SEVEN
THE impetus to continue shopping was sadly lacking. She needed a different image, something to distract her from dwelling on Adam’s bitter invective.
There was a multiple number of cinemas within the shopping complex. She’d go buy a ticket and choose a film to view.
A film about the Titanic was currently showing, and it was after six when she entered the car park, located her car and slid in behind the wheel.
Her mobile phone message-bank listed that two calls had been received during her cinema sojourn. One was from Sebastian, the other from the police. She contacted the duty sergeant at the designated number, who relayed the fact that trace on her aunt’s telephone had been successful, then contacted Sebastian.
He picked up on the second ring. ‘Lanier.’
A concise, deep voice that had the ability to raise goose-bumps on the surface of her skin.
‘Anneke.’ She barely paused a second. ‘I’m leaving now.’ She cut the connection, then switched on the ignition and eased the car down several floors to street level.
The drive to Byron Bay was uneventful, and soon after crossing the Queensland-New South Wales border she passed paddocks high with mature sugar cane. Banana plantations dotted the distant rolling hills, and there were avocado farms, and rich, fertile soil revealing row upon row of pineapples.
Dusk fell swiftly, the shadows lengthening and deepening as light gave way to dark, and it was almost nine when she pulled in beneath the carport adjacent her aunt’s cottage.
She switched off the ignition, left her numerous purchases in the boot, then locked the car and trod the path to Sebastian’s back door.
Five minutes, ten at the most, then she’d leave.
The screen door was unlocked, and Shaef stood on the other side, tail swishing back and forth in welcome.
Anneke knocked and entered the kitchen, then moved down the hall. Sebastian had had part of the wall between two bedrooms removed. A large executive desk complete with a state-of-the-art computer sat in the middle of one room, and the other was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. In the centre of the room was a large antique buttoned leather armchair, with a matching ottoman, and a standard lamp. Combined, it made a large office-cum-library.
He looked up from the sheaf of papers he was studying, and leaned back in his chair.
‘Take a seat.’ He indicated one of two sited on the other side of the desk.
‘I’d really prefer to keep this short.’
He noted the weary curve of her shoulders, the faint lines of strain marring an otherwise smooth forehead.
Shaef moved forward, nuzzled her hand, then slumped at her feet.
Sebastian sent her a long, considering look. ‘Sit down.’
‘Still giving orders?’
He ignored the sally, his eyes dark and far too discerning. ‘Have you eaten?’
Food, in any shape or form, would probably make her ill. ‘I had something earlier.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie.
‘I’ll make some tea.’ He rose to his feet, crossed round the desk, then moved into the hall.
Anneke could hear the distant sound of water flowing from a tap, the faint hum of an electric kettle as it heated, the chink of crockery.
She closed her eyes. It had been a hell of a day. And it wasn’t over yet.
Sebastian re-entered the room, saw the fringe of lashes touching each cheek, the pale, translucent skin.
She was beat, and without doubt emotionally exhausted.
He placed the cup and saucer near the edge of the desk, and watched her nostrils flare slightly as the aroma of bergamot teased the air. Her lashes lifted, then swept upwards in a slow, curving arc.
‘Thanks.’
It was hot, heaven, and sweeter than she preferred. She took another appreciative sip, then put the cup carefully back onto the saucer.
‘I guess you know the police scored a positive trace to Adam’s mobile phone?’
Sebastian leaned one hip against the edge of the desk. ‘Yes.’
She tilted her head and looked at him. ‘Thank you for your concern.’ He deserved that. ‘And your help.’
‘As I recall, you weren’t too keen to accept either,’ Sebastian said drily.
No, she hadn’t been. ‘You were very controlling.’
One eyebrow rose, and his mouth curved with a tinge of humour. ‘I’m surprised you don’t add “manipulative”.’
‘That, too,’ Anneke agreed.
‘Did it ever occur to you to question why?’
With just a few words their conversation had taken a subtle shift, and she wasn’t comfortable with the change. ‘Maybe we can continue this another time.’ She stood to her feet, and immediately wished she hadn’t, for it brought her much closer to him than she would have liked. ‘Although it really isn’t necessary, is it?’ She took a backward step, and missed the faint gleam of amusement apparent in those dark eyes.
‘You think not? Perhaps I’d better clarify it.’ He reached for her shoulders and pulled her forward until she stood anchored between his thighs. Then he slowly lowered his head and brushed his lips against her temple. ‘Are you beginning to get the picture?’
One hand slid down her back and cupped her buttocks, while the other slipped up to hold fast her head.
‘Sebastian—’
His lips feathered down to the edge of her mouth, lingered there, then teased a trail of light kisses along the full lower curve.
‘I don’t think this is a—’
‘Good idea?’ He slid his tongue between her lips and felt rather than heard her breath catch.
‘No,’ Anneke whispered, as her heart raced to a faster beat, and heat flared through her veins.
His mouth was a soft caress as his hands moulded her close.
A kiss, she told herself. That’s all it is. Why, she could even persuade herself that it didn’t mean anything. Nothing at all. Men had kissed her before, in friendship, affection, and with a lover’s passion.
She lifted her hands and linked them together at his nape, then leant in against him to enjoy the sensation of closeness. And came seriously unstuck when his mouth firmed on her own.
He’d kissed her before, as a questing, seeking experiment, and as a form of angry punishment.
This, this was different. Very different.
