His smile told her he didn’t believe her. ‘A pity. I’m afraid it won’t garner Maire Faris good publicity—the dress doesn’t show to advantage. However, her name is mentioned.’
Something in his tone made her uncomfortable. She said stiffly, ‘I’m glad.’
Fixing his gaze on a canvas that to Sable looked like a too-dramatic representation of a bad headache, he asked with casual interest, ‘Have you heard from Brent lately?’
‘No.’ She stole a glance at his profile, strong and commanding. Something very strange happened to her stomach—no, her heart.
Ignore it, she told herself sturdily, and said with brittle composure, ‘Apparently he’s not going to be able to contact anyone for a month or so. Rather ironic that a man whose life is focused on the internet should deliberately leave himself without access to it.’
‘I think he’s ready to go cold turkey for a while,’ Kain said. He delivered a low-wattage version of that killer smile. ‘Thank you for showing me around.’
She said formally, ‘I hope we’ll see you at the auction.’ He’d been invited; she’d have to check to see if he’d accepted.
‘Possibly.’
Her complete ignorance had probably blown any chance of a good sale, she thought with wry resignation and accompanied him back to the reception area.
Poppy looked up, her pretty face awed. With some surprise Sable noted the smile he bestowed on the younger girl. Friendly, appreciative, it showed none of the antagonism that seemed to underlie his attitude to her.
In response, Poppy blushed brilliantly, melting without any visible sign of resistance.
Afterwards Sable had to endure the younger woman’s sighing comments, relieved when lunchtime came—only to find herself being warned during the meal by Maire.
‘Kain’s nothing like his cousin,’ the older woman said, eyeing the huge muffin she’d chosen. ‘Brent’s a nice boy—bright too, and he obviously has a good business brain when it comes to the internet—but he doesn’t have Kain’s charisma.’
‘No,’ Sable agreed, touched in some secret part. She’d been on her own since she was seventeen, and the only womanly influence in her life had been her father’s neighbour Miss Popham, an elderly woman whose brisk, practical attitude hadn’t encouraged confidences.
Don’t go there, she thought and hurriedly transferred her attention back to Maire. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to fall for either of them.’
‘It’s not always that easy,’ the designer said shrewdly, ‘especially as you’re living with Brent.’
‘I’m not—I’m staying in his apartment until I find a suitable flat.’ Because it was important, she emphasised, ‘We aren’t lovers—or even possible lovers.’
Maire lifted incredulous brows.
Harried, Sable expanded, ‘He’s years younger than me, for heaven’s sake, and I feel positively ancient when I’m with him. We haven’t got that sort of relationship—haven’t even exchanged so much as a kiss!’
‘But he wants to,’ Maire said pragmatically.
Sable sighed. ‘It’s not going to happen. He knows that now.’
‘So why did you move in with him?’
Normally she wouldn’t have considered it, but one weekend while Sable was away her flatmate had held a party, a wild affair that had led to a wholesale trashing of the villa they shared.
Briefly she explained, and Maire tut-tutted. ‘Your name was on the lease, was it?’
‘Yes.’ It hadn’t surprised Sable when she and her repentant flatmate had been asked to leave, but she’d been horrified to discover that her landlady—an elderly widow—had let the insurance lapse.
Because, she’d informed Sable, she’d considered her to be a responsible person who’d look after the place. And perhaps because she’d just forgotten. Legally, of course, Sable wasn’t obliged to pay for the damage, but for her own peace of mind she needed to. The landlady had been kind to her, and she hated to leave with a stain on her conscience—already stained enough, she thought grimly. Repayment had emptied out her bank account and left her feeling intensely vulnerable.
Firmly changing the subject, she said, ‘As for Kain, he’s not the sort of man I’m comfortable with.’ She paused, then added with some irony, ‘I find him too overwhelming.’
‘You must be the only woman in New Zealand to feel that way.’ Maire sighed and slathered some butter on her muffin. ‘All right, I’ve had my say. If I remember anything of my far-distant youth, it’s how unwelcome advice can be.’
‘I didn’t mean to sound abrupt—’
Maire laughed. ‘You didn’t. I was just being meddlesome. I’ve known Kain since he was a kid and even then he was the most self-sufficient person I’ve ever come across. Just as well—he was only twelve when his parents were killed, and at eighteen he took over the family business because it was going under. He had to grow up really fast.’
Interested in spite of herself, Sable said, ‘He and Brent don’t seem to have anything in common.’
‘Pretty much nothing beyond brains and genes.’ She sighed. ‘I really, really wanted to get my hands on the woman young Brent was with last year. She had a great body and she was good-looking, but if she’d come to me I’d have steered her away from cleavage and clothes so tight you could see the pores of her skin under the fabric. Not that Brent seemed to mind,’ she said wryly, adding, ‘Kain, on the other hand, goes for class and intelligence and sophistication in his lovers.’
‘So who’s the present incumbent?’ Sable tried to make her voice only mildly interested.
‘Oh, he hasn’t lived with any of them.’ Maire shot her an amused glance. ‘And even though he must be ten or so years older than his cousin, he’s probably had fewer lovers than Brent. Their attitudes differ; Brent treats women like buying from a chain store, whereas Kain chooses a more select wardrobe from a designer.’
But he knew infinitely more about women than Brent, Sable thought, an inward shiver tightening her skin.
She stopped herself from asking more questions because she most emphatically was not interested in Kain Gerard’s love life.
‘Of course there was a six-month period when he and that film star—Jacie Dixon—were a very hot item. They kept it discreet and low-key, but the photos in the tabloids just about smoked off the pages.’
Sable hoped that her amused smile hid an ignoble pang of something that most emphatically was not envy. ‘I wouldn’t have picked you for a keen follower of the tabloids.’
‘I’m not, but my granddaughter is obsessed with celebrities.’ Her companion sighed again. ‘I know far more about the secret lives of Hollywood stars than I care to, believe me. Fiona’s a sucker for a good-looking man, and she has a secret stash of photos of Kain Gerard.’
