Callie didn’t wish her mother ill, and of course she hoped Kirk would be caught soon and the threat of danger lifted. But she wanted no part of the drama. At eighteen, when she’d gone to uni, she’d stepped out of the center of the hurricane where she’d made her home for so many years, put up with the buffeting winds as she fought her way out, and had emerged in a more peaceful place of her own, where the world didn’t revolve around her mother, where life suddenly had promise. The last thing she wanted was to go back to that maelstrom.
Crossing to the bed, she pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder, slipped on her sandals, and left the room.
Most of the holidaymakers had left the beaches now, and the tide was coming in, the sea sending white fingers up toward the esplanade. Callie walked slowly along the sea front, letting the warm evening breeze lift her hair around her shoulders, thinking about the business, the appointments she’d had that day, and about Gene.
It wasn’t as if, after breaking up with Jamie, she’d decided she wasn’t going to date again. He’d broken her heart, but Callie had no intention of remaining a spinster for the rest of her life. But she’d thought it would take a while before she felt interested in another man. And then Gene had walked into her office, with his cufflinks and his firm jaw, and it felt as if someone had thrown a handful of fairy dust over her.
His declaration that he couldn’t date her while he was working for her sucked, but she admired his principles. Would he still be interested in dating in three months’ time when Becky returned? Only time would tell. Ninety days felt like an awfully long time. How was she supposed to keep her hands off him until then?
Her lips curving, she daydreamed about his wry smile and the heat in his eyes as the evening breeze played with her hair and the seagulls cried around her.
It was only as she reached the end of the esplanade and turned to make her way back that she began to have the feeling she was being followed. She couldn’t have explained why. She glanced over her shoulder and saw nobody out of the ordinary, no suspicious men with binoculars, no one who turned away hurriedly as they saw her look around. It appears someone’s watching me. Phoebe’s words rang in her head. Her skin crawled, and her heart rate picked up and began to race.
Dammit, why hadn’t she told Gene she was going for a walk? No doubt he would have insisted he go with her.
Then she scolded herself for being a wuss. She wasn’t going to let a few stupid idle threats force her to live like a hermit, or make her too afraid to go out on her own.
Still, she walked back more quickly than she’d walked out, and when she finally entered the hotel, she couldn’t suppress a wave of relief that she’d made it back safely.
After running up the stairs to her room, she paused outside Gene’s. Part of her wanted to knock on his door and tell him what she’d felt, hoping for his reassurance.
But she didn’t. Instead, she went into her room, locked the door, undressed, climbed under the covers, and pulled them up to her chin, even though it was a warm night.
It took a long time for her to fall asleep, though.
Chapter Twelve
The next day, they’d checked out and were on the road by ten o’clock. It was about four to five hours’ drive to Christchurch. They could have flown, but Callie wanted to call at some shops on the way, and Gene had to admit to himself he had no problem spending several hours in the car with her.
Callie offered to drive, but Gene told her he wanted to earn his money as her assistant, and she seemed to accept it, and slid into the passenger side without any argument. He got into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled away, relieved she hadn’t insisted. He needed to remain in control, just in case a threat came. He’d taken several advanced driving courses over the years, so he knew what to do if they were chased or attacked on the road.
At first, he sat stiffly behind the wheel, determined to keep his wits about him. As the hours passed, though, and the road became almost empty, he began to relax and enjoy the drive and being with Callie.
She plugged her phone into the car and played music as they drove. He teased her about some of the songs from boy bands, but sang along with her to those he knew—some older alternative rock and, surprising him, some really old bluegrass.
“My father,” she said when he enquired why she had those songs on her phone. “He likes all that. He used to play it in the car whenever we were alone, and I guess I picked up a love of it over the years.”
Gene said nothing, concentrating on the road.
After about an hour and a half, they arrived at Oamaru, and Callie stopped there to visit a boutique lingerie shop, the manager of which appeared more than happy to stock some of the gorgeous underwear that Callie showed her. Another hour’s drive took them to Timaru, and she did the same there, visiting a smaller lingerie shop to tout her wares. Gene was impressed that she wasn’t focusing only on the large department stores. She seemed keen to reach out to even the tiniest corners of the country, and he could only admire her for that.
They continued north along the quiet road through wide-open fields filled with sheep and cows and, in the distance to their left, the white-topped mountains of Mount Cook National Park, right out of The Lord of the Rings. For a while, they were the only car on the road, and it became easy to think they were the survivors of some kind of natural disaster, the only two people left in the world.
They’d have to repopulate the Earth, of course, Gene thought as they crossed the long bridge over the Rakaia River. That would be fun.
“Penny for them,” Callie said, breaking into his daydreams.
“Too lewd to say.” He glanced at her and grinned.
She giggled and looked out the window. Smiling, he returned his gaze to the road. It was good to see her enjoying herself. He’d seen her face the night before, when she’d become afraid, out on her walk along the sea front, and it had chilled him.
