“Looking for someone?”

Maria turned in the direction of the rough-toned male voice and almost replied, “You. I’m looking for you. I have been all of my life.”

In a near daze, she dragged her eyes from his lopsided grin. She’d never thought to meet a man who could actually make her heart jump into her throat. But to happen tonight of all nights! Swallowing her instincts to flee, she answered, “Randy Searle. Is he here?”

Head cocked to one side, he gave her a once-over that was almost insolent in its laziness. “Too bad,” he drawled. “I’d hoped you were looking for me.”

“Is—is he here?” she stuttered, watching the only guy ever to make her mind crash come closer, moving with all the lethal grace of a male confident of his own attractions.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another month of excitement and romance. Start your reading by letting Ruth Langan be your guide to DEVIL’S COVE in Cover-Up, the first title in her new miniseries set in a small town where secrets, scandal and seduction go hand in hand. The next three books will be coming out back to back, so be sure to catch every one of them.

Virginia Kantra tells a tale of Guilty Secrets as opposites Joe Reilly, a cynical reporter, and Nell Dolan, a softhearted do-gooder, can’t help but attract each other—with wonderfully romantic results. Jenna Mills will send Shock Waves through you as psychic Brenna Scott tries to convince federal prosecutor Ethan Carrington that he’s in danger. If she can’t get him to listen to her, his life—and her heart—will be lost.

Finish the month with a trip to the lands down under, Australia and New Zealand, as three of your favorite writers mix romance and suspense in equal—and irresistible—portions. Melissa James features another of her tough (and wonderful!) Nighthawk heroes in Dangerous Illusion, while Frances Housden’s heroine has to face down the Shadows of the Past in order to find her happily-ever-after. Finally, get set for high-seas adventure as Sienna Rivers meets Her Passionate Protector in Laurey Bright’s latest.

Don’t miss a single one—and be sure to come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romantic reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

Shadows of the Past
Frances Housden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

FRANCES HOUSDEN

has always been a voracious reader, but she never thought of being a writer until a teacher gave her the encouragement she needed to put pen to paper. As a result, Frances was a finalist in the 1998 Clendon Award and won the award in 1999, which led to the sale of her first book for Silhouette, The Man for Maggie.

Frances’s marriage to a navy man took her from her birthplace in Scotland all the way to the ends of the earth in New Zealand. Now that he’s a landlubber, they try to do most of their traveling together. They live on a ten-acre bush block in the heart of Auckland’s Wine District. She has two large sons, two small grandsons and a tiny granddaughter who can twist her around her finger, as well as a wheaten terrier who thinks she’s boss. Thanks to one teacher’s dedication, Frances now gets to write about the kind of heroes a woman would travel to the ends of the earth for. Frances loves to hear from readers. Write to her at P.O. Box 18-240, Glenn Innes, Auckland 1130, New Zealand.

I’d like to dedicate this book with love to my mother, Annie Gibb, as well as the late Frank Gibb, my father, and to his father, John Gibb, who used to make up stories just for me. And to thank Barbara and Peter Clendon, who sponsor The Clendon Award, aka Finish the Damn Book. The win sent my work to the right place to get published.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

“Vanity, thy name is woman,” Maria Costello told herself, even as she snapped the clasp of her evening purse closed over her glasses and ditched the last particle of her normal librarian look. If there was one thing she didn’t need tonight it was anything that smacked of timidity.

No, if she was to face up to her bête noire, then she had to look as if all the power was in her hands, whether it was true or not. She took a deep breath, tilting her chin, and stared after the lights of her departing cab. Without her glasses they were just two fuzzy red balls zooming into the deep blue of a New Zealand summer twilight.

On any other day, the soles of her feet would have itched to dance to the music pouring out of the early New Zealand colonial edifice that housed the Point restaurant, but tonight nothing could distract her. Not even the song rocking off the overhanging verandas that sheltered sidewalk diners. Tonight the tables were empty. All the action was taking place inside at the party she intended gate-crashing.

Of course, if Mamma knew what she was about to do, she would think Maria’s sense of proportion had gone haywire. An opinion that would be voiced in a mixture of English and Italian, the exact mix dependent on the level of her excitement.

Somehow, Maria was positive tonight it would be Italian all the way. One look and Mamma would know she’d gone over the top with her plum-colored dress. Its nunlike high neckline and long sleeves fooled everyone until she turned around.

She’d needed a confidence boost and this was the first time since buying the dress she’d hauled it out of the wardrobe and worn it outside her bedroom.

All her best glamour products, and for what? For the sake of turning the tables on the man she believed was stalking her.

Some people might think she was taking a gamble denouncing him with no more proof than he’d been the only person she’d recognized when the sensation prickled up her neck. But it hadn’t started until just after she’d been called to reception at Tech-Re-Search and Randy Searle had handed her some documents from Stanhope Electronics. Nearly every time she turned around quickly, she’d caught him dodging out of sight.

She shuddered, switching her thoughts back to her mother before fear could sneak in a low blow and turn her away from her goal.

The way Maria looked at it, in this life you either had to laugh or cry and she was done crying and ready to do battle.

Clenching her back teeth so hard it hurt she walked into the pool of light spilling from the restaurant door. The happening inside was the Christmas party of Stanhope Electronics, the firm that employed Randy Searle. She’d convinced herself that by confronting him face-to-face, even if he tried to bluster his way out of it, people would know, and in future he’d leave her alone.

Her shoulder-length hair, caught up in butterfly clips, tugged as her scalp prickled, the way it did when she felt him around.

Watching.

No! No more letting her mind take that track.

One more indrawn breath, one more step, and she crossed the threshold into a world of pure sound.

A quick sidestep helped avoid a collision with the couple leaving. Laughing over their shoulders, they waved goodbye, calling out, “See you next year.”

At the last moment they noticed her. “Oops, sorry.” The tall blonde’s blue-eyed gaze held hers with the soft bleariness of someone who’d had just enough to drink.

“No harm done,” said Maria, standing to the side to let them exit, hoping the smile on her face hid her apprehension.

The male half of the couple endowed her with a sloppy grin, and just when she thought she was safe, shouted, “Hey, Franc, hang about, we’ve got a live one here.”

A live one? What kind of party was this?

As she hesitated, he said, “Go right on in. Better late than never, it’s one hell of a party.”

His blond companion tugged at his sleeve, snagging his attention. “And it can only get better.”

A look passed between the two. A look of naked need and desire that pinched at Maria as she watched him practically carry the blonde down to the street in their haste to be alone.

Distracted, she wondered what it felt like to want someone so badly you didn’t care who knew.

Mentally reproving herself to get back to the task at hand, she let her eyes adjust to the soft glare of candles reflected in the old-fashioned white-and-black tiles that had first adorned the walls when it was a butcher’s shop.

“Looking for someone?”

Maria turned in the direction of the rough-honed male voice and almost replied, “You. I’m looking for you. I have been all of my life.”

Uh-oh, was her mouth gaping? She shut it with a snap. In a near daze, she dragged her eyes from the guy’s lopsided grin. A grin she’d thought exclusive to her favorite movie hero. Now she knew better. And for worse.

It was as if someone had played a sick joke on her. She’d never thought to meet a man who could actually make her heart jump into her throat. Truth be known, she’d hadn’t been sure if she wanted to. But to happen tonight of all nights! Swallowing her instincts to flee, she answered, “Randy. Randy Searle, is he still here?”

Head cocked to the side, he gave her a once-over that was almost insolent in its laziness. “Too bad,” he drawled. “I’d hoped you were looking for me.”

Her hands fisted tightly round the strap of her purse until her nails dug into her palm. Real life intruded on her fairy-tale moment and let loose the beast to steal her peace of mind. Hopefully a crowded place would keep her safe.

“Am I too late?”

He turned his wrist to check. Dark hairs showed above a gold watch where the cuffs of his white silk shirt folded back. “Not that late, nine-thirty.”

“Is…is he still here?” she stuttered, watching the only guy to ever make her mind crash come closer, moving with all the lethal grace of a male confident of his own attractions.

His glance caught hers. Brown like her own, but more intense in color—bitter chocolate—his eyes held hers until she forced herself to look away.

Franc had never seen eyes quite that color before, never been one to play favorites, but then…times change. Dark brown washed with violet, they were almost the color of her dress.

And if her eyes had stolen his breath, her mouth stopped his heart, the full top and bottom lips pouted naturally as if shaped by a kiss. Immediately the thought my kiss was born. A tiny black mole enhanced the top right-hand corner and definitely required closer investigation.

“Randy?” he replied slowly, snatching time to think of something other than how her mouth would taste, and stop him cursing that Randy had supped there first.

“Do you know him?”

“Sure. Just give me a minute to think where I last saw him.” Which would make at least two minutes since he’d watched her halt in the doorway. One glimpse had sent him hurrying between the tables lining the miniature dance floor, praying she wasn’t a trick of his imagination, brought about by a period of abstinence that had ceased to bother him, until now.

“Hmm, maybe he went upstairs, there are a couple of quieter rooms up there by the bar…” His words trailed off as he realized he had seen Randy heading in that direction, but he hadn’t been alone. Kathy Gilbertson from the experimental electronics lab had been with him, and Franc wouldn’t have laid bets on which of them was in the most hurry to reach the scattering of sofas in the secluded upstairs bar.

“Okay, I could be wrong. Randy is more likely to be in the courtyard out back where all the action is.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll try there.”

Her words lacked enthusiasm, and at the sight of one of her white teeth nipping at her bottom lip he decided to give her an out. “Then again that might not be a good idea unless you’re wearing insect repellent. I heard some of the ladies complaining about mosquitoes. I’d hate you to get bitten.”

By anyone but me.

He’d wanted to touch that honeyed satin skin bare from neck to waist from the moment she’d turned her back to let Hailey and Joel pass. At that moment he wouldn’t have given a damn if the rest of her hadn’t lived up to his fantasy that a goddess had come calling.

Two days early, Santa, but who was he to complain?

Her hair was as dark as his, but no butterfly could ever look half that good on him. She sported at least ten that seemed to flit around her head. Fists bunched, he held back from trying to capture one, but knew his resistance was almost shot.

Hell, what was a guy to do when he that knew up close and personal was never gonna be enough?

From the moment she’d turned to face him, Franc had known he’d been deluding himself. No woman so beautiful, fabulous eyes, generous mouth, not to mention that mole, could possibly be here without a partner.

