The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (150 page)

The lead actor followed, and he was charm
personified as he worked the room, doing his job for the publicity machine.

The usual entourage appeared, together with
the director and producer, then they were through and the invited guests were
encouraged to take their seats.

Celine, Ana was relieved to see, was seated
three rows to their left, and she felt herself relax as the lights dimmed and
the curtain swept open.

Throughout the film she was conscious of
Luc's close proximity. The warmth of his hand as he held her own, the
shared glance and quiet laughter when a pertinent clip stirred the audience.

The film ran a little over two hours, and
there was a collective sigh when the credits began to roll, followed by
applause.

It had, Ana admitted, been an entertaining
experience, and one she'd enjoyed. She said so as the
lights came on, and they joined guests in a slow-moving queue departing the
cinema.

Tea, coffee, champagne were being offered in
the auditorium, encouraging guests to linger and discuss the film.

Would Celine elect to join them there? It
seemed impossible to imagine she wouldn't, and Ana sipped tea as she
waited for the moment her nemesis would intrude.

Except the minutes slipped by to become
several, and there was no sign of her. Unusual. Definitely unusual. Celine was
not one to miss an opportunity!

‘Ready to leave?'

Ana caught Luc's quiet drawl, and
inclined her head. ‘Whenever you are.'

It took a while to slip free and leave the
auditorium, for there were acquaintances, friends whom they paused to speak
to…but no Celine. Had she already left?

The Mercedes whispered through the city
streets, and Ana let her thoughts drift to speculate on Rebekah's date
with Jace Dimitriades.

Had it been successful? She fervently hoped
so. Tomorrow she'd discover the details…

Luc traversed the New South Head road to
suburban Vaucluse, then he turned the car into the sweeping drive leading to
their home.

Minutes later they entered the foyer and
took the stairs to their suite.

Luc closed the door behind them, then
crossed the
room to her side. With infinite care he
unclasped the pendant at her nape and placed it on a nearby pedestal, then his
hands closed over her shoulders as he turned her round to face him.

Ana was powerless against the softness of
his mouth as it caressed her own, his touch an evocative supplication as it
teased and tasted in a manner that melted her bones.

His tongue took a low, sweet sweep,
tantalising with the promise of what would follow, and she angled her mouth to
his, seeking deeper exploration in the prelude to passion.

With evident reluctance he lifted his head
and sought the zip fastening of her gown, sliding it free so the soft fabric
fell at her feet in a silken heap.

The absence of a bra had proven a
provocation all evening, and the thought of freeing her smooth breasts, weighing
them in his hands, caressing them with his mouth, the edge of his teeth, had
almost driven him wild.

Did she have any idea how heart-stoppingly
beautiful she was? Not just in body, but of heart and soul?

So generous and giving, she was part of him,
and he sought to show her with his hands, his mouth, exulting in her sultry moan
as he took her high, only to emit a husky groan as he helped her tear his
clothes free to allow her the same privilege.

Ana loved the taste of his skin, the faint
male muskiness, and the light sheen of sensual heat that
rose as she trailed her mouth to his shaft and savoured there.

Too soon he dragged her up against him,
kissing her deeply as he carefully pulled her onto the bed, and his loving
became the sweetest she'd ever known. Power and gentleness. Acute
sensuality and hunger. Together they meshed as one in an intoxicating ravishment
that was all-consuming.
Mesmeric.

After-play was inevitably the sweetest, the
slow drift of hands, the soft touch of lips…the languor of complete
satiation.

Tomorrow he would leave for Melbourne. Three
days, two nights. She'd miss him…dreadfully.

A
NA
woke late, discovered within minutes that Luc had already left, and tried to stem her feeling of disappointment as she showered, dressed, and prepared for the day ahead.

As always the morning part of the day was the busiest, with processing orders, tying preparation time in with the four scheduled delivery pick-ups.

