The Seduction Season. Helen Bianchin
Occasionally he looked up old friends and joined the social set for a while, only to find the life palled, the new plot beckoned, whereupon he returned to the place he’d called home for the past five years.
Now he looked into the clear green gaze of the first sassy blonde who’d shown an active dislike of him, and relaxed his features as he proffered a faint smile. ‘Six o’clock will be fine.’
Where had he been during that long minute of silence? Anneke told herself she wasn’t interested. And knew she lied.
She inclined her head stiffly, and matched her voice to the gesture. ‘I intend going back to bed.’ Her eyes held his, fascinated by dark slate-grey depths whose expression was difficult to discern. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d stop hammering so that I can catch up on some sleep.’
‘OK.’
She couldn’t believe he intended to comply. ‘You’ll stop?’
Those sensuously moulded lips curved slightly. ‘You asked me nicely.’
Anneke opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She watched in silence as he removed the ladder and stored it, gathered up the used section of roof guttering and collected his tools.
Without a further word he turned and covered the distance to his cottage with an easy, lithe stride.
Denim hugged every curve, hinted at superb thigh and calf muscle, and emphasised the length of his legs. Lean waist, fluid muscular grace evident in the breadth of his shoulders denoted more than average strength.
Dammit, why was she standing here watching him, for heaven’s sake? Men weren’t her favoured species at the moment, and this man irritated her beyond measure.
She retreated indoors, paused long enough in the kitchen to fill a glass with water and drink it, then she made for the bedroom and slid between the sheets.
The anger hadn’t subsided; if anything it had intensified. Joined by the stinging realisation that she had no job, no salary, and running expenses to maintain on her apartment.
On the plus side, she had an annuity from inherited investments, sufficient to live quite comfortably until she found employment, and there was a reasonably healthy savings account from which she could draw funds to meet weekly expenses.
Anneke closed her eyes and deliberately summoned pleasant thoughts, employed meditation techniques, and resorted to counting sheep. Nothing worked.
With an angry jerk she tossed off the sheet, rose and pulled on a swimsuit. A swim, followed by a walk along the beach, then breakfast. After which she’d examine the contents of Aunt Vivienne’s refrigerator and pantry, decide what to prepare for Sebastian’s dinner, then drive into Byron Bay and collect everything she needed from the supermarket.
Anneke paused long enough to clean her teeth and run a brush through her hair, then she slid on a pair of sunglasses, caught up a towel, and made her way down onto the sandy foreshore.
The sun was warm, with the promise of increasing heat as the day progressed. A faint sea breeze teased the ends of her hair, and she inhaled the tangy salt air with pleasure.
There wasn’t another person in sight, and she relished the solitude, choosing to explore the familiar shoreline for several minutes before opting to wade into the cool water.
Effecting a neat dive, she broke the surface and began a pattern of leisurely strokes parallel to the shore for a while, before emerging to towel the excess moisture from her skin and hair.
It didn’t take long for the warm air to dry her swimsuit, and she wrapped the towel round her waist, then set out towards the outcrop of rocks at the furthest end of the bay.
Anneke could feel her body relax as the tension eased, and she increased her pace to a light jog, enjoying the exercise, the morning, the solitude.
It was almost an hour before she re-entered the cottage, and after a shower she dressed in casual shorts and a top, then caught up a pad and pen as she examined her aunt’s pantry and refrigerator and noted what food supplies she’d need to collect from the supermarket.
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