When he’d arrived at the hotel, he’d slipped the receptionist fifty bucks and asked her to let him know if Callie left the hotel at any point, and in the evening the receptionist had found him in the gym to tell him Callie appeared to be going for a walk. Cursing, he’d left hurriedly, still in his sweats. Luckily, she hadn’t gone far, and he’d followed her discreetly until she turned and began to walk back to the hotel. He’d seen her stop and glance over her shoulder, had seen the fear on her face. Had she sensed him following her, or someone else? Either way, part of him had been glad she’d quickened her pace and returned to the hotel. He didn’t want her to be scared, but equally he’d rather she wasn’t blasé about her safety, either.
As they passed through Ashburton and headed east toward Christchurch, the roads became busier, and before long they were caught up in typical city traffic. The city had suffered heavily in the earthquake four years before, but it was gradually clawing its way back to normality, rebuilding itself like a person whose relationship had crumbled and failed, and who had to learn how to exist again on their own. Much of the city had been rebuilt, but he tried not to look at the cathedral as they passed it, finding the partially demolished ruins of the once-beautiful building just too sad.
They threaded their way through the streets, heading up past the museum and following the line of the Avon River to the hotel. In the end, it was nearly five o’clock by the time they finally parked, got out, and stretched.
“Jeez, that was a long day.” Callie retrieved her bag from the back of the car. “We should have flown.”
“Now you tell me.” He didn’t really mean it, though. “Come on. Let’s check in and get some dinner.”
They ate together again, enjoying the view across Hagley Park and the river. Willows wept over the quiet water, and oak and beech trees framed the grassy park where people were walking their dogs and enjoying the summer evening.
Callie went through her itinerary for the next day, which promised to be a busy one, with several appointments at large department stores as well as visits to a few bou
tique lingerie shops. Gene listened to her talking about her plans, unable to hide a smile at her enthusiasm. She might not have been the most organized person in the world, but she was knowledgeable about her business, and she’d done her research on the shops she was going to visit.
All day, in the car, she’d been bright and chirpy, and she certainly seemed excited about the next day. As the evening wore on, though, she gradually grew quieter and more preoccupied, and it wasn’t long after they finished their dessert before she said she was going up to her room.
Gene walked with her, hiding his disappointment. He’d hoped she might agree to stay for drinks in the bar, as he’d been enjoying talking to her and getting to know her better. Had she taken his request to wait as a brush-off? Maybe she didn’t believe him when he said he was interested in her.
When the elevator doors closed, he turned to her with concern. “Are you okay?”
She leaned against the wall, her shoulders sagging a little. “Fine, thank you. Just very tired.”
“You’re sure? Not worried about anything?” He was still hoping she’d confide in him about Phoebe’s predicament and the threats, but she just shook her head and gave him a small smile. Maybe she really was just tired. “Anything I can do for you?” he asked. “Order up for you?”
“No, really, I’m good, thanks.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. They walked in silence along to their rooms, and she swiped her card.
“Callie…” He reached out and caught her hand. Her fingers lay cool in his. Her hand seemed small. She’d feel small in his arms, he knew, even though she was taller than average.
She squeezed his hand and released it. “I’m fine, Gene, please, don’t worry. My mind’s on other things, that’s all. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast at eight again?”
“Sure.” He watched her go, feeling helpless. It occurred to him that maybe her mother had told her about the new death threat. Maybe the reinforcement of someone being after her had shaken her up.
Anyway, her mental status was irrelevant. His only concern was that she was safe.
Yeah, he thought as he let himself into his room. Keep telling yourself that, and you might begin to believe it.
*
In his dream, a T-rex was pounding on his hotel door, trying to get in.
Trained to transition from sleep to being awake in seconds, it nevertheless took Gene a moment to understand it wasn’t actually a dinosaur, as the door shook on its hinges and the whole hotel groaned. It was another earthquake, a big one, by the feel of it.
Within seconds of him leaping out of bed, the fire alarms went off across the hotel. He’d left the curtains open, and watery light from the half-moon filtered into the room, which was useful because when he flicked on the light switch, he discovered the quake had knocked out the power.
Currently naked, he tugged a pair of pajama bottoms up his legs and pulled a sweatshirt over his head. Shoving his feet into a pair of Converses, he grabbed his phone and opened the door. Callie opened hers at the same moment and appeared next to him, a ghost in the semi-darkness.
“Jesus.” She was white-faced, dressed only in a thin nightie. “It’s another fucking earthquake.” He could hardly hear her above the alarms.
“Yeah.” The tremors had stopped, although it was possible there might be aftershocks. “Come on,” he yelled.
Taking her hand, he led her across the corridor to the fire exit and they ran down the stairs, joining other guests in various stages of undress, lit by emergency lighting and the glow from people’s phones. Luckily, they were only two floors up, and it was less than a minute before they found themselves on the bank of the Avon, which the moon had cast in an eerie light. All the color had been bleached out of the scene, leaving them in a black-and-white movie, a mixture of highlights and shadows.