Soon as she’d proved him correct he’d wished the words unsaid. Randy Searle? The guy was the last person he’d have predicted. And he’d say the goddess standing before him was the last person Randy expected since he’d bet any money the sales rep was more interested in Kathy at the moment. Maybe he could save both of them from an embarrassing situation and do himself and the goddess a favor at the same time.

Her grateful smile almost floored him as she said, “Then that’s no problem, I never get bitten. Guess I’m the wrong blood group or something.”

“Good for you, let me lead the way through the crush. How about I get you something to drink on the way out?” he asked, hoping delay would give him time to formulate plans.

Hell, Randy was in a jam. The least Franc could do was help him out of it. Too bad he couldn’t claim his motives were entirely altruistic.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

He got the distinct impression his goddess was just as eager to put off the meeting, and a spark of hope blossomed that all wasn’t well in the house of Searle. “Okay, red or white?”

She rubbed the tip of her tongue over the spot her tooth had nibbled, his mouth watered for a taste of raspberries. What other flavor could lips that color be?

“A merlot would be nice, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No problem, Ms….”

“Maria. Maria Costello.”

She held out her hand…their fingers touched, skin sliding on skin…the world stopped spinning and threw him off.

He took a deep breath before he ended up with a foot between his teeth. He just couldn’t get past the idea of Randy and the goddess as an item. The guy had all the inclination of a Casanova with none of the expertise. But filling his mouth with his own shoe leather wouldn’t help his cause.

“I’m Franc Jellic.”

Faint streaks of color fanned her cheeks. “Oh, I’ve heard of you. Nice to meet you at last.”

“Heard of me?” He didn’t like the sound of that one bit. It made her association with Randy resonate with words like long term. The back of his neck prickled. Funny place for a conscience, but he’d swear that’s what it was, though he was a bit long in the tooth to start worrying about moving in on another guy’s woman.

“I’ve read of your work in the business section of the Herald.”

He remembered the article; it had likened him to some sort of wunderkind. “I hope you took everything it said with a grain of salt. I’m not that good.”

“Hah,” she chuckled. “They always manage to get something wrong, and where I work, I tend to collect a fund of useless information. They never once mentioned modesty.”

“Got me. Okay, now the introductions are over let me snag you a glass of wine.” Guiding Maria through the crowd, he grabbed a full glass of wine from the small bar in the corner, hoping it was merlot. It was definitely red but he didn’t have time to inquire. It would be just like Randy to arrive before Franc had time to hustle Maria out of the dining room.

“This way.” Guiding Maria past the kitchen and out to the courtyard was both a bonus and a nightmare. He slipped one arm behind her and opened a passage into the courtyard with the other. The moment his fingers brushed bare flesh his heart jolted as if he’d touched a live wire.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured. Sliding his palm closer to the top of her hip, which had no calming effect on his equilibrium whatsoever, Franc made a pretense of checking out the courtyard. Laughter and conversation were more prevalent than in the other room and most of the tables were occupied by more than two. Using the excuse of the music stealing through the corridor behind them, Franc leaned closer and spoke a bare inch from her ear. “I don’t see him, do you?”

Maria took a step back as she turned to answer. “No, I don’t.” He saw her lip tremble as the glow of the Chinese lanterns highlighted the faint bloom of sweat beading her top lip and forehead. The step she’d taken pushed her close to the curve of his arm and through his shirtsleeve her skin felt on fire.

“You’ll be better out here, where it’s cooler than inside. I’ll find you a table to wait at while I look for Randy.” He found one overhung by ivy and a potted palm that filtered the pink lantern light.

A fat yellow candle burned in a ceramic pot and Maria motioned to it as she sat down. “I see someone took care of the mosquitoes.”

“Huh?” he looked at her, his mind blank as she tipped up her glass and drank. Were his lies catching up to him?

“Can’t you smell the candle? It’s citronella.”

The only scent teasing his nose was Maria’s perfume and it reminded him of crushed rose petals. “You can be comfortable then while I send out a search party.”

Sitting sideways, she leaned an elbow on the table, her wineglass swayed in the hand above it as she crossed her legs. “Don’t go to too much trouble.”

“I don’t mind.”

Her foot jiggled in midair, making a liar out of her. It was obvious she couldn’t wait for Randy to arrive. Well, he’d see about that.

Her toenails were painted to match her dress and he found himself staring at them as he wondered if he could get Randy out of the restaurant before Maria became suspicious.

He flashed one last look at her toes as he turned. They would keep. “You just enjoy your wine while I go look for your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend! Maria supposed that was the impression she’d intended—at first. Before Franc.

Quickly, she took her glasses from her purse, put them on her nose and glanced round the courtyard to make sure Randy really wasn’t there. After taking them off, she took a sip of wine. It had the full-bodied flavor of a cabernet sauvignon. Maybe it would bolster her courage. Suddenly, the idea that confrontation would solve all her problems before she went home for Christmas seemed like the worst she’d ever had.

Wasn’t it just like her luck to take a holiday on the night she met Franc Jellic. After years of knowing she had to keep herself safe from men, to meet a man who made her want to throw her heart into the ring and forget all her problems. He could almost pass for the description of the guy she’d told Mamma she was dating. She just hadn’t believed such a man could be real.

But her imaginary man friend existed solely to prevent Mamma from insisting she go to Italy to pick out one of the nice Italian boys the family would parade in front of her. She’d acted secretive about the guy she was seeing, telling Mamma she wouldn’t let him run the gauntlet of her family until she was sure of her feelings for him.

But, deep inside she was sure no other man could evoke the reaction she’d had to Franc. And in all probability, in a few moments he’d be ejecting her from the premises. What was it about him that called to her in this innately sensual way? Stirring her hormones. Filling her head with ideas about losing her innocence at last. Not that she’d dare give in to the devil prompting her imagination.

Sometimes her imagination was her worst enemy.

Her family was convinced that losing all memory of when she was abducted at seventeen was a good thing. They hadn’t allowed for the scenes that ran through her mind each time she touched her scars and tried to picture how she’d gotten them.

More reason for her to confront Randy Searle tonight and put this stalking business behind her, once and for all.

She took another sip and another. The alcohol skipped her stomach and targeted her brain. She’d hardly eaten all day. Nerves. But if she were slightly numb, maybe giving Randy Searle his comeuppance wouldn’t seem so daunting.

In the last few weeks he’d invaded her life, crushed her sensitivities with his grubby mind, violating her privacy. She was here to demand face-to-face that he stop stalking her.

Six feet and a crowded table away from the stairs, Franc’s pores broke into a sweat at the sight of dark-clothed legs heading down them. He was at the foot of them before he recognized Brent, his general manager. “Hey, buddy, am I glad to see you.”

Brent was almost as tall as his own six-four, but his slighter build made him look taller. “Whatever it is, no. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me tonight, replaced every empty glass with a full one and danced with every wallflower until it feels like I’m wearing someone else’s feet. I’d say that’s enough favors for one night.”

Franc gripped the banister and moved a step closer. “And it’s all appreciated. But I kid you not, this one you’ll enjoy. I want you to help me get rid of Randy Searle.”

His friend’s jaw dropped. “What? No way. You know I love you like a brother, Franc, but not enough to kill for.”

Franc rolled his eyes, giving Brent a punch on the shoulder to emphasize his point.

“Idiot. I fancy the woman like crazy, but murder’s too high a price even for a goddess.”

“A goddess? I take it you aren’t talking about Kathy, because that’s who’s with Randy. The pair of them were over each other like a rash. It got so bad I had to leave my bolt-hole and you know I’m a pretty tolerant guy, but man…”

Grinning, Franc said, “That’s because you’re a man of good taste, unlike Randy. No need to worry. That rash isn’t catching.”

He and Brent had been friends for years, working in the same line, electronic design, when the chance for a top job with Stanhope Electronics had come through a family connection—no nepotism involved. If he’d come up short on the qualifications, his new brother-in-law, Rowan McQuaid Stanhope, wouldn’t even have considered him, or Brent, whom he’d taken with him.

“The guy’s simply inconvenient. And what I’d like is Randy to leave and the woman who’s called for him to stay.”

“Let me guess. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.” Brent counted on his fingers. “How many times have I heard that?”

“A few, and not for at least a year, but this time I mean it for real. She’s goddess material.”

“That good, huh? So, it isn’t just a coincidence that this is the start of the summer break. Or, that you have almost two weeks on your hands when Rowan and your sister have forbidden you to work.”

“Never entered my mind.”

“Bull! You’ve thought of nothing but the project for the last year, and as a workaholic you don’t know how to switch off. Unless I miss my guess, you’re looking for a distraction.”

He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t already having withdrawal symptoms, Brent knew him too well, so he laughed, then said, “Wait till you see her. Just remember, you can look but you can’t touch.”

Brent ran his fingers through his sun-streaked brown hair, a habit that always made him look as if he’d just got out of bed, a woman’s bed, which was usually right. So Brent had no need to point a finger in his direction. “I’m surprised you can even find the energy to contemplate a relationship.”

“Okay, so you were half-right. I’m not talking relationship, just a holiday fling.” He hadn’t spent the last year working his butt off to blow it all now. If the project he and Brent were working on paid off, it would mean a partnership for him and a leg up in the company for Brent.

He caught a sigh building and pulled out before he could give breath to it. It was something he’d been aiming for since he was little more than a kid, to own part of something worthwhile. And as the son of a cop gone wrong there was no place to go but up. They hadn’t been much of a family for a lot of years, but he was determined not to let his sister or himself down.

There were many ways of making money in the electronics industry, secrets to sell to the highest bidder, but that was the route his father had taken by dealing in drugs. Been forced to take, to Franc’s mind because of all the mouths he’d had to feed on a cop’s salary, and if he’d learned a lesson from his father’s suicide, it was he travels farthest who travels alone.

Franc looked straight into the laughing derision in Brent’s eyes. “What if I said I need this?”

“Tell me what you want me to do? Though I warn you, the last time I saw Randy, the only thought in his head seemed to be the quickest way to get Kathy out of her bra.”

“How about you whisper a warning in his ear about the big guy downstairs looking for Kathy that could be her husband then show him the back way out through the kitchen?”

“So all’s fair in love and war?”

“I don’t think Randy’s much of a fighter, and you know me.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly, smiling as if he was about to tell a lie and wanted to lose the feeling. “I never fall in love.”

