shrug, and she couldn’t resist teasing him a little.
‘A full social calendar,’ she said gravely. ‘And several women vying for your attention?’
‘Ah, you flatter me.’
‘No,’ she assured him kindly. ‘You’re a very nice man, of whom I’m very fond.’ And one any woman in her right mind would snap up in a minute. Except his late wife Isabella held a special place in his heart, and he had no desire to find a substitute.
A mutual acquaintance joined them, and after a few minutes she moved away.
‘I think,’ a light feminine voice suggested, ‘you might need to sharpen your claws.’
Hannah turned towards Suzanne Trenton. ‘Really? And use them on whom? Miguel?’
‘Camille, darling. There are other methods a wife can use to tame her husband.’
It was meaningless repartee, spoken with jesting cynicism for the benefit of mutual amusement.
‘Such as?’ Hannah ventured, and Suzanne gave a soft laugh.
‘Expensive jewellery.’
‘Do enlighten me,’ Miguel drawled as he threaded his fingers through those of his wife.
Hannah stood perfectly still for a few seconds, then she allowed her gaze to meet his. ‘Pink and white diamonds,’ she fabricated. ‘A drop necklace and matching earrings.’ A bewitching smile tilted the edge of her lips. ‘They’re quite beautiful.’
‘Is this a wifely hint?’ His mouth slanted into a humorous curve, at variance with the still watchfulness evident as he raked her features, noting the over-bright smile, her tense stance.
At that moment Graziella announced dinner was about to be served, and began directing guests towards the dining room.
‘There was no need for you to desert me,’ Miguel intoned mildly as they moved across the room.
‘You appeared to be doing quite well on your own.’
‘Careful, querida,’ he drawled musingly. ‘Your claws are showing.’
She gave him a winsome smile. ‘Why, amante,’ she offered with quiet emphasis, ‘I haven’t even begun to unsheathe them.’
If Graziella seated them close to Camille, she’d scream. The gods couldn’t be that unkind, could they?
It appeared they could.
‘I thought I’d place you opposite Camille,’ Graziella remarked as she suggested prearranged seating arrangements. ‘Hannah studied French and lived in Paris for more than a year,’ she informed Camille graciously. ‘As you’re both in the fashion industry, you’ll have much in common.’
Oh, my, this was going to be a fun evening!
‘GRAZIELLA tells me you have a boutique on Toorak Road,’ Camille began soon after they were seated. ‘I must call in and check it out.’
‘Please do,’ Hannah said civilly, for what else could she say? Miguel was engaged in conversation with Peter Trenton, exploring the mores of legalese.
‘Do you carry a range of accessories?’
A hired waitress began serving the first course, a delicate clear broth.
‘A small selection of scarves, belts,’ Hannah elaborated. ‘Exclusive hosiery.’
Camille lifted an expressive eyebrow. ‘Miguel has no objection?’
‘To what, specifically?’ she countered, reluctant to play Camille’s game.
‘Your little hobby.’
Considering the hours she worked, the responsibility to her clients, the sheer expertise required in running a successful business, the Frenchwoman’s words were an insult…as they were meant to be.
Hannah summoned a sweet smile. ‘He’s relieved I have something constructive to do with my time.’
‘Surely he would prefer you to be available for him?’
Hannah looked at the Frenchwoman, caught the avaricious gleam apparent, and opted for blatant honesty. ‘On call to accommodate his slightest whim?’
Camille spread her hands expressively. ‘Why…naturally, darling. If you don’t, there are others who will oblige.’
‘Such as you?’ There was nothing like going direct for the jugular!
Camille appeared to choose her words with care. ‘He’s a very wealthy man, is he not?’
‘And wealth is everything?’
Camille’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘It wields a power of its own.’
‘A reciprocal power.’ There was no need for pretence. It was no secret the Santanas-Martinez marriage had been conveniently arranged to legally combine two family fortunes.
‘Power versus sexual attraction,’ Camille pondered. ‘Which would Miguel choose, do you think?’
Hannah held Camille’s gaze, and discarded subtlety. ‘I would say he already has.’
The other woman glanced at the wide baguette diamond wedding ring adorning Hannah’s left hand. ‘Most men will stray, given sufficient provocation.’
She wanted to dispute the words. Insist with total knowledge that Miguel was not most men, and his fidelity and loyalty to her were a given.
The soup plates were removed and a starter served. Hannah looked at the artistically displayed smoked salmon dribbled with a caper sauce nestling in a nest of finely cut salad, and felt her appetite diminish.
Tension curled inside her stomach, and she took a sip of wine, then picked up her fork and attempted to do justice to the starter.
Miguel was an attractive man, possessed of a primitive masculinity that drew women like a magnet. There had been occasions when she’d been mildly amused by other women’s attempts at coquetry, all too aware the flirtation was merely a harmless game.
Instinct warned her that Camille didn’t fit into the harmless category, and that bothered her more than she cared to admit, for it raised questions to which she had no answers.
Could Miguel be tempted? Would he be sufficiently cavalier to indulge in an extra-marital affair? Somehow she didn’t think so, but did she really know?
Theirs was a mutually convenient marriage that had business as its base. Love wasn’t an issue…at least, not on Miguel’s part. He cared for her, and she told herself it was enough.
One thing she was sure of—she
