waited while she got in and fastened her seat belt. Then he closed the door, stepped back, and raised a hand in farewell as she drove off.
Heading for the stairs and his own car, Gabriel wore a preoccupied frown. After their first encounter he’d told himself the woman in the car park haunted him because he felt guilty about her fall. But when he spotted her again today he’d felt a quick leap of excitement, then a weird sensation of tightness attacked his chest, and his palms had dampened. He hadn’t felt that way since the first time he asked a girl out, when he’d been a gawky adolescent. Until today.
He’d wanted to grab her, make sure she stayed at his side until he knew all about her. But, he recalled, pressing the remote button on his key ring as he approached his car, at the first touch of his hand she’d skittered away.
The sight of the name on his card had thawed her a little. Cynicism intervened for a moment, reminding him of other women who had showed increased interest when they learned who he was. But even then Rhiannon had hesitated, so that her subsequent capitulation had surprised him.
He got into the Audi and started the engine. Rhiannon. He liked the flowing syllables of her name, just as he’d liked the look of her from when he’d first seen her.
Checking his mirrors, he backed out of the space, then headed for the down ramp. So she didn’t know him, but was that reason enough for her to be so unforthcoming? Was she like that with all men? What would make a woman that cautious?
A couple of things came to mind, and unconsciously his fingers tightened about the wheel. His jaw ached and he realised he had clenched his teeth hard. Consciously he eased taut muscles, telling himself not to jump to conclusions. Just because a woman hadn’t thrown herself into his arms at first glance, and seemed unaffected by the curse and blessing of his face, it didn’t mean there was something wrong with her.
Maybe that was what intrigued him about Rhiannon. She hadn’t reacted as most women did, even though he’d frankly shown his interest, without—he hoped—being crass about it. Her cursory glances held no answering spark of awareness. And she didn’t like him touching her.
That was something he intended to change.
CHAPTER TWO
GABRIEL planned his strategy carefully. It was two weeks before he strolled into Mosaica not long before closing time.
Rhiannon was at the counter serving a customer, and there was no sign of the assistant she’d mentioned.
He inspected the paintings, sculptures and other art, paying particular attention to several mosaics, and ran his gaze over the bookshelves lining the back wall, while eavesdropping on the conversation at the counter.
Rhiannon’s voice was warm and confident, describing the process of firing and glazing the ceramic piece the customer had chosen, and offering gift-wrapping and postage. When she’d closed the transaction, her thanks and farewell were pleasantly friendly.
A young girl and her mother who had been browsing among the displays left seconds later. Gabriel picked out a volume on traditional Pacific carving and took it to the counter.
Rhiannon blinked when she recognised him, her face tautening infinitesimally. Not the reaction he would have preferred, but at least it indicated he had some effect on her.
Giving her his most reassuring smile, he placed the book on the counter and pulled out a credit card.
She seemed uncertain then, maybe wondering if he’d forgotten her.
No way, he told her silently. She was even lovelier than he’d remembered. And she’d been teasing his memory powerfully since their last meeting.
She entered the transaction, wrapped the book with deft movements and handed it to him. Gabriel resisted the temptation to brush his fingers against hers as he took it.
‘Thanks, Rhiannon.’ He noted the slight widening of her eyes before he indicated a wall-hung mosaic depicting a long-legged pukeko with shining blue plumage stalking beside a watercourse edged with reeds and ferns. ‘Your work?’
She shook her head. ‘Not that one.’
‘The abstract designs around the doorway?’ He’d been able to pinpoint the location of the gallery easily by the colourful whirls and swirls that invited customers in.
‘Mine,’ she confirmed.
‘I’m impressed.’ Small talk, designed to put her at ease, but true all the same. He released her from his gaze and glanced about them. ‘It’s a classy place.’
‘Thank you. I hope you enjoy the book.’
‘I’m sure I will. Can you spare time for that cup of coffee later?’ He smiled again, a practised smile that made him despise himself.
Rhiannon hesitated, then she said in a little rush, ‘You’ll have to wait while I cash up.’
‘No problem.’ He shrugged. ‘Shall I help you lock the doors?’
She looked a bit disconcerted. ‘I’ll do it when I leave.’
Was she afraid of being locked in with him? Gabriel didn’t know whether to be insulted, appalled or amused.
She did swing the big glass door shut and turn a sign on it to ‘Closed.’ Then she cleared the cash register and before disappearing into a back room, said, ‘Feel free to look around some more.’
Making it clear he wasn’t invited into the inner sanctum. What secrets could she have in there?
Gabriel used the time to inspect some of the gallery’s wares more closely, lingering at a large, abstract mosaic panel propped against a wall.
Coloured stones, metallic paint and twisted copper wire added richness and texture to apparent randomness, clashing colours and broken lines. But like some kind of optical illusion, the colours and lines gradually resolved into intricate, mesmerising patterns.
When Rhiannon joined him at last, a bag swinging from her shoulder and a light jacket over her arm, he said abruptly, ‘I want that panel. It’s your work, isn’t it?’
‘You saw the signature?’
He hadn’t but now he noticed the initials unobtrusively scribbled in a lower corner, on a piece of tile.
Not wanting to spook her, he thought better of confessing that he’d guessed, inexplicably certain that he was right. Instead he just smiled and shrugged as if she’d caught him out trying to be clever.
‘Are you serious?’ she asked him.
‘Very serious.’
He was intrigued anew by the emotional play in her face—doubt, uncertainty, totally at odds with her manner to her previous customers.
‘I’ll pick it up another time,’ he said, ‘but I can pay now if you like.’
‘That’s all right. I’ll put a Sold sticker on it,’ she promised finally. ‘And if you change your mind—’
‘I don’t change my mind once I