“Just remember you owe me big-time for this one.”

“Anything,” he conceded. And before Brent could make any demands, he was on his way back to Maria as if his life depended on it. Which should have made him take pause. In all his adult life he’d never depended on anyone but himself. He knew better.

Everyone he’d ever loved had up and died on him.

A huge shadow slid across the table blocking off the light. Maria’s heart bruised itself against her breastbone. She didn’t look up. Instead, she breathed deeply, sucked up her courage and sat higher in her chair, trying hard to ignore the cold pulse beating in her temple as loud as hail on a tin roof.

Of all the foolhardy ideas in her life, tonight’s had to be the worst. This was going to be harder than she’d first imagined.

Her hands shook as she lifted her gaze.

Franc slid into the seat opposite. His hands were full of wineglasses and snacks, the fingers of one cupping two glasses while he slid a plate of finger food onto the table.

“Thought you might be hungry.” His mouth looked grim. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but it looks like Randy went on someplace else. Could he have gone over to your house?”

God, she hoped not!

Thoughts of Randy peeking in her window were the last thing she wanted. Now they’d entered her mind, would they ever go away?

“No, not my place.”

For a heart-plummeting moment disappointment took her far away from the restaurant to a dark place inside her mind. When she’d calculated the risks of gate-crashing the party, Randy leaving early hadn’t featured as a worst-case scenario. How would she get through the holidays with this dread hanging over her?

“Have a fresh glass of wine. These are nicely chilled.” He pushed one over to her, and then picked up a lobster patty. “Delicious. You should try one.”

This was awkward. She was here under false pretenses, how could she accept his hospitality. “I really should go. You must have better things to do than sit here with me.”

“None that would please me more than sitting opposite a beautiful woman. I’m only human. Tell me about yourself. Do you work locally?”

“In the city, at Tech-Re-Search.”

“I know the company, we have dealings with them. Is that how you met Randy?”

“Yes.” How else had he latched onto her? Known her comings and goings?

“So you work in the city in a research library and your name is Costello. Were you born in New Zealand?”

“Of course.”

His eyes flicked over her hair and face as he lifted the patty to his mouth and bit down. His teeth were white and even, and his face crinkled with laughter as his tongue captured a portion that broke off. He had an earthy confidence that exuded sexuality. Something reminded Maria of her long-ago visit to Italy, the way the men relished their food, wine and women.

“My roots in Enzed probably go back as far as yours.”

His eyes glittered. “You wanna bet on it?” She shook her head. “I guess I could raise you at least a generation, maybe two on one side, if there was anyone I could ask, but my family isn’t close-knit and the future interests me more than the past.”

“Why is how many generations your family has been in New Zealand so important anyway, like we had some sort of Mayflower society?”

“It’s a young country, how long ago your family arrived here is a sort of status thing.”

She rolled her eyes at him even though she knew he was correct. “Well, my parents weren’t born here, and probably because of that, in my family everyone likes to know what the others are up to.”

Except this latest venture of hers. Wasn’t a daughter obliged not to worry her parents? Maybe this was fate’s way of telling her to back off. For now at least.

A stray drop of wine coated her lips as she chased it with her tongue. She raised her eyes and caught Franc’s gaze.

“And what have you been up to, Maria?”

The question brought her back to the present with a start. What had she done to deserve Randy Searle stalking her? She’d only managed to catch a glimpse of him those few times, but she’d felt him. Felt his eyes on her and it gave her the creeps. It was as if her life wasn’t her own anymore. Not that it had been anyone’s idea of exciting. Her life had reached a plateau early on, what with studying for her degree by correspondence until she started work in Auckland three years ago, she’d only ever left home to take her exams at Massey University.

And if there had been little upswing in her social life since then it had been down to her own fastidiousness rather than a lack of opportunity. The friends she shared a house with were just the opposite. God, how she wanted to be like them, to be ordinary, to flirt, have on-and-off relationships.

The only bump in the even tenor of her life was being told she’d been abducted when she couldn’t remember a thing about it. Post-traumatic stress amnesia, it had taken Randy Searle to flip her back out of her staid orbit.

She focused her attention on Franc. The flickering candle reflected in his eyes. “I expect since I had to think it over, you’ve gathered I haven’t been up to anything exciting.”

Franc leaned forward. “Well, I find you very exciting. Maybe it’s the dress you’re wearing. As if you’re two different people.”

The candle appeared to flare as he spoke, and her heart quickened when she realized the flame that leapt was confined to his eyes, and like the flash of light, she was out of place and way out of her depth. “Thank you, I think?”

“You got it right, it was a compliment, though I obviously made a hash of it since you didn’t recognize it as one.” His voice was low, husky, as if she really was the woman the dress had been designed for. As if with the fading of the light everything had changed and in the dark anything was possible.

“Then, I really do thank you.” Had that sexy purr come from her throat? Or was it the sophisticate she pretended to be? As soon as she’d seen the dress she’d known it was meant for her by the sheer ambiguity of the style. Full of half truths like her, it was perfect for a woman who didn’t want to show her scars to the world. Especially the emotional ones.

Franc stood. He towered over her but there was no menace in him, simply the means to make her forget why she’d come here. “What if I said I’d rather have a dance than your thanks?”

She slid her fingers into his, her heart racing as she abandoned all thought of her previous goal. “I’d say, perhaps even two dances.”

He pulled her to her feet. Even in heels her eyes only came level with his chin, perfect for watching his throat move as he swallowed hard. “Why don’t we make that all? The rest of tonight’s dances are mine.”

His breath feathered across her eyelids. Made them flutter. Made them heavy, so heavy she wanted to close them and rest her head on his shoulder. The music grew louder as if it played in her head instead of at the other end of the passage.

Could this be her Cinderella night? What had she to lose but a slipper?

Chapter 2

“I’ve had a wonderful evening.” Maria’s whisper reached Franc from somewhere below the level of his chin.

Soon it would be midnight. The lights were low, the music soft, and Maria was exactly where he’d wanted her from the first moment he’d observed her entering—in his arms, her body a mere heartbeat from his. Every few seconds her breasts brushed his chest, and on the turns his leg slid between hers. It was torture of the worst kind. And he never wanted it to end. “The evening’s not over yet.”

“But it will be, like all good things. That’s life.” Her voice sounded regretful, as if she didn’t want to be wakened from the dreamlike state they were dancing in.

“I don’t want to know that. I want to stay in the here and now and forget about tomorrow. This is a night for stolen kisses.” He trailed one down her temple. “Soft touches.” His fingers shivered down the skin covering her spine. “And secrets, lots of secrets.”

“I already know your secrets.”

“You what?” His head reared back, breaking the moment. Had Randy been running off at the mouth?

How the hell had Randy found out that practically before his dad’s body had gone cold, his father’s best friend and partner against crime in the New Zealand police had outed Milo Jellic as being a drug dealer.

As if Milo’s suicide hadn’t been bad enough.

“I’m sorry.” She hid her eyes from him, but the way her white teeth pressed down on her lip was telling.

One look wiped his annoyance aside. “I hope Randy left me some secrets to share.” His gaze dipped to the lip her teeth had left bee-stung. He’d taste that for himself before the night was over.

As Franc’s face cleared, Maria’s roiling stomach settled down. She hadn’t ruined her night.

“It’s nothing personal, just the new project.” She galloped on, afraid to stop as his eyebrows met in a line. Perhaps personal would have been better? “I work on your project at Tech-Re-Search. It sounds so exciting to make a thread that carries…? Darn. I guess I shouldn’t discuss it here.”

Heavens, she’d just caught herself before she apologized again. Nothing was worse than sounding whiny.

“It’s fascinating, but I’m not allowed to mention it at work…we have this Chinese wall deal…you know, no one can discuss the projects they are working on. But I think it’s great that you guys are ahead of the game…” Was he never going to butt in and save her?

“So it’s you who make sure we don’t infringe on someone’s copyright or spend a million dollars inventing something that’s already out on the market. Somehow I had the impression that you’d met Randy through working on reception at Tech-Re-Search.”

“No, I was called to reception since he wanted to hand over the envelope of data personally.” She felt Franc’s hand tighten round hers.

“Understandable. We don’t just want anyone getting their hands on our data. That’s why I was surprised you knew about our project.” He hesitated then asked, “You don’t discuss our research with Randy?”

Maria shook her head. So far, her only contact with Randy had been that day when he’d said he’d driven into the city specially to deliver the data to her at the research library. Heaven only knows what she’d done to spark off his need to stalk her.

“Good. This project is my baby, my idea. The research you’re doing has saved us a lot of time but you understand, with its military applications, secrecy is vital.” He huffed out a breath. “But of course you do. The only reason Tech-Re-Search got the contract was because of its security clearance.”

“I hope your project succeeds.” From the light in his eyes, and the determined thrust of his chin, she couldn’t imagine him failing.

“You were right. This isn’t the place to discuss it. One day, you can come see what we’ve done for yourself.”

“I’d like that.” Suddenly her mind was grasping at straws. Hoping her fairy tale wouldn’t end with the ball. She had no illusions about forever, but even a little while would be nice.

Better than nice. Wonderful.

She allowed herself to hope.

Tomorrow, she’d start a new chapter in her personal journal.

Franc pushed out a long whisper of air. Spaced each breath, to slow his heart rate. He wanted her to himself away from the crowded dance floor. “Let’s go out to the courtyard and dance in the dark. The stars are out. Do you know where to find the Southern Cross?” Next moment he heard Brent announce, “Last dance, folks, make the most of it.”

“I should have thought of it earlier.” Disappointment rocked him with intensity as he anticipated her departure. But he’d no time for soul-searching as nearly everyone squeezed onto the floor and space was at a premium.

The lights went out.

With Maria in his arms he stayed in the middle of the crowd, swaying slowly, feet barely moving. The slippery texture of her dress flowed like water under his palm. He let them drift lower until they slipped round the soft swell of her buttocks. He wanted to shape her curves with his hands, to pull her closer and rock her in the cradle of his hips.

He consoled himself with drinking in her perfume, brushing his cheek against the tiny whispers of curls escaping round her hairline. He had an ache in his groin hard enough to make a grown man cry. His teeth clamped down on a groan as her palms flattened against his chest and her head rested on them. Close, but not close enough.

