Helen Bianchin - Seduction Assignment

It wasn’t easy to ignore the faint prickle of awareness teasing the hairs on her nape.

His very presence irked her. He made her feel vulnerable, and she didn’t like it any more than she liked him.

There were no messages on the answering machine, but her mobile showed one missed call, and when she checked voice mail all she heard was an indistinct whisper followed by the silent click of a replaced receiver.

Her stomach gave a small lurch, then settled.

Adam? Even as the thought intruded, she dismissed it. Adam Lloyd Chambers was a legal eagle of impeccable lineage, admired by his associates and a pillar within his social community.

The fact he had a penchant for sexual dalliances didn’t alter the fact he was an unlikely candidate to make nuisance calls. Besides, she couldn’t see him doing anything to jeopardise his career or his partnership.

Anneke made for the bathroom, showered and washed her hair, then dressed in tailored shorts, added a cotton top. She cut up a selection of fruit, added cereal, then followed it with a poached egg on toast for breakfast.

She put a small load of washing through the machine, and after completing some essential housework she caught up her keys and drove into Byron Bay with the intention of browsing through the many craft shops, maybe taking time out to sip a cappuccino at one of several outdoor cafés before purchasing a selection of fresh fruit and a few staple vegetables.

The aroma of freshly baked bread was irresistible, and she entered the shop, purchased a baguette and a few savoury scrolls, then emerged out onto the pavement.

Some ham, a wedge of Brie, and a delicious salad would suffice as lunch. Then she’d curl up in the capacious cane chair on her aunt’s porch and lose herself in a book until it was time to prepare dinner.

‘Well, now, girl, what’s that you’ve got there?’

She heard the voice, took in the thin face, the long, unkempt hair, the nose-stud, the eyebrow-ring, and a range of studs and earrings attached to each ear. The loose-flowing shirt looked as if it hadn’t been washed in weeks, likewise the frayed and slashed jeans.

One glance at those eyes was enough for her to determine this was no peace-loving New Age devotee. They were dark, beady, and mean.

Trouble. Unless she handled him carefully.

Anneke lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. ‘Bread, fruit and vegetables.’ She made to move past him, and saw the subtle shift of his body as he stepped close.

Damn. ‘You’re in my way,’ she stated calmly.

‘That’s a problem?’

‘It could be.’

‘So, what you gonna do, pretty girl?’ he mocked.

‘Any one of a number of things.’

He leered at her, and ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip. ‘Such as?’ His mouth parted in a soundless laugh. ‘Scream?’

‘How’s your pain level?’ Anneke countered matter-off-actly.

An arm curved along the back of her waist while another deftly removed a carry-bag. ‘ Chérie . My apologies.’ She felt the heat of Sebastian’s frame as he leaned in close and brushed his lips to her cheek in a warm caress. ‘Have you been waiting long?’

She turned her head and met a pair of steady dark eyes, glimpsed their warning flare, and controlled the unexpected flip her stomach executed as she became lost in the devastating warmth of his smile.

Only a fool would have ignored the hard-muscled body beneath the open-necked shirt and stonewashed jeans, or dismissed the ruthless intensity behind his deceptively mild expression.

Anneke had the distinct feeling he was poised for action. It was evident in his stance, the sharp stillness apparent in his eyes. For one infinitesimal second she almost felt sorry for her aggressor.

‘Sebastian. C’est opportun .’

A split second to think. So, not fluent, he acknowledged. The accent was passable. His smile widened. Good. She would understand what he said when he made love to her.

His eyes were carefully bland. ‘Should we effect an introduction?’ He thrust out his hand and enclosed the young man’s palm in a firm grip. ‘Lanier. And you?’

‘Go to hell.’

Sebastian’s expression didn’t change. ‘What a shame, my friend,’ he intoned with deadly softness. ‘We’re not going there.’

Anneke didn’t blink at the blistering and very pithy response. ‘Charming,’ she murmured facetiously as her aggressor turned and ambled off along the pavement. ‘Pity his suggestion was anatomically impossible.’

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘He intended to relieve you of whatever money you had in your wallet.’ To fund the next fix.

‘It would have been interesting to discover his threshold of pain.’

He cast her a sharp glance. ‘What particular method did you have in mind?’

She told him, concisely, analytically, and had the satisfaction of evidencing a measure of respect.

‘Reassuring,’ he conceded, ‘to learn you can take care of yourself.’

Anneke inclined her head. Dealing with the scruffy young creep wouldn’t have posed a problem. However, she would have had to discard the carry-bags in a hurry, and to have her carefully selected purchases crushed or broken in a physical fracas would have been a terrible waste.

She turned towards him and raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘And your field of expertise?’

He had trained beneath a well-respected master, practised in many a dojo , and occasionally fought in places no civilised self-respecting person would consider while serving his country for a time.

It was simpler to name one. ‘Karate.’

Anneke considered him thoughtfully. Most men would have launched into a string of achievements. However, Sebastian Lanier was not ‘most men’, and his simplicity intrigued her.

There was more to him than met the eye, she perceived. Entrepreneur, writer. What other vocation and skill did he possess?

Sebastian indicated the carry-bags. ‘Anything likely to spoil in there for the next hour?’

‘No. Why?’

He deftly turned her in the opposite direction. ‘You can join me for lunch.’

She regarded him solemnly. ‘It’s polite to ask.’

His mouth curved to form a wolfish smile, and there was a gleam in those dark eyes she didn’t quite trust. ‘I feel it’s the least I can do in light of the gastronomic feasts you’ve prepared for me over the past few nights.’

‘Gastronomic’ indeed. ‘Feast’ depended entirely on the interpretation, she decided with irreverent suspicion. ‘Thank you.’

There were any number of cafés and restaurants from which to choose. Instead, he led her into a modern pub, the owner of which had gained recognition in the area for his brush with fame and the garnering of considerable wealth. A man’s man, and one of the boys, local legend had it, who could sup beer at the bar with his friends equally as well as he’d cemented business deals in Hollywood and London.

‘You don’t object to a counter lunch?’

She searched Sebastian’s features in an attempt to discern whether his choice was deliberate, and found nothing to indicate that it might be.

‘It’s ages since I had fish and chips.’

He cast her a musing glance. ‘I think you’ll find they manage something less basic.’

They did, and, although relatively simple fare, the freshly caught grilled schnapper was delicious, the salad superb, and it was obvious the licensee patronised the local bakery.

Sebastian noted her enjoyment, observed her healthy appetite, the precise but intensely feminine movements of her hands, the manner in which she sampled each mouthful.

Poetry in motion. There was no guile, no studied orchestration. He wondered what she would look like with her hair loose, and spread over his pillow as she slept. Or tossed and dishevelled in the throes of passion as she rode him hard and fast.