The Wrong Sister (14 page)

Good
, he thought.
Why should I suffer alone?

Once the first course was finished and the dishes cleared away, he pulled three kinds of ice-cream from the capacious freezer and doled them out to order for dessert. Kathy drizzled bottled chocolate sauce over Nicky’s portion, adding encouragement about brushing her teeth before putting her to bed and departing for an evening with friends.

Christian gathered cups onto a tray. “Coffee, Dad? Fee?”
 

Fiona nodded her thanks.
 

He watched her limp slowly across the room to stand looking at the view while he prepared the coffee. It was a perfect evening—he’d thrown the huge patio doors open to the soft air. The harbor lay tranquil in the subdued light. Insects still buzzed in the flower-borders Jan had planted and tended with such love. The fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle drifted in the slight breeze. There were so many reminders of his wife...her sister.

A sudden blinding desire hit him. To keep Fiona silhouetted against that backdrop forever, safe with him and Nicky instead of half a world away. Where he could love and protect her—although not from what had killed Jan, he thought with impotent frustration.
 

He shot a probing glance across to her once she sat down, but she returned only the blandest of smiles.
 

Fiona stayed quiet as Christian and his father discussed business, a current golf tournament, the forthcoming trip to Japan. Their deep voices washed over her as she cast her mind back a couple of hours.

 
His most recent behavior in her bedroom had been unnerving after his comment about cooling things down. How dare he make a grab for her when she’d simply asked for help because of her injuries? How dare he kiss her and entice her into responding when she’d only needed her bra fastened?
 

The second question gave her more difficulty than the first. Why had she kissed him back with such fervor when he’d already made it plain there could be no relationship between them? She’d be guarding against any more of that!

“... and Malaysia’s a huge market for the future.”

She wrenched her attention back to the conversation between the two men. From what she’d heard, their business interests were much more diverse than Jan had ever described. They extended around many of the Pacific Rim countries, and the cars were only one slice of it—albeit the slice closest to Christian Senior’s heart. His son had been the one to grab the company by the throat and transform it into the multinational success it was today.
 

She glanced at her watch. Barely 8.30. Not yet dark. But suddenly she felt desperate to be right away from him. With a sharp little clink, she set her coffee cup down on the Italian table and struggled up from the low couch.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be sensible and go to bed now. Don’t get up Christian—and don’t worry about my transport this time.”

But Christian did get up, as did his courteous father.

“Hope you’re soon well again, Fiona,” the older man said, reaching out to give her a warm but gentle handshake. This diversion gave Christian a couple of seconds to grab the leather chair from the shadows.
 

“Sit,” he insisted.

Fiona sighed with annoyance. “I can walk more easily now.”

“Yes, but how will you get undressed?”

“I’ll
wriggle
.” Her eyes challenged his.
   

“You’ll only hurt yourself. Sit down.”

“You needn’t think you’re undressing me...” She trailed off, realizing Christian Senior was listening—and watching with amusement. “I couldn’t stretch around to get my bra done up,” she explained, blushing.

He roared with laughter and strode across to her. “I used to be pretty good at this,” he chuckled. “Out of practice since Bet died. But let’s see...”
 
He laid his palm on her back and tweaked one-handed at the fastenings through the fabric of her top. Her high breasts dropped fractionally.
 

“Still got the knack,” he said with delight.

“Dammit, Dad!” Christian protested.

“You’re as bad as each other,” Fiona said, trying not to grin. “Thank you, that’s very helpful. Good night gentlemen.” She sat, and Christian wheeled her from the room, but she made sure it was only as far as her bedroom door.

Her follow-up appointment was booked for ten-fifteen the next morning, and she washed and dressed in good time. Christian insisted on pushing her the small distance out to the car on his office chair, for which she was grateful. She’d had an uncomfortable night and her injured knee had ended up twisted and now ached horribly again. Jan had appeared in vivid and confusing nightmares, pale and sickly, ranting about the searing sex her sister and husband were indulging in.