He hoped the dance would never end. They circled one tiny spot on the floor in what felt like a dream, and in the dark no one existed but the two of them. His hard flesh throbbed and flexed unbearably against her hip. He wanted more than this tease. He wanted to be inside her, thrusting deep and fast till they both screamed their release.

His moan dampened her skin where the curve of her neck met jaw. Damn, I’m thirty-four, too old for this, too old to be worrying about Maria knowing I want her. The hell with it! His palms shivered over the silky fabric and curved round her slender shape, drawing her tight against his aching need just as the music stopped.

The song finished, ending the dance, ending the closeness. Maria didn’t move, couldn’t move. A fire blazed inside her, leaping the barrier of clothing to meld her to him. Could he feel her shake? If he moved would she fall? She hid behind closed eyes. It didn’t mask the sound of people wishing each other Happy Christmas or good-night. Franc’s lips skimmed her forehead as his hands loosened their grip, leaving her bereft.

“Merry Christmas, Maria,” he whispered.

It was over. Time to go home.

The gruff timbre of his voice echoed in her tremors. Tilting her chin with one large hand, he sought an answer in her eyes. The pad of his thumb stroked her bottom lip and released a sigh. In that instant she changed her mind about the color of his eyes. Not bitter chocolate, bittersweet. Like the moment binding them. She wanted to remember this. She would remember this. Always.

The last time she expected she would see him. Tears blurred her vision. His face floated above hers like a mirage, until his mouth slanted and he took hers, blinding her with his nearness, his kiss, until only touch and sensation remained.

God! She tasted sweet; Franc had known she would. Her lips parted on a sigh and his tongue swept past them for a taste of the honey he knew lay within. Almost tentatively her tongue touched his and he felt her hands tremble and flutter like butterflies across his chest. It was more erotic than if she’d answered his passion with one of equal demand.

“Stay with me tonight. My apartment’s just next door.” The words grated from his throat as emotion took over. For one second he wished he hadn’t said them. But only one.

As the lights came on she pulled away, her eyes huge, more violet than brown. They flicked from side to side, grounding her in the present. The party was over.

“No!”

Franc hesitated in mid-farewell-wave to a departing group. What did she mean, no? She couldn’t mean it. Did she think he didn’t know she wanted him as much as he wanted her?

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said quietly.

Maria backed away, breaking the contact, taking her heat. Franc shivered. “Why?”

“We’ve had this evening. Why spoil it?”

“We could have tonight and no one would be spoiled but you. Let me spoil you.”

His breath stirred long tendrils of her hair against her cheeks. She pushed them behind her ear, remembering how they’d gotten that way. Franc’s fingers forking through her hair as he held her head still. “I need to call a cab.”

She needed to get out of here before she did something stupid.

“I don’t mind driving you home.”

“No. I insist. It’s better this way. Let me take a cab.”

“All right. Tell me where you want to go and I’ll call one.”

Maria turned in her seat and watched out the back window of the cab, and without resorting to her glasses, she saw his tall figure soon blend into the shadows.

Franc Jellic was almost irresistible. And that six-letter word, almost, was her saving grace. She’d never met a man like him. Never been tempted until now, though she had been curious about her sexuality.

For a moment the answer to the puzzle had been within her grasp, until she banged into a wall of reality and the image of what might have been shattered as she hit. To bare her body, her scars would mean explanations. Explanations she couldn’t give him. Explanations that wouldn’t help her find the way out of the maze left by her abduction.

A sigh racked her body. She hugged herself to stop the tremors and tried to look on the bright side.

One thing for sure, she’d learned a lesson tonight. Learned how easily one could become trapped, brought to one’s knees by a glance, both tender and wild at once. A glance that promised to teach all she wanted to know as it sent her body into meltdown and her heart into overdrive.

Yes, curiosity was all it would take. His kiss…how would it feel in the secret places where her body had throbbed as they danced? Would it ease the ache or sharpen the pain?

Christmas Eve had arrived with a bang. Heat sizzled in puddles of tar on the road and sunburned leaf tips spangled trees meant for the northern hemisphere with bronze. The only cloud in the sky was the leaden one hovering over Maria’s head advertising her failure.

She mulled over her problems as she stood at the top of the driveway, waving to Tess and Linda, who she shared the villa with. “Bye, have a happy Christmas and a lovely holiday,” she called, her thoughts nothing to do with the joys of the season. Soon she, too, would be hitting the road back to the bosom of her family.

Bosom being the appropriate word. There would be hugs all round. Papa and Mamma squeezed so tight, sometimes she could hardly breathe. It was their way of showing they loved her.

The word suffocating reared its head. Flushing, she pushed the thoughts away. Of course they were protective of her. They still tended to see her as the teenager who’d been abducted.

It was a weird situation. She couldn’t remember anything. Yet it was impossible to forget the incident. Her family’s concern kept it in the forefront of her mind.

Yes, incident was a better word.

It was real, yet unreal. A story told from someone else’s point of view. Lately, she’d begun to waken in the dead of night in a panic from nightmares. It dated from the moment she realized someone was shadowing her footsteps.

A faint ping sounded at the back of her mind like the first warning note of an alarm. The impression sent her spinning round to scan the front garden and faded just as quickly when she saw the old man next door raking the pebbles on his driveway. Being unable to carry through last night’s plans had left her jumpy, knowing Randy Searle was still on the loose, didn’t realize she was on to him or that she knew his name.

Alone in the house, she cleared the festive lunch table where they’d exchanged gifts. The other girls had protested, but saw her logic, conceding her journey home was less lengthy than the ones facing them.

She pushed her glasses up on her nose, her spare pair. On her way home this afternoon she’d stop by the restaurant to see if her others had been found where she’d placed them on the table. But before she left, since she had plenty of time, she’d walk around to the shop next to Northcote Point cinema and buy her mother a box of the handmade chocolates she loved.

As she washed up, flashes of memory from the night before filled her thoughts. Could any woman ever forget her first real taste of romance?

The trick would be to make sure no memories of Randy Searle were allowed to taint it. Thank heavens she’d made time to write it all down in her journal before sleep overtook her.

Franc wrote his signature on the check with a flourish. Stanhope’s annual Christmas party didn’t come cheaply, but it was worth it for the goodwill and camaraderie it engendered in the staff. He passed the check over the tall, narrow desk to the manager. “How much of this covers breakages?”

Paul Start, the manager of The Point restaurant, grinned. “You got off lightly, no more than two or three glasses.” Always one for an eye to business, Paul winked. “Come back next year. You’re the kind of customer we like.”

Just as astute, Franc took his receipt, glanced at the figures again and said, “Next time, I’ll ask for a discount.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed, calculated. “Do that. Next time, you might get one. But for now, how about having lunch? On the house.”

“Thanks, I will.”

He should have known that eating lunch in almost the exact spot he’d held Maria in his arms wouldn’t aid his digestion.

He looked up at the entrance and relived his reactions of the night before when he’d watched her walk through it.

He’d likened her to a goddess, and when his ardor had carried him away, she’d spurned him. Didn’t mean he was going to give up or take his rejection as absolute.

There had to be a way.

No sooner thought than found.

Paul slid into the seat opposite. “I forgot to hand over these.” He twisted fragile-looking rimless glasses in his fingers so they caught the light. “One of the cleaners found them at the table by the potted palm.”

Franc recalled how her pupils had been huge as they turned the lights on at the end of the dance. Could the look that had enchanted him been slightly myopic?

Taking the glasses from Paul, he slid them into the pocket of his thin chambray shirt. “Thanks, Paul. I’m sure I know who these belong to.”

Mind made up, he tossed his napkin onto his plate and pushed his chair away from the table. “Her place is on my way, so I’ll drop them off.” He’d written the address down when he’d called her cab, though he’d been sure it was one he wouldn’t forget.

“Good idea. I couldn’t see a thing through them, so she’s probably lost without them.” Paul stood up, saying conversationally, “So where are you off to this afternoon?”

Knowing that Paul had often commented on his many lonely dinners, Franc just tapped his pocket. “Anywhere that takes me past where she lives.”

Maria couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken the car out. Working in the city, she traveled mainly by bus. It was convenient and less hair-raising than driving over the Auckland Harbour Bridge each morning and evening.

She unlocked the car and slid inside, placing her purse on the passenger seat along with the chocolates she’d just bought. If she started the car, she could leave it running while she went in to change out of her lilac crop top and shorts.

Key in the ignition, she turned it, pressing down on the accelerator at the same time. The starter engine turned over a few times then faded away. She turned the key again with less success than before.

Nerves tightening, aware there was no one she could ask for help, she gripped the key in a death lock. The third attempt ended in a couple of clicks.

She recognized that sound, it meant the battery was dead or the connection was loose. Her brothers were always on at her to turn over the engine occasionally between her visits home. Now she wished she’d taken their advice. In contrast to her vision, her hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

In no time at all, she’d popped the hood and stood blinking into its dark depths. The battery was easily recognized. She wiggled the connection. It seemed nice and tight apart from the green gunk sprouting from under the plastic cover.

Shifting her exploration to the trunk, she grabbed the tool kit and unrolled it on the concrete. The huge screwdriver looked handy, so she grabbed it.

As she stood, she felt the back of her neck tingle as if someone had laid a cold hand on her nape. Her stomach plummeted like a bird in freefall while the rest of her was shocked into immobility.

He was here.

As she began to take stock, Maria wrapped her hand round the metal shaft of the screwdriver, holding it like a club as she took a deep breath then whirled around.

The heavy frames on her old glasses slid down her nose as she spun. Great, now she could see nothing. She pushed the black frames higher on her nose with the back of an oil-smudged hand.

Over the last month there’d been times when she’d balanced on the edge of panic. Since the first day she’d felt someone’s eyes on her, there had been other occasions with no one in sight when she knew he’d hidden to watch.

Like now.

The air bristled with static energy that prickled her skin as if a storm was brewing, but with not a cloud in the sky she knew that wasn’t the reason.

On the edge of the garden, the bushes stirred between the villa she and her friends rented, and the one next door. She started to shake. Why had no one put in fences? They helped keep people out.

Stop!

This is what he wants. Don’t give him the satisfaction. A few deep breaths in out, in out, that’s it. Calm down and find the courage you took to the party last night. He can’t scare you if you don’t let him.

The next-door neighbor’s cat, Mimzie, sauntered out of the bushes, tail high. It looked straight at her, as if to say, “It’s only me.”

Only him. She wanted to believe that desperately.

