[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer (9 page)

Callie’s next two appointments went even
better than the previous one. Lingerie Plus were thrilled to discover a new
line of generously proportioned underwear, and their manager—a young woman
around the same age as Callie—loved Rowan’s designs and bought some items for
herself on the spot. The best thing was that the store had branches in all the
major cities, and the manager promised to bring the Four Seasons brand up at
the next head office meeting and spread the word.

JimJam’s was similarly as successful.
Primarily a sleepwear shop, they fell in love with Rowan’s large collection of
nightwear and pajamas, and agreed to stock all of her designs, as well as a few
pieces of lingerie.

By the end of the day, a buzz of excitement
had begun to grow in Callie’s stomach. She hadn’t imagined it all. Four Seasons
really was going to be as successful as she’d hoped. She couldn’t wait to tell
the others.

“What now?” she asked Gene as they got in
the car. “Snazzy restaurant and a nightclub?”

“I’m far too old for that,” he said wryly.
“Plus, you need your rest—we have a long drive tomorrow. Back to the hotel,
dinner, and bed for you, young lady.”

She stuck out her tongue. The corner of his
mouth curved up, but he didn’t say anything. He’d been quiet since they’d
arrived at the hotel. She suspected it had been something to do with the phone
call he’d ignored in the car and presumably taken in his room. He seemed preoccupied,
solemn. And that wouldn’t do at all.

“I might go on my own,” she said. “I feel
like dancing.”

His eyes widened with alarm. “Please don’t.
Because then I’ll have to go with you, and I don’t dance.”

“You don’t dance?”

“Nope. And don’t think I don’t read in your
eyes how much you’d enjoy torturing me by making me do it. I beg you, dinner,
then bed.”

“If you insist,” she said.

His gaze slid from the road to her.
“Alone,” he clarified after meeting her eyes.

“I’m to be alone at dinner, or alone in bed?”

He sighed. “I’m happy to accompany you to
dinner.”

“Aw, Gene. You’re such a spoilsport.”

“And you’re a terrible tease.”

“Well, you look so serious. In fact, I
shall call you Mr. Serious from now on.”

“I’ve been called worse.” He pulled into
the car park. “What time do you want dinner?”

“I’m starving. Let’s eat early.”

“Okay, five thirty?”

“Great. It’ll give me time to get changed.”

They returned to their rooms, and Callie
took a shower, then chose a pretty summer dress to wear to dinner. Rowan had
made it for her in a stunning, silky fabric covered with orange and red
flowers. Callie felt that it complemented the summer weather, which seemed to
be turning hotter by the hour. As she listened to the TV while she got ready,
she heard the weatherman say that almost the whole country was experiencing a
heatwave that showed no signs of moving at the moment. Thank God the hotels and
the car had air conditioning, she thought, knowing that it would only get
warmer and more humid the further north they went. She’d be a puddle by the
time they reached the subtropical Bay of Islands.

At five thirty, a knock sounded on the
door, so she picked up her bag and opened it to find Gene waiting for her.

She rolled her eyes as she shut the door
behind her. “Don’t you ever relax?” She gestured to his outfit. He’d changed,
but only into another three-piece suit.

“Is that a complaint?” he asked as they
walked along the corridor. “I thought women liked guys in suits.”

“We do. I feel guilty, though.”

“Why? This is a business trip.”

“I know. But you are allowed to relax.”

“I don’t do relaxing.” He held the door
open for her to precede him down the stairs.

“You don’t dance, you don’t relax… How do
you let off steam, Mr. Serious?”

“I work out. I’ll go to the gym later.”

“How dull.”

He smiled. “Don’t you keep fit?”

“I walk a lot, and I go to a dance aerobics
class at home twice a week. But I don’t like gyms.”

“I can’t imagine you sitting still long
enough to use a piece of equipment,” he said. “You’re quite a fidget.”

“Mum used to say I had ants in my pants
when I was a kid.”

“That’s a fair description.”

They walked into the busy restaurant, where
Callie discovered that Gene had booked a table for them, which was a relief
because if left up to her they’d have been forced to eat in a burger joint.

“Shame it’s not outside,” she said as they
took their seats in the center of the restaurant. “It would have been lovely in
the evening sun.”

“Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything else
available,” he said.

“Never mind, this is lovely.”

The waiter gave them a menu, and they
perused it for a while before ordering an oven-baked salmon fillet filled with
oysters in Gene’s case, and pan-seared scallops in avocado and coriander cream
and bacon aioli for Callie.

“I’ll have a glass of Sauvignon, please,”
Callie said when the waiter asked what she’d like to drink.

“A Diet Coke for me,” Gene advised him.

The waiter nodded and left.

“Don’t you drink?” Callie asked.

“Not while I’m on duty.” He smiled.

“Please have a beer or something. I feel
bad drinking on my own.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t, but I feel as if I should.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

She relented. Clearly, he wanted to remain
clearheaded. Better that, she thought, than be the sort of man who always had a
drink in his hand. Looking out of the window, she gave a silent sigh. She
wasn’t going to think about her father now.

*

“Tell me about your parents,” Gene said.

Callie’s eyes widened, and she frowned at
him. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Read my mind.”

“I apologize. I was just following your
example.”

Her lips curved up again. He realized that
was their default position—they were nearly always set in a smile. He liked
that about her.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

Obviously, he was going to have to pretend
he hadn’t met her mother and father. He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable
with lying to her, half wishing he hadn’t started the conversation, but he was
interested to hear her side of the story. “Are they both alive?”

