The Wrong Sister (10 page)

“I was doing some work in the study this afternoon. And I realized although we don’t have a wheel-chair, we do have a
wheeled
chair. I could take you through to the living room on this until you’re more comfortable on those crutches? Do you want to get up for dinner?”

She struggled onto her elbows and the traitorous sheet slid below her breasts. Lying down flat with him looming over her was unnerving—she felt far too vulnerable. Knowing he could see through the thin old nightgown had just made the sensation so much worse. Perhaps she should have insisted her parents took her back to Auckland, after all?

“Dinner? I’m allowed up for that, am I?”

“If you feel well enough.”

He wrenched his gaze out over the harbor. The last thing she needed was him staring at her breasts like a schoolboy.

Again he held up the silk robe until she was out of bed, then lowered it so she could slip her hands down the sleeves. The beautiful dip of her waist and the gentle flare of her hips were silhouetted against the lowering sun. He clenched his teeth, trying not to react.
 

His hand had touched her right there on the evening of the barbecue. He remembered when they’d queued for their food that he’d been pushed against her by someone else in the line. He’d steadied himself by grabbing her waist—had enjoyed the contact—had pretended he’d had too much to drink to disguise the fact he couldn’t bear to let go of her.
 

He drew the robe up her arms and settled it over her shoulders, then stepped around and sat on the bed so he could wrap first one side then the other over her body. Her dangerous breasts were only inches away from his lips. With every ounce of self-control he could find, he ignored them, smoothed the sash around her, and began to tie a careful bow.

“I feel so responsible for your injuries,” he said, raising his eyes to hers.

“My fault—not yours at all,” she countered. “I shouldn’t have gone near the doorway.”

“I should have pulled you back in time.”
 

He emphasized the action by sliding his hands around her waist and giving her a gentle tug toward him.

And Fiona stumbled forward one unexpected step so she stood right between his parted thighs, knees pressed against his groin.
 

Reacting instinctively to the intimate contact, Christian snaked his arms around her, holding her captive so he could lay his cheek against her warmth and softness.
 

He barely believed it when Fiona smoothed her palm down past the ridge of his cheekbone to stroke his face, laid her other hand on his shoulder, and then curled it around his back so she could draw him more tightly against her.

“Poor Christian—you’ve had a lot to bear,” she murmured as she rocked him gently to and fro.

Fiona’s pulse thundered. How many times had she imagined this? Against all the odds, her secret wish had been granted. Suddenly she had the perfect excuse to touch and caress Christian without him ever knowing how turned-on she was.
 

She moved the hand cradling his face. Trailed down his neck and then raised it to touch his dark hair again. Ran her fingers through its clean softness and on to explore his cheekbone and jaw. Her fingertips registered the slight scratchiness of his late afternoon stubble, scraped lovingly upward again to intensify the sensation, then smoothed down and just held him.
 

She hoped Christian thought she was offering sympathy and not sex. She knew her heart must be galloping at a giveaway rate right under his ear, and for sure he’d feel her fingers exploring and soothing him, but he hadn’t drawn away. He was in her arms, and for the moment that was enough.
 

 
Then the air rushed out of her lungs as he turned his face and buried it between her silk-covered breasts like a small hurt boy.

Fiona stroked down the back of his head again and again, giving him time to recover his composure. It must have been absolutely soul-destroying for him to lose Jan. To watch his lovely wife fading beyond recovery. To see her enduring the wretched chemotherapy with so little hope near the end. To lose her while she was young and beautiful and enjoying the daily discoveries of new motherhood. It had been bad enough for Fiona following her progress—or lack of progress—from the other side of the world, but to have to face it every day must have broken his heart.

Christian remained sitting on the side of the bed for several more minutes, holding Fiona wrapped in his arms. Finally, hating to do it, he relaxed his grip a little and raised his guilty eyes to hers.
 

The corner of his mouth twitched.
 

“I should be the one comforting you. I suppose I’ve been hurting you, hanging on like this?”

