Shadows of the Past (8 page)

She squirmed, twisting out of the covers till she and Franc were face-to-face.

Her movements were so arousing, Franc clenched his fists to prevent crying out. Her breath kissed his lips. He closed them tight. All he needed was a taste of her to put his newfound resolve out of kilter.

“You’re not just putting me off, are you?” Her hands touched his face. He shuddered. She held him still, kissing him, softly, gently, tracing his lips with the tip of her tongue. His heart began to dance rock ’n’ roll on his sternum.

Gripping her wrists, he pushed her away, not caring who heard the moan gouged out of his lungs. She was tearing him apart. And before she was done, it would take a crash course in resuscitation to keep him alive. “Maria, you are killing me.”

“Just testing.”

“Uh-uh. That kiss definitely came under the heading of teasing. But I’ll let you off if you promise me something.”

“Anything.” The way she purred into his ear, he could tell she meant it. This had to be one of the best and worst nights of his life.

He was holding the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met in his arms, on a bed, and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. No, even he couldn’t sink that low.

“Day after tomorrow, when we get back to Auckland, you’ll let me take you out on a proper date? I’ll stay the extra night and drop you home in plenty of time to doll yourself up. Wear that dark plum number that’s my favorite.”

“You’ve only seen me in a couple of outfits.”

“Don’t get picky, and don’t interrupt, I’m planning our night out. Round about seven, I’ll pick you up in a cab so there’s no worry about drinking and driving.”

“A limo?”

“You’re pushing it, hon.” He tweaked her earlobe then began again. “We’ll go to one of those restaurants on the waterfront. All you have to do is pop a toothbrush in your bag for after, because you’ll spend the rest of the night at my place. That’s when we’ll finish what we started tonight.”

“Mmm, I think I’d enjoy that,” she murmured, her breath warm and damp against his chest, tickling the scattering of hair growing below his throat.

“Great. I’ll make the arrangements as soon as I get home. Now that’s settled, we ought to try getting some sleep.”

“Can we sleep like this, please, with my head on your shoulder? It makes me feel so safe.”

“I guess.” How could he refuse, when she asked so prettily. But safe? From Searle, maybe? But himself? Why promise something he couldn’t guarantee? She burrowed in closer, lying still for a moment before her drowsy response flo up to him.

“Thank you, Franc. You’re one of the good guys.”

Damn, he didn’t feel good, and it wasn’t the hunger eating him up inside that sprang to mind, nor knowing sleep would be impossible tonight with Maria lying beside him.

Sure he was intent on having her, just not tonight. But his not giving a damn that it could only last eleven days at most sounded like bad-guy fodder to him. Yet, he was beggared if he would let her go until the end of his holiday break.

Once that was over it would be off with Maria, and on with the work. Same old, same old, just like always. He’d lived with his dream too long to let it go now.

Then again, he couldn’t allow her to deal with Searle alone. He felt kind of responsible, since the guy worked for him. Yeah, after the holidays, once he dealt with Searle, he’d let her go.

That’s unless they discovered it wasn’t his salesman who was watching her. If there really
was
a stalker, then he’d feel obliged to sort the problem out.

His sister could help, though if she’d gone off on their motor yacht for Christmas, it might be well into January till she got back to Auckland.

His brain went on and on until he fell asleep without putting a name to what he’d been doing.

Making excuses to keep seeing Maria.

N
ext morning Maria waited on the flagstone-paved patio for Franc. Arching her foot, as she used to as a child, she pointed her toes above the line where two paving stones abutted, arms outstretched to prevent wobbling from side to side. An appropriate game, considering she felt she’d been practicing a high-wire balancing act since the moment she’d gotten out of his bed, and none too steadily at that.

She was still woolgathering when Franc appeared at her elbow and caught her as she finally lost her balance. He didn’t look as if he’d spent the night squashed up beside her in a single bed. It was as if shaving had given him a new lease on life. Though she’d rather liked him slightly bristly. “All ready?”

“I am if you are, but what’s going to happen when your family finds out we don’t have gifts for each other?”

His words brought home to her what a nice guy Franc really was. Although he liked to pretend otherwise, what with his avowal that commitment was the last thing on his mind, and his only goal in life was to become a partner in his brother-in-law’s company. “I’ve thought of that. Though I don’t like fooling my parents I think we should say that we’d already exchanged gifts in Auckland before we knew you would come home with me.”

“Do you think they’ll buy it?”

“Of course they will, they like you. And I’m their daughter, they don’t know I have any reason to pretend.” Lying to her family was another corruption to blame on Randy Searle. Although, maybe she could c it out by remembering if it hadn’t been for him, she would never have met Franc.

“Let’s turn it into the truth when we get back to Auckland. How ’bout I buy you a pair of earrings that will highlight the graceful curve of your neck.”

Color raced into her cheeks as if acknowledging the compliment. She could see from the gleam in his eye that he recognized she wasn’t used to receiving them.

Hmmph. Well, two could play that game. “I’ll have to think of something to buy that will bring out your best feature.” But she didn’t have enough experience to compete against Franc and win.

