The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  Stephanie was supremely conscious of him as they rode the lift down to the car park, and it took every reserve of strength not to wrench Emma from his arms.

  Who did he think he was, invading her life, taking charge, issuing orders? It was a wonder steam wasn’t escaping from her ears as she banked down her anger.

  Fortunately Emma’s excitement resulted in practically nonstop chatter during the fifteen-minute drive to Mermaid Beach, which meant Stephanie was able to respond to her daughter and totally ignore the man behind the wheel of the car.

  The instant Raoul pulled into her driveway she undid her seat belt, and no sooner had he brought the car to a halt that she slid from the passenger seat in a bid to extricate Emma as quickly as possible.

  ‘There’s no need for you to get out,’ Stephanie said tightly as he copied her actions. ‘I can manage.’

  ‘I am sure you can,’ he evinced silkily as he crossed to her side. ‘Let me take Emma.’

  She didn’t want him in the house. ‘No. I’m fine. Say good-night, darling,’ she bade Emma seconds later, only to give a startled gasp as Raoul removed the keys from her fingers and pushed one into the lock of the front door.

  Naturally he got it right the first time, and she clenched her teeth in exasperation as he followed her indoors.

  Stephanie threw him a look that should have felled him. ‘I’d like you to leave. Now.’

  ‘Put Emma to bed, Stephanie,’ Raoul drawled in a deceptively silky voice. He smiled at the little girl nestled in her mother’s arms. ‘Good night, poppet. Sweet dreams.’

  ‘Kiss good night,’ Emma said with unblinking solemnity, and held out her arms.

  Raoul leaned forward and brushed a soft childish cheek with his lips, then watched as Stephanie turned away and moved down the hallway.

  Did he have any idea what that gesture did to her? Almost before her eyes man and child were forming an affection that had no place to go. It wasn’t fair to Emma, she decided as she undressed her daughter and went through the routine of getting her ready for bed.

  It took a while for her to settle, given the excitement of the evening and the prospect of a visit to Dreamworld. But halfway through the usual nighttime story the long silky lashes began to droop as she drifted to sleep.

  Stephanie waited a few minutes, then she adjusted the covers, turned down the light and gently closed the door as she left.

  Raoul was in the lounge, one hand thrust into a trouser pocket, and he raked her slender form with compelling intensity as she crossed to stand behind a single chair.

  ‘Don’t presume to judge me by Emma’s father.’

  Her eyes flashed blue fire and her chin tilted as she threw him a venomous glare. ‘You know nothing of Emma’s father.’

  ‘I know he holds no importance in your life.’ He indicated the picture frames holding pride of place on the dropped table. ‘There is no evidence of his existence.’

  Anger flooded through her like an unstoppable tide, and the desire to shock caused a flow of words she had no intention of uttering.

  ‘Ben is dead.’

  If that stark announcement surprised him, he gave no evidence of it, and that infuriated her further.

  ‘You want to know details?’ she vented. ‘We were childhood sweethearts who grew up together, fell in love and got engaged. Then I fell pregnant. A classic mistake caused by a low dosage pill and a gastric attack.’ Her expression sobered, became shuttered as some of the pain returned.

  ‘The man I thought I knew as well as I knew myself suggested I take care of it on the grounds a child would complicate our lives.’ Her face paled at the memory of those ghastly arguments. ‘I refused.’ She felt her features tighten as scenes flashed through her mind. The anger, the stinging retribution. ‘He opted out and took a flight to Canada, only to die a few months later in a skiing accident.’

  She drew a deep calming breath, then released it, hating herself for the tirade, and hating him even more for goading her into it.

  ‘You intend excluding all men from your life, because one man ran away from responsibility?’

  She’d dealt with this four years ago. Dealt with the pain of rejection, the degree of guilt for Ben’s death. She didn’t want to revive the past, for she’d learned the hard way that it had no part in her future.

  ‘I want you to leave.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Who do you think you are?’ On impulse she picked up a nearby ornament and hurled it at him only to see him field and catch it.

  The action horrified her, and she stared at him in stunned disbelief for several long seconds.

