The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (145 page)

He was wrong. It wasn't nearly enough.

‘You want to continue this discussion?'

It took every effort to force her voice to sound calm. ‘Why?' She swallowed the betraying lump in her throat. ‘There is nothing to discuss.'

‘Y
OU
intend going in to the shop?'

She met his gaze across the breakfast table, then deliberately sipped her tea. ‘Yes.'

‘Deliberate defiance, Ana?'

She took a deep breath, then slowly released it.

‘Rebekah has consigned me to taking orders, managing the computer records, and handling the phone. If necessary, we'll employ someone to help out. Satisfied?'

‘Not entirely.'

‘Tough.'

Something moved in the depths of his eyes. ‘You're playing a dangerous game,
agape mou
.'

My lover.
Did he imagine all it took was one night in his arms? ‘Nothing has changed, Luc.'

‘You think not?'

The insistent burr of her cellphone precluded the necessity to answer, and she read the text message, then gathered up her satchel. ‘I have to go.'

He slid a hand through a swathe of her hair and held it firm as his mouth closed over hers in a brief evocative kiss that stirred her senses and left her wanting more.

Then she was free.

‘Enjoy your day.'

She didn't want to think about the musing gleam in those dark eyes, nor the faintly mocking tone in his voice.

Nevertheless, both haunted her as she traversed the main thoroughfare leading towards Double Bay.

If Luc imagined
sex
resolved everything, then he was mistaken, she determined as she halted behind a stream of traffic waiting for the lights to change.

In the cool light of day there were several recriminations. Mostly against herself. For succumbing to Luc's seduction, and displaying only a token resistance to shared intimacy.

Warmth flooded her veins at the mere thought of the night, and her stomach did a slow somersault as she recalled her response.

The sound of a car horn heralded a return to the present, and it was almost eight when she entered the shop.

It proved to be a busy day, with numerous phone calls with delivery orders, which necessitated the need to order more stock to fill them.

‘Go take a lunch break,' Rebekah urged. ‘Sit outside in the fresh air at one of the sidewalk cafés. You can bring me back a sandwich, pastrami on rye with salad, mayo, and hold the mustard.'

It was a lovely day, a slight breeze teased the leaves in the tree-lined street, and warm sunshine filtered down from an almost cloudless blue sky.

Double Bay had a style all its own with élite bou
tiques, numerous cafés, and close to the sea there was a hint of it in the air, a freshness that meshed with mild early-summer temperatures.

She felt the need for exercise, and crossed the street to the next block, then chose a café where there were a few empty tables beneath sun umbrellas.

A waiter materialised from inside the café, took her order, and delivered it in record time. She viewed the tastefully presented chicken and salad sandwich with anticipation.

So far she had very few pregnancy symptoms except a faint queasiness first thing in the morning. But her appetite had changed, and it amused her the foetal infant's demands ran to six small meals a day instead of the normal three. If she failed to pander to its whims, the result was nauseousness. Definitely a babe with a mind of its own!

‘Ana.'

Oh, lord, please,
no
, not Celine. But it was she, looking the glamour queen in impeccably styled clothes, and perfectly applied cosmetics.

‘You don't mind sharing, do you?'

Now that was a dubious statement, if ever there was one. Did she mean to convey a
double entendre
? ‘The table, Celine?'

‘Of course, darling. I only want coffee.' She slid into a chair. ‘And we need to talk.'

‘We do?' She was strongly tempted to stand to her feet and leave. Except fascination kept her seated. ‘Regarding?'

‘Why,
Luc
, of course.'

Of course. Who else? Ana made a point of checking her watch. ‘I'm due back at the shop in a few minutes.'

‘Luc and I were discussing the situation yesterday.'

‘Really?' She glimpsed the triumphant gleam apparent in the other woman's gaze, and slanted one eyebrow. ‘A deliberate
oops
moment, Celine?'

‘Luc and I go back a long way.'

She'd had enough. ‘
Back
is the operative word. As in
past
.' She stood to her feet and gathered up the bill. ‘Do yourself a favour. Get over it, and move on.'

