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