“Hardly at all.”
 

He set his hands onto her hipbones and made a small barrier between them, then gave her a tiny regretful nudge.

“Try the chair.”

Sighing, Fiona half-turned and stepped back. Christian rose to hold the chair steady as she sat. He started to push her toward the door.

“No, wait. The mirror please. Let’s see how bad I look.”
 

“Damn good, considering what you’ve been through.”

“I looked awful after lunch.”
 

She frowned as she regarded her reflection. “I’ll scare poor Nicky. Let’s see if we can disguise this big bruise on the side of my face at least.” She pointed to a tube of foundation. “Can you dot some of that over it?”

Christian squatted beside the chair and squeezed a dab onto his finger. It was the last thing he needed—permission to touch her again.

“Not my usual thing.”

“Paint by numbers,” she said. “Do the purple bit peachy.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ll be gentle.”

He cupped her face in one hand to steady it, and began to smooth the make-up over her bruised jaw.

“Pat it,” she advised.

He rolled his eyes and she started to giggle.

“Stay still then.”

“You’re tickling.”

“And
you’re
getting better if you’re starting to give me orders again.”

“I don’t give you orders....”

“Eat this toast, Christian. Let me look after you, Christian...” he gently mocked her.

“I promised Mom and Dad. And Jan would want you both well cared for,” she protested.

“Jan would want
you
well cared for too, but I don’t think she’d expect me to paint your face.”

“She wouldn’t want me scaring her daughter,” Fiona countered, turning to the mirror to inspect his work.
 

“Any more?” Touching her was heaven and hell combined.

“Maybe just a bit,” she agreed, watching as he squeezed out a little extra foundation.
 

He worked on with care, enjoying the softness of her skin and the excuse to be so close.

“Best I can do,” he finally said, knowing he couldn’t make the charade last any longer.
 

He stood and inspected her, and fluffed up her hair a little with his fingers. “I had to get on with the nanny search while you were in hospital,” he added. “I’ve got a possible candidate coming to dinner to see how she gets on with Nicky. Nice girl—good references. You can give me your opinion.”
 

“I’ll scare her off looking like this.”

His eyes meshed with hers in the mirror. His face was serious. “We really need her, Fee. I’m only here for a few more days—I have to dash over to Japan unexpectedly. I’ll get you to the hospital for your Friday check-up, but then I’m gone until next Wednesday. Something really urgent cropped up this afternoon.”

Fiona nodded. “I’ll be okay. Mostly just resting.”

“With any luck Kathy will be
your
nanny too while I’m gone. Amy Houndsworth will take care of the cleaning—and continue with the cooking for a while longer.”

“So I won’t be doing her out of a job?”
 

“You were never doing her out of a job. She’s been our housekeeper for the last several years. As soon as we knew Nicky was on the way, I wanted Jan to have help. This is a big place.”

“But she’s cooking for you, too?”

“Only the evening meal for Jan’s last few weeks. As a favor. Casseroles to heat up and so on. I told her you’d be taking over our dinners as soon as you’re well enough again.” He began to steer the chair across the dense carpet. Once they were through the doorway it rolled with ease on the smooth marble tiles.

Fiona drew a deep breath and said the words she knew were inevitable.
 

“If you’ve got a nanny you won’t need me as well. I’d love to get to know Nicky better, but I’ll have to go back up to Mom and Dad’s after all.”

Unseen behind her, Christian pressed his lips together in a tight line. It was exactly what he’d wanted a few days ago—but now...?
 

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stay...a little longer, anyway. I don’t know how Nicky will get on with Kathy. I’m certainly not leaving my daughter with a virtual stranger while I tear off overseas. Amy could probably help out again, but I’d rather have you around to keep watch on things.”

“Even in my present state?”

“Nothing wrong with your eyes or your brain.”

My brain’s gone to mush, with you so close.

“So what’s she like, this nanny-person?”

“Young. Short. A fiery little red-head.”

“Hot-tempered?”

