The Wrong Sister (15 page)

“Poor lovely house,” Fiona said as they slowed for the gates to swing aside.

“I’ve got plans for it.”

“You’re not selling it?”

He shook his head. “No way. But I want the security upgraded after this. The best there is. I’m not leaving my daughter and a nanny here without upgrading the system to the very latest. They wouldn’t stand a chance if any more thugs decided to break in.”

Fiona shivered at the thought. “Good idea then.”

“I expect it’ll mean ripping pieces of the interior apart to get cables through,” he continued. “But the place is almost six years old now. Once it’s done, I’ll have it redecorated.”

“Everything?”

“It’s probably time. Have a think about colors for me. What should be updated and so on.”

“I wouldn’t feel right changing Jan’s choices.”

“It’s mostly the original architect’s choices. Jan chose the shade to re-paint Nic’s room, but that was about all.”
 

Fiona nodded, picturing the upheaval. “It’ll be awful to live in while the work’s being done.”

“Part two of the plan. I should be able to get things started a couple of weeks into the New Year. Amy Houndsworth’s planning to go and visit her sister in Melbourne. I’ll take Kathy and Nic out to the Lodge for a while. Do some fishing. Recharge the batteries. See if I can get my brain back to where it should be.”

“You’d better grab some paint charts then. Unless you want to get an interior decorator’s advice?”
 

She opened the car door and hauled herself out before he could offer help.

The rest of her day slid by pleasantly enough. Christian went straight to his study and reappeared soon after, shaved, suited and sensational. He grabbed a coffee and departed.
 

Nicola played sandpit games while Fiona lounged nearby, reading. Kathy brought a picnic lunch outside and then asked Fiona if she could watch Nicky for a while. There was ‘a really, really great sale’ on at one of the city stores and she wanted to nip down the hill for a look during her lunch break. Nicky was in a happy mood—Fiona foresaw no problems. Kathy returned in good time with a tiny blue bikini, which she insisted on modeling for them.

“Had a nice time without me, Blondie?”
 

Fiona jumped from her half-doze under the sun-umbrella. Christian squatted beside her, flipping through a professional-looking swatch of paint colors.
 

“Just the thing for the front entrance,” he added, tapping a particularly bilious bright green.

He’d exchanged his business clothing for racy swim-briefs. Beads of moisture dotted his golden skin, and his hair was slicked close to his head. The scene in the
en suite
rushed back to taunt her.

From the side of the house she heard squeals and splashing as Nicky and Kathy continued to enjoy the big outdoor pool. No doubt Kathy wore her new purchase. She pictured the perky nanny showing off in the tiny blue bikini. Trying her luck with her new employer, maybe? Fiona’s teeth practically curled at the thought.
 

“Shame you can’t join us,” Christian said, stroking around the dressing on her knee. Her heart-rate jumped with every suggestive circle of his finger.
 

“Next week, maybe.”

“Next week I’ll be gone.” His eyes darkened, sending a shaft of purest regret to shatter her composure.

“Next week I’ll be gone too,” she countered. “It’s Wednesday you’re back from Japan, isn’t it? So on Wednesday I’ll fly up to Auckland.”

“To get away from me?” He stood, challenging her to ignore him. She found it impossible. Her hungry eyes roamed all over his impressive body, enjoying his lean strength, unable to forego even a few seconds of his teasing display.
 

She drew a deep breath. “To see Mom and Dad for Christmas,” she corrected.

“Ah, Christmas.” It sounded so bleak the way he said it.

“You could bring Nicky up to Auckland for a few days. To Mom and Dad’s? We’re going out to the beach-house at Orewa.”

“And good old Greg and Rebecca could chaperone us? See we don’t get up to any mischief? No thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Of course you didn’t, Blondie.”
 

Of course I did.

CHAPTER TWELVE

On December 23
rd
Fiona stood her crutches in the corner of the bedroom for the final time and placed her presents for Nicky on Christian’s tallboy so he’d find them there when he returned from Sakai that evening. There were small gifts for Kathy and Amy Houndsworth, too.
 

She’d purposely bought nothing for him. After all, she was trying to discourage his attentions and keep him at arm’s length.
 

