The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
from behind the desk.
‘Hannah, darling.’
‘Mother.’ Renee always rang before calling in. Always. The fact she hadn’t this time caused Hannah’s forehead to crease into a slight frown.
‘I know, I should have phoned first. But I was close by…’ She trailed off, before launching into an explanation, ‘Lunch with an old friend, darling. And I thought I’d just pop in and say hello.’
‘It’s great to see you.’ She injected enthusiasm into her voice and crossed the floor to bestow the customary air-kiss to each cheek. ‘The scarves arrived this morning. I put a few aside that I thought you might like. Would you like to see them?’
Business. If she could keep everything on a business footing, maybe Renee wouldn’t notice the fine cracks in her daughter’s façade.
‘Oh, please, darling.’
Hannah retrieved the box, extracted three scarves and spread them across the counter. They were pure silk, exquisitely patterned, and an attractive fashion accessory.
Renee selected two, then crossed to the blouse rack, chose one, then moved to the desk. ‘I’ll take these, darling.’ She gave a soft exclamation, and followed it with a ladylike curse. ‘I don’t believe it. I’ve left my bag in the car.’
‘Locked, I hope,’ Hannah said at once, concern marring her features.
‘Of course, locked, darling. I have my keys.’ She held them up in plain sight. ‘I remember activating the alarm.’
‘Where are you parked?’
‘This side of the street, just a few cars down.’ She held out the keys. ‘Would you mind fetching it for me?’ She cast the empty boutique a cursory glance. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’
Maybe a breath of fresh air might lift her mood, Hannah determined as she accepted the keys and made for the door.
It was hot outside, the sun’s brightness intense after the air-conditioned coolness indoors. A few cars down meant she met the worst of the glare as she walked towards her mother’s car, and she lifted a hand to shade her eyes. Only to come to a dead halt at the sight of a familiar tall frame standing beside Renee’s Lexus.
Miguel. Looking totally relaxed and at ease, his expression shaded behind dark sunglasses. A deceptive pose, for she had no doubt beneath that calm exterior lay the coiled strength of a predator.
There was a part of her that wanted to turn back and return to the boutique, where her mother’s presence would ensure civility was maintained. Yet she refused to take the easy way out. Whatever they needed to say to each other had to be said.
Miguel saw the moment she mentally squared her shoulders, witnessed the slight lift of her chin, and accurately defined the expression in her clear blue eyes.
It was her nature to confront, resolve, and move forward. He was bargaining on her doing just that.
‘It’s four thirty,’ Hannah said evenly as she took the necessary steps to reach the Lexus. ‘What are you doing here?’
He pulled back the cuff of his jacket, checked his watch, then trapped her gaze. ‘A few minutes past that, if you want total accuracy.’
Miguel didn’t shift position, and she was forced to move in close as she deactivated the alarm, unlocked the passenger door, retrieved her mother’s bag, then reversed the security process.
‘Shall we return Renee’s bag?’ he queried mildly, and she threw him a measured look.
‘We?’
He caught hold of her elbow, firming his grasp as she made to wrench away. ‘We,’ he reiterated firmly.
‘Miguel—’
‘There’s the easy way where we walk back to the boutique. Or I can hoist you over one shoulder and carry you. Which would you prefer?’
Her eyes sparked angry fire. ‘You’re giving me a choice?’
He brushed his thumb over the generous curve of her mouth. ‘No.’
Her palms itched with the urge to slap him.
‘Don’t.’ The warning was silky soft and curled round her nerve-ends.
Without a word she turned and made her way back to the boutique, aware of an explosive electric force field that surrounded them.
Hannah was startlingly aware of him, his proximity, the faint aroma of his aftershave, the clean smell of his clothes. His grasp on her elbow would tighten in a heartbeat if she attempted to pull free.
Four shop fronts, a matter of mere metres, and they reached the boutique. She didn’t even question his intention to enter, for it was clearly evident he meant to.
She paused, her features strained, her eyes too dark. ‘Is there a purpose to this?’
‘Yes.’
Hannah extended her hand to open the door, only to have it swing inward.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Renee declared, her features carefully schooled. ‘There was one phone call, which I dealt with.’
Hannah looked from one to the other, and settled on Miguel, suspicion uppermost. ‘You set this up.’ She turned towards her mother. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘Guilty.’
‘Why?’ Hannah demanded, sorely tried.
‘Go get your bag,’ Miguel instructed. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘I’ll stay and close the boutique,’ Renee informed before her daughter had a chance to protest.
‘No.’ Hannah threw Miguel a vengeful glare. ‘And if you try any macho tactics, I’ll call the police.’
‘Call them.’ It took two seconds to sweep an arm beneath her knees and lift her against his chest.
Renee crossed quickly to the desk, opened a cupboard, retrieved Hannah’s bag, and handed it to Miguel.
‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ Hannah vented as she closed her fingers into a fist and set a bruising punch to his shoulder.
He turned and walked out the door, traversed the pavement to where his car was parked, unlocked the door, then he thrust her into the passenger seat.
The next instant he crossed round to the driver’s side, then slid in behind the wheel.
The engine fired and settled into a soft purr as he eased the car out of its parking space and into the flow of traffic along Toorak Road.
Hannah didn’t trust herself to speak. There was too much anger to bother with meaningless words.
Instead, she looked beyond the windscreen, noting the traffic, people walking, children, mothers laughing, scolding. Movement, life. Outside, the world continued to evolve, along with people’s lives.
From inside, somehow it didn’t seem real. She might as well have been viewing the scene on television.
Familiar streets, familiar locale. She passed by here five days out of seven.
But not quite this far, she suddenly realised.
‘You’ve missed the turn.’
‘We’re not going home.’ Miguel’s voice was a faintly inflected drawl, and she looked at him carefully, seeing the strength and sense of purpose evident.
‘Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me exactly where we are going?’
He slanted her a quick glance. ‘Wait and see.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Hannah dismissed angrily, and refrained from offering so much as another word.
The flow of traffic intensified as they neared the city, and she contained