But the creepy sensation she got when she felt him watching her hadn’t gone. And to pretend that it had would be a cop-out.

“Everything all right, Maria?”

Her eyes lost their focus as her thoughts turned inward. Someone was walking up the driveway; he wore a white T-shirt and dark blue jeans. Not Randy, thank heaven. It was one of the young guys from a house down the street. “My car won’t start…Tony, am I right?”

He reached the top of the driveway and moved into the shade of the carport. One hand pushed a lock of straight surfer-blond hair from his eyes. His smile was cocky. “That’s me, Tony Cahill, the one and only. What happened? Wouldn’t that huge screwdriver scare the motor into submission?”

“I thought the problem might be the battery leads. I was going to try tightening them up with this.” She waved the screwdriver at him. “Or if that didn’t work, take the wooden handle and knock off all this verdigris that’s growing out of it.” She turned around and looked at the engine.

He was tall, which meant he had to duck to fit under the hood. “Let me have a look.” He moved in close, his shoulder brushing hers. “You’re right, it does look a bit of a mess.”

Maria flinched as his arm snaked round her back. His arm sweated on her bare skin as his hand skimmed the underside of her breast and lingered before he reached under her arm for the screwdriver. “Let me see what I can do.”

Maria was trapped, but she wouldn’t let go of the screwdriver, What if she needed it to defend herself? She elbowed him in the ribs. “Creep! I think you’ve done quite enough. You can go now. Your kind of help I can do without.”

Franc had parked on the road. He could see Maria and some lanky kid bending over the open hood of a car, arguing. Urgency lengthened his stride. “Is this a private tussle or can anyone join in?”

The kid jerked his arm away from Maria and a huge screwdriver bounced off the chrome bumper of the outdated Ford and onto the concrete paving, where it lay humming like a tuning fork.

Maria recovered quickly and literally threw herself into his arms. Not that he minded or needed reminding how she’d felt in his arms last night. “Franc! I thought you were never going to get here.”

So they were into playacting. “Sorry, sweetheart, time got away from me.” He took a chance and stole a kiss.

She moved into it like a true drama queen that had just heard “Lights, camera, action,” but the sigh and the flutter of her eyelashes weren’t put on. She was glad to see him. “My car won’t start.”

“I was trying to help her but she wouldn’t let go of the damn screwdriver.” The kid shook his head. His tow-hair shadowed the disgust in his eyes as he moved away from the car. “Women.”

“Thanks for your help, but I’ll take over now.” Franc narrowed his eyes and gave the kid the once-over as he held out his hand.

Hesitating under the scrutiny, the kid stuck out his fist and took Franc’s, saying “You’re welcome.”

As if to confirm the hours he’d spent in the gym weren’t wasted, Franc firmed his grip. “See you around.”

Tony rubbed his palm on the side of his thigh as he started moving away. “Sure, I got somewhere to go.”

As soon as the kid turned his back, Maria laid into Franc. “You actually—” her voice shook as gave what for her passed as a growl “—thanked him!”

“Did I have any reason not to?”

“Tony touched my breast.”

A curse not meant for women’s ears ripped out of his throat. “I should have broken his arm!”

From the bushes he watched them as he stroked the cat.

Watched Jellic’s hands on her as he held her close then turned her back toward the car he’d taken such care to disable.

A new player in the game added excitement, but two was too many. If the young one came back he’d have to make an adjustment.

He almost smiled at the thought.

And at the same time he might use the modification to make sure Jellic didn’t get too close to her. He’d recognized him straight away and knew his competition would be a force to be reckoned with.

Such care and attention Jellic took of her, as if she was fragile. But only he knew how truly fragile Maria was. Ten years hadn’t changed that, or removed her look of innocence.

The innocence he’d taken for his own.

Half an hour later when the jump leads from Franc’s battery to hers made no difference, he threw in the towel. In fact, he screwed it up in a ball and chucked it in disgust. “We’re going to have to get the car towed.”

“Marvelous. It’s Christmas Eve, no one’s going to want to know. How am I going to get home?” Maria knew she sounded selfish after all Franc’s efforts, but she’d been looking forward to a couple of nights at home with the family, the one place she knew she’d be safe from Randy Searle.

“Leave it to me,” he said. “I know a garage.”

Franc was as good as his word, as far as it went, but even he couldn’t get her car fixed on Christmas Eve. Close on an hour slipped away as if made of water as they waited for a tow truck.

Business was obviously too good.

“I need to ring home. Maybe one of my brothers can spare the time away from the wife and kids to come and get me,” she said as Franc drank his second cup of coffee.

She’d punched in the area code and the first two digits, when a shadow fell across her and loomed large on the wall. Habit sent a shiver to ice her spine, and she knew there was no way she could stay here tonight alone with only her fears to keep her company.

A glance was enough to dispel them for now. Franc filled the door frame with his shoulders, bracing one against the jamb while his hand gripped the frame overhead. “Leave that for now. I have a better suggestion. Let me run you home.”

“That would be an imposition. I couldn’t do that to you the night before Christmas. I don’t even know why you turned up here in the first place, but I am grateful you did.”

He tapped his shirt pocket. “Damn! I didn’t return your glasses. I see now there wasn’t a rush. In fact, the ones you’re wearing look pretty cute. They’re the kind that prove you can look like a librarian and still be sexy.”

In the narrow hallway the atmosphere hummed with tension left over from the night before. It licked up the back of her neck in a way that made her head spin. It was all she could do to give him a sensible answer. “I keep telling you, I’m not that kind of librarian. I’m a researcher.” The husky murmur she achieved was less than sensible, but she couldn’t take it back.

He quirked an eyebrow at her to ask, “Does that mean you’ll save me the research and tell me where you want to go?”

But it was his crooked smile that had her saying, “The family vineyard is on the other side of Matheson’s Bay. It normally takes about two hours from Auckland, but tonight the roads will be jammed with traffic both ways.”

No matter how much she wanted to get home, she had to warn him, “If you give me a lift, I can’t see you getting back to Auckland much before midnight.”

“No worries, I’m a night owl. Besides, didn’t you say your brothers have kids? I’d feel bad about them missing out on all the fun, of hanging stockings and setting out the presents.”

Franc had just flicked the off switch on her original idea. She couldn’t take her brothers away from their children on Christmas Eve, no matter how much she dreaded spending a night in the house alone. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be fair. I accept your offer, but I hope you don’t regret making it.”

“What’s to regret?” He made a joke of it. “I’ll do anything if it gets me an extra three hours with my favorite woman.”

Maria’s eyes widened a moment then fluttered closed, leaving Franc with a picture of bruised violets crushed underfoot to tug at his conscience, because there was an element of truth in what he’d said.

“I know you’re teasing since we only met last night, but I can’t take you from your family on Christmas Eve, any more than I could take one of my brothers away from his family.”

His family? Hell, his sister was the only member of it he’d met up with in years.

“That’s because you’re judging my family by your standards. We’re all pretty much loners. Or we used to be. My sister got married last year, so you can count her out, but my brothers will be working through the holiday. She’s the only one of us who’s married, the rest of us are married to our jobs.”

Drago, the eldest, would be up to his neck in his latest book on the wines of New Zealand. As for the twins, just above Franc in age, Kurt would be hip-deep in work on the lodge he would open next year at Aoraki, Mount Cook National Park, not far from Queenstown, a tourist resort that had two busy seasons, winter for the skiing, and the rest of the year for the tourists.

The other Jellic twin, Kel, could be anyplace on the Pacific Rim, investigating drug trafficking, as if he lived his life in a movie. But in his case, the danger was real. And so secret he hadn’t contacted Franc when he’d been in town a few weeks ago. Kel had been in Auckland only last month and hadn’t even given him a call.

“And tomorrow, what are your plans?”

“Much of them revolve around kicking back on my own, watching the Sports Channel and eating the giant turkey-and-cranberry pizza I have stashed in the freezer.” Now that he’d said it out loud, he guessed it didn’t sound like anyone’s idea of a perfect Christmas, but after a year spent slogging his guts out, it had been his notion of hog heaven.

“Let’s make a deal then. I’ll let you drive me home if you will stay the night.” Maria raised twin arched eyebrows over eyes that brought his protest stuttering to a halt. “You wouldn’t want me sleepless through worrying if you made it home safely?”

Franc wasn’t about to contradict her. The only way he wanted her sleepless was in his arms, in his bed, moaning because she couldn’t get enough of him…

A sensation that prickled like a warning crept through the short hairs at the back of his neck. It followed the thought, But would he ever get enough of her?

What the hell was the matter with him? He’d been given about two weeks out of his usual routine. Twelve days max to indulge in a lighthearted fling, with one of those days already struck off and another well on its way.

With a flick of his wrist he checked his watch, reading the time past the scratches on the glass. For all it was gold, its slightly battered condition usually raised a few eyebrows until he mentioned it had been his father’s. The nods of understanding this engendered always wanted to make him laugh. The timepiece wasn’t worn to remind him of his father, its job was to remind him not to follow in his footsteps.

His father had crossed the line for money, but Franc would far rather be an honest jerk than a dead one like his dad.

“Isn’t it a bit late to expect your parents to put up a stranger for the night.”

“You don’t know Mamma. For her, nothing is impossible. Please say you’ll stay, then I can call and tell her you’re bringing me home with a clear conscience.”

“Okay, I guess one night couldn’t hurt.”

Maria shrugged as she put down the receiver. Her mother had sounded odd when she asked if Franc could stay the night. The inquisition she’d expected had been glaring by its absence. Instead, she’d caught a hint of relief in the brisk no-nonsense acceptance that Maria was bringing a friend home—for the first time. Although, it might simply be gratitude that Papa wouldn’t have to drive all that way to fetch her.

“Point me in the direction of your bag and I’ll carry it out while you make sure the house is secure.”

“I was going to change first.”

His gaze traveled from the tips of her toes to her face, trailing a flush of color in its wake where the blood rushed under her skin. “I don’t see what’s wrong with what you’re wearing, but give me a whistle when you’re ready.”

This was the type of treatment her brothers dished out, they were as protective of her as Mamma and Papa. “If you insist, but my case really isn’t that heavy.”

The house was a Victorian villa with a shotgun hallway that ran from front to back. Like a lot of others on Northcote Point it had been built long before Auckland Harbour Bridge had been a twinkle in the designer’s eye. She dashed into her room, grabbed her clothes from the wardrobe then dived across the hall into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. It wasn’t that she had any reason not to trust Franc, quite the opposite. But the business with Randy had made her look at every man in a new light.

