The Wrong Sister (24 page)

“Very nice.” His voice was hoarse.
 

“Chosen specially...”

“Take it off.”

“You do it,” she challenged, tossing the T-shirt aside.

Christian bent his dark head to her breast and slid his tongue under the edge of the lace to her barely-covered nipple. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Christian...”

“My Blondie...” He eased the straps off her shoulders. “Hell—forget what I said about doing this slowly,” he added, tipping her backwards onto the big bed and dragging her tiny panties off as she wriggled and giggled beneath him.

Much later, they enjoyed the sumptuous bathroom, hands running over skin, soap sliding, mouths meeting as they embraced together under the hot cascade of the shower.
 

“Time to dress for dinner,” he finally said, turning off the water.

“Where are we eating?”

He smiled. “Right here in our room, Blondie. We have things to discuss. I want you all to myself.”
 

He enfolded her in a thick towel and began the enjoyable task of rubbing her dry.

“And I want you in this,” he added a few minutes later, reaching into the wardrobe and lifting out Marielle’s sexy red dress. “Be my scarlet woman? Just in private, for me?”

Fiona’s spirits dimmed a little. His scarlet woman? Was that what he had in mind? She turned away with the dress. No underwear was necessary for the role he’d assigned her.

Minutes later there came a discreet knock. Christian answered the door and ushered in two waiters with a wheeled serving trolley. With swift efficiency they plugged the trolley into a wall socket, laid a snowy cloth over an antique table, drew two chairs up to it, and produced plates and silverware from a credenza. With a final flourish, the waiters set out champagne flutes and an ice-bucket with a napkin-necked bottle.
 

They made little secret of admiring Fiona’s flamboyant skin-tight dress, accepted their proffered tip, and left.

“A tuxedo?” she gasped, only then registering what Christian wore.
 

He stood by the table, easing the cork from the champagne, magnificent in his formal clothes.

“You dressed for me. I dressed for you.” A faint smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I have something special to show you, Blondie. This is not an ordinary occasion.”
 

He poured the wine and lifted both glasses. Fiona stepped closer to take hers.

“To us—I hope.”
 

“To us then,” she repeated, unsure of her ground. She sipped and swallowed the heavenly liquid.

He reached into his inside breast pocket and drew out two envelopes, glanced at the name written on each and handed one to Fiona. Jan’s distinctive handwriting snared her total attention and set her heart hammering.

“I finally cleared out the desk in her study,” he said as Fiona set her champagne aside.
 

“And she left this for me?”
 

The flap had been securely stuck down. Her fingers trembled as she prized it open.
 

She was so fearful of what the envelope might contain it took far too long to extract the single stiff sheet of paper inside. It crackled loudly in the silence as she unfolded it.

Very little was written there, and the shaky words were difficult to decipher.

Dearest Fiona,

Please read Christian’s. Brain still fine but body too weak now.

Best sister ever.

All my love,

Jan.

Fiona gave a huge sob of desolation. Jan had died almost four months earlier, but her loving presence suddenly surrounded them again.
 

She dropped the letter on the table and hurled herself against Christian, burying her face against his chest. She wept without restraint, not caring that her careful make-up smudged against his shirt, that her eyes grew red and raw.

His arms enfolded her and pulled her close. After the worst of her weeping subsided, she felt his warm hand stroking over and over down the long sweep of her back exposed by the glorious red dress. Slow soothing caresses, full of tender consolation.

A short time later, he leaned sideways and raised her letter.

“She was saying goodbye,” Fiona hiccupped, pulling away slightly and turning her ruined face up to his.

“And more than that,” Christian murmured. “She wants you to read mine as well.”

He continued to hold her close as he shook his own letter from its envelope and smoothed the two pages out, one-handed. He held them so she could see.

Fiona read, and trembled, and gazed wet-eyed up at him.

As suddenly as that, her whole world changed.