In your dreams. Literally.
 

Fiona’s guilt had been terrible as she lay awake watching the minutes on the bedside clock tick over, but she flapped an annoyed hand at Christian when he attempted to help her settle into the car-seat.

“I’ve got to learn to do it.”

“You don’t have to be so independent just yet.”

“But I want to.”

At that, he stood back until she’d settled herself, then flashed her a strange sad smile as though acknowledging she’d made it politely plain she wanted no more attention from him. He closed her door, took his own seat, fired up the low-throbbing engine, signaled the gates, and drove out onto the steep road.
 

She inspected him from under her eyelashes as he guided the big car down to the city. He was casually dressed after yesterday’s impeccable business suit. Jeans again, a rusty-colored polo shirt, and with his dark hair still slightly damp from the shower.
 

Fiona had searched through Jan’s wardrobe and found a wine-red dress with a front closure of glossy buttons that looked for all the world like blackberries. As the price-ticket was still attached, she presumed Christian had never seen it on his wife. She’d managed to put it on unaided, but had forgone a bra, knowing the doctor would want to check her all over.

Sorting out Jan’s clothes and other private possessions was a job that needed doing sooner or later. Her mother had offered, but Christian had turned her down. “Not for a while yet, thanks,” he’d said with such firmness Rebecca hadn’t raised the subject again.
   

Fiona was secretly glad he still wanted reminders of Jan close to him. Somehow it proved the strength of his commitment to his lovely dead wife.

They coasted down the twisting streets until they reached level ground, then he slowed and turned the car into one of the angled parking spaces facing the sea.

“Plenty of time,” he said, looking straight ahead, feigning interest in two red tugs pulling a container ship away from one of the wharves half a mile away.

Fiona waited in silence, staring at his hands as they rested on the steering wheel of the purring car. Abruptly he cut the engine and turned to her.

“Look. About yesterday. It shouldn’t have happened.”

She nodded, still looking at his hands. Did he mean the morning or the evening? Or both?

Christian drew a deep breath.

“I loved your sister unreservedly. Even with all the traveling I did, I was never unfaithful to her.”
 

Fiona raised her eyes, surprised he’d been so candid. His hungry face looked haggard. She could see the torment etched there in the set of his mouth, and the lines where his brows drew together.

“Jan and I were great,” he continued. “And Nicky was the icing on the cake.” He looked out at the tugs, avoiding her gaze again. “Sorry I did what I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I truly loved Jan. I’m ashamed I lost my self-control with you.”
 

He rubbed a hand across his mouth, as though to stifle further words.

Had he hurt her? Fiona wasn’t sure. She’d certainly been surprised. But not hurt.
 

Hurt was what she felt
now.
Deep, pulsing hurt that rasped at her bones and dragged at her breath. He’d just turned everything upside-down. Yesterday morning had been an incandescent revelation. The pleasure had been intense, the desire unspeakably sharp. Why hadn’t he left it like that—a swift jewel-bright scene in an otherwise unremarkable play?
 

The evening’s surprising follow-on had completed the little drama. Fiona hadn’t expected him to touch her again after his earlier comments about cooling things down, but for a second time the intense physical attraction had flared. And now he felt
ashamed?
 

Last night she’d found the courage to ask him not to continue. That should have been the end of it, but he was stirring things up again, trampling on her exquisite memories.
 

She knew she’d replay those scenes in her mind for months—years?—and she wanted them left unsullied. Her wistful recollections of their brief time together would have been consolation on the far side of the world, but not if he tarnished and trashed them.

“I wasn’t hurt yesterday, Christian,” she said in a low shaky voice. “But you’re doing a very good job of hurting me now. Let’s just leave it. It happened. It won’t be happening again—but don’t grind it into the dirt.” She stared out through the windscreen, teeth clenched.
 

The harbor sparkled. The gulls wheeled in the summer sky. And her heart, or something very near to it, felt as though it had been ripped apart.