  ‘Dammit! What do you want from me?’ The query came out as a strangled whisper.

  ‘The opportunity to prove I’m not Ben.’ His voice was dangerously quiet, and she was unable to look away.

  ‘To what end?’ she demanded, sorely tried. ‘You’re on the Coast how long? A week, two at the most.’ Her gaze pierced his. ‘Then what? You move on, New York, Paris…wherever. I can qualify a pleasant sojourn, but what about Emma? How does she deal with someone who affords her affection, then leaves?’

  ‘I want to be with you.’

  His meaning was unmistakable. ‘Are you suggesting we scratch an itch?’

  Her scandalized expression amused him. ‘When I take you to bed,’ he vowed silkily, ‘it won’t be merely to scratch an itch.’

  ‘No,’ she denied heatedly. ‘Because you won’t get anywhere near my bed!’

  Raoul regarded her silently for a few seconds. ‘You are so sure about that?’

  She wasn’t sure about anything where he was concerned. Already he’d managed to get beneath her skin, and that in itself was dangerous.

  ‘Go find some other woman to fill your needs. I’m not into experimentation.’

  ‘Neither am I,’ Raoul assured pitilessly. ‘And if I merely wanted a woman to fill my needs, why would I choose to continually do battle with you?’

  ‘Because I make a change, and therefore present a challenge?’

  ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘Damn you,’ Stephanie snarled, almost at the end of her tether. ‘What else is there for me to think?’

  ‘You could try to trust me.’

  ‘I trusted a man once,’ she flung heatedly. ‘Someone I’d known all my life. Why should I trust you, someone I’ve known for only a week!’

  ‘Because I give my word that you can.’

  ‘Words are easy,’ she said bitterly.

  She wasn’t aware of him moving, yet he was close, much too close, and there was nothing she could do to escape his descending head as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that took her by complete surprise.

  She expected force…a fierce unprincipled onslaught that was nothing less than an invasion.

  Instead his touch was tactile, an evocative exploration that was incredibly gentle. Bewitching, enticing, it mesmerized her with a magic all its own, hinting at hunger and passion withheld.

  Heat coursed through her veins, arousing acute sensuality, and her body swayed into his, craving closer contact as her arms slid up his shoulders and clung.

  Raoul deepened the kiss, slowly and with infinite care, eliciting a response that drove him to the brink.

  This wasn’t the time, or the place, and he gradually withdrew, lightly brushing her lips with his own until they sought and rested against her temple.

  How long they stood like that she wasn’t sure. Long seconds, maybe minutes. Then he shifted a hand and cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

  ‘You want to deny this?’ He cradled her face, and felt a tremor race through her body. ‘Reject what we might have together?’ He smoothed a thumb over her lips. ‘I want you. For all the right reasons. I need you to want to take the first step.’

  He lowered his head and kissed her, lightly teasing her tongue with his own, then he withdrew.

  ‘I’m going to walk out the door. You have the number of my cell phone. If you don’t ring me before I
reach the hotel, I won’t attempt to see you again.’ He ran his thumb lightly over her lower lip, then pressed the pad against the slightly swollen center. ‘Okay?’

  ‘I don’t want this,’ she said in a desperate whisper.

  ‘Wrong,’ he denied gently. ‘You don’t want to be hurt.’

  ‘That, too,’ she admitted wretchedly, and he smiled.

  ‘One day at a time, cherie, hmm?’

  She wasn’t capable of uttering a word.

  He placed his hands over her own and gently disentangled them from his shoulders.

  Her eyes clung to his, wide, dilated, unblinking as he stepped back a pace. She saw his lips curve into a faint smile that held quizzical warmth, and something else.

  Then he turned and left the room. She heard the faint snick as the front door closed and the lock engaged, and seconds later his car engine purred into life, only to fade with distance.

  Stephanie didn’t move, she simply stared into space as she tried to collect her thoughts.

  If she rang him, her life would never be the same. Yet if she didn’t…would she live to regret not having taken that chance?

  Life was all about chance. You could choose whether to welcome it with both hands. Or you could choose extreme caution, question every possibility, and never realize a dream.

  What did she have to lose?

