Margaret Way - Six Australian Heroes

‘Then I’ll prove it to you, Mr Richardson,’ Rhiannon replied with a strange little glint in her sherry-brown eyes.

A muscle moved in his cheek, as if he was trying not to smile.

‘But don’t congratulate yourself on the fact that I walked into a trap of your making,’ she advised with obvious satire.

He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘No?’

‘No,’ Rhiannon agreed. ‘Look at it like this: I feel for your sister-in-law so I’ll help out with the party. I’m just as liable to pack my bags and go home the next day, however.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Lee Richardson said. ‘Please don’t take that the wrong way, Ms Fairfax,’ he added. ‘It’s only meant to imply that I’ve changed my mind—you could be exactly what we need at Southall. Let’s go.’

Rhiannon was still simmering as the powerful four-wheel-drive vehicle Lee Richardson drove climbed the range from the coast to the hinterland.

Indeed, part of her was deeply regretting the fact that she hadn’t flung his job back in his face but it wasn’t a mystery to her why she hadn’t. She needed the money, she rather desperately these days needed every dollar she could earn.

It was dark so she couldn’t take in the countryside as she thought her painful thoughts, although it was obvious the road was steep and winding.

Unfortunately, the dark also seemed to encapsulate her and Lee Richardson in a bubble where it was impossible for her not to be conscious of him in a rather disturbing way.

His hands were lean and powerful on the wheel—what kind of havoc would they wreak on her naked body? she found herself wondering again, to her dismay.

His profile was clean-cut, his shoulders, beneath the expensive leather, were tantalisingly broad and straight and he changed gear and drove the car with the flair and authority that somehow suggested to her he would demonstrate the same flair and authority in bed.

She closed her eyes and went hot and cold as this occurred to her.

Fortunately, not much later, they turned off the main road, drove down several tree-lined side-roads and came to impressive wrought-iron gates set in a high stone wall.

They opened silently at the press of a button in the car.

‘We’re here, Miss Fairfax,’ he murmured as he drove into a four-car garage. ‘You’re very quiet,’ he added as he opened his door and the overhead light came on.

‘I’m wondering what I’ve got myself into, to be honest,’ she replied.

He half smiled. ‘The nature of what you do—rescuing households from chaos—must often provide surprises.’

She regarded him steadily. ‘Yes, but if you must know my …’She broke off. She’d been about to say ‘my latest impressions’but she amended it to, ‘My impressions of you, Mr Richardson, are not exactly favourable.’

‘Listen, Rhiannon, you were the one who was staring and smiling at me in an unmistakable way,’ he retorted. ‘Any impressions you have of me flowed on directly from that.’

‘All right, I was staring and smiling at you but it wasn’t what you thought. It was because we’ve met before.’

He frowned and concentrated on her face then his eyes widened and he looked down at her trouser-clad legs. ‘What a pity,’ he said slowly, as his eyes came back to hers, ‘you aren’t wearing a skirt. I feel sure I would have recognised you immediately.’

She could tell that he was looking back down four years. Rhiannon flinched inwardly as she remembered with great clarity how she’d been rooted to the spot after he’d smiled at her.

‘I object to being summed up as a pair of legs,’ she said, anything to deflect his memories of the moment plus some genuine indignation.

‘You brought up the subject of your legs in that taxi.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m a different me now.’

‘That’s rather obvious,’ he commented. ‘No longer a chatty, bubbly girl perhaps.’

‘I am four years older.’

‘Is it that long ago?’

She nodded. ‘But to be perfectly honest I know why I was feeling bubbly that day—I’d just got rather a good job.’

She grimaced. ‘But I still can’t work out—’ she gestured with some humour ‘—how I got on to that tack.’

‘An instantaneous attraction?’ he suggested. ‘Despite claiming to be turned off all men.’

She studied him for a moment. His thick dark hair was straight and lay on his forehead. A little network of lines creased attractively beside his eyes when he laughed. His skin was tanned and, although he was clean-shaven, he’d probably look sensational with designer stubble; look dangerous, moody, gloriously sexy and desirable.

‘Uh—’ she reined in her thoughts with an inward frown ‘—no—yes. I mean to say I’m still turned off men, Mr Richardson. How about you? I gather you’re still “unspoken for”?’

‘You gather right,’ he said easily. ‘So what was it, then?’

She studied her hands then shrugged. ‘Just one of those things. Look,’ she swept her hair back from her face with her forefinger, not to know at all that it was the first time Lee Richardson not only saw the gesture but also found it got to him in a way he was hard put to describe, ‘may I make a request?’

His eyes narrowed and he hesitated briefly, then, ‘Go ahead.’

‘Can we put it all behind us? It was just one of those things and, if you really want me to get stuck in and sort out your home life, the best way is for us to make a fresh start.’

He considered several things. That she had a way of tilting her chin that gave her an almost regal air. That her straight little nose would have been haughty had it not been accompanied by a mouth that was anything but.

On the other hand, in light of what she’d been hired to do, a complicated-enough situation in its own right, he’d be mad to invite further complications.

‘All right,’ he said coolly and shrugged as he got out of the car.

Rhiannon took an unexpected breath because, as he closed his door, it was a bit like having a private door closed in her face. Why should it make her feel so curiously rebuffed?

There was a surprise waiting for them.

The house was in darkness and locked.

Lee Richardson frowned then retrieved his keys from his pocket and unlocked the heavy wooden front door. He led Rhiannon through the marble-tiled hall, switching on lights as they went, and into the kitchen.

It was a large, modern kitchen with black mottled granite counters and a commercial-size range and refrigeration—Rhiannon noted these things instinctively. There was a box pine table surrounded by six ladderback chairs and there were some colourful pot plants.

Lee Richardson put his keys down beside a phone on one of the counters, and pressed the message button that was blinking frenziedly.

It was a long message that came through and the caller, a man, sounded agitated.

‘Lee, Matt here, Mary’s done a bit of a bunk. I think she was really gutted about getting the caterers mixed up and she’s gone home to her mother. All she’ll say is she’s quite sure you and the super-housekeeper or whatever she is will be able to organise things much better than she could so she’ll leave it all up to you both. I don’t fly in from Perth until Sunday afternoon but I’ll pick her up from her Mum’s then and bring her up …’

There was a pause then Matt Richardson continued, ‘Don’t be too hard on her, bro, she is pregnant and maybe that’s panicking her too. And I know you can handle the blasted party, somehow. Bye. Oh, by the way, the numbers may have grown.’ Click.

Lee Richardson swore softly.

‘Oh, dear,’ Rhiannon said. ‘Perhaps she’s left a guest list?’

‘Entirely too sane and sensible for Mary to think of that,’ he said grimly then shrugged. ‘So. Would you like a drink?’