He swung around in the driver’s seat, eyes hugely black.

“I was not grinding it into the dirt,” he grated.

Fiona jumped at his sudden movement and fierce declaration.

“God—you have no idea what I went through yesterday. You can’t
imagine
how I whipped myself for letting that happen!”

“Twice,” she muttered.

“Yes, all right then—bloody twice. I can’t keep my hands off you. My wife is hardly dead and I’m chasing the pants off her sister. Sick or what?”

They sat together in stunned silence, staring at each other. With a sudden curse, he started the engine and shot backwards out of the parking space. Fiona gasped and doubled over as the seat-belt bit savagely into the big graze across her hip.
 

Christian realized what he’d done and rolled back into the park, braking gently. He unsnapped his own belt and gathered her into his arms.

“Blondie, I’m so sorry, so sorry. I’d give anything not to have done that to you.” He stroked her face, pressed his lips against her brow, and with a groan of absolute defeat, nuzzled down until his mouth once again claimed hers.

Fiona reeled from pain and confusion and rapture. After nearly killing her with unkind words and physical agony, he’d swept her yet again into his possessive embrace. This time his kiss was gentler, regretful, tender. She followed him blindly, emotions in utter disarray.

Finally she drew back from him.

“Christian,” she whispered. “We can’t keep doing this. And not here, for sure. It’s too public. Your face is too well-known...”

He glanced at his watch. “And it’s almost time for your appointment. Dammit, Fiona...” He shrugged his shoulders, blew out a long breath of resignation, and reached for his seat-belt again.

“I’ll go home to Mom and Dad’s the day you’re due back from Japan. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Christian fired up the car and reversed with care.

“Wanna bet, doll?” he drawled in a cartoon accent.

“I can’t stay longer.”

“I know. You’re right...you’re right. But it’ll kill me not having you around.”

“You spent most of your time trying to get rid of me.”

“I can’t have you, but I don’t want to let you go.” He pulled out into the traffic with a bitter laugh.

“It’s the shock of losing Jan,” she said. “Nothing’s normal right now. Once some time goes by, you’ll be different. Busy with work again. Getting back into life.”
 

She hated the truth she’d so precisely described.

“And you’ll be on the other side of the world.”

“Problem solved.”

“If you say so...”

The big silver car gathered speed and she settled deeper into her leather-scented seat. “
Blondie?
” she inquired, with a lift of her eyebrows.

“Who?” he asked, his expression innocent.

“You called me Blondie.”

“Did I?”

Blondie. He has a special name for me.

Christian drew up close to the clinic’s entrance and insisted on helping her from the car and making sure she was steady on her crutches. He went to re-park as soon as he’d seen her safely seated in the waiting room.
 

Her injuries were checked, stitches inspected, dressings replaced, and her concussion discussed.
 

When they peeled away the pad above her eye she asked, “Can I see what I’ve done there?”
 

The nurse produced a mirror. “Don’t worry—it won’t look anything like that in a few weeks.”

Fiona grimaced at the stitched-up gash, yellow with iodine.

“What a mess,” she murmured. No wonder Christian had been so concerned.

“At least you didn’t damage any teeth or endanger your eyesight. You’re healing beautifully. We can cover that with something smaller now. Stitches out on Tuesday. Make the appointment with reception as you leave please, Miss Delaporte.” Fiona hobbled out and Christian went to retrieve the car.

Once they’d pulled onto the main road again he said, “I think I’ll drop you back to the house and go to work for the afternoon.”

“That’ll take care of our little problem,” she agreed.

“It’s good to see a bit more of you, anyway.” He looked pointedly at the wound above her eye, now covered with a much smaller dressing.

“They’ve taken the big one off my knee, too.” She slid her skirt aside to reveal her much smaller patch.

“Don’t tempt me!” he growled, directing his attention back to his driving.

They proceeded across the city and swooped up the steep roads on Mt Victoria again until they were home. From the street frontage, the garage damage was very obvious.