The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHINЧитать онлайн книгу.
she heard the strong, steady beat of his heart, felt the strength of his large muscled body, and savoured the comforting warmth of his breath as it stirred her hair. A stray hand skimmed lightly over her waist and settled possessively on her hip.
She loved his scent, the faint muskiness of his skin. The flex of muscle and sinew beneath the satin smoothness of its olive texture. The subtle tang of his exclusive cologne that always seemed to linger, the result of layering the same expensive brand with matching soap and deodorant.
There was something in the way he cupped his hand…beneath her elbow, her chin, curving over her shoulder. A light possessive touch that claimed her as his own.
And the simmering passion evident in his dark eyes. The look that made mere words fade into inadequate comprehension.
Once, in the beginning, she had only to meet his gaze to know. To nurture that need, to be aware when they were alone the night really began…a long night of loving, pleasuring each other until sleep claimed them and they woke to a new day’s dawn.
Could it ever be that way again?
Complete and utter trust. Total fidelity. Because together, they were twin halves of a whole. Two hearts beating together. One soul, one love.
At the time, she’d thought nothing could come between them. No one could ever tear what they had asunder.
Yet someone had, and the spectre that was Georgia remained.
‘RISE and shine.’
Katrina heard the words, lifted her head and groaned, then rolled onto her stomach and buried her head beneath the pillow.
‘It’s the middle of the night,’ she protested in a muffled voice.
‘Nine o’clock,’ Nicos informed her with amusement. ‘You get to have breakfast in bed, then we’re driving into the Blue Mountains for a picnic.’
She wasn’t sure which surprised her the most…breakfast in bed, or— ‘A picnic?’ she queried as she removed the pillow and turned to look at him. ‘Are you mad?’ It might be spring, but it was still cool. And several degrees cooler in the mountains comprising the Great Dividing Range.
The mattress depressed as he sank into it, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, toast, and…was that bacon?
Orange juice, too. She levered her body into a sitting position and bunched a pillow behind her back.
‘This is decadent,’ Katrina began as she plucked a glass of juice from the tray and took half the contents in one long swallow. She cast him a suspicious glance. ‘What do you want?’
He swung long legs onto the bed, copied her action with the pillow, then began to do justice to a plate of eggs, bacon and toast. ‘I couldn’t prepare breakfast and serve it in bed out of the goodness of my heart?’
He had already showered and dressed, and she silently cursed him for appearing so refreshed and vital at this hour of the morning, while she felt like something the cat had dragged in. Hair a riotous tumble, naked, and needing, she admitted silently, at least another hour’s sleep.
‘No,’ Katrina declared with stunning succinctness.
‘You malign me. I remember a few occasions when I brought you breakfast in bed.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Except you were contriving to keep me in bed, not persuade me to get out of it.’
‘I thought we could get away for the day, take in the scenery, pick up some lunch, and have a break.’
She finished the juice, and forked some bacon into her mouth. Was it possible to maintain light-hearted camaraderie? To cast aside lingering animosity and—uppermost—attempt to dismiss Georgia for a day?
‘No phones, no interruptions, no pressures,’ he continued.
‘We each have a cellphone,’ she reminded him cynically.
‘So, we have any calls go to message-bank.’
‘It’ll be cold in the mountains.’
‘I could be persuaded to change my mind if you prefer to stay in bed.’
‘A picnic sounds great,’ she capitulated with alacrity, and heard his amused chuckle.
What was the alternative? A repeat of last Sunday? Or did she contact a friend and organise time spent exploring The Rocks with its many craft shops and food stalls? Maybe arrange time on the court at a private tennis club? Or did she bury herself in work on the laptop?
There were many choices, none of which held much appeal.
Besides, an entire day spent in Nicos’s company could help put their enforced relationship in perspective.
What perspective? Katrina mentally derided as she showered, then dressed in jeans and a rib-knit top.
It was nine days since she’d moved back into his home, and already she was sharing the same room, the same bed. Despite her voiced avowal to the contrary.
So what did that say about her? That she was weak-willed and malleable? Or merely enjoying the fringe benefits of their relationship?
Neither was true, she dismissed, as she pulled on socks and slid her feet into trainers.
There was a part of her that wanted to block out the turmoil Georgia’s reappearance had caused. The woman’s timing was masterful. Contrived to destroy any chance of what she perceived could lead to a genuine reconciliation?
Was that Georgia’s aim?
Dear heaven. Was the woman desperate enough to resort to deliberate subterfuge?
Katrina didn’t like the way various scenarios were swirling through her brain, and she resolutely put them on hold as she slung a sweater over her shoulders and knotted the sleeves together in front.
She intended to seize the day, and enjoy it as best she could…without introspection or censure.
Nicos took the Great Western Highway to Katoomba, passing through various small towns which often seemed to merge. There they picked up filled rolls, fruit, bottled water, and drove on through precipitous valleys, taking a turn-off leading to a picturesque waterfall where they stopped to have lunch.
Nicos took a rug from the car and spread it on the grassy verge. They sank down comfortably, and began eating in companionable silence.
It was cool, much cooler than Sydney, the peace and tranquillity a direct contrast to city living. It was possible to almost hear the silence beyond the soft rush of water spilling down the rock face.
The isolation was complete, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine another time when life was reduced to carving out an existence, rising with the dawn to take from the day as much as humanly possible.
The evolution of man had advanced into the twenty-first century, but the beauty of nature abounded, often stark, frequently simple…a pertinent reminder of a primitive power.
Katrina finished her ham and salad roll, and bit into an apple.
‘Thanks,’ she said quietly.
‘For bringing you here?’
‘Yes.’ She could feel the tension of the past few weeks begin to ease, and a sense of peace invade her being. The city seemed far distant, as did the stress of everyday living, Enrique’s demands…Georgia. Even her aggression with Nicos temporarily ceased to exist.
He capped his bottled water, and stretched out. His jeans were a soft denim that moulded his legs and clung lovingly to his hips. A thick sweater covered his polo shirt, accentuating his breadth of shoulder, the depth of his chest.
Katrina finished her apple,