So, where were your senses this afternoon when you gave Tony a chance to paw you?

After changing with the speed of a catwalk model, she whistled for Franc as instructed and discovered he hadn’t gone far when he appeared almost immediately, striding down the hall as if he owned the place. Some men carried an aura with them that made them at home anywhere. She guessed Franc was one of them.

She pushed back her bedroom door and pointed. “That’s my case on the bed. As you can see it’s quite small.”

His eyebrows shaped a V above the high bridge of his nose. “Are you sure you could get everything you need in there? We won’t drive halfway and discover you’ve forgotten something vital that means we have to turn around and fetch it?”

Franc’s question was a big giveaway to the type of women he was used to dealing with. For sure they weren’t like her. If she forgot anything, she was the one who had to go back for it. “Don’t worry. I keep a lot of casual gear at home. Most of my clothes here are strictly for business.”

Franc’s breadth made the bedroom walls close in on her. It was hard to be nonchalant about his presence beside her bed when what she wanted to do was quickly dodge past him to check that the windows were locked. She flicked a sideways glance at him from under her lashes, but his attention wasn’t on her. Following his gaze, she was mortified to see a pale pink lace chemise hanging out of the top drawer of the dresser, next to the bed.

She was usually so tidy, tucking everything in place the way the nuns had taught her at boarding school. Franc’s presence in the house must have flustered her.

And now her secret was out. Compared to the rest of her everyday wardrobe, her lingerie was hot.

It hadn’t seemed to matter that no one knew as it meant no one saw the scars her beautiful silk scanties were too small to hide.

Maria had been careful not to get into a situation that meant a man would expect to see her body, though the need to hide her scars hadn’t bothered her until now. Until Franc.

“Nice…” She heard the grin in his voice though his face never twitched.

She shaped her lips into a fierce grimace that only broadened his grin. “You never saw that,” she told him as she tucked the pink lace back where it belonged. “My mother would have a fit. She’s inclined to be old-fashioned.”

“When it comes to daughters, most mothers are,” he answered, yet his eyes said more. Touched more. He was doing it to her again, taking her libido on a journey it had never traversed before. Something shifted inside her, a need, a wanting, an ache.

She did her best to ignore it.

Franc studied her single bed as he picked up her case to leave. Neat and virginal, with family photographs on the nightstand; under its flower-sprigged quilt was hardly the place to conjure steamy dreams in the middle of the night. Unlike in his bed last night. Dreams stymied until he confronted Maria and his bed in one and the same place.

It didn’t seem to matter any longer that he’d first met her while she was looking for Randy. The last few hours made him certain that associating with Randy had done nothing to taint the innocence she exuded. How would it feel to have Maria surrender that innate innocence to him?

For Franc Jellic, it would be an unmistakable first.

Maria reached up to check the catch of the old-fashioned sash window closest to her bed. It was undone.

Newly formed ice, at odds with the temperature inside the room, slicked over her skin as she swiveled the small lever into place. Her gaze landed on the drawer she’d divested of its lacy adornment. She never treated her clothes that way or left her room untidy. Her training was too ingrained.

Her eyes searched the garden, focusing on the bushes Mimzie the cat had disturbed, unmoving now as if weighed down by the heat. Had someone been in her room? Randy?

Or was her imagination working overtime?

Wasn’t her journal farther over on the nightstand than she could easily reach from in bed? She grabbed it and put it in her purse. Hurrying to leave before Franc came back to look for her, she glanced over her shoulder, scanning the room, remembering the position of every ornament, every picture frame.

No matter how terrifying the prospect, she just had to know if anyone came into her room and touched her things while she was away. Then, on an impulse, she turned back, reopening the drawer to scoop up an armful of silk and lace underwear. Quivering, she tossed every last piece into the laundry basket.

Whether anyone had gazed at her ultrafeminine garments with lust in their heart she had no way of knowing, but the thought of it made her wonder what would happen if she told Franc. Would he help her see that Randy Searle got what was coming to him?

Or would he put it down as a flight of her imagination.

As she locked the door behind her, she remembered the cat next door sidling out of the bushes between the two properties. She still had the feeling she wasn’t alone and she wasn’t thinking of Franc.

Her last thought as she slid into the passenger seat was a prayer that he wouldn’t follow her home.

Chapter 3

The journey north hadn’t taken Franc as long as Maria predicted, and because of that, he’d stopped the car on the brow of a hill at a scenic outlook where Maria said the view of the coast was at its loveliest.

“I wish you could see the view properly. From this distance it’s muted around the edges, like an impressionist painting. I always think the best thing about going away is coming home again. How about you?”

“The view looks fine to me. As for going home, give me until tomorrow to see if that’s true. This is my first trip away from my new apartment.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Maria turned to face him, and something like sympathy flashed across her perfect features. “Is that why you wanted to stay home for the holiday? How long have you lived at Birkenhead Point?”

“Three months. I haven’t done much to the place yet. I bought it as it stood along with most of the furniture.”

“So that’s why it looks…?” She’d braved the kitchen and dining room and lounge of Franc’s apartment while he grabbed an overnight bag.

“Don’t tell me it needs a woman’s touch. It was a woman who designed it. Once I’ve had time to collect a little clutter of my own it will look different.” Work wouldn’t always be this frantic. One day soon he’d be able to indulge in the things he’d never had, like good paintings and pieces of furniture to his own taste that would take away the blank-canvas effect.

“I wasn’t going to say that. But from the little I saw of the apartment when you picked up your gear, it didn’t reflect your personality. It lacks your warmth.”

He hadn’t expected her be so perceptive, not when he’d been doing his damnedest to make sure their relationship was about sex, sex and more sex. Getting to know Maria better bore some considerations that went beyond trying to get her into bed with him. “Dare I take that as a compliment?”

“That would depend on how you see yourself.”

This was a moment that called for a kiss. On the other hand, in his Porsche Boxter only a contortionist could achieve the desired effect with any elegance.

He settled for tucking a few errant strands of slippery black hair behind her ear. It gave him a better view of her profile, short nose, full lips and the small mole that drew attention to them. A slight movement toward him turned his gesture into a caress as his fingers grazed her cheek. He felt a short sharp jolt in his chest. Face on, her features became twice as heart stopping and he had to force his reply out of a larynx gone rusty. “Definitely a compliment then. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me too soon. If I know Mamma, she’ll want chapter and verse about you and your family. So don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Warning heeded, but I doubt it’s necessary, I’ll only be there overnight.” No way could he tell Maria’s mother about Milo Jellic. Chances were if he did, his stay was likely to be of shorter duration. He’d learned that with some people of an older generation the sins of the fathers were still visited on their sons, especially with his father’s dubious history.

Bile spiked in his throat, taking him back to a past he’d thought was well and truly gone.

Abruptly he spun the wheel and pulled the car out onto the road. The sun had nearly finished its plunge into the hills behind them, and ahead scraps of pink reflection were strewn across the sea like silk banners.

With distance to add magic, house windows shone out of a denser patch of horizon, draping it with festive lights, a scene undiluted by knowing the truth. “I take it that’s Kawau Island?”

“Yes, it looks so different at this time of year. The population triples round the bays and inlets at Christmas. Home will be quiet in comparison. We ought to be there soon.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He was used to meeting strangers, selling himself and his ideas, that’s what had got him where he was today. What was wrong about spending one night out of a lifetime where, for a change, he had nothing to gain?

Except maybe their daughter? But then, he only wanted to borrow Maria, not keep her for good.

“How far to go now?” he asked as they sped down the hill and the lights on the horizon disappeared from view.

“We’re almost there. Look, over to the left. Can you see the lights winking through the vines? That’s the southern edge of our boundary.”

The car headlights illuminated a two-story white house with a blue roof and matching shutters. Welcoming lights shone out from the front porch. Kids’ picture-book stuff. And he was the guy whizzing the princess home. What did that make him, white knight, or wizard with evil intentions?

Only time would tell.

Rosa congratulated herself that when Maria had called earlier, to ask if Franc could stay the night, she hadn’t let her excitement show. This was an event that required marking on the calendar after all these months; her daughter was bringing the man she was dating home. The mystery man she’d wanted to keep to herself for a while. She supposed she couldn’t blame her; the Costellos en masse might scare away a prospective suitor.

Instead of the multitude of questions Rosa had wanted to ask, she’d simply said, “Yes, yes, bring him with you, we’ll see you soon,” and hung up.

From the window, she watched the sports car negotiate the gravel driveway. With its top down she could see Maria’s friend was exactly as she’d described him all those months ago. The car’s momentum blew his dark hair back from his forehead, a strong wide forehead. He looked reliable, the kind of man who wouldn’t hurt her baby, she thought with relief. At last she and Papa could go ahead with their plans without worrying.

She’d probably taken her mother away from the stove. Mamma loved to cook and always overdid the food at the holiday season, but then that was Mamma.

Maria knew that when they got inside, the house would be filled with the delicious aromas of lemons, dried fruits and spices. And tomorrow morning, her sister and sisters-in-law would add to the feast till the house overflowed with people and food.

Mamma was out on the porch by the time they drew up. The shutters behind her had faded to a milky-blue and the wraparound porch was overgrown with jasmine, but Maria wouldn’t change a thing. That’s what made it home.

Franc helped her out of the car just as her mother made it to the steps. Tiny and plump, her dark hair liberally streaked with silver, it didn’t stop her from leaping down the steps like an eager teenager.

Maria knew what was coming of old.

From one step up, Mamma easily reached her face, running her hands over it, looking into her eyes. “You’re so pretty, but why don’t you get contacts and let people see your eyes properly?” Then before Maria could reply, she cut her off by asking, “Have you been eating properly? You look thinner.”

“Never miss a meal, Mamma. I’ve been working hard.”

She saw her mother look past her shoulder at Franc as he pulled their bags out of the trunk. “Playing hard too, maybe. You need your sleep.”

“I’m okay, Mamma, don’t worry. Come meet my friend.”

“Franc, I’d like you to meet my mother, Rosa Costello.” Maria pulled him over. “Mamma, this is Franc Jellic.”

Franc held out his hand. He had expected someone more like Maria, but this little woman had hands like quicksilver, and their movement added emphasis to every word she spoke.

