The Wrong Sister (19 page)

“That’s the end of my leave.” She angled her chin at him as though challenging him to disagree. “I seem to remember you couldn’t wait to get rid of me a few weeks ago.”

“You were too dangerous. It was too soon.”

“It’s still too soon,” she insisted.

“And you’re still too dangerous. But maybe this is the only chance we have—away from the world and all its petty conditions and condemnations.”

He fell silent as the wine waiter arrived to pour the first of their wines—a Marlborough Sauvignon Gris—and listened impatiently to the description, wanting the man gone so he could return his attention to Fiona. He’d chosen most of the contents of the Lodge’s cellar himself, for God’s sake.

“Yes, it’s the rest of the world we have to worry about,” she replied once the man had bustled off. “For all sorts of reasons we’re an impossible combination.”

“And for all sorts of other reasons we need each other.”

Her eyes whipped up to his and she sent him a long very candid stare. Finally she shook her head.

“We can’t, Christian. It was bad enough leaving you before Christmas. That was after just a few days, and for most of them I was very sore and hardly knew what I was doing.”

His masculine pride rebelled at that. He didn’t want to let her hide behind her injuries—not when he’d been so lost in grief his composure and resolve had been ripped to shreds. He’d laid down his heart for her to walk all over, taken the risk, and gambled to win.

“Did you know what you were doing in the bathroom when you reached out for me?” he demanded.

Had he been mistaken after all? Was she so concussed and confused that he’d misread her intentions entirely? He waited for her answer, hardly daring to draw breath.

“Yes, I knew what I was doing then.”

Her voice sounded barely above a whisper, but it was enough to allow him to breathe again.

“And it just about killed me having to leave you after those strange magic days,” she continued. “I couldn’t do it again. Don’t ask me to repeat that pain.”

Christian bowed his head for a moment at the raw honesty of her words.

“What are we going to do, Blondie?”

He watched as she lifted her glass and took a sip of the superb wine, buying time to consider her answer.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “We’re going to do nothing at all. We’ve no other option.”

Fiona felt the blood leave her face as she forced the hopeless hateful words out between her lips. Yes, nothing was the right thing. Nothing was the
best
thing. But it was the coward’s way out. Christian had lost his beloved wife. Nicky had lost her adored mother. She could assuage the hurt for both of them, even if
 
only for the next few days. But it would be at a terrible cost to herself.

She knew she must look pale with dread and strain after her cruel refusal.

But she was right. She knew she was right. However much Christian attracted her, he was Jan’s recent husband and nowhere near free to take up with his sister-in-law. He was forbidden.

It was a huge relief to see the waiter arriving with their first course. Finally she had the excuse to look down onto the food instead of having to avoid Christian’s dark gaze on the other side of the intimate table.

She took another sip of her crisp wine, sampled the mini-tapas, and couldn’t stop a groan of appreciation as the flavors exploded on her tongue.

“They’re seriously good,” she exclaimed, glancing up at him again.

“So our guests continue to tell us.”

“They beat anything from the chefs on the boat.”

“Bulk catering.” The twist of his lips told her what he thought of that.
 

She settled back in her chair and looked across at him once she’d finished her small but delicious portion. His expression was curiously serene for a man whose attentions had just been rebuffed.

“At least you don’t look offended,” she said with relief. “I hope I didn’t sound too sharp.”
 

“Live for the moment,” he replied with a barely discernable shrug. “After Jan became so terribly sick I decided I’d go after everything I really wanted. And tonight I wanted dinner with a view of you across the table. Anything more is a bonus.”

“Which you won’t be getting.”

He smiled, still with apparent good humor. “Live for the moment, as
I said. We’ve several more days here. You might change your mind.”

Fiona shook her head, hating herself for doing it.

“Don’t bet on it,” she said, pleased to see their next course arriving to provide a distraction.

Morsels of the most delicious foods New Zealand had to offer followed each other in a leisurely progression.

“Bluff Oyster Consommé en Croute,” the waiter announced, setting down small white ramekins of thin seafood soup topped with a golden pastry crust.