‘Perhaps you should ask yourself why Luc chooses not to terminate the affair.'

She felt sickened by it all, the innuendo fed by her own self-doubt. Worse, the steady barbs of verbal poison Celine had delighted in aiming at every opportunity.

‘Accept you've become obsessively compulsive over a man who doesn't want you.' Strong words, but she was way past abiding by the niceties of good manners. ‘The
affair
finished before your marriage, and my own. As Luc tells it, your time together was brief, and it was he who ended the relationship.'

She felt slightly light-headed, almost faint. A rush of blood to the head? she queried silently in an attempt at wacky humour. ‘I'm not into human
ownership
, Celine,' she managed calmly. ‘If Luc wants
to discard me and lose his marriage, he's perfectly free to do so.'

On that note she entered the café, collected Rebekah's sandwich to-go, paid the bill, then she left without so much as a glance in Celine's direction.

‘You look…frazzled,' Rebekah commented when Ana entered the shop.

‘Put it down to an unwelcome lunch guest.'

‘Celine?'

‘Ah.' She offered a sweet smile as she took a seat in front of the computer. ‘You didn't even need three guesses to get it right.'

‘She called into the shop, intent on cornering you. That woman is a pest.'

‘You're not wrong.'

‘What are you going to do about her?'

‘You mean, apart from getting mad?' She downloaded the afternoon's batch of orders and printed them out. ‘I'm handling it.'

‘Maybe you should have Luc handle it.'

‘Go running to him with a sob story that's as pitiful as it's pathetic? And admit I can't deal with it?' She punched in a code, and checked data on the screen. ‘No. It's my problem, my call.'

Mid-afternoon Ana logged in an order for a delivery of flowers Friday afternoon together with an additional arrangement fee. It was a service Blooms and Bouquets offered, and had proven popular with numerous social hostesses when giving a private dinner party in their home.

Floral arrangement was an art form, and a professional could assemble an artistic display in a fraction of the time it would take the inexperienced.

However her heart seemed to miss a beat and falter when she wrote down the client's name, address and contact number.

Celine.

There had been no recognition, no personal greeting. Just the requisite facts.

The obvious question had to be
why
Celine had chosen Blooms and Bouquets when there were any number of florists with whom she could have placed the order.

The woman's motive had to be suspect. Mischief and mayhem? Without doubt, Ana concluded with a grimace.

‘What's up?'

Ana gathered her wits together, and relayed the order.

‘I'll take care of it,' Rebekah said at once.

‘No. I will.' Celine obviously had no intention of giving up. ‘This is another battle in an ongoing war,' she determined grimly.

‘Luc won't approve.'

‘He doesn't need to know.'

‘He will,' Rebekah warned. ‘Celine will make sure of it.'

‘Her order makes it business,' she qualified.

‘It's personal,' Rebekah argued. ‘And we both know it.'

‘So? What's the worst she can do?'

Celine's apartment was in an exclusive Rose Bay residential tower.

Obviously the divorce settlement had been favourable, Ana deduced as she entered a sumptuous suite whose visible decorative theme featured-leopard print cushions scattered on off-white deep-cushioned sofas and single chairs, with stunning framed prints of prowling leopards in various poses adorning the walls.

Ana could almost hear their collective jungle snarl, and silently attributed Celine's choice as being strikingly pertinent to the woman's personality.

Neutral tones featured as a background, and she mentally selected the brilliant orange flash of strelitzia as the focal colour with a native mix in pale green and gold.

Celine's greeting lacked civility, but then she hadn't expected anything less. Today wasn't about floral arrangements. It was another step towards a war between two women who each wanted the same man.

However, she could at least get on with the pretence, and she went straight into professional mode. ‘Shall we get started? It would help if you'll tell me the look you want to achieve.'

Maximum effect for less than minimum price, and heavily discounted at that, Ana perceived some time later as Celine threw every suggestion out the window.

‘Work with me, Ana.' The haughty command held arrogance.

It was time for a reality check. ‘What you want is unachievable for the price you're prepared to pay.'

