Shadows of the Past

by Frances Housden

  “There’s a story about that. Do you want to hear it?”

  “Is it something bad?”

  “Not from where I’m standing. I told you my friend Brent took care of it, but when I asked him to get rid of Searle, he told me he loved me like a brother but he wasn’t going to kill for me.”

  He felt her relax and wished he could do the same.

  If Searle was responsible for stalking Maria, he wouldn’t put the onus on Brent to take care of him, he’d do it himself.

  A feral growl built at the back of his throat as he relived the moment she’d asked for the jerk, but this wasn’t just about Searle. Mainly it concerned him and Maria. “The thought of Searle laying a hand on you. Like this…”

  His hand slid under her silky hair. “Hell, it makes my back teeth ache.”

  She tilted her head to give him access as he cupped his fingers round her nape. Both movements brought her face closer. Close enough to breathe in the sharp peppermint tang that clung to her breath.

  The urge to taste sent his libido into overdrive.

  Heart pounding, Maria accepted Franc’s embrace, trying to act as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Nothing had prepared her for the emotions this tender caress engendered, for the quivering inside, or the desire to burst into tears again. The experience was all so new, new and wonderful.

  It had been one thing to imagine satisfying her curiosity about men, women and sex. But right here, right now, she couldn’t conceive of letting anyone other than Franc get this close to her. Close enough to kiss the way they had before.

  Franc lifted his thumb higher and traced the whorls of her ear, as the thought of slanting his mouth over hers seemed more and more like the right thing to do. Without conscious guidance, his other hand brushed lightly over her breast.

  Her gasp of pleasure filled the silence.

  “So, what do you think, are you gonna hit me or kiss me?”

  “A kiss would be better,” she sighed, wishing she was equipped to handle the longing building inside her.

  Such a feeble answer she’d given him, words only words, and none of them capable of explaining the tumult of emotions whirling through her brain.

  Her head lifted. Had she come to meet his kiss or had he pulled her closer? She didn’t know, didn’t care. A rush of sighs tangled in a fine web of anticipation in the bare microsecond it took their mouths to meet.

  Ah, God, now she knew her memories of last night weren’t an aberration. The sweet, sweet taste of his mouth made her head spin as if a whirlwind had taken hold of her, tossing her so high in the air she never wanted to come down.

  Maria struggled in his arms. For one dire moment Franc thought she wanted him to stop, then her hand lifted to hold his head still as their tongues dueled and lips clashed. His overeager libido wanted to sample each sensation, and do it twice, no, three times over.

  A startling revelation.

  A warning that ought to have made him wonder where this path he was treading led. Too late, he felt hungry as a bear, nose deep in a hive, which had lost its fear of being stung the moment it discovered a feast of honey on the menu.

  It was warm under her pajamas. He found the curve of her breasts under the satiny layer. One, then the other swelled to fill his hands with burgeoning female flesh.

  He didn’t remember turning, moving them onto the bed, but suddenly Maria was under him, arching up as she struggled to fit against his length.

  Only his thin cotton boxers, and her summer-weight pajamas, separated them. Franc’s heat radiated through the layers into her, and when he swung his leg across hers, she thought she would die from the luxury of having the weight of his body press her down into the soft mattress. A moan tore from her throat as he left his hard male imprint on her belly.

  Franc kept the momentum edgy, varying his kisses; soft, like a butterfly’s caress; hard, deep as if to swallow her whole. So much to experience, so much to taste, and only a few days to do it in. He swung from taking mouselike nibbles from her bottom lip to vampire bites on the cord of her neck.

  His shoulders bore the kiss of her fingernails as she thrust her hips up under him and into him in a prelude of what was to come.

  Wait. Savor the moment, the rush, the longing, and let the pitch build until taking her, being inside her, exceeded everything that had gone before.

  The room smelled of sex and sweat, and the clean flavor of peppermint had given way to a hot, fierce, hungry flame that consumed them both and soon would fuse them into one.

  Thrusting the edges of her pajama jacket aside, Franc basked in her whimpers while his hands, his mouth found her breasts.

  “God, I want to see you, I must.” His words grazed past her face, edgy like a fight, all bared teeth and bare knuckles for right of possession.

  Her breath stuttered as his hand reached for the bedside-light. For an instant her grip tightened on his scalp, demanding his attention, next moment her hands were sliding between them covering the soft flesh he was determined to see. “No, I’d rather it was dark.”

  Maria’s voice crackled out of a throat gone suddenly dry. “You see,” she explained, “I’ve never done this before.”

  Shaken, his hand froze midair. A hush settled over the room broken only by the sound of Maria’s faltering breath close to his ear.

  His own caught in his throat as the magnitude of what he’d started hit him like a two-ton truck with a reminder of time and place. Did he dare initiate a virgin in all the delights ofex, with her mother sleeping three doors away?

  Magnified a thousand times by the silence blanketing the house, a lock turned and clicked into place. His head swiveled to look over his shoulder as he rolled off Maria, pulling the edges of her top into place as his knees touched the floor and waited for the door to open.

  “Santa Claus,” Maria whispered as ragged murmurs floated along the hall, followed by footsteps padding in the direction of the stairs.

  “What?”

  “Someone has gone to put the children’s presents out.” She didn’t want to feel ashamed of what they’d done, or were about to do, but whispering in the dark twisted their encounter into a secret, to be hidden at all cost. She’d hoped for more.

  “Your mother?” Another hushed question floated on the silence, as if to speak louder would shatter it.

  “No, probably my brothers.” They’d protected her for years, and now, albeit unconsciously on their part, they’d blighted her first sexual experience.

  Why couldn’t she simply have a relationship, a slice out of time where the past didn’t count? Hadn’t she enough to conceal already: the damaging scars, the worries shrouded in the mystery of what happened during her abduction.

  Franc was still kneeling by her bed, not as comfortable as lying beside her but not as dangerous. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Do you think they heard us?”

  “We heard them.”

  Her reply was simply confirmation of his own line of thought, but she distracted him by scraping a finger over his late-night stubble. “It’s no use you thinking to make a dash for it. In case you’ve forgotten, this is your room.”

  “So they aren’t liable to burst in, is that what you’re saying?” Franc sucked in a breath as her finger found the hollow in his throat. No wonder, he couldn’t recollect ever being so turned on. He’d heard of men experiencing the pain of un-relieved lust, but never knew it could feel so bad, excruciating, as if he were caught in a vise. It was going to take more than a cold shower to relieve his discomfort.

  It would take Maria, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  Hell, the interruption might have put a damper on his lust, but even dead it wouldn’t lie down.

  Slipping an arm around her, he rolled Maria, covers and all, into a bundle, then climbed back onto the bed, wrapping the end of the coverlet touching the floor round him. With her settled in his arms, head tucked under his chin, reluctantly, he began to extricate himself. “Hon, I’m thinking we got our timing
all wrong. I still want you.” Boy, did he want her.

  “But I can’t say I feel comfortable making love to you while your parents are practically sleeping next door.”

  No point in avoiding the question, Maria had to know. “Is it because I’m a virgin?”

  “Hell, no! No, but your first time should be something special. I can’t do that for you here with all this tiptoeing around in the dark. making me nervous.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Special, he’d said. Maria hoped it lived up to its name, though she didn’t think anything could thrill her more than being in Franc’s arms a few minutes ago.

  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.

  Chapter 6

  Next 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.