She thought this with a virtuous sigh, almost changed her mind, found her resolve again, hesitated, and at the last moment retrieved one of Kathy’s snapshots. The photography was enthusiastic rather than expert. She’d caught Fiona reading under the sun-umbrella, long legs dappled by the shade of a nearby tree, with Nicky on the lawn beside her.
 

Fiona kissed the back of the photo, quickly wrote her cell-phone number under the faint lip-gloss print, and slid it into his top drawer. What would it matter? She’d be out of his life from now on.
 

She zipped up her carry-bag. Kathy had already wheeled her suitcase to the front door as though anxious to hurry her out. She presumed the nanny looked forward to having Christian and the house all to herself. She had no trouble picturing Kathy squealing and splashing with Nicky while he looked on from beside the pool.

With amusement or lust?

She bit down on her bottom lip and went to hug Nicky goodbye.
 

He was due back about six. She was in a taxi by four.

And for the twenty-minute cab-ride, the thirty-minute check-in wait, the hour-long flight to Auckland, she could think of nothing but him.

“Darling!” Rebecca Delaporte exclaimed as Fiona finally limped into view, the last passenger to disembark. She drew her into a careful hug. Ahead of them most of the other Christmas travelers hurried away. “You’re looking much better—I’m so relieved. But I wish you still had your beautiful hair.”

“Time for a change,” Fiona murmured, kissing her mother’s soft cheek and breathing in her familiar Chanel No 5 perfume. “Don’t start, Mom—I love it.”

“I suppose we’ll get used to it,” her father said. “It’s a small price to pay to have you alive and well. Prepare to be spoiled rotten,” he added, reaching over for her hand luggage.

“Well, she’s doubly precious to us now—of course she deserves spoiling.”

And just like that Jan crashed back into all their memories. The missing, much-loved elder daughter and mother of their only grandchild. The daughter who’d stayed in New Zealand and not gone gadding off around the world. All the unspoken words that set Jan apart. Fiona grimaced while her mother couldn’t see her face.

Then Rebecca leaned away and surveyed her with pursed lips as she swung briskly into doctor mode. They were almost on their own at the arrivals gate now, for which Fiona felt grateful.

“Stitches all out? No nasty infections?”

“No—I’m good thanks, Mom. They had me on antibiotics to start with, just to be sure, I guess.”

Her mother nodded and released her.

“Does a father get a hug as well?” Greg asked, holding his arms wide.

“Of course you do, but don’t squeeze this shoulder too hard. I’m still a bit tender there.”

“Rotator cuff damage?”

“They said I was basically fine. Just a big bruise that’s taking its time, I think.”

Greg shot his wife a meaningful look as he drew Fiona close and kissed her brow.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Might get you some ultra-sound in case it shows anything.”

“Oh Dad!” Fiona scoffed as she turned to start the trek to the baggage claim. “Rest and sunshine—that’s all I need.”
 

And Christian out of my reach and out of my brain.

“How’s Christian coping?”
 

Thanks Mom...
 

“Sad of course, but managing,” she said, tucking a hand into each parent’s arm. “He had to go to Japan urgently, but he’s due back today.” They fell into slow step together behind the rest of the passengers. Christmas music blared from the speakers. Tinsel decorations glittered from high vantage points. Fiona barely noticed.

“And Nicky?”

“Poor wee Nic. How do you explain something so huge to a two-year-old? She’s still looking for Jan everywhere. Maybe a bit less some days than others. It’s hard to tell.”

“Should you have stayed on longer?”

Fiona shook her head and unlinked arms as they came to the escalator. She concentrated for a moment until she’d stepped onto it safely.

“No,” she said over her shoulder as it carried her downwards. “Christian found a really good nanny through an agency. He wanted me there while he was in Japan. To be his eyes and ears. But she’s great with Nic, so I had no worries about leaving.” She stepped off the escalator and positioned herself between her parents again. “It’ll be lovely having Christmas with you at the beach,” she said, hoping to change the subject. “You’re both okay?” she asked.