“I hope not, working with children. She’s been nannying for several years. The agency said she was one of their best.”

“They would, wouldn’t they...”

“We’ll see what we think of her tonight. See what Nicky thinks of her, more importantly.”
 

He pushed her into the big glass-fronted living room with its low couches, colorful rugs, and casual dining area. Nicky’s space-age highchair sat drawn up to the table, and three other places were set.
 

Nicola played on one of the rugs, surrounded by toys. She struggled to her feet as Fiona and Christian appeared. Christian swept his daughter up before she could lurch against Fiona’s damaged knee. He tickled her until she squealed and giggled.

“Special visitor coming to meet you tonight, Nicola Jane,” he said. “She’s called Kathy. Can you say ‘Kathy
’
?”

“Kat-ee,” Nic piped.
 

He set her down beside the toys again. “Not bad at all, clever-clogs. And Auntie Fiona’s feeling better now, so she’s here for dinner, too.”
 

He stretched his rangy frame out on the rug and began building a tower of blocks for Nicola.

Fiona sat quietly watching. Christian was lean and athletic, such a physical presence. He’d propped himself on one elbow; his other arm stacked the colored cubes. She found the contrast of the big confident man and tiny child irresistible.

She pushed her bare toes against the smooth floor and the chair slid easily so she had a better view of him while he occupied himself with Nicky. The indigo shirt strained across his shoulders and gaped at the front again to reveal a slice of dark shadowed chest. Her fingers twitched as she imagined testing the texture of that crisp hair, dragging her hand through it, rubbing her breasts across it. He was masculine without compromise, hard and strong and handsome. How was she supposed to resist?

The tower of blocks collapsed and Nicky laughed as she batted the remaining few down. The doorbell pealed.

Christian rose lithely to his feet and strode away. A few seconds later Fiona heard muffled pleasantries and returning footsteps. She swiveled the chair for her first glimpse of the nanny. A tiny girl with wavy red hair and over-long black trousers strolled in, gazing about the splendid room.

“My sister-in-law, Fiona,” Christian said by way of introduction. “And this is my daughter, Nicola.”

Kathy offered Fiona a bright smile and then made straight for her new charge.
 

“Hi-ya Nicola,” she beamed, swinging Nicky up onto her hip. “Cool T-shirt,” she added, pointing at the fairies with shiny wings across Nicky’s front. As simply as that, she snared the child’s attention. Nicky, who could easily have turned shy or timid, was soon chattering happily.

Christian raised an eyebrow at Fiona and she sent him a slight nod. Things seemed to be off to a good start, anyway.
 

Dinner proceeded amidst easy laughter. Kathy talked about the children at her last job. Their father had been transferred to Madrid—hence her availability.
 

Nicky grew tired and fractious and was put to bed.
 

Christian made it obvious he felt Kathy was a definite possibility; he showed her the guest wing and her proposed bedroom.
 

Throughout the evening, Fiona’s eyes roamed again and again in his direction, drawn against her will by his sheer physical presence and undiluted virility. She became ever more convinced she needed to leave him the moment she was well enough to travel. Her resolve was wearing perilously thin.
 

Her brain knew it was the right decision.
 

But her heart? It tore in two at the prospect.
 

CHAPTER NINE

Next morning she gritted her teeth and hauled herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She managed to sponge over most of her body, but didn’t dare risk the shower in case she fell. She limped out to breakfast, surprising Christian who was setting juice and fruit on a tray.

“I was just bringing it,” he said, sounding harassed.
 

Nicky threw her spoon on the floor, missing the plastic mat under her highchair. Blobs of oatmeal hit the rug.

She saw Christian grimace and reach for a paper towel.

“Would you rather I went back to bed?”

“You’ve made it this far. You might as well stay.” He slid her tray onto the table and bent to clean up Nicky’s mess.
 

Poor man,
she thought.
No wife any more, and a daughter who’s a bundle of mischief. It won’t be easy for him, even with a nanny.