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The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHINЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Helen Bianchin Collection - HELEN  BIANCHIN


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followed her, and together they rinsed and stacked them into the dishwasher in record time.

      Hannah wiped down the bench, then paused as Elise touched her arm.

      ‘May I say something?’

      ‘Of course.’ Hannah turned and gave Elise her full attention.

      ‘Alejandro had a woman chase him when I was pregnant with our first son. Savannah made a complete nuisance of herself and caused me immeasurable grief at the time.’ She smiled a little at the memory. ‘Unless I’m reading things wrong, you have a similar nemesis in Camille.’ She drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘One thing I learned that might help. The Santanas men are one-woman men.’

      ‘So don’t worry about Camille?’ Hannah queried wryly.

      ‘Don’t worry about Miguel,’ Elise corrected gently. Her features momentarily clouded. ‘Here we go again,’ she groaned, rolling her eyes an instant before she quickly exited the kitchen.

      Miguel and Alejandro entered the house as Elise returned from her mercy dash, and Hannah set the coffee filtering as she extracted cups, sugar and milk.

      ‘Tea for me,’ Elise requested, and Hannah extracted a tray.

      ‘Why don’t you go sit by the pool and I’ll bring it out in a few minutes?’

      It was pleasant to relax in the quiet evening air and watch the sun go down. The garden lights sprung to life by automatic control, and recessed lighting around the pool area added a luminous glow that was highlighted by underwater pool lighting.

      A private fairyland, secluded, peaceful, and a relaxing way to end a lovely day.

      Elise voiced the words, and Hannah had to agree.

      ‘Time to go, querida,’ Alejandro commanded quietly as he stood to his feet. ‘You’re tired.’

      ‘I am?’ Her eyes assumed a musing gleam. ‘If you say so.’

      How many years had they been married? Hannah posed. Six, seven? Yet the intense passion was there, burning just beneath the surface. Somehow she could imagine it would always be so. Yet it hadn’t been in the beginning, she reflected as she stood with Miguel at the front door and watched the tail-lights of their hire car glow in the darkness. An arranged marriage that had gone wrong, with Elise escaping only to find herself involved in a car crash and suffering memory loss.

      ‘More coffee?’ Hannah queried as she turned away from the door.

      ‘No,’ Miguel refused as he locked up and set the security alarm. ‘I need to pack. Alejandro is picking me up at seven-thirty en route to the airport.’

      Where the Sanmar company Lear jet would fly them across the vast Australian continent to Perth.

      Without a word she crossed the foyer with him and ascended the stairs to their room where she watched in silence as Miguel extracted a leather holdall and rapidly tossed in a few shirts, a pair of trousers, together with other essentials.

      The thought of him being absent for a few days didn’t thrill her at all, and she gathered up a silky nightshirt, then entered the en suite to shower.

      Miguel joined her there minutes later, and she felt acutely vulnerable as he took the soap from her hand, using it gently over every inch of her body before extending it to her to return the favour.

      For a second she hesitated, and the breath caught in her throat as he cupped her face and slanted his mouth down to cover her own in a kiss that was so tender it was all she could do not to cry.

      It was a while before they both emerged, and towelled dry, re-entered the bedroom and slipped beneath the covers.

      He reached for her, and she went to him willingly, curving her arms round his neck as she pulled his head down to hers.

      Miguel indulged her, allowing her to take the initiative, until he stilled her hands and held them.

      ‘Amante, no. As much as I want you, last night—’

      ‘Was wonderful,’ Hannah assured. ‘Earth-shattering.’

      ‘I don’t think—’

      ‘Don’t,’ she pleaded. ‘Think, I mean,’ she added quickly. ‘Just feel. Please.’ She extricated her hands and ran light fingers down his chest, traced a pattern over his navel, then moved low. ‘I want to make love with you.’

      And she did, with exquisite care, rising above him as she took in his length, feeling acute pleasure, enclosing him tightly she began to move.

      Yet it was Miguel who took control and measured the pace, making it a slow erotic dance that shattered them both with its intensity. Then he brought her down to him and held her long after her breathing returned to normal and she slept.

      Saying goodbye was harder than it had ever been before, and she wanted to say don’t go. Except the words never found voice, and she managed the semblance of a warm smile as he kissed her briefly before moving quickly out to the car and slipped into the front seat beside Alejandro.

      Fortunately there wasn’t much time to reflect on Miguel’s departure as she returned to the dining room to finish the last of her breakfast and skim the daily newspaper before ascending the stairs to get ready for work.

      The replacement salesgirl sent by the agency proved to be a dramatic improvement on Chantal, and Hannah began to relax as the morning progressed.

      Renee rang to check how the new girl was shaping up, and Miguel called to say they’d landed in Perth.

      When the phone rang again minutes later Hannah automatically lifted the receiver and intoned her usual greeting.

      ‘Bonjour, Hannah.’

      The voice on the other end of the phone was familiar. Far too familiar, and not one she wanted to hear.

      ‘How did you get my number?’ A silly question, she silently castigated herself the instant the words slipped from her lips.

      ‘Dearest Hannah,’ Luc drawled with cynical humour. ‘Your boutique has a name, which is listed in the telephone directory.’

      The connection to Camille was obvious. ‘What do you want?’

      ‘Ah, chérie,’ he chastised softly. ‘Straight to the point.’

      ‘I don’t have time to chat.’ Her voice was distant, formal.

      ‘Meet me for coffee.’

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘You have to break for lunch, surely?’

      ‘Yes, but I don’t intend to have it with you.’

      ‘Afraid, chérie?’

      Had he always been this insufferably arrogant? She almost cringed at the thought she’d once been attracted to him. ‘Of you? No.’ She replaced the receiver, and turned towards the sheaf of invoices waiting to claim her attention.

      A client entered the boutique, and Hannah watched surreptitiously as Elaine moved forward with a practised greeting. In only a matter of hours the girl was showing her worth, and Hannah felt cautiously hopeful she’d work out.

      Elaine took a lunch break at midday, and on her return an hour later Hannah crossed the street to the café she usually frequented. The food was good, the coffee superb.

      Big mistake, she realised within seconds of entering the busy eatery. Being a creature of habit had its downfall, for anyone familiar with her regular routine would be aware this particular café was her favourite haunt for lunch…whether she chose food to take away, or took the time to eat in.

      Seated at a table overlooking the street was Luc Dubois, looking the relaxed urbane sophisticate he aspired to be.

      Now why wasn’t she surprised to see him there? Luc did nothing without motivation. It made her feel distinctly wary.


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