She considered him for a moment, and he
could almost see her rifling through the filing cupboards of her mind, deciding
which files to extract and what information to tell him. “Yes. My father’s also
ex-Army—a major. He lives in Napier now with his second wife.”

“Do you get on well with him?”

“I do. Most people find him grouchy and
pompous, but I’m an only child, and he’s always spoilt me, so we get on fine.”
She smiled.

He wondered whether she’d mention Peter
Summer’s alcoholism, but she said nothing, and he couldn’t think how to raise
the subject, so he changed tack. “What about your mother?”

Callie leaned back in her chair and looked
out of the window. He followed her gaze. The sun wouldn’t set until nearly nine
o’clock this far south, and the beach was still busy, filled with holidaymakers
enjoying the summer heat. Kids splashed around in the shallows, throwing beach
balls and making sandcastles, while parents read books and took the opportunity
to relax while their children were entertained for a while.

Gene didn’t really look at them, though. He
was too busy scanning the area and noting any suspicious activity—single,
watchful men, or people hanging around parked cars. His phone call to Kev had
filled him with renewed enthusiasm to protect Callie and help track down the
madman hunting her.

Finding nothing, he glanced around the restaurant.
He’d deliberately asked for a table indoors as he felt too exposed outside. It
was busy, but so far there were no signs of anything to worry about. He’d
remain alert, though. He wouldn’t drink alcohol again until the tour was over
and hopefully Kirk had been caught.

Suddenly aware that Callie still hadn’t
said anything, he looked back at her. For once, her smile had faded, and her
eyes were distant. “Callie?”

She brought her gaze back to him and
cleared her throat. “My mother and I have a… complicated relationship.”

“In what way?”

“She’s a Crown Prosecutor in the Wellington
Crown Solicitors. She’s very highly regarded, and extremely good at what she
does. She’s a strong woman—the strongest I know. Competent, courageous,
determined. She’s a great role model for young women.”

“But…”

“But I think her ambition caused her
marriage to fail, and I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive her for that.”

Gene sipped his drink. Obviously, Phoebe
had never told her the truth about why their marriage had ended. Well, it
wasn’t his place to tell her. Even so, he hated having all these secrets from
her. “That’s a shame,” he said, the most noncommittal comment he could think
of.

“I think I’m a disappointment to her,”
Callie added.

He softened inside. It was true that Phoebe
had put Callie down a little when describing her. Why was it that parents had
such power over the rest of one’s life? “I can’t imagine that’s the case,” he
said, knowing nevertheless that she probably spoke the truth.

Callie sighed. “When I was young, she gave
me frequent speeches about aiming high and how I could achieve anything I put
my mind to. She expected me to follow in her footsteps. Maybe not be a lawyer,
exactly, but she assumed I’d run the police force or invent a cure for cancer,
or something. Running a lingerie business wasn’t quite what she had in mind.”

“She’s told you that?”

Callie tipped her head from side to side.
“Not in so many words, but she’s very good at being disapproving without
actually saying anything. She thinks I’m decadent and self-indulgent. She
thinks we should all aim to improve the lives of our fellow men and women, and
any career that focuses on beauty or clothes or the arts is pointless.” She
turned her wine glass around in her fingers. “What do you think?”

“Does it matter?”

“I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t. You don’t
like to share your opinions, and that interests me.”

He scratched an eyebrow. “Some would call
that being nosey.”

“Don’t evade the question. Do you think
what I do is pointless?”

“Designing and selling beautiful undergarments
so women can make themselves look gorgeous when they take off their clothes?
Yeah. That’s a real of waste of time.”

“Be serious,” she scolded.

“I am. That’s my name, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

He wanted to make her feel better, to lift
the shadow of sadness that had fallen over her eyes. “My opinion—as you seem so
keen to know it—is that everyone is given a gift, and life is about discovering
that gift and using it the best way you can. Not everyone is made to be a top
surgeon or to run the country. Life can be harsh and cruel, and it’s the arts—paintings,
music, beautiful things—that make it worthwhile. I can’t paint to save my life,
but I certainly wouldn’t have told Monet that he should have gotten himself a
job as a lawyer.”

“When you put it like that…”

“You and Rowan and Neve and Bridget make
and sell garments that make women feel better about themselves. It’s a very
rewarding career, in my mind.”

She smiled at him. “That’s a lovely thing
to say, even if you don’t mean it.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Callie.
Life isn’t all about momentous decisions and world-scale events. It’s the
little things that make it special. A smile from someone when you’re having a
bad day. Treating yourself to an ice-cold lager or a bar of chocolate. Sharing a
meal with a beautiful woman. Those are the things that make it all worthwhile.”

She raised her glass to her lips and sipped
from it, her lashes downcast. To his surprise, a touch of color appeared in her
cheeks. He’d made her blush.
Aw.

“Tell me about your parents,” she said
before raising her gaze to his.

He’d wondered whether she’d tell him about
the death threats she and Phoebe had received, but she obviously didn’t feel
able to confide in him yet.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“Much the same as you, I’m afraid to say. My father hated me going into the Army.
He thought I should have been a writer. I think he wanted me to be Ernest
Hemingway. Freddie’s his favorite.”

“Because he’s an accountant! That’s so
dull.”

“It’s respectable, and he makes a great
deal of money.”

She blew a raspberry. “Boring.”

He chuckled. “You don’t like that word, do
you?”