Trusting a Stranger (5 page)

‘My father. My mother is dead.'

He reached behind him for a cordless telephone and keyed in the numerals that would get them an international line.

But he didn't believe for a minute that it was her father she wanted to call. Hayley had come here on business and she had someone she wanted to report to, even if it was simply to register her injury and to demand to know why it had come, and at whose hands.

‘Do you know the number?' he asked, and dialled it in as she told him.

Then he went out of the room and reached for another extension line in his study. Listening in on a guest's phone call wasn't the most honourable thing to do, but he was in extraordinary circumstances. There was Katy to protect and, for all he knew, this injured woman was about to say something that would put her in danger.

‘Hello?'

‘Hello!'

There was no mistaking the agedness of the voice on the other end of the line. If it wasn't Hayley's father, it was her grandfather. Ethan was almost surprised into disconnecting.

But he didn't want Hayley to realise what he had been doing. Her honesty about who it was that she wanted to call surprised him, and he knew she deserved privacy. So he rested the extension on the nearby desk instead and concentrated on checking the computer nearby.

Images from the various CCTV cameras around the villa were flashed constantly onto its screen and it had been programmed to register and save a photograph of any unusual visitors or activity. Usually he found himself gazing at image after image of birds.

Today, as he had expected, there was a sequences of photos that showed one of the Tomasi men approaching and circling the house, and pausing for a moment — when he must have heard them leave — before speeding off along the drive.

On his way towards the hill where he would shoot Hayley.

Ethan swallowed. That situation could have gone much more wrong than it had, and if so, it would have been his fault.

He found himself feeling absurdly responsible for the naïve photographer that had come here on an expedition that could have done him untold damage — because she hadn't known what she was getting involved with. Of course, you could say that she should have known.

But what defences did a young Australian woman, probably from a sheltered upbringing, have against the deviousness of the Tomasi family? The family had virtually been in internal war ever since Alvaro's father died, giving Alvaro the power to run the family business while his uncles thought he was still too young to wield so much power. One of Alvaro's uncles, Primo Tomasi, had been particularly angry about the premature inheritance. But what could this all mean for Ethan and Hayley?

Ethan shook his head. The Tomasis were capable of anything and that meant their motivations were nearly impossible to unravel. Right now, Ethan needed to go and check on Hayley. He lifted the receiver to see if her conversation was finished.

‘And they say you will have to leave by the weekend?' he heard Hayley asking. There was distress in her voice. Real, emotional distress that he knew came from a place far deeper than the injury to her arm.

‘Sunday at the latest,' said the old man's voice. ‘These St Alberts people are really tough on defaulters, Hayley. I wish I didn't have to tell you this. But I know how alarmed you'll be if you call and I'm not here.'

‘And I told you I'd have the money,' Hayley said, her voice faltering. ‘Oh, Dad, I've let you down so badly. I'll still get the money to them if there's any way at all that I can.'

The man made a tutting sound. ‘You sound like you have trouble enough of your own,' he said, and Ethan quietly laid the receiver back on the table.

St Alberts. It sounded like a nursing home, and would probably be in Hayley's home state. He turned back to his computer and had googled the place in a couple of seconds. Hayley's father would share her surname, in all likelihood. And it was only the work of a phone call to find out in any case. Ethan actually smiled to himself as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

He had an idea.

‘You'll have to stay here tonight,' Ethan said when Hayley had disconnected her call and he had returned to the sitting room.

She looked up at him, eyes flashing. Recent injury or not, he sensed she was the sort of woman who did not like being pushed around.

‘I'll have to?' she repeated, and the words were a clear challenge.

‘You can't ride back to town in your current condition.'

He tried to make the request sound reasonable. It was clearly unsafe for Hayley to be out on the streets while Alvaro or his goons were out there literally gunning for her. But despite the glare in her eyes, she looked frail and vulnerable and hurt, and he did not want to frighten her the way he surely would if he spelled this truth out to her.

‘I can call a taxi.'

That was true. Ethan sighed. He would have to make his intentions clearer.

‘I really want you to stay here,' he said.

Hayley was rubbing her shoulder, above the wound. ‘I know what you want me to do. What I don't understand is why you think I will do it.'

‘Because you need money and I can pay.'

‘You want to pay me to sleep here in your house?' There was a hard edge of scepticism to her voice. He found himself looking at her more closely. She really was rather pretty.

‘I might be for hire,' she said, ‘but not that kind of hire.'

‘Let's make one thing clear: I do not pay for sex, I have never paid for sex,' he said, firmly. ‘I have never needed to.'

He watched with some amusement as she gulped at that.

‘The fact is, I have too much going on in my life to have to worry about you at the moment and, like it or not, I would worry about you if you were out in the open right now. Not to mention that I suspect you have a tendency to get yourself into trouble. I want that trouble staying here, where I can make sure it doesn't spread to include Katy. The only way to keep my head clear, so that I can think about what to do next, is to keep you here.'

She folded her hands into her lap and leaned forward. ‘You still aren't explaining why I should do what you want,' she said.

‘I've said I'll pay for your time.'

‘Perhaps I don't need your money.'

‘Perhaps you don't care about your father.'

‘You were listening in on my phone call?'

Damn it. He should have realised she'd mind about that.

‘I heard enough,' he said. He wanted to add how moved he had been by hearing how much she cared for her father. Although this did not seem the right time for a confession like that, it was considering her caring nature that confirmed his need to protect her from Tomasi, if he could.

She stood. ‘And I've heard enough too. I'm assuming Tomasi doesn't even want those photos now, so may I trouble you to make one more phone call?'