  A hollow laugh rose and formed a lump in her throat. Oh hell. She was damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.

  Impulse stirred her to action, and she extracted Raoul’s business card, then made the call.

  He picked up on the third ring. ‘What took you so long?’

  ‘A fight with my subconscious,’ she answered honestly.

  ‘Merci.’

  His voice sounded deep and impossibly husky, and did strange things to her equilibrium.

  ‘Good night.’ She cut the connection, then stood in reflective silence.

  What had she done? She was mad, insane. To contemplate aligning herself with someone of Raoul Lanier’s caliber was akin to riding a tiger. But what a ride, a tiny imp taunted mercilessly.

  Too restless to sleep, she retrieved fresh linen and made up the bed in the spare room ready for her mother. She also dusted, and put out fresh towels.

  Then she made a cup of tea and flicked through the channels on cable television in the hope of finding something engrossing to watch, only to switch it off and pick up a book.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A DELIVERY of roses, a dozen beautiful pale pink buds sheathed in cellophane arrived in reception midafternoon, and Stephanie ignored her secretary’s curiosity as she extracted the card.

  Dinner tonight. Seven. Raoul.

  ‘Shall I fetch a vase?’

  She looked up at the sound of Isabel’s voice. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Your three-thirty appointment is waiting in reception. Shall I show her in?’

  ‘Give me a few minutes, I need to make a call first.’

  Seconds later she punched in a series of digits, and tried to calm her shredding nerves as she waited for Raoul to pick up.

  A kiss didn’t mean anything, despite the fact it was very skillfully executed and pushed all the right buttons, she conceded rationally, only to stifle a groan. Who did she think she was kidding?

  ‘Lanier.’

  His voice was deep, businesslike, and she forced herself to respond in kind. ‘Stephanie.’ She turned away from the desk and looked at the scene beyond the plate-glass window. ‘Thank you for the roses.’ She felt like a gauche teenager, which was ridiculous!

  ‘My pleasure.’

  The husky faintly accented voice seeped into her body and curled around her nerve endings. She lifted a shaky hand and pushed back a stray tendril of hair.

  It was crazy to feel so distracted, and her fingers tightened on the receiver as she sought composure. ‘I can’t make it tonight. My mother is arriving from Sydney on the evening flight.’

  ‘You need to collect her from the airport.’ He sounded vaguely amused, almost as if he knew the struggle she was having in order to remain calm.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to meeting her—’

  ‘Raoul—’

  ‘When I collect you and Emma tomorrow,’ he continued. ‘Adriana mentioned meeting in the hotel foyer at nine-thirty.’

  ‘It will be easier if I drive to the hotel.’

  ‘We’ve been down this path before,’ Raoul drawled. ‘Nine-fifteen, Stephanie.’

  ‘I don’t like domineering men,’ she retorted, and heard his soft husky laughter. Her voice assumed a definitive coolness. ‘I have a client waiting.’

  ‘Tomorrow, Stephanie,’ he reminded a bare second before she disconnected the call.

  ‘Nanna’s coming, Nanna’s coming. Big airplane,’ Emma chanted on the way home, during her bath, over dinner and all the way down to Coolangatta airport.

  ‘Nanna.’ Stephanie had to physically restrain her from running to the entry doors the instant Emma caught sight of her grandmother walking the concourse.

  ‘Celeste.’ Stephanie greeted her mother with an affectionate hug, and took her carry-on bag so Celeste could gather Emma into her arms.

  There wasn’t a chance to get a word in edgeways as Emma excitedly regaled every detail about day care, her friends, the beach, the pool. Nonstop childish chatter ruled as Stephanie collected Celeste’s bag from the luggage carousel.

  ‘How are you, darling?’ Celeste inquired of her daughter when there was a temporary lull.

  ‘Fine,’ Stephanie answered warmly. ‘The job is going well.’ She shot Celeste a quick smile. ‘As you can see, Emma is great.’

  ‘Dreamworld,’ Emma chorused from the rear seat. ‘Tomorrow me and Mommy and Lucia, and Raoul—’ she struggled getting the name out ‘—are going to Dreamworld. Can Nanna come, too?’

