Shadows Of The Past. Frances Housden
her cheeks. “Oh, I’ve heard of you. Nice to meet you at last.”
“Heard of me?” He didn’t like the sound of that one bit. It made her association with Randy resonate with words like long term. The back of his neck prickled. Funny place for a conscience, but he’d swear that’s what it was, though he was a bit long in the tooth to start worrying about moving in on another guy’s woman.
“I’ve read of your work in the business section of the Herald.”
He remembered the article; it had likened him to some sort of wunderkind. “I hope you took everything it said with a grain of salt. I’m not that good.”
“Hah,” she chuckled. “They always manage to get something wrong, and where I work, I tend to collect a fund of useless information. They never once mentioned modesty.”
“Got me. Okay, now the introductions are over let me snag you a glass of wine.” Guiding Maria through the crowd, he grabbed a full glass of wine from the small bar in the corner, hoping it was merlot. It was definitely red but he didn’t have time to inquire. It would be just like Randy to arrive before Franc had time to hustle Maria out of the dining room.
“This way.” Guiding Maria past the kitchen and out to the courtyard was both a bonus and a nightmare. He slipped one arm behind her and opened a passage into the courtyard with the other. The moment his fingers brushed bare flesh his heart jolted as if he’d touched a live wire.
“Sorry about that,” he murmured. Sliding his palm closer to the top of her hip, which had no calming effect on his equilibrium whatsoever, Franc made a pretense of checking out the courtyard. Laughter and conversation were more prevalent than in the other room and most of the tables were occupied by more than two. Using the excuse of the music stealing through the corridor behind them, Franc leaned closer and spoke a bare inch from her ear. “I don’t see him, do you?”
Maria took a step back as she turned to answer. “No, I don’t.” He saw her lip tremble as the glow of the Chinese lanterns highlighted the faint bloom of sweat beading her top lip and forehead. The step she’d taken pushed her close to the curve of his arm and through his shirtsleeve her skin felt on fire.
“You’ll be better out here, where it’s cooler than inside. I’ll find you a table to wait at while I look for Randy.” He found one overhung by ivy and a potted palm that filtered the pink lantern light.
A fat yellow candle burned in a ceramic pot and Maria motioned to it as she sat down. “I see someone took care of the mosquitoes.”
“Huh?” he looked at her, his mind blank as she tipped up her glass and drank. Were his lies catching up to him?
“Can’t you smell the candle? It’s citronella.”
The only scent teasing his nose was Maria’s perfume and it reminded him of crushed rose petals. “You can be comfortable then while I send out a search party.”
Sitting sideways, she leaned an elbow on the table, her wineglass swayed in the hand above it as she crossed her legs. “Don’t go to too much trouble.”
“I don’t mind.”
Her foot jiggled in midair, making a liar out of her. It was obvious she couldn’t wait for Randy to arrive. Well, he’d see about that.
Her toenails were painted to match her dress and he found himself staring at them as he wondered if he could get Randy out of the restaurant before Maria became suspicious.
He flashed one last look at her toes as he turned. They would keep. “You just enjoy your wine while I go look for your boyfriend.”
Boyfriend! Maria supposed that was the impression she’d intended—at first. Before Franc.
Quickly, she took her glasses from her purse, put them on her nose and glanced round the courtyard to make sure Randy really wasn’t there. After taking them off, she took a sip of wine. It had the full-bodied flavor of a cabernet sauvignon. Maybe it would bolster her courage. Suddenly, the idea that confrontation would solve all her problems before she went home for Christmas seemed like the worst she’d ever had.
Wasn’t it just like her luck to take a holiday on the night she met Franc Jellic. After years of knowing she had to keep herself safe from men, to meet a man who made her want to throw her heart into the ring and forget all her problems. He could almost pass for the description of the guy she’d told Mamma she was dating. She just hadn’t believed such a man could be real.
But her imaginary man friend existed solely to prevent Mamma from insisting she go to Italy to pick out one of the nice Italian boys the family would parade in front of her. She’d acted secretive about the guy she was seeing, telling Mamma she wouldn’t let him run the gauntlet of her family until she was sure of her feelings for him.
But, deep inside she was sure no other man could evoke the reaction she’d had to Franc. And in all probability, in a few moments he’d be ejecting her from the premises. What was it about him that called to her in this innately sensual way? Stirring her hormones. Filling her head with ideas about losing her innocence at last. Not that she’d dare give in to the devil prompting her imagination.
Sometimes her imagination was her worst enemy.
Her family was convinced that losing all memory of when she was abducted at seventeen was a good thing. They hadn’t allowed for the scenes that ran through her mind each time she touched her scars and tried to picture how she’d gotten them.
More reason for her to confront Randy Searle tonight and put this stalking business behind her, once and for all.
She took another sip and another. The alcohol skipped her stomach and targeted her brain. She’d hardly eaten all day. Nerves. But if she were slightly numb, maybe giving Randy Searle his comeuppance wouldn’t seem so daunting.
In the last few weeks he’d invaded her life, crushed her sensitivities with his grubby mind, violating her privacy. She was here to demand face-to-face that he stop stalking her.
Six feet and a crowded table away from the stairs, Franc’s pores broke into a sweat at the sight of dark-clothed legs heading down them. He was at the foot of them before he recognized Brent, his general manager. “Hey, buddy, am I glad to see you.”
Brent was almost as tall as his own six-four, but his slighter build made him look taller. “Whatever it is, no. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me tonight, replaced every empty glass with a full one and danced with every wallflower until it feels like I’m wearing someone else’s feet. I’d say that’s enough favors for one night.”
Franc gripped the banister and moved a step closer. “And it’s all appreciated. But I kid you not, this one you’ll enjoy. I want you to help me get rid of Randy Searle.”
His friend’s jaw dropped. “What? No way. You know I love you like a brother, Franc, but not enough to kill for.”
Franc rolled his eyes, giving Brent a punch on the shoulder to emphasize his point.
“Idiot. I fancy the woman like crazy, but murder’s too high a price even for a goddess.”
“A goddess? I take it you aren’t talking about Kathy, because that’s who’s with Randy. The pair of them were over each other like a rash. It got so bad I had to leave my bolt-hole and you know I’m a pretty tolerant guy, but man…”
Grinning, Franc said, “That’s because you’re a man of good taste, unlike Randy. No need to worry. That rash isn’t catching.”
He and Brent had been friends for years, working in the same line, electronic design, when the chance for a top job with Stanhope Electronics had come through a family connection—no nepotism involved. If he’d come up short on the qualifications, his new brother-in-law, Rowan McQuaid Stanhope, wouldn’t even have considered him, or Brent, whom he’d taken with him.
“The guy’s simply inconvenient. And what I’d like is Randy to leave and the woman who’s called