‘The deal I'm offering you is this.' Ethan held his ground, refusing to yield as much as an inch, or to betray by so much as a muscle twitch just how much this meant to him. ‘You stay here for two days and in return I will pay your father's medical bills for two months.'

The air went out of her then like a popped balloon and he could see how very much this meant to her, how worried she had been. She slouched back towards the chair and he could see the relief in her shoulders as she sank back into it. She had obviously had a very long and tiring day, had probably been just about exhausted even before Tomasi shot her.

He moved over to her, breathing in the scent of her floral perfume. It was sweet and feminine and completely at odds with her businesslike demeanour.

‘You need to sit down and rest,' he said.

‘I need to be able to decide for myself where I do that.' But the fight was gone from her voice.

‘Your wound is not dangerous but your body is drawing on its reserves of energy to heal,' Ethan told her. ‘You need to rest. You do, Hayley. Rest here.'

‘For two days? That's all?'

He nodded.

‘Do you smoke?'

‘No. Why?'

‘And no sex?'

This time he laughed. ‘If you can manage to keep your hands off me,' he said.

Hayley frowned, but blushed. He found himself wondering about her. Just a moment ago, he had been thinking about how very pretty she was. Was there any chance that she had been noticing him as well?

He shook his head. He didn't have time for anything like that. There was important business at hand. He needed to work out how to bring down Alvaro Tomasi, because it was clearly the only way he could save Katy in the long term. He didn't need the distraction of a woman, and he especially didn't need the distraction of a woman that proved herself as likely to get into trouble as Erica had ever been.

***

‘Did you have a good look around?' Ethan asked when Hayley walked down to meet him in the kitchen.

Hayley blushed again. What was it about this man and the sudden rushes of blood to her face? He seemed to be forever catching her out at thoughts and actions she felt slightly embarrassed about having.

‘Your place is very different from mine,' she said, disliking the stiffness she heard in her own voice.

‘Don't worry,' he said, answering her awkwardness rather than what she had actually said. ‘I told you to make yourself at home.'

She liked that perceptiveness in him. It was a quality she was not used to associating with men.

‘It's not like my home at all,' she said. ‘Are you just slicing those onions? Can I help you with that?'

They had agreed that as they were going to be here for a while, until they got some report back about where Tomasi was, they might as well enjoy their meal. Ethan's kitchen was well supplied with tomatoes and other vegetables, and there were a variety of cuts of meat in a large fridge to one side, as well as dried herbs hanging along one wall and a wide box of fresh basil growing before a barred window, in the sunshine. Ethan had begun preparing a dish of the pork and beans that he said were local specialities.

He made room for her at the bench and slid along the cutting board. The back of his hand brushed against hers and she swallowed. There was a real pulse of electricity in the contact. He was still now, as immovable as any other object in the room and she knew that this meant he had noticed the sizzle too.

‘Are those onions cooking already?' he asked. ‘There's a bit of heat there.'

Hayley knew what he was doing, too. He was trying to turn down the power of their attraction by mocking it. She appreciated that. She might have promised to stay here for a couple of days but she sensed that Ethan was no more interested in romantic complications right now than she was. So she forced out a laugh.

‘We want them fried, not steamy,' she said. ‘I'm not the best cook in the world but I know that.'

Not the best cook in the world? Why had she felt the need to tell him that? The truth was that Hayley wasn't particularly good at anything practical, apart from photography. Sometimes she felt like she could barely look after herself. Running her own business meant that she never needed to be responsible for looking after anyone else.

Ethan stepped away, reaching for a tray of tomatoes. There was a big pot of water already boiling on the stove beside them and, one by one, he stabbed the tomatoes with a fork and dipped them into the water. Then he pulled them out and, after a moment or two, pulled the skin off in long, loose strips.

Hayley watched him closely. He had long, agile fingers and knew how to handle a tomato.

She would have to remember this trick.

‘So, you live in Melbourne?' he asked.

Hayley nodded. She wasn't sure how sensible it was to let this man know any more about her personal life, but at least it kept the conversation away from the attraction that was so evident between them.

‘I have a two-bedroom apartment near the centre of town,' she said. ‘Well, not really two bedroom. A few years ago I realised I didn't need a store any more. Most of my business comes to me via internet advertising. So I converted my spare bedroom into a sort of studio or show room. Sometimes people hiring me want to know what I've done before.'

‘People hiring you?' he asked. ‘Home articles for that magazine, then?'

‘You're laughing at me.'

‘You were the one who tried to fool me,' he reminded her.

Hayley had the distinct feeling he was going to be reminding her of that for a very long time. She turned her attention back to the chopping.

‘Are you upset?' he asked.

‘No. Why?'

‘You look like you're about to cry.'

‘That's the onions.'

‘And you've stopped talking.'

‘It didn't seem like you really wanted to listen.'

He finished with a strip from his latest tomato and turned to face her, leaning one hip against the marble bench top. ‘I was listening,' he protested.

She wiped the back of her hand under her eye, and then wiped the mascara off on a nearby paper towel.

‘You were?' she asked. ‘What was I saying?'

‘You said you turned your spare bedroom into a studio to show potential clients your work.'

Potential clients. She hadn't used that expression. But it sounded so professional. At home, Hayley had been telling herself she needed to remember that photography was her career, not just a hobby. She wanted to seem more professional. And now that Ethan had said those words, she found herself wishing that she had used them herself. Potential clients. That was what the people who came to see her work were.

She nodded.

‘What kind of clients?' Ethan asked.

It had been such an intense afternoon, and he seemed so incredibly perceptive about her that it was strange for Hayley to realise that Ethan did not know what she did for a living.

‘I'm a wedding photographer,' she explained. ‘I have brides-to-be — and their mothers, usually, come to see evidence that I can create really special memories of their day.'