‘Your profit margin has to be outrageous.'

She wanted to turn on her heel and walk out. Almost did, except they were still on a business footing, albeit that it was shaky ground.

‘Rebekah and I pride ourselves on the quality of the blooms we supply, and our fee is standard.'

She closed the display folder and slid it into her briefcase. ‘I suggest you consult someone else.'

Celine's expression hardened. ‘I really can't be bothered wasting any further time on this. Itemise your quote, and I'll sign it.'

Business was
business
. Ana set everything down in meticulous detail, checked it, acquired Celine's signature, and gave her the customer copy.

Celine flicked the paper with a lacquered nail. ‘For this amount, I'll expect perfection.'

‘I doubt you'll have any reason to complain.' But you'll do your best to find something to denigrate Blooms and Bouquets, and take great pleasure in doing so.

Ana should have taken notice of her initial instinct and refused the job. So why hadn't she? Sheer stubborn-mindedness in not allowing Celine to triumph in any way.

‘I hope you don't think you've won.'

Ah, the real purpose for her presence here. ‘I wasn't aware we were in competition.'

‘Don't play me for a fool.'

‘I would never do that.'

‘Just think, darling.' Celine's false smile took on a spiteful quality. ‘I had Luc before you. Remember that, and wonder how you could possibly be an adequate substitute.'

‘Yet you married someone else.' She couldn't help herself. ‘One can only imagine it was because Luc didn't ask you?'

‘Bitch.'

‘Go get a life, Celine. And stay out of mine.'

‘Not a chance. There isn't a thing you could say or do that would influence me.'

‘I'm carrying Luc's child.'

Celine arched a brow in supercilious condemnation. ‘And that's supposed to send me into retreat mode?'

‘Forgive me, I forgot you don't possess any scruples…moral, or otherwise.'

‘Got it in one, darling.' Celine examined her perfectly manicured nails, then speared Ana with a killing glance. ‘Don't for a minute think you have an advantage in spawning a Dimitriades heir.' Her laugh portrayed the antithesis of humour as she raked Ana's slender form. ‘Pregnancy isn't an attractive look. Who do you think Luc will turn to when you resemble a waddling whale?'

‘You've mixed metaphors,' Ana managed calmly.
Quite a feat when
calm
didn't come close to the anger burning inside. ‘And some men are blown away by a woman's conception.'

‘Poor Ana.' Condescension positively dripped off her tongue. ‘You're delusional if you imagine Luc is one of them.'

It was time to leave before she said or did something regrettable.

‘Good afternoon, Celine.' Ana moved into the foyer and let herself out the door. Her steps were measured as she crossed to the lift, and it was only when she cleared the building that she allowed herself to vent some of her pent-up anger.

There were two messages on her voice-mail. Luc, and Rebekah. She used speed-dial to connect with her sister.

‘Problems?'

‘Just checking to see if you weathered the Celine appointment OK.'

‘It could have been worse. I'll be at the shop in fifteen minutes.'

She reached Luc on his private line, and attempted to control her spiralling emotions as he picked up.

‘Dimitriades.'

‘You left a message to call.'

‘So I did.' His voice was a faintly inflected drawl, and she envisaged him leaning back in his chair.

‘I'm about to get into the car and drive,' Ana warned.

‘So keep it brief?'

She could sense the wry humour in his voice, and retaliated without thought. ‘Yes.'

‘Jace is flying in from the States on Sunday. Ask Rebekah to join us Monday evening for dinner.'

The Dimitriades men were from the same mould…tall, dark, ruggedly attractive, and dynamite with women. Jace Dimitriades was no exception.

‘Playing matchmaker, Luc?'

‘The suggestion came from Jace,' Luc responded, indolently amused, and Ana gnashed her teeth, all too aware of the tension that existed between her sister and Luc's cousin.

‘Don't plan on Rebekah accepting.'

‘No,'
Rebekah refused emphatically less than twenty minutes later. ‘Not in this lifetime.'

‘OK.'

‘Just—
OK
? You're not going to cajole, persuade, twist my arm?'