossing the volleyball in her direction, deliberately trying to rile Franc—they’d all focused in on her like heat-seeking missiles.

Aargh. Not a good metaphor.

She wondered if there was a sign on her forehead, like a party hat. Only it didn’t say Kiss-Me-Quick; it read, Frighten the Pants Off Me.

Funny how much braver she was when Franc was around.

He took one look at Tony and his nostrils flared on a huge breath that inflated his chest. Although she admitted, his expression might have been more effective if he wasn’t holding two ice-cream cones.

“You lose your way?” asked Franc.

His meaning had to be obvious, even to someone as full of his self-worth as Tony. “No, I’m not lost.”

Testosterone was having a field day.

Franc soundedremarkably calm as he handed her a waffle cone that should have melted simply from the heat in his eyes. She moved over and he sat down between her and Tony.

Although, from his patient “Then I suggest you give it a try starting now” sounded as if he could chew butter and swallow it whole, Tony got the message.

“Know when I’m not wanted.” The younger guy jumped up and grabbed his towel.

Franc didn’t bother to acknowledge the reply. Just stared, all jutting chin and aggressive slant to his shoulders. Too stupid to live, Tony took a parting shot, “See you around, Maria.”

“Not if I see him first,” she muttered, snuggling close to Franc, her ice cream at a safe distance so it wouldn’t drip. “My hero to the rescue again.”

Male hormones sparked at the back of his dark eyes, making her skin feel all goosey. She leaned into his arm, then noticed the other ice cream. “Uh-oh, Tony got sand everywhere.”

She held her waffle cone closer to Franc’s mouth. “We’ll have to share. One lick for you, one lick for me.”

Franc laughed. Afternoon reprieved. “Hon, you
know
what I like.” His warm laughter spilled over her, washing away her fears and drowning the shadows.

“As soon as we finish the ice cream, let’s go home.”

“Sure, hon.” He took a large mouthful of strawberry ice cream, at least half. There was a gleam in his eye as he told her, “You really
do
know what I like.”

She attracted men like flies. Sooner than later he was going to have to swat some of them, particularly Jellic. The bastard treated her like a tawdry sexual object.