The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (108 page)

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Authors: Helen Bianchin

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Collections & Anthologies, #Contemporary Women, #General

BOOK: The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections)
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In less than twenty-four hours she would touch down to warm summer temperatures, soft balmy breezes, and
home.
The prospect of seeing Shane again, and a few very close friends, should have evoked anticipatory pleasure. Instead, she was filled with a desolation so acute that it became a tangible pain, tearing at her insides and leeching the colour from her face.
‘A
NYTHING of interest in next week's bookings?' Kristi queried as she deposited her camera-case on a nearby chair.
‘Nothing outstanding,' Shane relayed as he scanned the appointment book spread out on the desk.
It was late, Annie had left for the day, commuters were on their way home, and outside a traffic lull had emptied the streets.
Soon it would be dark, bright neon signs would vie for attention, and the restaurants and theatres would fill with people seeking food, fun and laughter.
Kristi had been back in Sydney for more than a month. Six weeks, three days and counting, she mused idly as she crossed the floor and stood gazing idly out over the city's skyscape.
The inner harbour waters were a brilliant, sparkling blue beneath the sun's rays, their surface dotted with a mix of pleasure craft, two ferries sailing in opposite directions and a huge freighter led by a pilot tug
en route
to a harbour dock.
Two days after her return from London she'd thrown herself into work, taking every assignment that was logged into her appointment book in an effort to keep busy during the daylight hours so that she wouldn't have time to
think.
She had even let it be known that she was prepared to cover the social circuit, and as a consequence she'd been out most nights at one function or another, photographing some of the city's glitterati. Two weddings, two christenings...the list was far too lengthy, the pace too frenetic for one person alone.
The sun's warmth had coloured her skin a light honey-gold, but her eyes held shadows of sadness, her seldom offered smile lacked any real warmth, and her soft curves had become redefined into almost waif-like slenderness.
She could cope, she assured herself silently. She
had
to cope. The nights were the worst—hours when she lay awake staring into the darkness,
remembering,
caught up with visions so graphic, so explicit that it became an agony of the mind as well as of the flesh.
‘I've had an offer which I'm tempted to accept,' Shane offered slowly, hating the shadows beneath her eyes, the carefully contrived smile, and the hint of sadness apparent whenever she thought no one was looking.
‘Hopefully not in the wilds of Africa, or Bosnia?' Despite her lightly voiced query, there was an underlying concern. Neither location was an impossibility.
‘New Zealand. A geographic spread for the tourism industry. It'll provide a contrast to my last assignment,' he noted with wry humour. ‘As a bonus I get to go skiing and trek the Milford Sound.'
She turned back to face him. ‘When do you leave?'
‘How well you know me,' came the slightly wry observation. ‘Tomorrow. Is that a problem?'
‘When will you be back?'
‘The end of next week, providing the weather holds and there are no delays.' His expression softened. ‘Why don't you cancel a few appointments and take some time off? You look ragged.'
‘Thanks.' She managed a smile that didn't fool him in the slightest. ‘Just what I needed to hear.'
‘Hey,' Shane chided her gently. Lifting a hand, he brushed his knuckles along the edge of her jaw. ‘I care.'
A smile trembled at the edge of her lips. ‘I know.'
‘Shalef bin Youssef Al-Sayed may have been instrumental in saving my hide,' he said quietly, ‘but if I could get my hands on him now I'd kill him for whatever it is that he's done to you.'
Her eyes were remarkably steady as she met his. ‘He wanted marriage,' she said evenly. ‘For all the wrong reasons.'
‘You love him.'
It was a statement she didn't bother to deny. For as long as she could remember they'd shared an affinity, an extra perception that transcended the norm. It generated an indestructible bond—two minds so attuned to each other's thoughts that there had rarely been the need to explain an action.
‘It isn't enough.' Her eyes felt large and ached with suppressed emotion.
‘The man is a fool,' Shane said gently.
There had been no phone call, no fax. But then, she hadn't expected any. You lie, a tiny voice taunted. Admit you hoped he would initiate some form of contact. Shalef bin Youssef Al-Sayed was a master player, and she hadn't played the game according to his plan. There were a hundred other women who could fill his bed. Ten times that many who would leap at the chance.
Kristi switched on the answering machine and caught up her camera-bag. ‘Let's lock up and get out of here.'
‘Dinner. Somewhere that serves good food,' Shane suggested as he followed her to the door.
‘I'd rather go home.'
He tended the lock, checked that it was firmly in place, then moved ahead of her down the single flight of stairs. ‘A restaurant. I'm buying. And don't argue,' he added softly as they reached the pavement.
 
