Margaret Way - Six Australian Heroes

Her eyes widened. Had he hit the nail on the head?

‘Maybe you should guard against being taken over by your job,’ he said then, and smiled lethally. ‘A little too much liking for that sense of power it gives you.’

She went to slap his face but he caught her wrist in a hard grip. ‘On the other hand,’ he said softly, ‘you’re not kidding me, Rhiannon Fairfax. There’s an electric current between us that tells me if you let your guard down your beautiful body would writhe with delight in my bed.’

He looked her up and down and, with sardonic intent, mentally stripped her.

She told herself to breathe evenly in a bid to destroy the images mounting in her mind but it seemed nothing could stop her from visualising herself naked in his arms, drinking in the sleek power of his body, even glorying in his scent of sweat, leather and chalk while he explored her body at whim …

‘In the meantime,’ he continued after a long, fraught moment as they stared at each other, he coldly and clinically, ‘I’m going for a swim. You please yourself but perhaps a cold shower would be a good idea.’

He released her, turned away and dived cleanly into the pool.

* * *

Rhiannon could only come up with one outfit that remotely resembled a party outfit.

‘Why didn’t I just say no to this?’ she asked herself bitterly as she studied her reflection in her bedroom mirror. ‘Because he would have cancelled the party, thereby causing considerable chaos or—because I wanted to prove to him he does nothing to me?’

She closed her eyes briefly as she contemplated her disarray beside the pool, and the feeling that she’d like to demolish Lee Richardson one moment, then wake up in his bed the next. Not to mention that insidious little sense that he’d firmly slammed a door in her face again.

She had on a knee-length A-line black skirt that she usually enjoyed wearing but not tonight—other than jeans she had nothing else to cover her legs—and black tights.

She’d teamed it with a coral fine-cotton camisole top with shoestring straps and a drawstring waistline. She wore a four-string fine silver necklace threaded lightly with jade beads and matching long, dangly earrings. Her black shoes had slender heels and were the same ones she’d worn with her grey trouser suit.

She had no evening bag so she tucked a lacy black hanky into her waistband.

She’d washed and dried her hair so it shone and felt bouncy and she’d applied her make-up carefully.

Then there was nothing more to do to herself but she delayed a few minutes longer as she tided her bedroom and bathroom scrupulously. But her conscience got the better of her desire to hold off from any more disturbing encounters with Lee Richardson. The more help she could give Sharon before the party started, the better.

It also struck her that Matt and Mary hadn’t arrived yet.

* * *

At a quarter to seven, Rhiannon stepped out onto the east veranda.

The candle glasses were lit, the roses scented the air delicately, all the accoutrements of the meal were in place and the veranda looked lovely.

Lee Richardson was already there, looking impossibly handsome in a grey suit with a black shirt and a silver tie.

She rushed into speech as his gaze flickered down to her legs. ‘Aren’t they here yet? Do you think they’re coming?’

‘I—’ he broke off and listened ‘—would say they’ve just arrived. For someone who had nothing to wear, you’ve done well, Rhiannon.’

‘Thanks,’ she mumbled, moving restlessly under his gaze.

He smiled slightly then turned as two people came out onto the veranda.

Matt Richardson didn’t resemble his brother much. He was shorter and squarer with curly brown hair, hazel eyes and a wide, engaging smile as he introduced himself to Rhiannon.

‘Thank you so much for all this,’ he enthused. ‘Mary is really grateful, aren’t you, sweetheart?’ He turned to his wife.

Mary Richardson was stunning. She had red-gold hair, almost turquoise eyes, milky-white skin and a shapely figure that showed no sign of her pregnancy.

She was wearing a low-cut turquoise strapless dress that matched her eyes. It had a frothing ballerina-length skirt, a tight waist and the bodice glittered with sequins. Her high strappy sandals were silver and an exquisite diamond pendant on a platinum chain nestled in the valley between her breasts. She looked sensational.

‘Hi!’ she said enthusiastically to Rhiannon. ‘Wow!’ She looked around. ‘You have done well! Actually, I’ve had a great idea,’ she said excitedly. ‘Why don’t you come and work for us permanently, Rhiannon? I’m sure you’d make a great housekeeper!’

Matt flinched and Lee Richardson cast his sister-in-law a speaking look she didn’t see because he was standing behind her.

Then another voice said, ‘I happen to agree—why don’t you give it some thought, Rhiannon?’ And Andrea Richardson strolled onto the veranda.

If Mary looked sensational, Andrea topped it. Her hair was piled on top of her head, her strapless, décolleté black gown was moulded to her figure, her skin glowed like ivory and a magnificent ruby necklace matched her lips.

‘Thank you,’ Rhiannon murmured with a faintly ironic little smile, ‘but I have other plans.’

Andrea shrugged and turned away. Her eyes fell on the main table and she tilted her head to one side, then moved forward and repositioned the roses and moved the candelabrum. ‘That’s better,’ she said and turned to glance at Lee with her chin lifted.

Rhiannon took a sharp breath but fortunately Cliff approached at this point. He wore a snowy white shirt, black trousers and a black cummerbund. He had a white napkin over one arm and he carried a small silver tray bearing five frosted glasses of champagne.

‘Thanks, Cliff.’ Lee took two glasses and handed one to Rhiannon. ‘Come and look at the moon,’ he added to her.

She hesitated then walked away with him until they were out of earshot of Matt, Mary and Andrea.

The moon was huge and orange as it rested on the dark horizon.

‘My apologies,’ Lee Richardson said. ‘Mary was tactless, so was Andrea.’

Rhiannon flicked her hair back. ‘Did you know she was coming, your stepmother?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, they probably had no idea they were being tactless—unlike you, earlier. But it doesn’t matter.’ She took a sip of her champagne.

He looked down at her smooth, fair, bent head. ‘Are you talking to me?’

‘Only if absolutely necessary.’

He smiled slightly but said, ‘Sometimes the truth hurts.’ And added before she could take issue with that, ‘Why were you crying earlier?’

‘Oh, don’t start me off again.’ She blinked a couple of times and sniffed. ‘It was nothing.’

‘Thinking of your father?’

Her head came up and she regarded him out of startled brown eyes. ‘How did you know?’

He shrugged. ‘Not exactly rocket science.’

She sighed. ‘Yes, I was. Sometimes it’s hard not to feel incredibly sad. But,’ she took another sip of champagne and squared her shoulders, ‘I’m fully prepared to concentrate on the task to hand tonight. I just hope things don’t get out of control. Not that you and your brother couldn’t cope but they could be a high-spirited group of people.’

‘You can rest easy,’ he said. ‘I’ve brought in a security firm.’

Rhiannon’s eyes widened. ‘Do Matt and Mary know?’

He shook his head. ‘Only you and I know and they’ll be essentially discreet. Besides which, it’s my prerogative. As you mentioned yesterday, there’s a lot of very valuable stuff lying around and I would have done it for any group of strangers. The fact that they’re Mary’s friends is immaterial.’