There were the usual delays and interruptions, and a prospective assistant won their hearts and the job when she offered an immediate start.

‘OK, last night, dinner, Jace,' Ana queried during a lull around midday. ‘Tell me.' They'd sent the new girl out for a lunch break and an order for sandwiches.

Rebekah seemed strangely hesitant. ‘Not what I expected.'

Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean…not what you expected?'

‘The restaurant was great, the food better than great…' She trailed to a halt, and effected a slight shrug. ‘It was just…different.'

‘As in?'

‘We talked.'

Ana's mouth curved into a musing smile. ‘You didn't expect to talk?'

‘I mean, discussions, opinions, views.'

‘Anything in particular, or just generally?'

‘A day in the life of a florist. Anecdotes.'

‘And…nothing?'

‘No teasing, flirting, or attempt at seduction.'

Jace seemed intent on playing it cool, Ana perceived, and wondered if he would see through her sister's fac¸ade, past the hurt and the betrayal to the heart of a woman who had so much love to gift to the right man.

‘Are you seeing him again?'

Rebekah chewed the edge of her lip in a gesture of pensive distraction. ‘I don't think so.'

I don't think so
was an improvement on the definitive
no
her sister would have uttered a few days ago.

Ana chose not to pursue it further, and she turned her attention back to the computer screen.

The phone rang, and she picked up the receiver. ‘Blooms and Bouquets, Ana speaking.' The greeting was automatic, her voice warm, friendly and professional.

‘I want to place an order if you can guarantee delivery before this afternoon.'

It would be tight, but do-able, and Ana wrote down the relevant details, double-checked the address and keyed it into the computer, took credit-card details, and concluded, ‘May I have your name, please?'

‘Celine Moore.'

Oh, hell. Celine had never placed a phone order with them before. The question popped into Ana's head…
why now?

‘Problems?'

‘Hopefully not.' She bit the edge of her lip, then ran another check on written and computer details to ensure they matched. ‘That was Celine.'

Rebekah's eyebrows rose. ‘She's ordered flowers?'

‘A rushed delivery before noon,' she confirmed. ‘Now, why am I suspicious?'

‘You think it's a deliberate set-up?'

‘I think there's a definite purpose.'

Rebekah crossed to the counter, checked the details, then moved back to the work table. ‘I'll do it now.'

Lunch was something Ana ate during a brief break from the computer, and she ignored her sister's admonition with a mischievous grin as she screwed up the paper from her take-away sandwich and tossed it successfully into the wastebin.

‘Think you've won, huh?' Rebekah demanded with a teasing laugh. ‘Mid-afternoon you get to sip tea at the café and browse through a magazine.
Capisce?'

Ana wrinkled her nose. ‘Since when did you speak Italian?'

‘Heard it on television.'

There was a lull around two, then the pace picked
up as Rebekah readied orders for the afternoon delivery.

The door buzzer sounded, followed by Rebekah's softly voiced curse, and Ana glanced up from the computer screen to check the cause, then immediately wished she hadn't, for there was Celine in a whirl of indignant volubility bearing down on her.

Rebekah stepped forward to intercept the woman's progress, only for Celine to bypass her and continue to where Ana sat behind the counter.

‘Is there a problem, Celine?'

‘Would I be here, if there wasn't?'

‘Perhaps you could be specific?'

The divorcee drew herself up to her full height and assumed an expression of hauteur. ‘I ordered a delivery of flowers this morning. They haven't reached the person for whom they were intended. I specified same-day delivery and paid the extra cost to have them there prior to midday.'

Ana called up the order on computer, then she checked the order book…a double system to minimise an error in recording apartment and private house numbers.

She scrolled through the day's listing…there it was. ‘Apartment 7, 5 Wilson Place.' She named the suburb.

‘No, no. It was apartment 5, 7 Wilson Place.'