The magic trolley held a selection of delicious Venetian specialties in its mini-fridge and warming-drawer. It should have been the best dinner of her life, but the food took second place to the taste of Christian’s satiny skin and the musky fragrance of his body, and the sensation of his hands and lips roaming over her in a thousand kisses and caresses.
 

Next day she could remember with certainty only the huge out-of-season raspberries they’d dipped in sweet thick cream and hand-fed to each other in the tumbled bed.
 

Fiona came awake to the pealing of bells. Sunshine slanted in between the embroidered curtains. She recalled how sometime after midnight they’d parted them to make love with the Venetian moonlight spilling over the bed. Slow drugging love that chased doubts and uncertainties into the furthest shadows.
 

“Awake at last.” At the sound of Christian’s whisper, she smiled and turned toward him, stretching luxuriously.

“Good morning, lovely man.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Have you been watching me?”

“Not for long. Just a few minutes. I’ve been planning how we’ll spend our morning.”

“And?”

“You haven’t changed your mind?” he asked with sudden concern. “You’ll still marry me?”

Fiona reached up and touched his mouth.

“In the bright light of day, with no champagne and no amazing red dress, you still want me?” she teased.

Christian nipped her fingers.

“I love you. I want you. Always. Simple as that.”
 

“I love you back,” she declared. Then she dropped her voice to an embarrassed murmur. “And I loved you first. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but the instant I saw you I was jealous of Jan.”

She saw his eyes widen with surprise.
 

“And when you kissed me on the dance-floor...”

“When did I kiss you?”

“When we stopped dancing.”

He shook his head slightly.

“Just a little ‘hello’ kind of kiss,” she hastened to assure him. “But I fell for you a bit more then. And every time I saw you since, I fell harder.”
 

“How could I forget kissing you?” he demanded.

“Of course you would. You’d just married Jan. Like I said, it was only a ‘hello new sister’ kiss.”
 

“Hello,” he said, and bent lower. “New fiancée.” He took her mouth in a kiss that would have scandalized every guest at the wedding.

“New fiancée...” she murmured eventually. “I like the sound of that.”

“New wife sounds even better to me,” he said, reversing their positions and pillowing her head on his chest.
 

 
“As soon as my contract ends I’ll come home to you and Nicky. That’ll be seven months after Jan,” she added softly. “It feels like forever, but people will still talk.”

“People can yell for all I care. If they’re so narrow-minded they’re no friends of mine.”

“Or mine,” she agreed, turning her face to bite his dark nipple. She teased it with her tongue and felt the little peak rise up.

“Stop that—I’m trying to be serious here,” he protested. “This morning we’ll go shopping for an engagement ring—yes? An emerald to match your eyes?”

Fiona released his flesh with a small gasp of surprise.
 

“Chris, that mightn’t be so easy. We could wait until I get back to New Zealand?”

“All sorted, Blondie. The hotel manager assures me the arcades of Piazza San Marco have enough jewelry to kit out the entire A-list of Europe.”

“A engagement ring from Venice. Really?”
 

He found her other hand beneath the bedcovers and drew it out so he could kiss her palm. She traced the pad of her thumb across his dark morning stubble.

“You have
no idea
how much I love you,” he added. “How you fascinate me. How I’ve had to try and stay away from you as the years went by.”

She opened her mouth to protest at that but he laid a finger on her lips to silence her.

“You must have known? Jan was the love of my life, the mother of my child, but you were the spark which ignited something else entirely. So yes—I stayed away from you.”

“Until the cottage.”

“Until the cottage,” he agreed. “And since then...”

“I know. Five days of paradise and then months of hell. And more to follow.”

“Not so much more. Two months? Unless you want to re-negotiate your contract? Are you sure you want to give up your jet-setting life? Your parents were speechless when I stopped in at Auckland and showed them my letter.”

Fiona’s eyes sparkled with amusement. She pushed herself up until she could gaze down at him.
 