He hadn’t even checked what the time was yet, so he swiped his phone. 1:35 a.m. “It felt like a big one,” he said, bringing up Twitter. Tweets were just starting to appear, reflecting the shock—physical and emotional—across the city, although nothing yet about the magnitude or effects. He glanced up at the hotel. There didn’t appear to be any visible damage, but that didn’t mean the city had escaped untouched.
“Close one,” he said. He looked back at her, and his heart almost stuttered to a stop. Her bottom lip trembled, and she shook visibly, her arms wrapped around her waist. Like him, she’d brought only her phone, obviously not even taking the time to fetch a jacket, and her feet were bare. Her nightie was one of Rowan’s designs, made of a thin, silky fabric gathered under the bust and falling to just above her knees, with thin ribbon straps. It was a pale color with darker butterflies that sparkled in the moonlight, beautiful but hardly warm, and even on a summer night, the cool breeze was obviously enough to make her shiver.
“Jesus, Callie.” Without asking, he tugged his sweatshirt over his head and started to put it on her.
She let him do so automatically, like a child. He dragged his gaze away from her breasts, cupped in the silky fabric, maneuvered her arms through, and pulled the sweatshirt down her body. It fell past her hips, the sleeves hanging over her hands.
“Makes me feel like I’m a gorilla,” he said, trying to make her laugh, but she seemed in shock, and just turned wide eyes up to him, still shaking. “Hey.” He lifted her hair out of the neck of the shirt, then put his hands on her upper arms and rubbed them, once again thinking how small she felt in his hands. “Are you okay? Callie?”
Chapter Thirteen
Callie blinked a few times. Her heart was racing at a million miles an hour. “I’m… I’m all right. Sorry. I can’t believe it, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry, it’s normal to—” He was interrupted by her ringtone; someone was calling her, at this hour.
She lifted her hand to see who it was. “It’s Rowan.” She held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Callie? It’s Rowan.”
“Hi. What are you doing up?”
“Just reading, but I have the TV on in the background and it says there’s been another earthquake. Are you still in Christchurch?”
In front of her, Gene gestured toward the river, presumably asking her whether she would prefer it if he walked away. She shook her head. The last thing she wanted at that moment was to be left alone. He nodded and stood with his hands behind his back, military-style.
She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or drool over him. Now he’d taken off his shirt, he was bare-chested, and all that expanse of tanned skin would have been enough to send her senses spinning, even if she hadn’t already felt as if she were on a carousel. As she’d suspected, he was muscular and toned, with a definite six-pack of abs and pecs that made her want to run her tongue over them. He had a manly scattering of body hair, a distinctive happy trail drawing her gaze to where his pajamas hung on his hips. Quite clearly, he wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath them.
“Callie?” Rowan’s voice echoed in her ear.
She blinked, remembering she was on the phone and there had just been an earthquake. “Sorry. Yes, I’m in Christchurch. I’m standing on the bank of the Avon right now.”
“Are you… You’re not hurt?”
“No, I’m okay. It was loud and the hotel shook, but I don’t think there’s any damage, although the quake’s knocked the electricity out.”
“Are you on your own?”
She looked up at Gene again, who continued to stand as still as if he were on duty. “No,” she said. “Gene’s here.”
“Oh, that’s good. Does he know about last time?”
“No, I’ll tell him now.”
He raised an eyebrow. She held out a hand to ask him to wait.
“Thanks for ringing,” she said.
“Okay. You know where I am if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
They hung up. She folded her arms, huddling into Gene’s sweatshirt, which still held some of his body warmth.
They stood in silence for a
moment, half listening to the hotel staff explaining that they had to have the all clear from the fire service before they could return to their rooms. People were milling around, talking excitedly about the earthquake. Callie knew the phone lines would probably be jammed by now, even though it was the middle of the night, with everyone trying to contact friends and family to let them know they were okay.
A fire engine roared into the car park, lights flashing, and firefighters spilled out of it. They’d have to go floor to floor to check there was no damage before anyone else could go inside. It would be a while before she’d be under the warmth and safety of the duvet.
She turned and walked away from the hustle and bustle toward the river, and Gene followed.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
“Rowan was just checking I was all right. We were here when the big earthquake struck.”
His eyes widened. “You were here in 2011?”
“Yeah. The four of us—Rowan, Bridget, Neve, and me—had come here for a fashion show. We were having lunch when the earthquake hit.”
He stared at her. “You were in the middle of the city?”
“Yes. The ground cracked right under our feet. We ran down the road and were nearly hit when a supermarket crumbled in front of us. Actually, Neve was hit—she hurt her shoulder quite badly. She had to go to hospital. The rest of us were okay, but it was horrible.”
She started shaking as she thought of it, and couldn’t stop. “There were people crying all around us. Entire buildings crumbled into dust before our eyes. People’s homes were destroyed in seconds, the walls just wrenched apart. Roads rippled and buckled as if they were made of plastic. A guy nearby us was crushed by the wall that hurt Neve. I watched his wife trying to get him to talk, but I knew he was dead.” His sightless eyes would haunt her for the rest of her life, she was certain.
[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer Page 10