Aware how easy it was to transpose numbers, Ana took particular care ensuring she got them right, repeating the numbers and writing them down, then
requesting the customer to repeat them again as she keyed them into the computer. It wasn't a totally infallible system, but it came close.

‘I don't believe I made a mistake,' she said quietly, and saw the angry glitter in Celine's eyes intensify.

‘
You
made the error, you're liable. What's more, I've cancelled my credit-card purchase details.'

‘I'll check with the delivery firm, and have him double-check his delivery details.'

Celine began tapping the tips of her elegantly polished nails against the counter top. ‘Get on to it, Ana. I'm not moving from here until this mess is sorted out.'

Ana used speed-dial, accessed the courier, explained the problem, and held while he checked his records. Minutes later she had the address confirmed, and she ended the call.

‘The order was delivered to the address you gave me. Apartment 7, 5 Wilson Place.'

‘I refuse to place any further orders with you.' Celine's voice rose, deliberately, Ana suspected, to ensure the two customers who had just entered the shop could hear. ‘This is the second time in a week you managed to stuff something up.'

As an actress, she was superb, Ana conceded. Total melodrama, right down to the hand gestures, the tone, the body language. She had to still the desire to applaud her performance.

‘That's your choice, Celine.' On her way home,
she'd do a little investigation of her own and visit both apartments. If only to satisfy herself Celine was bent on creating deliberate mischief.

‘You haven't heard the last of this,' Celine declared haughtily, and she swept from the shop in a blaze of triumph as the two customers hastily replaced two prepared bouquets and followed suit.

Rebekah released a pent-up sigh. ‘Charming.'

‘Surely you jest?' The query held uncustomary cynicism.

‘With friends like Celine, who needs enemies? More pertinent, what are we going to do about her?'

‘I have an idea in mind.' She relayed it, and Rebekah grinned in response.

‘We'll both reconnoitre the scene, then go on somewhere for dinner and catch a movie.'

‘Done.'

It was after six when they managed to lock up, and a short while later they entered Wilson Place, parked, then entered the apartment building.

They called the manager, explained the situation, and proceeded through to the bank of lifts.

The occupant of Apartment 7
had
received an unexpected delivery of flowers and figured to keep them.

Alerting the florist listed on the accompanying card of the error wasn't an option the occupant considered.

It was a case of exiting the building and crossing to the adjoining building where they repeated the
process, and discovered apartment 5 was owned by a Celine Moore.

‘Bingo.'

‘Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' Rebekah asked quizzically as they retraced their steps to the car.

‘Subterfuge and sabotage?'

‘Oh, I'd say there's a very good chance…like one hundred per cent.'

Ana slid in behind the wheel and slid the key into the ignition. ‘So…what do you think we should do about it?'

‘Confrontation, definitely.'

‘You, or me?'

Rebekah's gaze held a purposeful gleam. ‘Oh, allow me.'

‘You will employ subtlety.'

‘Like hell. No one plays a game like this one and gets away with it.'

‘OK, let's go home, hit the shower, then go eat.'

They did, and incurred Petros's long-suffering expression. ‘I prepared dinner, Ms Dimitriades.'

‘Ana,' she corrected from habit. ‘And I told you at breakfast we'd probably eat out.'

‘You didn't ring and confirm.'

She'd meant to, she really had. ‘I'm sorry. I hope you didn't go to a lot of trouble?'

‘Apricot chicken with rice, steamed vegetables, and a lemon soufflé.'

It made pizza eaten alfresco sound positively peasant-style in comparison.

Ana turned to her sister and arched an eyebrow. ‘Want to eat in, or out? Your choice.'

‘Have you had your dinner, Petros?' Rebekah asked, and the manservant shook his head.

‘Not yet. I intended to serve you both first.'

‘Then you must eat ours instead. We're going up to the Cross to get pizza.'

Petros gave a good imitation of being totally scandalised. ‘King's Cross?'

‘The same.'

‘I must urge you very strongly against going there. Luc would not approve.'