“Fancy getting rid of their son-in-law and then finding they had him back again for another go!”
 

A sleepy smile played about his lips but his dark eyes still held questions.

“Christian darling,” she whispered. “I love you. I want to share your life and your daughter. Hopefully give you a son. I’d leave my beautiful boat for your collection of old cars any day.”

PROLOGUE

July

When Christian carried her through the front door of their cliff-top home, Fiona’s heart flipped.

“You’ve framed Jan’s letter! Chris—that’s too public.”
 

He set her down, but kept an arm around her waist.

“I’ve had it framed for Nicky. We’ll hang it in her room once she’s old enough to read it, but in the meantime it’ll stop a few tongues from wagging.”

Silently they read the loving words that had set the seal on their golden future together:

My darling Christian,

I can’t bear to say goodbye with your lovely eyes watching me.

You’ll find these letters when the time is right, and know that I love you totally. You know that anyway. You and Nicky have made me complete. I’m so happy to have had you both in my life.

Things are getting bad now, and I need to say this while I still can. I’ve had lots of time to just lie here and think. I’m thinking about you and Fiona. You love her I’m sure. You’ve been careful to stay away from her and not hurt me. Thank-you for doing that. Your sense of honor is so strong.
 

I want to give you both my blessing. She’s my sister, my blood, my best friend. She would love Nicky as though she was her own. When I’m gone, you must build a new life. If Fiona is your choice, that will be perfect.

Show the people who need to see this.

Show Fiona.

All my love always,

Your Jan.

THE END

‘Seduction on the Cards’—now available on Amazon.

http://amzn.com/B006FEABQS

CHAPTER ONE

Kerrigan Lush felt the ripple of unease start on her scalp, tingle down her neck, trickle along her spine...and then slide down each leg until her toes curled in her scarlet stilettos.

Get a grip, Kerri,
she snapped at herself.
It’s only a building. You’re here to interview the man who donated it to Gamblers Anonymous—not because you’ve a little gambling problem yourself.

She patted her pocket. Yes, the mini-recorder was safely there. She checked her watch. Jiggled her keys. And still those scarlet shoes weren’t willing to cross the street.

Finally, she took a deep breath, tossed her dark hair, clenched her fingers around her briefcase handle, and stepped out.

Bet I get right across before that taxi draws level.

Bet Alexander Beaufort will be about seventy-five with a bristling white mustache and a comb-over.

She flashed her press ID at the forty-something receptionist. “Kerri Lush, to interview Alexander Beaufort about his very impressive gift.”

Her pulse lurched to a hectic rhythm as she caught sight of the ‘Gambling wrecks lives’ poster on the wall. Could the woman see Kerri’s own life was a mess?

She climbed the half-flight of stairs to where glasses clinked and voices brayed in animated conversation. A local TV crew had set up their gear. Other familiar media faces were in evidence. Maybe this was a bigger deal than she’d thought?

She lifted a white wine from a passing tray and sipped with caution

in case it was Chateau Cardboard. To her surprise, it tasted crisp and dry and delicious. More brownie-points to Alexander Beaufort.

And was there food? She’d missed lunch because of a tight deadline and the sudden re-assignment of this job. A little something to nibble would be wise in view of the wine’s attractions.

She sauntered to a serving table and found the other guests had already made fast and loose with the goodies.
 

One lonely cracker with a sliver of avocado and a couple of shrimps sat amongst a tide of parsley sprigs, empty kebab sticks, and crumbs. Kerri grabbed it before anyone else could, swallowed her remaining half-glass of wine, and claimed a refill.

Seconds later the woman at the reception desk approached the podium and the noise-level ebbed away.
 

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” she began. “I’m Addictions Councilor Lydia Herbert, and I’d like to welcome you all here today to view our wonderful new facility. A safe financial future for Gamblers Anonymous New Zealand is possible because of the generosity and far-sightedness of one man. Please welcome Monsieur Alexandre Beaufort.”