“Prime Fillet of Angus Beef on Anna Potatoes with Onion Marmalade.” Fiona cut into the juicy pink meat and marveled at its tenderness. Sipped the rich ruby Shiraz that accompanied it, and knew she was close to heaven.

“Pan-fried Snapper Fillet with Tomato and Red Wine Beurre Blanc.” She flaked the moist fish apart with her fork and closed her eyes to appreciate the delicate flavor.

“Asparagus on Mint and Green Pea Cream.”

“Breast of Poussin on Risotto with Capsicum Couli.” She scraped up every last grain of the delicious risotto and sighed with bliss, then noticed Christian’s indulgent expression.

“It’s all just so good,” she lamented. “I could eat a lot more of that last one.”

“Then order it for lunch tomorrow.”
 

“Tomorrow? Could I? What have you got planned?”

He shook his head slightly. Fiona watched the light and shade move across the strong planes of his face.

“Nothing at all. We could take Nic down to the beach. It’s a good flat sandy walking surface—if your knee’s up to it?”

“It’s fine now,” she said, basking in the warmth of his eyes, and wanting more than ever to reach out and touch him. His earlier comment about changing her mind meant it would be just so easy!
 

“Grilled Figs Wrapped in Prosciutto with Honey, Truffle and Blue Cheese Sauce,” their attentive waiter announced.

“Truffles,” she murmured once he was out of earshot. “I’ve tried them in France, but not often.”
 

“If you survive the excitement of fresh truffles we could drive a short way down to the river tomorrow instead of going to the beach,” he teased. “There are some good swimming holes, and Nic could paddle around in the shallows?”

Like a normal family holiday,
Fiona thought, feeling her heart contract with longing.
As though we’re a married couple with our longed-for child.
 

How I wish.

They discussed beach versus river until the next course arrived.

“Vanilla Bean and Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Berry Compote under a Sugar Cage.”

Her eyes grew wide at the artistic arrangement of the dessert. “Oh Christian,” she sighed. “How can I wreck such a beautiful thing?”

“Have some of mine then,” he said, spooning up Panna Cotta and berries from his own portion, leaning over, and nudging it against her lips. In a split second the air came alive with hot forbidden yearning again.

Fiona opened her mouth, eyes drawn to his. The amused affection was gone; now his intense gaze was dark with desire. His pupils blazed wide and black. She fell into their dangerous depths, then found she couldn’t draw back as his hand settled against her nape, pulled her closer and held her still as he teased her with the spoon. The smooth cool silver slid along her lower lip and the luscious berry perfume wafted up, sweet and rich.
 

She parted her lips a little further on an indrawn breath and he gently pushed the spoon in, waited until she’d closed her lips around it, and slowly withdrew it. His eyes never left hers, and Fiona knew all too well that this tiny intrusion into her body was his hopeful prelude to an altogether more passionate invasion. How would she ever resist?
 

Later, after excellent coffee and hand-made chocolates, Christian carried a sleeping Nicky in his arms as they returned to the car.
 

“Will you drive Blondie? Save me waking her? Keys are on the left.”

Fiona slipped her hand into his jacket, and he chuckled. “Pants pocket. Are you feeling brave enough to invade my trousers?”

She shot him a glare.

“Bastard,” she said, although without venom. The dinner wines had relaxed her considerably. Her resolve was still strong, but if he was determined to tempt her like this...? She pushed his jacket aside to locate the pocket opening, and inserted her hand.
 

Permission to touch him, please Jan?

She stroked her fingers down the hard length of his hipbone, sliding deep into his hot slippery pocket, knowing she must be only a fraction of an inch from very dangerous ground.

Christian let loose a small soft growl, but with Nicky in his arms could do nothing to prevent her hand from exploring.
 

She located the key-ring and closed her fingers around the remote, drawing it far too slowly up past his groin, feeling her knuckles brushing where they shouldn’t.