French cuisine at its best, Kristi mused almost two hours later. Despite her professed lack of appetite, she'd managed to do justice to chicken consommé followed by a delectable portion of steamed fish with a delicate lemon sauce, accompanied by an assortment of vegetables. To finish, she'd selected a compote of fresh fruit doused in brandy, then flambéed and served with cream.
‘Coffee?'
‘Please,' she said gratefully. ‘Black, very strong.' A few months ago she would have requested a decaffeinated variety and added milk. How some things change, she mused idly as she pushed down the plunger of the cafetière and poured the dark, aromatic brew into two cups. Adding a liberal amount of sugar, she sank back in her chair, then lifted the cup to her lips and took an appreciative mouthful.
The glass of Cabernet Shiraz she'd sipped throughout the meal had had a mellowing effect. ‘Thanks.'
‘For dinner?'
Kristi smiled. ‘For insisting on bringing me here.'
‘My pleasure.'
It was late, she was tired, and she knew that she really should go home, but she was loath to return to her empty apartment. So she finished her coffee and poured another for herself and for Shane.
‘Want to talk about it?' he queried lightly, and she shook her head.
‘Then let's do the business thing. What do you think about allowing Annie to buy a small share of the studio?'
‘You're serious?'
‘You have reservations?'
‘It's been Dalton Photographics for years,' she protested. ‘Why change?'
‘It will still be Dalton Photographics.'
Comprehension dawned as she remembered the faintly wistful expression on a certain young woman's face whenever Shane was in town. ‘
Annie
?'
‘Is it so obvious?'
‘Not to anyone else.' A slow, sweet smile lit her features. ‘I can't think of anyone I'd rather have as a sister-in-law.'
‘I proposed last night. When I get back from New Zealand we'll make it official. More coffee?'
She shook her head, and he beckoned for the account, then checked off each item, signed, and handed over a tip as he got to his feet.
He took her key as they reached their parked vehicles, unlocked her door, then saw her safely seated behind the wheel with her belt in place.
‘Drive carefully.'
She cast him a teasing glance. ‘Always,' she assured him. ‘Don't fall off the side of a mountain.'
‘No chance.' He reached out a hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek. ‘I'll phone.'
‘Make sure of it.' She turned the key in the ignition and fired the engine, then put the car into gear.
‘Ciao.'
It took fifteen minutes to reach her apartment, another fifteen for her to shower and slip into bed.
Perhaps it was the wine or the numerous sleepless nights but the next thing she heard was the sound of her alarm the following morning.
 
Annie was on the phone when Kristi walked into the studio shortly after eight, and in comical sign language she indicated that there was hot coffee in the percolator and could Kristi pour one for her too.
Annie should have opted for a career on the stage, Kristi mused as she extracted two mugs, added sugar, filled each with the hot, deliciously aromatic brew and deposited a mug on Annie's desk. The girl was a natural-born satirist who could mimic anyone you cared to name.
‘Miss Dalton,' Annie reiterated in a low, devilishly husky voice as soon as she replaced the receiver, her eyes sparkling with impish humour, ‘is summoned to undertake a photographic session at one of
the
most fabulous homes Point Piper has to offer. An interior decorator is being flown in from London
after
she's sighted photographs of each room, the existing landscaping, and the exterior shot from every imaginable angle.'
‘When?'
‘One gets the feeling it should have been yesterday. I said that you couldn't possibly fit him in until this afternoon.'
Kristi took an appreciative sip of coffee. ‘And?'
‘He negotiated for this morning.'
‘What did you say?'
‘I almost considered rescheduling. But he sounded...' She paused, then continued with dramatic intonation, ‘frightfully autocratic. I decided he deserved to be taught a little humility.'
‘You're incorrigible.'
‘I know. I need taking in hand,' she declared with humour, and Kristi gave a subdued laugh.
‘Shane assures me he is in line to do just that.' Her features softened with genuine affection. ‘I'm delighted for both of you.'
Annie's eyes acquired an extra sparkle. ‘Thanks. It'll be a small wedding, just immediate family. Shane wants it to happen three days after he returns from New Zealand.' Her smile widened into a mischievous grin. ‘I'm plumping for the end of the month.'
‘It will be interesting to see who wins.'
‘I'll have fun enjoying Shane's method of persuasion.'
Kristi experienced a shaft of pain at Annie's obvious happiness, and endeavoured to bury it deep beneath the surface. ‘I don't imagine he'll find cause for complaint.'
The strident sound of the phone interrupted their conversation and Annie snatched up the receiver, spoke into it at length, scanned the appointment book, made a booking, then concluded the call.
‘Now, where were we?'
‘Our so-named autocratic client,' Kristi reminded her. ‘What if he wants shots of the pool reflecting the early-morning sun?'
‘You develop this afternoon's film then shoot tomorrow,' Annie rationalised, raising her hands in an expressive gesture. ‘As long as the courier picks up before five they'll be on a flight out of here tomorrow night.'
‘You were able to convince him of that?'
‘He didn't threaten to use one of the competition.'
‘What time am I supposed to be there?'
‘One-thirty. He didn't even query the fee.' Kristi shot her a sharp look. ‘Tell me you didn't load it.'
‘Moi?'
Annie queried with mock humour. ‘I simply informed him there was an extra charge for a rush job.'
‘What would I do without you?'
‘Survive,' the vivacious brunette responded with a sunny smile.
Kristi finished the last of her coffee, then rinsed and put away the mug before checking the appointment book. ‘Bickersby, studio, eight-thirty, followed by a ten-thirty session at a client's home in Clontarf. Children's photographs.' She would have enough time to finish, return to the studio, grab some lunch, then be at Point Piper by one-thirty.
 
Annie was right—the house was fabulous, Kristi decided a few hours later as she parked her car in a street lined with prestigious homes. Some had been there a long time, while there were a few huge modern structures which had obviously replaced the original houses, comprising three and sometimes four levels against the sloping cliff-face. The view out over the harbour was spectacular, and the pricetag for each home would run into several millions of dollars.
She ran a quick check of the house number, then alighted from the car, collected her gear, and approached the security intercom attached to an ornate steel gate.
At the front door a housekeeper greeted her and led the way through a spacious foyer to an informal lounge.
The interior was a little too ascetic for Kristi's taste. There should have been artwork on the walls, bowls filled with freshly cut flowers, and the primrose-painted walls needed be repainted in cool off-white or pale calico to emphasise the light, airy design.

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