“Better wait a day or two then, because, hon, you haven’t seen my best feature yet.”

She was still blushing, her mind bedazzled as they walked into the lounge, and the madness that constituted Christmas in the Costello household.

Someone should have warned him.

The Christmas ritual began with small panini rolls, liberally filled with with smoked salmon or ham, and for the sweeter-toothed members—the children and Maria—there were chocolate-filled croissants. Franc had never experienced a Christmas morning like it. No one sat at the table. They piled into the lounge, filling the sofas and chairs, as well as stools and cushions on the floor, and everyone except the children washed down the food with another glass of Falcon Rise’s special Italian-style sparkling wine.

Maria had insisted he take the chair while she sat on a pile of cushions at his feet. Every now and then she would look up to catch his reaction to what was happening.

It hadn’t taken long to occur to him that, if she had told her family about Searle, the rituals would have gone ahead but only for the children’s sakes. And he doubted if even they would have gone about their business so lightheartedly, once the unease permeated down from their parents.

One of the younger children, he’d forgotten his name, said, “Are you guys never going to finish eating? We want to open the presents.”

Maria, who was on her third croissant, looked up at Franc, eyes twinkling and a smile on her face as if Searle didn’t exist. There was a small streak of chocolate on the side of her mouth. He swiped it off with his thumb then sucked it off. Her pupils blurred as they swallowed up the dark brown in her irises, making him clamp down the urge to pick her up and carry her off to bed.

That was the caveman in him, but he’d checked his club in at the door to the Costello homestead, so he settled for stealing half of the croissant she had left. “Just helping the young guy out,” he said before popping it into his mouth.

Without taking her gaze off his mouth, she warned him, “I’ll let you off this time, but don’t ever come between me and my chocolate if you value your life.”

He grinned. Damn, he was actually enjoying himself in this den of domesticity. Who would have believed it? Not his good mate Brent, that’s for sure. He narrowed his gaze as it traveled over her. “Looks like I’m going to have to practice asking for mercy.”

“If that was an example of what expect, me, too.”

Within minutes of the second round of drinks being served they were swimming in a sea of Christmas wrapping paper. He didn’t ever remember seeing this many presents under a Christmas tree. Not even when his dad was still alive. That must have been in the days before Milo Jellic succumbed to the lure of easy money.

Thoughts of his father managed to take the gloss off a morning that had shone before. Sure, his sister, Jo and her husband, Rowan McQuaid Stanhope, were looking into Milo’s past, trying to prove he’d been innocent, set up and maybe even murdered. He didn’t know which bothered him most, the fact that there might be nothing to discover, or that he might wake up one morning to be told someone had killed his father by sending him over a cliff, car and all.

The last news he’d heard was that his father had been involved with some woman. “Good on him,” he’d said to Jo. Ten years was a long time to go without a woman. But then it had occurred to Franc that maybe she had been the final nudge Milo had needed to turn into a cop on the take, and place
money
before the family who’d needed him. Either way, it couldn’t make much difference to Franc; about the only thing he had in common with his father was his surname.

Franc put his hand over the top of his glass to prevent Maria’s brother, Andrea, filling it up. He was feeling far too melancholy and no amount of wine was going to cheer him up.

The weight of Maria’s arm sat across his knees. He liked the feel of it, the warmth, the subtle ebb and flow of her muscles as she shifted against him and quirked an eyebrow in his direction, as if she’d sensed the change in his mood.

What he needed was some fresh air and Maria, but not necessarily in that order.

He caught her hand in his and tugged gently on her fingers as if to say, “Get up.”

“Want to go for that walk you promised me?”

“Sure, give me two minutes and I’ll meet you on the patio.”

Franc watched her leave the room and edged his way through the piles of wrapping paper the children were collecting as they helped make room for the toys they wanted to play with. Santa had been generous this year.

His mood lifted an inch or too as he realized Santa had already sent him a present. He’d recognized it the moment Maria entered the restaurant. The memory had simply got sidetracked as ineligible alongside all the problems facing Maria that he’d discovered later.

Franc counted the paving stones as he slowly walked to the end of the patio to wait…eight, nine, ten, almost there. His gaze traveled the green, vine-striped horizon where it met up with the sea and sky as he turned to face the house. There were grape leaves as far as the eye could see, a fitting setting for his goddess.

The sound of footsteps drew his glance and he turned to watch his Christmas gift arrive.

“Where are you taking me? I could use some adventure.”

Maria blinked up at him as his arm curved around her shoulder. “I thought we’d take in the vines and the view in that order. But, first we have to that path to a bridge that crosses the stream at the bottom. Unless you’d prefer to get your feet wet?”

“Maybe later.” He grinned, looking down at his soft brown leather loafers. They teamed up with the loose-weave cotton shirt he had on, casual but smart. As for the rest, his tan chinos were the same as those her brothers wore.

They’d only gone a few steps away from the patio when Franc pulled Maria’s arm around behind his waist, leaving his on her shoulders. Side by side, they traveled in silence until Franc said, “Sorry if I came across as unsociable toward the end of the gift giving. I started thinking about my family, and before I knew it, I’d dropped out of my comfort zone.”