Ana wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Luc isn't here.'

‘He'll find out.'

‘Only if you tell him.'

‘It's really most inadvisable.'

‘There are two of us, we're only going to eat pizza, then drive on to the cinema complex. What can happen?'

‘At least let me drive you.'

‘We promise not to park in a side-street, and we both have cellphones,' Ana relayed. ‘Trust me, at the first hint of trouble you'll be the first person we call.'

‘There are any number of places in which to eat pizza. Why the Cross?'

‘Because,' Rebekah said carefully. ‘I have a friend who works there, and he makes the best pizza I've ever tasted.'

Petros was clearly torn, and Ana almost felt sorry for him. ‘We'll be fine. I'll ring when we're done and on our way to the cinema.'

‘Thank you.'

‘Anyone,' Rebekah declared with a touch of exasperation as they cleared the driveway, ‘would think he had adopted a paternal role.'

‘He's answerable to Luc,' Ana said simply.

‘Who is an exceedingly wealthy man.' She cast her sister a rueful glance. ‘Protective, possessive…or just plain cautious?'

Possessive? ‘He's involved in huge money deals.'

‘And protective of his pregnant wife.'

‘Who is responsible for a Dimitriades heir.'

‘That was way too cynical. Why?'

They reached Rose Bay, and took the circuitous route towards Double Bay. ‘Blame it on hormones and a preoccupation with Celine's latest contretemps.'

‘You think it's aimed at gaining Luc's attention?'

‘Without doubt.'

Rebekah pulled up at a set of traffic lights. ‘Luc is a hunk.'

‘Thanks.'

Rebekah laughed, shifted gears, then eased the car forward as the lights went to green. ‘Like, you're worried?'

Ana didn't answer, and Rebekah swore briefly. ‘Dammit, you
are
worried. Has he given you a reason to be?'

She hesitated a second too long. ‘Not really.'

‘Don't you trust him?'

Oh, God. Did she?
Completely?
‘I don't trust Celine.' Wasn't that the truth!

‘You didn't answer my question.'

Rushcutter's Bay was in the foreground, and any time soon they'd reach the Cross.

‘They once shared a relationship.'

‘So?' Rebekah released a sound that was akin to a snort. ‘I was once married to a man, whom if I never see him again, it would be too soon!'

‘That doesn't add up.'

‘The hell it doesn't.'

The El Alamein fountain came into sight, and Rebekah's attention became focused on finding a space to park the car. Not easy at the Cross, and Ana was relieved at the distraction.

At this time of evening with daylight beginning to fade, the main street held a mix of people of various cultures whose mode of attire ranged from the norm to the bizarre.

Men in fashionable suits, flashing an overindulgence of jewellery, looked a little too slick and polished to be ordinary businessmen. Professionals, certainly, but
ordinary
…not.

Then there were the flamboyant types, whose mode of dress bordered on the outrageous, sporting a range of body piercing that almost defied description.

The pizzeria was situated on the main street, and
Rebekah led Ana indoors, greeted the head pizza-maker, then found a table close to the window.

Oven-fired, delectable, mouth-watering aromas filled the small room, and Ana consulted the menu, Rebekah, then placed an order for a large combination pizza to share.

Declining wine or coffee, she settled for tea while Rebekah chose strong espresso.

It was interesting to watch the street scene, to see the people who came to observe and those who came to work. Touts stood in front of doorways outlined in flashing lights, bright neon, cajoling the passersby to come inside and be entertained by strip-shows, nude showgirls.

As the evening crept on, there would be the pimps, the prostitutes, and a steady parade of vehicles dropping off the girls, picking them up. There was more use per square mile of cellphones at the Cross than anywhere else in the city.

That was the visible. The invisible was the existence of a darker world, backstreets where drug deals and less than salubrious activities were done.

Their pizza was served, and after one bite Ana had to agree the taste was out of this world. Ambrosia.