Maria finished introducing him. “Franc’s family came here from Dalmatia.” It was as if by telling her mother this, she created a bond between them that Rosa would approve of.

“Great, this year we’ll have a United Nations. I expect you know Papa and I are from Italy, but did Maria tell you Kris, her brother-in-law, is German.”

Rosa smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling as she took his hand. “I’m happy to meet you, Franc.” Reaching up, she gave his cheek a gentle tap. “You be good to my girl.”

“Oh, Mamma.” Maria protested loudly, as if shocked.

Rosa just laughed. “Franc understands.”

“You could say I got the message.” Could this woman see right through him? He tightened his gut. What happened when he got inside, would they bring out the thumbscrews?

“See, I told you, he understands. I’m glad this daughter of mine has brought you to meet us at last. Welcome to our home.”

Franc darted a glance toward Maria, waiting for her to correct the misunderstanding. When she didn’t, he began to say, “No—”

“I know,” cut in Rosa. “No time. People in Auckland are always busy, but you’re here now. That’s all that matters. Come on inside and meet the others.” To Maria, she said, “Papa gave me a moment to have you to myself.”

“I bet he’s just keeping out of the way in case you start weeping all over us. He knows how sentimental you are at Christmas.” Maria stepped between them, slipping a hand through each of their arms, separating them as they climbed the steps to the porch.

Her mother chuckled, “No, if you hadn’t come—then I might have cried. The others can thank Franc that it won’t come down to that.”

Rosa leaned forward and looked at Franc. “Maria doesn’t come home often enough to suit me.” She looked him up and down and winked. “But I suppose I can’t blame her.”

Franc lifted an eyebrow at Maria for guidance.

She scrunched up her eyes and mouthed the word wait then turned to her mother. “You said others, who else is here?”

“Everyone. It’s a surprise, the whole family is here to spend Christmas together under one roof.”

Maria had a premonition of doom. No wonder her mother hadn’t been able to take the time to speak to her earlier. She wondered who’d be sleeping on the couch, her or Franc. But her mother hadn’t finished. “I’ve put you two in the small rooms at the end of the house.”

She looked at Franc again as if measuring him up. “Only single beds, I’m afraid, and the connecting bathroom is tiny, but I’m sure you’ll manage. The children can all squeeze into one room for a change. I expect they’ll like that better anyhow. I just hope we can put up with the noise.” She chuckled. “This is going to be a wonderful Christmas.”

For years after her abduction, her family had kept her close, their way of protecting her from the big bad world. Now, her mother had done an about-face with a vengeance.

What really bothered her was Mamma’s willingness to throw her into the arms of the first man Maria had ever brought home.

For the moment, all she could do was go with the flow and explain to Franc later. She squeezed his arm as they entered the large sitting room. “I’ll explain after,” she whispered, hoping Franc got her message and that his sense of humor was in line with her own.

The moment he entered the sitting room Franc realized he was outnumbered. The words enemy territory flashed before his eyes.

The huge sitting room ran the full width of the house and was practically bursting at the seams, adults, kids…cats. In self-defense, he bent to pick up the cat, giving his hands something else to do other than drag Maria out of there and back into his own comfort zone.

As his brain worked on his problem, he counted six children, my God, six, and five adults, not including the three of them entering the room.

Everyone talked at once, and the snatches of conversation he managed to pick up made no sense. Rosa brought a tall slim man with dark thinning hair, who, from the looks of him, couldn’t be anyone other than Maria’s father. Franc let the cat spring to the floor as everyone stopped talking. And stared at him. Now he understood what it meant to be put under a microscope.

“Franc, this is Pietro, Maria’s father.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind Franc heard a clang of metal gates shutting behind him. Trapped.

Everything in the room, the people, the atmosphere, all the kids, were perfect reminders of why he didn’t do the family thing. The urge to run a finger round inside his collar made his hand itch, but he kept it clamped by his side. It was all too much like sitcom material.

Pietro clasped his hand, shaking it heartily, with a hand that was as tanned as his face. His dark eyes creased into a hundred lines as his laughter kept time with the energetic pumping of hands. Hard calluses bit into Franc’s knuckles. Lean and sinewy, like the hands of a man who had worked hard all his life, they carried as little meat as the rest of the older guy’s body.

“Welcome. We thought Maria was never going to let us meet you. And tonight is the ideal time.”

There it was again. The family had him confused with someone else. Randy maybe, though that thought stung in spades.

Why didn’t Maria just come right out and tell them? Set them straight, for Pete’s sake?

He glanced at her; she shook her head, and left him none the wiser. He read embarrassment, and maybe a little confusion in her expression at her father’s effusive welcome.

As Pietro let go, Franc reached out for Maria, meshing his fingers with hers. For a couple of seconds he rubbed both sets of knuckles against his thigh on the off chance it would relieve the tension gripping him.

A damn futile course of action as it turned out. How could he have known it felt the natural thing to do, as if they often communicated this way?

His heart turned traitor, thudding against his breastbone as he found himself wishing it wasn’t a lie.

Escape.

A wiser man would have turned on his tail and run. Franc caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth as if grounding himself in the present instead of cloud cuckoo land where all this junk was happening to him. “So? Apart from Christmas, what’s so special about this evening?” Franc asked, before realizing he might have left himself open to some crazy suggestion.

Laughingly, Pietro slapped him on the shoulder. “You will find out soon, we’ve been waiting for you both to arrive. But first…” He turned to Maria. “Introduce Franc to the rest of the family while I open some wine.”

Then he turned to Rosa, saying, “Wineglasses, Mamma.”

Maria squeezed Franc’s fingers, stopping him voicing the question at the forefront of his mind. “Don’t let this lot scare you off, Franc. They can be a bit overpowering at first.”

“Like this situation, you mean.”

She studied his eyes. For all his abrupt statement of the facts, warmth softened their depths, making her knees go weak. “Can you wait until later for an explanation? Please? I don’t want to embarrass my parents. Mamma in particular.”

He released her hand, but the imprint of his remained as she waited to hear him say no. Instead, he looped an arm around her shoulders, stooping closer so no one else could hear, and whispered, “I intend to keep you to your word. And it had better be good.” That said, Franc continued to hold her against the lean muscled strength of his body as they moved farther into the room.

Last night, they’d danced almost as close, so the combination of aftershave and his peculiarly male muskiness filling her head was already fixed in her memory. But she hadn’t known a man’s body could burn with such heat. A heat so strong it made her want to melt into him and over him till she couldn’t tell where she began and he ended.

Her insides clenched and she almost cried out with the strangeness of the sensation. This was desire, and until Franc, she’d never known its effect could be so utterly physical.

The journey of a few feet seemed to have lasted a mile. Now, an arm’s length away from the generations of Costello, born in New Zealand, she warned him, “Okay, take a deep breath and keep in mind most of us are of Italian descent. If they ask anything embarrassing, just pretend you didn’t hear, and answer someone else’s question.”

He slightly pushed away, flicking her with a glance that said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

So, he was new to the game. He’d learn.

There didn’t seem to be as many of them with everyone sitting down, now he’d gotten over the hurdle of meeting them all, and the shock of having two more adults appear from the kitchen.

Way past their bedtime, the children still rolled around the faded Persian rugs, pushing, shoving, laughing and squabbling over toys, but no one appeared worried.

The sitting room was comfortably, yet tastefully decorated, suitable for a big family. Long and narrow, open French doors led to a tiled patio at the far end of the room where a breeze drifted in, lifting the sheer curtains hanging on either side.

“Quiet, you lot,” ordered Giovanna, a younger version of Rosa, who was married to Kris; she sat with a baby on her knee. Two of the older boys looked up for a second and went back to their game, and the noise continued.

Everyone, her sister, brothers and their various spouses were being very nice, too nice. Suffocatingly nice.

Look-how-good-it-is-to-be-married nice.

If it hadn’t been his suggestion to drive Maria home, he could almost think he’d been set up. It was as if the Costellos were husband shopping for their little sister and his name was on the top of their list. All he wanted to do was find a big black pen and score it out.

Maria appeared to be going along with the charade that they’d known each other a lot longer than two days, when she deferred to his opinion. “What do you think, Franc?”

And she smiled a lot, touching him shyly, as if they were lovers in the first flush of discovery.

Lovers. The word took on more onerous connotations than ever before. He couldn’t deny making love to Maria had been on his mind, but he hadn’t planned on having her family around when it happened.

Franc took a quick step back from his thoughts. The aura of nuptial bliss had to be messing with his mind. Next thing he knew, he’d be breaking out in a cold sweat.

It was a relief to see Pietro come back into the room carrying bottles of wine—sparkling, from the shape of them.

Andrea, the eldest brother, commented, “Must be something special, Papa’s had that wine laid down in his personal cellar for almost ten years.”

The cold sweat arrived with a vision that played havoc with his imagination, of Pietro standing up and announcing his daughter’s betrothal. To him!

No. Even Maria wouldn’t go that far to please her family. As for him, was it fear of actually playing along with the charade that made his top lip damp?

As the wine fizzed in the background, Franc took stock of his reactions. There was no doubt about it, this was unfamiliar territory. And maybe he was actually shying away from discovering what he’d missed out on. He’d never experienced the close-knit structure that the Costellos projected as a family.

To make more space now that everyone was in the sitting room, Franc perched on the arm of Maria’s chair. Around them the atmosphere sparkled like the wine frothing from the bottles. Pietro poured, while Rosa passed around champagne flutes, and when they were done, stood together before the fireplace.

“We wish to make a toast,” Pietro announced, holding up his glass. “To our retirement.” He clinked glasses with Rosa and they both drank.

They were going to sell the house! Maria couldn’t believe it. A dull roar had settled inside the top of her head and it wasn’t caused by champagne. Her tongue felt stiff and thick, and the words she wanted to say, questions she needed to ask, wouldn’t come out. It was the shock. She’d never ever thought they would sell the house.

Andrea found his tongue first. “What about the vineyard? You can’t sell that!”

Pietro lifted his hand in a calming motion. “Of course not. The vineyard will belong to all of you, and the work needn’t change. I know three of you have your own vineyards, but maybe this is the time to expand and begin taking on the big vineyards. Of course, you will have to come to some agreement with Maria, she may want to sell her share.”

“I don’t want to sell.” If she knew one solitary thing, it was that she could never barter her rights to Falcon’s Rise Winery for money.