So that was his reason for the change in atmosphere she’d sensed. “Do you miss them?”

“If you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have said no way. But that was yesterday. I also felt a bit embarrassed about the gifts.”

“Ah, but mothers always cater for the unexpected. You can eat your chocolates and wear your socks with a clear conscience.”

He patted his stomach. “Do you think I can chance it?”

“If you mean has she poisoned you, you’re safe. But if you’re asking about putting on weight…” She let the answer hang a minute while she remembered the feel of his hard body covering hers. Color swept her face, and she tried to hide it by looking around him as she gently pinched his waist. “No problem there. You can take it.”

“Glad I have your approval,” he said, lifting her chin till he could look straight into her eyes.

What she saw in them made her heart leap. Suddenly she didn’t want to wait another day to discover how making love with Franc felt. The thought of having him inside her brought on an ache that intensified her longing. He leaned over and brushed his lips across hers, gently, sweet as fresh-picked grapes with the warmth of the sun on them, warmth that infused the whole of her body. She’d never in a million years imagined this floaty feeling as if her feet didn’t touch the ground.

They walked a few more yards before she dredged a few words out of the knot in her throat. “Actually, you did me a favor. That’s two I owe you now. Instead of mooning sentimentally about this being my last Christmas at Falcon’s Rise, I was more concerned you didn’t feel left out. Which meant I didn’t embarrass myself by coming over all weepy. I guess I did enough of that last night.”

“And with good reason.” His voice dropped a couple of notches, vibrating through the wall of his chest into her side.

The tips of his fingers drew lazy circles on her shoulder, keeping alive the buzz she’d experienced before. “You’ve been through a frightening experience. You know what they say about a trouble shared. I guess we halved it. You ought to feel easier now you’ve told me.”

“Dumped on you, don’t you mean? I guess the tension has been slightly alleviated, but I always feel more relaxed at home. If only I could convince myself I haven’t got both of us worked up over a figment of my imagination.”

They were less than three feet from the bridge when he stopped and held her by the shoulders. His hands were warm on the skin left bare by a sleeveless top the color of pale violets. She’d worn it because of a compliment he’d made about her eyes.

His big hands made her feel small, fragile, but with Franc she didn’t mind. He probably didn’t suspect he had this talent for gentleness, but he’d proved it by not trampling all over her vulnerability.

“I’d wish I could pretend the stalking was all in your mind, but from what you tell me, it’s happened too often to be dismissed lightly. When we get back to Auckland, I’m going to give you one of my cell phones. That way you can call me day or night. Anytime you feel you’re being watched.”

Franc pushed her away slightly as he gauged her reception of his idea. “Got that? No matter the hour, you have to call me.”

The area in her brain that wouldn’t quit, wouldn’t let her cower to Searle, wanted to respond with an irreverent salute, and an “Aye-aye, sir,” but she knew he was serious,
deadly
serious. The thought cast up an image to make her shudder.

Her amusement vanished as a somber shadow filled its place.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, but I won’t feel comfortable waking you up unless it’s a matter of…” She let the rest hang fire. How could she do anything else when they were talking of her life, or maybe death?

“Unless it’s too late, you mean. I expect more than that. If you’re in the street and feel he’s watching, step into a shop or café and give me a call. You don’t want to make it too obvious that you’re on to him. Then, if Randy is anywhere in sight, we’ll know you were correct in your assumption.”

“Or that it’s all a horrible coincidence.” The corners of her mouth drooped. “Or maybe I’m being paranoid.”

“With your history, you have a right. But for the rest of Christmas Day let’s try to put it behind us and go for the peace on Earth and all that. There’s little chance that anyone is watching you today.”

What was it about him apart from a crooked smile that wiped years off his age and sent her heart fluttering, as if she’d swallowed a hundred soft-winged moths.

“I guess I’ve been acting like a wimp.”

“Would a wimp have crashed my party? No way. You are beautiful, so beautiful. I can see why someone would like to spend a lot of time looking at you. But, while they only look, there’s little anyone can do.”

“You’re right. I do feel safe at Falcon’s Rise. Safer than in Auckland.” She wanted to say “safer because I’m with you,” but no matter what he said about calling him if she felt threatened, she knew his presence in her life was strictly temporary. He’d made that perfectly clear yesterday.

Was it wrong to look for more?
Expect more?

No one could be more suitable than Franc. He was handsome, experienced, the only man to make her feel sex was the natural outcome of their relationship, not something to be feared. Why then, did her insights of the future resemble something from Picasso’s Blue Period?

Franc pulled her arm through his as they resumed their walk. A few more steps would take them out of the garden and across the bridge to a north-facing slope ribbed with green-trellised vines. “So, Maria, how does Rosa rate when it comes to cooking turkeys?”

“She makes a pistachio nut stuffing that’s to die for.”

Through the telephoto lens Maria appeared close enough to touch. He watched her laugh, eyes crinkling with pleasure as she looked up at the man, Jellic.

Moving the camera slightly he cut the guy out of the picture.