The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  His expression didn’t change, although anyone who knew him well could have warned the stillness held ominous implications.

  ‘You don’t know me,’ Sebastian intoned softly.

  ‘Believe I don’t want to.’

  ‘Feel free to stow your bag in the boot of the car and drive back to Sydney.’ His eyes were level, and resembled obsidian shards. ‘The loss of a prepared evening meal won’t negate my obligation to complete necessary chores for Vivienne.’

  She drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. She could, she knew, easily do what he suggested. Aunt Vivienne would accept she’d changed her mind, and be concerned about her ambivalence.

  Except she didn’t want to return to the city. Given a choice, she’d have preferred her aunt’s company, her wisdom. And the solitude of a sandy stretch of beach in a gently curving bay where she could walk alone, meditate, and allow fresh emotional scars to heal.

  A solitude she wouldn’t gain if she went back to her small city apartment. Friends, concerned for her welfare, would ring and try to entice her to join them at any one of several parties, or attend the cinema, the theatre. Suggest lunch or dinner and attempt to play amateur psychologist.

  Unburdening her soul and having her every word, every action dissected and analysed didn’t form part of her agenda.

  ‘I intend to stay,’ Anneke responded with equal civility.

  Sebastian hadn’t been aware the small knot of tension existed until it suddenly dissolved in his gut. Nor could he explain the reason for its existence.

  Sure, Vivienne’s niece was a sassy, long-legged blonde whose captivating green eyes invited a second glance.

  His mouth formed a slightly bitter twist. He’d known several sassy, long-legged women in his time, and bedded more than a few. Only to discover they’d coveted his wealth first and foremost. With the exception of Yvette, with whom he’d shared one precious year. In an unprecedented twist of fate, she’d been victim of a random road accident on the eve of their wedding.

  For two years he’d buried himself in work, diced daringly in the world of high finance, only to wake one morning and opt for a complete change of lifestyle.

  He owned apartments, houses, in several major capital cities around the world, and for a while he’d lived in every one of them.

  It was in Paris, the country of his birth, where he’d first begun to pen a novel, the idea for which had niggled at his brain for months. The state-of-the-art computer which linked him to his various business interests had acquired a new file.

  A file which had grown and totally absorbed him. His path to acceptance and publication had been a dream run. At a time when virtual reality teased the readers’ senses, his futuristic upbeat plots had been a hit. International success soon followed, and in a bid for anonymity he’d returned to Australia, sought and found relative isolation in a picturesque bay in the Northern Rivers area, and snapped up a cottage he took pleasure in slowly renovating and refurbishing during the morning hours.

  Once a year he flew to the States for the obligatory book launch. And each Christmas was spent in Paris. Occasionally he looked up old friends and joined the social set for a while, only to find the life palled, the new plot beckoned, whereupon he returned to the place he’d called home for the past five years.

  Now he looked into the clear green gaze of the first sassy blonde who’d shown an active dislike of him, and relaxed his features as he proffered a faint smile. ‘Six o’clock will be fine.’

  Where had he been during that long minute of silence? Anneke told herself she wasn’t interested. And knew she lied.

  She inclined her head stiffly, and matched her voice to the gesture. ‘I intend going back to bed.’ Her eyes held his, fascinated by dark slate-grey depths whose expression was difficult to discern. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d stop hammering so that I can catch up on some sleep.’

  ‘OK.’

  She couldn’t believe he intended to comply. ‘You’ll stop?’

  Those sensuously moulded lips curved slightly. ‘You asked me nicely.’

  Anneke opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  She watched in silence as he removed the ladder and stored it, gathered up the used section of roof guttering and collected his tools.

  Without a further word he turned and covered the distance to his cottage with an easy, lithe stride.

  Denim hugged every curve, hinted at superb thigh and calf muscle, and emphasised the length of his legs. Lean waist, fluid muscular grace evident in the breadth of his shoulders denoted more than average strength.

  Dammit, why was she standing here watching him, for heaven’s sake? Men weren’t her favoured species at the moment, and this man irritated her beyond measure.

  She retreated indoors, paused long enough in the kitchen to fill a glass with water and drink it, then she made for the bedroom and slid between the sheets.

  The anger hadn’t subsided; if anything it had intensified. Joined by the stinging realisation that she had no job, no salary, and running expenses to maintain on her apartment.

  On the plus side, she had an annuity from inherited investments, sufficient to live quite comfortably until she found employment, and there was a reasonably healthy savings account from which she could draw funds to meet weekly expenses.

  Anneke closed her eyes and deliberately summoned pleasant thoughts, employed meditation techniques, and resorted to counting sheep. Nothing worked.

  With an angry jerk she tossed off the sheet, rose and pulled on a swimsuit. A swim, followed by a walk along the beach, then breakfast. After which she’d examine the contents of Aunt Vivienne’s refrigerator and pantry, decide what to prepare for Sebastian’s dinner, then drive into Byron Bay and collect everything she needed from the supermarket.

  Anneke paused long enough to clean her teeth and run a brush through her hair, then she slid on a pair of sunglasses, caught up a towel, and made her way down onto the sandy foreshore.

  The sun was warm, with the promise of increasing heat as the day progressed. A faint sea breeze teased the ends of her hair, and she inhaled the tangy salt air with pleasure.

  There wasn’t another person in sight, and she relished the solitude, choosing to explore the familiar shoreline for several minutes before opting to wade into the cool water.

  Effecting a neat dive, she broke the surface and began a pattern of leisurely strokes parallel to the shore for a while, before emerging to towel the excess moisture from her skin and hair.

  It didn’t take long for the warm air to dry her swimsuit, and she wrapped the towel round her waist, then set out towards the outcrop of rocks at the furthest end of the bay.

  Anneke could feel her body relax as the tension eased, and she increased her pace to a light jog, enjoying the exercise, the morning, the solitude.

  It was almost an hour before she re-entered the cottage, and after a shower she dressed in casual shorts and a top, then caught up a pad and pen as she examined her aunt’s pantry and refrigerator and noted what food supplies she’d need to collect from the supermarket.

  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 serv
ed 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.
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br />   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.