style="font-size:15px;"> A sharp horn-blast startled her, and she swore beneath her breath at her failure to notice the traffic light had changed from red to green.
Focus, Tina silently berated as she sent the car forward.
In a determined bid, she attempted to dismiss Nic Leandros from her mind.
Except it didn’t work. She could still feel the pressure of his mouth on her own, the taste of him. Dammit, the sensual sweep of his tongue.
Oh, for heaven’s sake! Get over it.
Nic Leandros was merely exerting male dominance in a spontaneous attempt to still her angry tirade.
Tina slept badly, and woke feeling as if she’d run a marathon. The beginnings of a headache threatened an emergence, and her stomach didn’t feel as if it belonged to her at all.
Sweet tea and dry toast…or was that merely an old wives’ tale?
The temptation to bury her head beneath the pillow and tell the world to go away was uppermost. Except it wasn’t going to happen.
There was work…and some time during the day she had to face Nic Leandros. The hope he might go away was as unlikely to be realised as a snowfall in summer.
What time was it? She checked the digital clock and groaned. Another hour before room service would deliver breakfast.
Okay, so she could do the sweet tea, and there was probably a snack-pack of dry biscuits in the complimentary mini-bar. The day’s newspaper should already be outside her door…
If her stomach decided to revolt, better sooner than later, she determined a trifle grimly.
Ten minutes later she cast the newspaper aside and took a leisurely shower, then dressed; she ate a healthy breakfast, tidied the suite, then she cast a glance at the time.
It was early, yet the need to keep occupied prompted the thought of work. Better to be at the boutique than sit twiddling her thumbs in a hotel room.
She would dust the fittings, vacuum, then check the floor stock before opening up at the usual time.
Early mornings tended to be slow, with few patrons making an appearance much before ten, when Lily reported in for the day.
With that in mind she collected her laptop, caught up her bag and went down to collect her car.
Double Bay was only a matter of kilometres distant, and she parked at the rear of the building, activated the car alarm, then crossed to the entrance out front.
Tina took great pride in the boutique with its elegant salon, beyond which lay a small back room where extra stock was stored, as well as the usual utilities.
There was a need to be in familiar surroundings, she acknowledged as she crossed the salon. To think and rationalise Nic Leandros’ proposition. She’d be damned if she’d term it a proposal.
She hadn’t thought of children; she definitely hadn’t considered marriage.
It was the reason she socialised within the safe company of a few selected and trusted friends. Vasili used to tease that while he protected her from male predators, she protected him from female fortune hunters. A mutually satisfactory relationship.
At least it had been until that fateful night when a friendly kiss had led to more. A tenderly concerned Vasili who had suggested it was time she made the final leap to sexual intimacy with a friend for whom she held affection and trust. Add the enhancement of wine…and it had seemed so logical at the time.
Ironic that the act should result in pregnancy. Yet she wanted this child…an unexpected gift in living memory of a fun and caring young man.
Was she right in keeping the child solely hers? If Vasili were alive, they’d share parenting and the child would assume the Leandros name.
So why did she baulk at Nic Leandros’ proposition?
Because Vasili’s half-brother was an unknown quantity. Older, ruthless…dangerous.
Yet she had to concede there were advantages. The child would have a father figure, a legal right to its heritage, grandparents, family. A stable, loving environment in which to grow.
On a personal level she’d have a steady male companion whom she could trust not to hit on her at the end of an evening.
Another plus was the knowledge Nic travelled extensively on business. A lot of the time he wouldn’t be in the same city, the same country.
The vacuum hummed as she ran it over carpet and marble tiles, then she carefully smoothed a dusting cloth over shelving, polished the mirrors before standing back to admire her handiwork.
The salon held the restrained elegance of an up-market boutique, its design and fittings…so exactly right for the Double Bay location renowned for its fashionistas, the wealthy women who could indulge their expensive tastes in imported and Australian designer apparel.
Tina possessed a natural love of clothes, and had done so for as long as she could remember, mix and matching outfits as she’d dressed her dolls…Barbie, of course, in each of her guises. As a teenager, she’d helped out in her mother’s boutique, proving she had a keen eye for fashion, accessories, and an instinctual flair for putting things together.
There was no hesitation in which field she’d make her career, and she’d learnt the retail clothing trade from the floor up…initially through her mother’s expert tutelage, then in one of Sydney’s large city stores for three years before returning to co-manage her mother’s Double Bay boutique.
Until five years ago when Claire had met and married Felipe, the second love of her life, shifted base to Noosa, leased her apartment and left Tina in control.
The Double Bay social set employed a reasonably routine shopping pattern, meeting around nine-thirty for coffee, electing to begin browsing the various boutiques around ten-thirty, followed by a long lunch at one of the trendy restaurants, before doing the air-kiss thing and departing for homes cleaned by professionals.
Lily arrived promptly at ten, almost bursting into the boutique, modifying her excitement as Tina finished dealing with a patron who’d bought the entire outfit displayed in the front window…including shoes and handbag.
A folded newspaper was placed onto the glass-topped island counter.
‘Have you seen this?’ Lily demanded, sotto voce, following it with an irrepressible grin.
Tina glanced at the newsprint and felt the breath catch in her throat. Strategically placed centre page was a reasonably sized photograph taken the previous night at the restaurant, together with a bold caption speculating a date for Nic Leandros’ forthcoming marriage to Tina Matheson.
‘How come you kept this to yourself?’ Lily teased. ‘Give.’
The truth was a credibility stretch…even for a friend. ‘It represents a gross misinterpretation by the media.’ Initiated by a determined manipulative man, Tina added silently, and met Lily’s speculative gaze.
‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
‘For
