depended on whether last night’s meal had been a one-off, or if she’d duplicated dishes of which, while each separate one was a gourmet delight, the combination left something to be desired.
He thought of the rich bombe au chocolat reposing on a shelf in his refrigerator. Death by chocolate? Somehow he had the feeling the dessert was meant to be his bête noir.
‘Enjoy.’
‘Thank you,’ Sebastian acknowledged as he took the tray, watching as she took a few seconds to fondle Shaef’s ears. Then she turned towards Vivienne’s cottage, and he viewed the elegant sway of her hips with male appreciation before taking the tray to the dining room table.
Shaef cast him an enquiring look and pricked his ears.
‘That makes two of us,’ Sebastian murmured as he placed dishes onto the table, caught up cutlery, and removed covers.
It only took a glance to interpret Anneke’s meaning. Get stuffed. A slow, musing smile widened his mouth.
Vivienne’s niece had gone to considerable trouble to exact revenge.
With deft movements he consigned the sponge, strawberries and cream concoction to the refrigerator.
Pride had prevented her from serving up burnt offerings, or the blandest of fare. Pride, and loyalty to her aunt.
Well, he wouldn’t spoil Anneke’s game.
He, too, could employ a little subterfuge. If most all of the minor repairs around Vivienne’s property were completed within a week instead of the months she’d originally suggested, then so be it.
A slow smile curved his mouth, and the edges lifted in humour. And if he ran out of things to do, then he would invent some.
Sebastian sat down at the table and carefully removed a portion of stuffing from each vegetable, then sliced into the delectable-looking steak.
A man would need to be wary around a woman like Anneke. His lips twitched and his eyes gleamed with cynical amusement. If each prepared meal provided an indication of her mood, then the next week or two could prove interesting.
Afterwards he scraped discarded stuffing into the refuse bin, made recklessly strong coffee, then carried it through to the office, turned on the computer screen and began to work.
Intrigued to discover within a short space of time that a minor female character of his creation had developed a few traits that changed stoic to sassy.
Anneke surveyed the number of pots and kitchen utensils atop the kitchen benchtop and wrinkled her nose at the folly of creating culinary mayhem.
Rinse and soak, she decided, then she’d attack the dishes when she’d eaten her own modest meal of salad greens with nuts, fresh cantaloupe, mango and feta cheese.
Afterwards, she’d thumb through Aunt Vivienne’s numerous cookbooks and plot a menu for tomorrow evening’s meal, then list the ingredients she needed to buy.
At nine Aunt Vivienne rang, with an update on Elise’s health and the latest monitor results on the unborn twins. It was a case of ‘no change’ being good news.
Almost as soon as Anneke replaced the receiver, her mobile phone rang, and she indulged in a lengthy chat with a friend in Sydney before ending the call and retiring to bed with a book.
The morning brought a light rain, and after a leisurely breakfast Anneke showered and changed, then drove to Byron Bay to collect fresh seafood.
On impulse she opted to spend the day baking, and purchased ingredients to make a Christmas cake. Several small ones, she decided, would make excellent gifts for friends, wrapped in red and green Cellophane and tied with decorative ribbons. She could take them back with her, or, if she chose to lengthen her stay, then she could consign them via the postal service.
It rained on and off all day. Alternate heavy and light showers with very little time in between.
The kitchen was soon redolent with various aromas, as Anneke washed and soaked a variety of dried fruit in sherry and brandy.
By mid-afternoon shortbread, cut in fingers, lay cooling on baking racks. There was one tin filled with rumballs, another with fudge brownies. Tomorrow she’d bake Christmas cakes.
A quick glance at her watch determined it was time to begin preparing Sebastian’s evening meal.
A secretive smile teased the edges of her mouth. She almost wished she could see his expression when he uncovered a platter containing miso soup thick with seaweed and tofu, grilled eel in a rich oyster sauce, sushi with slices of raw fish and seaweed delicacies, and faux caviare. Flavoured tofu with fruit comprised dessert.
Sebastian heeded her knock, caught her carefully composed expression, and was immediately on guard.
He mentally conjured the thick T-bone steak he’d removed from the freezer earlier in the day, the makings for a salad he could put together in minutes, and sought to protect his palate.
‘Why not join me tomorrow night?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your work,’ she responded with extreme politeness.
‘An hour or two won’t cause much damage.’
‘Damage’ was the operative word, and she didn’t covet an hour in his company, much less two. Besides, if she shared a meal with him she’d have to resort to conventional cooking, and that would definitely spoil the fun.
‘Maybe another time.’ Without a further word she turned and retraced her steps.
It was as well he liked Japanese food, although he conceded her choice of dishes was probably as deliberate as it was unusual. The dessert joined the chocolate bombe and the strawberry sponge sitting in his refrigerator.
Anneke checked the dried fruit, stacked shortbread into one of her aunt’s cake tins, then cleaned up the kitchen.
After a day of preparing food, she opted for something simple for her own meal, and followed it with a bowl of fresh fruit. She added ice to a glass, filled it with water, then carried it through to the lounge and switched on the television.
The phone rang at nine. She remembered the time, as she glanced at her watch. Even as she picked up the receiver she had the instinctive feeling this was going to be a repeat of yesterday’s nuisance call.
Bingo, Anneke registered as no one answered her greeting, and within seconds she could hear audible breathing on the line.
Who would do something like this? It couldn’t be aimed at Aunt Vivienne, surely? Yet who knew Anneke was here?
She cut the connection and replaced the handset, then stood staring at the telephone as if willing it to divulge relevant information.
For five minutes she hovered in the kitchen, wiping down bench surfaces that had already been wiped, checking cupboards, the refrigerator, the pantry. Just in case the call was repeated.
The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she should report it. But what could the police do, except relay advice she