“Just getting even for your champagne game,” she murmured sweetly, producing the bundle at last and sending him a faint cheeky smile. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she breathed out with relief as she turned to blip the car unlocked.
 

Unfamiliar with the luxurious vehicle she gave her total concentration to driving the short distance, and drew to a thankful halt a tense minute or two later.

“Garage remote’s behind the visor.”
 

Fiona fumbled for it in the dark and waited until the door rose. She coasted inside and signaled for it to close.
 

They were alone, and it was bedtime.
 

Her heartbeat once again increased to a rapid hammering. Separate bedrooms and the presence of a sleeping two-year-old would to do very little to douse the furious flames that had sprung up between them.
 

“Thank-you for a lovely dinner.”
 

She sighed at the desperately bright tone of her voice as she shot out of the car and hurried around to open the passenger door. Christian stepped out, cradling his still-sleeping daughter.

“We must do it again,” he replied gravely, a small humorous twitch at the corner of his mouth showing he’d registered her unease. “Tomorrow.”

“Um—yes—goodnight then,” she said, swallowing. She bolted into her room, yanking the door closed behind her.
 

God, this is juvenile! We shared the house in Wellington safely enough.

But that had been more than a month ago, when Jan’s death was hideously recent; when reminders of her were all around them.
 

And when Fiona had been too injured to think of much beyond her accident.
 

Now she was strong and supple again, Jan had retreated a little into the past, and there were none of her sister’s personal belongings in the cottage to reinforce the memories and strengthen her resolve.

Temptation gnawed at her like a hungry terrier worrying at a bone. Christian had made his feelings clear. He wanted her. He was gentleman enough not to force the issue, but his starving eyes and husky suggestions had found their mark. The tension between them now stretched tightrope-taut.

Fiona glared at her reflection and groaned. After all her efforts to play down her appearance her eyes were huge and bright, her cheeks flushed warmly, and her lips pouted full and inviting. She looked as seductive as any cunningly made-up model posing for a glossy magazine feature. So this had been Christian’s view of her across their table? No wonder he’d seen possibilities.

She sighed and stripped off her dress and panties, amazed to find her heart was beating so jaggedly she could see one nipple softly pulsing in the mirror. She watched the small shudder with fascination. Surely that had never happened before? She was acutely aroused, and her body was letting her know it in a dozen delicious ways.

She needed to wind down. It was late, and she felt both exhausted and exhilarated. Surely a long, relaxing shower would help? Then if she pulled on one of her oversize soft cotton T-shirts, she’d fall asleep in the inviting wide bed and put him right out of her mind until morning.

Above her, Christian paced. Nicky had drowsed in his arms without stirring, and he’d settled her into her cot with no further drama.
 

He cocked an ear. He could hear the shower running downstairs; so much for enjoying a nightcap with Fiona. He’d been looking forward to that, but she’d slammed her bedroom door on him as though he was poison. Just as things had seemed more relaxed, as possibilities floated around them in the warm air of the car, she’d frozen him out again.

He flinched as he pushed at his groin, trying to gain a few more degrees of comfort. Damn the woman...he needed a huge distraction instead of a huge erection!
 

He stripped off his shirt to let the soft night air cool his skin. What would tomorrow bring?

With resignation, he opened his ever-present lap-top and began to pull down emails; quietly tapping out replies to business messages from the other side of the world.

After what seemed like countless hours of restless tossing and turning, and determined muscle-relaxing exercises, Fiona groaned at the 2.33 on her bedside clock. She was so wide-awake. Plainly sleep wouldn’t be arriving any time soon. She sat up in the kingsize bed and took a few sips of water from her nearby tumbler. Yet again Christian crept back into her brain—so gorgeous but so far out of reach.
 

The room felt stifling hot. She pulled at the neckline of her T-shirt and flapped some cooler air inside it. Wiped a hand over her damp forehead. Then threw off the smooth percale sheet and ran her fingers backward through her hair to lift it off her scalp. Longing for fresh air, she rose from the bed, pushed the heavy glass slider aside and stepped out onto the terrace.