“We couldn’t afford to buy you out anyway,” her brother, Michel countered, frowning. She knew why. His vineyard was the least established, and he owed more money on it. He and Sarah had been in their house less than a year.

As questions buffeted her ears from every side, Maria piped up, “What about the house? Do you have to sell it?”

She wished it unsaid as soon as the words were out, but the others all had their own homes. All she had was a room for rent in the city. It wasn’t the same thing.

This house was her home.

“Enough!” One word from Rosa and silence replaced their anxious questions. “We thought you’d be happy for us. We won’t move far. We’re thinking of Warkworth. But first we want to take a vacation in Italy.” Rosa slid her arm round her husband’s waist. “Drink up now,” she ordered. “Be happy for us.”

Franc carried their bags as they followed her mother upstairs.

Just as well. She didn’t feel fit for anything as she trailed behind, her head ringing with the news. What was worse, she hadn’t known it would affect her this way. Thoughts of selling the vineyard hadn’t troubled her before because she’d been sure it would always be there. Always be her home.

“The rooms are at the far end of the hall,” said Mamma to Franc. “You’ll like the view, they look down over the patio.”

Gradually, her feet slowed. Connecting rooms. How could her mother do this to her? It had to be because they were retiring. Nothing else could explain their eagerness to be rid of her.

“Tell him how nice the view is, Maria.”

“It’s very nice.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” her mother chided as she opened the door on the right and flicked on the light. “You’re in here, Franc.”

He propped her bag against the door opposite his then shrugged through the narrow entrance to the room he’d been allotted.

She wished now that she’d said something and ended up with the whole family annoyed with her instead of Franc, who probably wanted to ring her neck right about now. She measured the space between the two doors. The distance could have been longer, say, about half a mile. While her mother showed Franc where everything went, Maria carried her bag next door.

The room was smaller than her one down the hall with its queen-size bed, but at least it was quite airy, and higher than the mosquito line, so the window could be left open at night. She smiled as she imagined her nieces and nephews sleeping top-and-tail in her bed. This she had to see.

Her good mood lasted until she heard her mother showing Franc the bathroom. “It’s small, but it will give you more privacy from the children.”

The door on Maria’s side of the bathroom was flung open and her mother entered. “Maria can show you where the towels are kept if you need more. Now,” she said, looking as if she’d just performed magic, “I’ll see you for supper in a few minutes. No need to unpack. Just wash up.”

Maria turned her back on Franc, who was framed in the doorway, and walked over to gaze out the window. Her brothers and Kris were on the patio, watching Papa wave his arms around, pointing things out to the others. It didn’t matter that it was dark; they all knew the vineyard like the backs of their hands. The way she did.

“No time for looking out the window,” Mamma told her. “Get ready for supper.”

Franc leaned against her bedroom door as if that would bar it against Rosa. Maria hadn’t moved from the window. She glanced over her shoulder at him as though she wondered what he was doing there, in her room. Well, he’d soon set her straight. He wouldn’t be here a minute longer than he could help.

He took a deep breath to center his thoughts and find some balance. Now he knew what they meant by culture shock. He was suffering from it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Maria shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“You should have told your mother we’d only just met. When I take a woman to bed, I prefer to do my own asking. I won’t be forced.”

“No force intended, we have separate rooms.”

“Connecting rooms.” He’d had enough. Maria was no help. “Look, I’ve no intention of stepping into Randy Searle’s shoes. So what do I have to do to get out of this place? Should I come down with a virus, or do I have to break a leg?”

He felt as if he was coming down with a case of happy-families, a disease that came with a ton of mouths to feed and could only spell disaster for his ambitions. The chances of his taking Maria to his bed no longer seemed like a cure for what ailed him.

Although he sensed he might just die a happy man, if he was going to go down, he’d be fighting all the way.

Chapter 4

Franc raised an eyebrow, as Maria’s response was an indignant snort. “Ha! Try that and you’ll be here for a month, not just overnight. My mother would love it. She’d nurse you to within an inch of your life.”

She lifted a hand to her mouth as her breath caught between a giggle and words. “Believe me, I’ve been there. I never want to be sick around Mamma again. So be warned, don’t even sneeze in her direction, or she’ll be looking out for an old remedy passed down from her great-great-grandmother.”

Maria’s laughter was unexpected and infectious; he joined in. It was a relief to do something normal, ordinary. Then he remembered. “But what is she going to think when she eventually meets Randy?”

“There is no Randy—in that way.” She shook her head and released a sigh before carrying on. “My mother was worried about me being left on the shelf. She and her sisters married very young, but she forgets things change, a woman doesn’t have to get married these days, not even to have a family.”

She looked up at him from under the veil of her lashes. Her lips quirked and he had the darnedest urge to reach out and touch the mole beside it that seemed to say, “Kiss me quick.”

“My mother was making noises—loud noises—about me going to Italy to meet some nice Italian boys.” She shuddered. “And though I know she would never force me, the thought of Mamma’s relatives lining them up for inspection was enough to send me running for the hills or composing an excuse. Sooo, to keep Mamma happy, I made someone up. It just so happens that his description fits you to a tee.”

He’d thought this convoluted situation bizarre, but it was getting worse. “I gather that would make me your ideal man?”

“On the outside, but it takes more than good looks to make an ideal man.”

It wasn’t an insult as such, but his reaction must have shown, because she laughed, and it was enough for now to see Maria’s eyes shed the dull flat look they’d held since her parents had made the announcement downstairs. “Yeah, he’d need to be able to commit, and my background lets me down there, but you still haven’t explained about Randy.”

“I just needed to see him, and your receptionist let slip where you were holding the party, so I visited the restaurant, looking for him.”

An oblique answer that left him no wiser than when he’d arrived at Falcon’s Rise and been catapulted out of his comfort zone. He grasped her shoulders as the truth dawned, and he gasped, “You mean you gate-crashed? The party?”

“If you remembered, I wanted to leave and you insisted I stay, but I never said Randy was my date. Besides, how could Mamma mistake you for him, you’re nothing alike.”

“I thought she’d forgotten his name or something. Grandma Glamuzina used to do it all the time with my brothers and me. Whoever she was looking at took the—” He broke off as one of the kids peeped in the door. “The blame.”

“Supper time,” the boy gurgled, as if it was a great joke that Maria had a man in her room that seemed about to kiss her. He was still laughing as he ran down the hall, but the noise he made bouncing down the stairs muffled everything else.

“Which one was that?” He’d be damned if he could tell them apart no matter that Maria had told him all their names.

“Ricky. He’ll have gone to share with the others. At that age they’re easily pleased.”

“C’mon,” he said, making good on Ricky’s speculation by planting a fast hard kiss on her lips. “The rest of the explanations can wait until after supper, I’m starving.”

Maria looked dazed for a second, but as he grasped her hand to pull her with him, she recovered her wits. “Well, I sincerely hope you like Italian food or you’ll stay hungry.”

He turned, trapping her against him in the doorway as he ducked his head, releasing a ravenous growl as he nibbled on her earlobe. “I thought you’d have guessed by now, I’m hungry for anything Italian.” And to prove it he kissed her again, drowning in the sweetness of her, lifting his head only when the sound of childish laughter reminded him they had an audience. One that stifled his impulse to carry Maria to the bed and finish what they’d started in the doorway.

As always, his nearness had a startling effect on Maria’s senses. She leaned against the doorjamb, her heart throbbing to a rhythm she was only beginning to learn. Fist clenched against her breasts as if that would soothe it, she called, “Shoo!” to the children hogging the top of the stairs, then turned back to Franc.

Without conscious thought, she brought her free hand up to lie on his chest, his large body seeming to surround hers again. Her fingers rasped against the knit of his shirt. Every breath he took, stilled and held, as she felt his heat seep into her palm, through his black polo shirt.

One big palm pressed her closer, the other cupped her cheek as her gaze mingled with his. It felt so right, the closeness, the touching, breathing the same air. The connection she felt with Franc burned fiercely, making her mouth turn dry. Moistening her lips with her tongue was no help.

“Don’t worry about me, hon. I won’t do anything to spoil your Christmas.” She felt rather than heard his reassurances. His voice scraped across her nerve endings like dry pumice stone. “I don’t enjoy seeing people hurt.”

“This will be our last Christmas in this house. We were all brought up here. There’s a tree in the garden where we all carved our initials one summer.”

He pulled her back into the doorway. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

He gently caressed her cheek with his thumb. She wanted to close her eyes and wallow in the feelings his touch wrought in her body. But the newness of them, the brand-new sensation of letting another human being, and male at that, closer than ever before, made her want to see his reactions, as well.

Her eyebrows flicked up at the outside edge, dark and softly gleaming, like a tui’s wings as it took flight. And the way she trembled, Franc wondered if the same thing, flight, was on her mind.

“I wish there was some way I could imagine what it was like, all this closeness, but my family—we couldn’t wait to leave home.” He hadn’t said it deliberately to play on her emotions. Hadn’t touched her to set her lips quivering. The lipstick hadn’t been invented that could imitate the soft rose pink of Maria’s mouth. And nothing under the sun could stop him from taking her face in both hands and running his thumb over the silklike surface, reviving the memory of its texture under his mouth.

That first kiss? Had it only been last night?

“You must have missed a lot, growing up. I wish you’d known us then. We’d have dragged you into the fold.”

He thought about all the warmth he’d noticed downstairs and shook his head, knowing it would never have happened. Was never going to happen.

“You’re a much nicer person than I am, hon,” he murmured against the swell of her mouth. Like the champagne they’d just drunk, her taste flowered on his lips, tingled on his tongue as she opened to its pressure, and lingered on his palate. There was no doubt about it. Maria was a gold-medal winner and far too good for a man like himself.

Franc’s mood darkened on a twist of pain. For himself, for Maria. Especially Maria. She deserved better than him, but now he’d had a taste of her, he’d never let her go—not before he’d drunk his fill.

He sealed his compliment with another kiss. Her head bumped against his shoulder as he lifted his mouth from hers. His breathing grated past his larynx as he sought to control the hard ache in his groin. He’d been in this condition almost permanently since he’d met her. One touch and his hormones roared in agony, without a sign of relief in sight.

“We can’t keep letting our emotions take control.”

Typical Maria, always making him smile. “Hon, if I didn’t have mine under control, you’d be on that bed right now. The only thing stopping me is knowing it’s your parents’ house and any moment some kid is going to come flying through the door.”

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