“No mother is ever okay after losing her child,” Rebecca said, glancing at her remaining daughter with suspiciously moist eyes. “But poor Jan had such a nasty time with the chemo—well, I can’t be sad she doesn’t have to face that any more.”

“And she wasn’t going to beat it, was she? I was never quite sure from what you told me over the phone, but it was aggressive?”

Rebecca remained silent, and it was Greg who cleared his throat and said, “You have to try. You have to believe. I’ve seen things I wouldn’t have thought possible.”

They walked on in silence until they reached the throng around the baggage carousel.

“It’s a blue case,” Fiona reminded her father. “There’s a red tag on the handle to make it easier to spot.”
 

“I’ll get a trolley,” Rebecca said.

“No need, no need,” Greg said testily, as though it was a reflection on his manhood.

“I’d like one to lean on—it’ll make walking out to the car easier.”

“Of course it will.” Her mother bustled away.

Fiona watched her, admiring her trim figure and smooth blonde bob. Even on the way north for a beach holiday she wore a smart caramel skirt and an ivory blouse. Jan’s colors.

And her Dad? His face was impassive and his silvering hair gleamed under the lights when he loaded the bags onto the trolley. How badly must they both be hurting?

Christmas morning dawned picture-postcard fine. Fiona lay in bed in the clear blue light, watching the curtains sigh at her open window. A hungry restlessness ate at her. She felt she’d barely slept all night, yet was acutely awake and alive.
 

The soft, regular swoosh of the waves enticed her out. Although it was only six-thirty she threw back the sheet, dressed quietly and let herself out of the house. After just a few paces, she reached the sand.

Another two days of rest had helped the pain in her knee subside to a dull ache. She strolled along, feet in the frothing edge of the water. In the distance, two people and an energetic black dog also enjoyed the spectacular morning. A small yacht made very slow headway in the light air. There were no other signs of life.

Her mobile gave a polite trill. Frowning, she dug it from the pocket of her white shorts and checked the screen. Name withheld.

“Fiona Delaporte.”

“Christian Hartley.”

She froze mid-pace, savoring his dark growl, picturing his beautiful mouth and hungry eyes. Drew a quiet breath, unable to speak for a few seconds.

“How ya doing, Blondie?” It was asked so softly she could almost have imagined it.

“Better thanks, Christian. Much better.”
 

Although not now I’ve heard your voice again.

“
So you’re up and about?”

“Going for a slow wander on the beach.”

“I thought you might be.”

“Um...?”
 

“You suddenly flashed into my mind, and I felt you were awake. So I’ve rung to say Merry Christmas.”

“Thank-you,” she murmured. “I wish it could be merry for you, too, but I guess that would be too much to hope for...”

“Life goes on.”

She could picture his chin lifting as he said it...heard both his quiet resignation and his determination to move forward as he clipped the words out.

“How’s my Nicky?” she asked.

“One moment an angel, the next a little devil. Basically fine.”

“And Kathy’s working out okay?”

“Terrible taste in music, but good with Nic.”

Another small silence hung between them.

“Miss you, Blondie.”

Her heart contracted. “Don’t Christian. Please don’t.”

“Just stating the obvious.”

Her breath hitched. “Where are you?”

“Leaning over the fence. Watching the harbor. Enjoying the peace. Builders have got the garage secure again, although far from finished.”

Fiona closed her eyes and there he was. Hair ruffling in the breeze. Early light slanting low along his cheekbones. Long body lounging against the steel and glass barrier above the gnarled cliff-top bushes and clumps of tough rustling flax.

“I’ll pass your greetings on to Mom and Dad.”

“It wasn’t them I rang. I rang the girl in the photo.”

“I had no business leaving it for you.”

“No business? Blondie—we have unfinished business. Surely you know that?”

Every hair on her body lifted. Even at this distance, he disturbed and aroused her.

“I guess it’s going to have to stay unfinished then.”

“Because you’re escaping to the far side of the world?”

“Late January. It’s where I work.”

“I wish you didn’t.” His dark drawl curled around her consciousness, caressing...abrading. Fiona stood ankle-deep in the summer sea, heedless of the larger-than-usual wave rushing for the shore. Suddenly it smacked her shins and splashed up over her knees to the hems of her shorts.