  ‘We’ll talk about it later, sweetheart,’ Celeste conceded.

  It took a while for Emma to settle after they arrived home, and it was almost nine when Stephanie entered the lounge.

  ‘I made some tea, darling.’ Celeste indicated the sofa. ‘Now come and sit down.’

  ‘How is Dad?’

  Celeste smiled warmly. ‘Philip is fine. Still working too hard, but he enjoys the legal process, and criminal law is his life.’

  It was lovely to catch up on all the news. Family comprised several cousins, aunts and uncles, her grandparents, and it was almost eleven when Celeste caught sight of the time.

  ‘I think we should go to bed. We have plenty of time over the weekend to chat.’

  ‘Would you like to come to Dreamworld with us tomorrow?’ Stephanie asked as she straightened cushions and switched off the lamp.

  ‘You’re going with friends, aren’t you, darling? I might just relax at home, and prepare a roast for dinner.’

  Ever the mother, Stephanie conceded affectionately. Roast dinners, baking tins filled, extra for the freezer. She placed an arm around Celeste’s waist as they traversed the short hallway. ‘I’ve already washed curtains and bedspreads,’ she warned with a smile. ‘So don’t even think about any spring-cleaning, okay?’

  ‘I like to do things for you. I don’t get the chance very often.’

  Stephanie switched on the light in the spare bedroom. ‘Sleep well, Celeste. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  A bright sunny day, with the promise of high temperatures, Stephanie saw as she opened shutters and let the light in.

  It was early, only seven, but Emma had already stirred, and she popped an educational video into the VCR. ‘Sit quietly,’ she said. ‘I’ll get you some juice, then we’ll have breakfast.’

  Celeste joined them, and at eight-thirty Stephanie dressed Emma, packed a holdall with sunscreen cream, snacks, juice, bottled water, the utilitarian first-aid necessities and the seemingly hundred and one things needed when taking a child out for the day.

  Then she quickly changed into stonewashed jeans and a blue singlet top, added a blou
se, then tended to her makeup.

  Emma had positioned herself on a chair beside the window overlooking the front driveway, and Stephanie heard her excited voice calling, ‘Raoul’s here. Raoul’s here, Mommy.’

  ‘There’s no such thing as a quiet arrival,’ Stephanie said wryly as Celeste rose to her feet.

  ‘Oh my,’ Celeste murmured as Raoul entered the hallway.

  Attired in casual dress jeans, a navy polo shirt and trainers—sunglasses pushed high—he resembled something out of the pages of a men’s fashion magazine.

  Stephanie performed introductions. ‘My mother, Celeste Sommers. Raoul Lanier.’

  ‘A pleasure,’ Raoul inclined, and Stephanie could almost sense his effect on her mother.

  ‘Raoul, Raoul.’ Emma launched herself at him, and he caught and lifted her high against his chest.

  ‘Bon jour, Emma,’ he greeted solemnly.

  ‘Dreamworld. Got a cap.’ She put a hand over the cap pulled down over her hair. ‘Can we go?’ She turned to her grandmother. ‘Bye, Nanna.’

  ‘Have a nice day,’ Celeste said warmly.

  Raoul took Emma to the car while Stephanie set the booster seat, and within minutes Raoul reversed down the driveway and headed toward the highway.

  They entered the theme park shortly after ten, and both Emma and Lucia chattered with delight as the adults indulged them in a variety of rides and other features suitable for the very young.

  Stephanie was supremely conscious of Raoul at her side, the light momentary brush of his hand at her waist, her shoulder. His smile did strange things to her composure, and her whole body seemed like a finely tuned instrument awaiting his touch.

  It was madness, a madness she couldn’t afford. For four years she’d marshaled her emotions and vowed never to allow another man to get beneath her skin. Now, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it, Raoul had skillfully managed to penetrate her defenses.

  Could he sense her ambivalence? Probably, she perceived wryly. He seemed to have developed the uncanny knack of reading her mind, anticipating her thoughts.

  Together with Bruno, Adriana and Lucia, they watched the tigers, rode the paddle steamer and witnessed the little girls’ awe at the enacted mock train robbery.