thought of his clothes clinging to the satin-soft creaminess of her skin had him rock hard in a split second. He fought the urge to turn around and watch her. Did her body clamour to repeat their nocturnal experience in the cold light of day as loudly as his did?
Apparently not. Eventually she came forward and plopped down into the passenger’s seat in the cab and he got his first real look at her.
Hell, she barely looked twenty. Delicate fingers combed through tousled, long brown hair, hair that inthe streaks of early sunlight reflected reddish lights of burnished copper. Delicate fingers that had held him last night, had guided him inside her body. His gut clenched into a fiery ball of want and he forced his eyes forward to the frozen landscape that stretched ahead of them, not willing to see what lay in her green eyes, not wanting to commit the pale heart-shaped face to his memory. But it was already too late. He would never forget her. Not her scent, not her touch—nothing.
“Thanks. For everything.” Her voice was husky, hesitant, as if she found the words difficult to say.
“You’re welcome,” he ground out through teeth that ached, they were clenched so hard together. He forced his gaze back out the windscreen. It was clear she regretted her impulsiveness already. Okay, he could be a gentleman. He could ignore last night and the clawing need that the mere sight of her aroused in him. Somehow. “So, where are you headed?”
“Auckland, but you can drop me at the nearest town. I need to make a phone call first.”
“That’s it then?”
He heard her breath catch in her throat, just the slightest hitch, but quite enough to tell him she’d understood his question fully. Her answer was softly spoken but rang with finality as she turned to stare out the passenger window. “Yes, that’s it.”
Mason ran a finger inside the stiff white collar of his shirt and loosened his tie another blessed millimetre. All day he’d been plagued by last night’s memories. Finally, while he was getting ready for the wedding, he’d resolved to try to find out who she was. The registration of her wrecked car would be a good start once it was dragged from the river. A few calls would do it. Then he would track her down—to see if they could make something more of the incendiary passion they’d shared. He’d never known anything like it. Like her. He wanted to know more.
He thought of what he’d gotten up to as a teenager to rile his dad and of the five years he’d spent in the army—of how he’d constantly searched for that one thing that would make his life feel like it had a purpose. The one thing to fill the void he himself couldn’t define. For a brief time that void had been filled last night. He had to find her. He had to know if she was what he’d been looking for.
Patrick gave him a nudge as the opening strains of the wedding march drew the assembled congregation to their feet in unison. A hush settled amongst the crowd as the bride began her journey down the thickly carpeted centre aisle in Auckland’s oldest and largest city church. All heads turned for their first look at the wife-to-be of one of New Zealand’s wealthiest men and for the first time in his life Mason Knight nearly blacked out as his midnight lover glided down the aisle.
One
Present day…
“It’s quite simple, Helena. If you don’t assign control of Brody’s half share of the business to me within the next thirty days I will take every step to ensure the world knows exactly how you and my father met. Let’s see how your precious son copes at school once everyone knows that juicy titbit.”
He knew? How on earth had he found out? Helena’s stomach lurched. Despite how careful she’d been to conceal her past, it was something she’d known could come out of the woodwork anytime in the last twelve years. That it should be from Patrick’s eldest son, Evan, shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
Her heart ached for Brody. He had only just settled back at his exclusive boarding school and had been troubled since Patrick’s sudden death—easily upset and reluctant to leave her. Understandable, all of it, of course. She was already worried about how he’d cope at school during this difficult period of adjustment. If Evan spread his poisonous secret Brody’s life would become a living hell. She would not let that happen.
But what on earth was she to do? Already entrenched in the company as marketing director, from the day of Patrick’s fatal heart attack, Evan had exerted his power as new part owner of Davies Freight and taken over Patrick’s chair and the decision-making processes that fell to the managing director. She’d been unable to stop him, and with the demands of dealing with Brody’s grief, not to mention her own, she hadn’t had the energy left to fight back in the boardroom. This week, she’d finally returned to the office, where she supervised the business’s administration. It hadn’t taken long to discover Evan had completely taken over.
Evan had never appreciated or understood his father’s love of the cut and thrust of the industry, or his cautious plans for expansion. No, all he saw was an easy ticket to maintain his plush lifestyle and the quickest way to get rid of her. Of course, on paper, he could be seen to have gone through the motions—pitching new contracts, renewing old ones—but deeper analysis had shown the truth. If Evan was permitted to keep on his current path the business would be bankrupt within a year.
She’d grown up having to scrape together every penny. There was no way she would let that happen to her son.
A look of scorn slid across her stepson’s face, making it patently clear that no matter how coldly polite he’d been to her while his father was alive, the gloves were most definitely off now. Helena’s fingernails bit into her palms as she struggled not to whack him hard across his smug features. No doubt he hoped she’d do exactly that. With his connections, he could press assault charges and see her son removed from her care. Then he could do whatever he wanted with Brody’s share of the company. Yeah, he’d like that all right, but it sure wouldn’t happen this side of hell freezing over. Not while she still had breath in her body.
What scared her most was if Evan discovered the full truth he’d delight in ripping his much younger half brother to shreds. With the resources he had at his disposal she knew he’d have people digging for dirt on her—the fact he’d found out how she and Patrick had met was just one example of how far he was prepared to go to find anything to discredit her and help him reach his avaricious goal. She had to protect her son, no matter what, and at the same time to somehow find the courage to honour Patrick’s last wishes to the letter.
Helena swallowed back the tears that threatened. When she’d met Patrick she’d been prepared to accept his help in return for her companionship in marriage. She’d never dreamed she would learn to love him. She missed her husband more than she could ever have imagined—his steady hand on the tiller of their world, his gentle encouragement to strive for her dreams, his unadulterated enjoyment in the child born within the first year of their marriage. He’d always boasted Brody had made him young again. Not young enough, unfortunately, to see the fast-growing boy much past eleven years old.
“So?” Evan’s sneer jerked her back to cold harsh reality. “What do you say?”
“I can’t answer you now, Evan. It’s too soon.”
“Don’t underestimate me, Helena. You and the bratare just a blip on my radar. I’ll leave now, but remember I will have what’s my due—one way or another.”
Helena couldn’t bring herself to rise from her chair to even see him from her home, couldn’t trust herself not to resort to the old Helena and to fly at him, giving vent
