Dangerous Alliance. HELEN BIANCHIN

closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out a memory that was hauntingly clear in every detail.

      Paige had provided a wonderful party with many invited friends, and Leanne had been so happy. No guest had been more important to her than Dimitri, and the secret wish she’d nursed that at last he would recognise her as a woman. Flushed with a dangerous sense of exhilaration, she’d flirted a little with every male friend, and enjoyed one glass too many of vintage champagne. At the end of the evening, when everyone had left and Paige had retired upstairs to bed, she’d reactivated the stereo system, selected a tape and teasingly begged Dimitri to share a dance.

      Emboldened, she’d pressed her body a little too close to his and lifted her arms to clasp them around his nape. The top of her head had barely reached his chin, and she’d arched her neck, offered him a bewitching smile and teased that he had yet to bestow a birthday kiss.

      It had begun as a teasing salutation, and had rapidly transgressed to something so infinitely sensual that she had simply discarded any inhibitions and given herself up to an exotic alchemy without any clear thought as to where it might lead.

      She’d had no idea of the passage of time until she had been forcibly put at arm’s length, and his harsh words had sent her running upstairs to her bedroom to weep until almost dawn.

      The next day he’d flown to Sydney, and during the ensuing weeks she had convinced Paige of the necessity to exert a new-found independence away from home, electing, despite Paige’s protests, to choose Queensland’s Gold Coast as her base.

      Paige had become a frequent visitor, and Leanne had carefully arranged her weekends and holidays in Melbourne to coincide with Dimitri’s absence, although it had been impossible to avoid him completely. If he was on the Coast, he made a point of phoning and insisting on taking her out to dinner, or to a show, or both...in the guise of dutiful, stepbrotherly affection. His invitations had become a challenge she coolly accepted, for she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he still possessed the ability to ruffle her composure.

      ‘Paige is a rare jewel who succeeded in capturing my father’s heart, affording me unconditional affection without attempting to usurp Yanis’s loyalty to his son.’ Dimitri’s voice intruded, and she turned her head to look at him. ‘You,’ he added with quiet emphasis, ‘were an added bonus.’

      Latent anger rose to the surface and threatened to erupt in speech. ‘You...’ Words momentarily failed her. ‘Bastard,’ she finally flung in whispered anguish. It was the wrong appellation, and, worse, an unforgivable insult. But at that precise moment she didn’t care.

      The silence in the car was deafening, and she could sense his palpable anger. For a second she closed her eyes against the harshness of his features, then slowly opened them again.

      Dimitri activated the ignition, then reversed out of the parking bay, and the crunch of tyres sounded abnormally loud as he eased the car towards the designated exit.

      The exclusive suburb of Toorak hosted numerous homes belonging to the rich and famous, and the elegant residence that Yanis had built was no exception, she decided as Dimitri brought the Jaguar to a halt before a set of impressive wrought-iron gates, then activated the remote-control modem to open them.

      The car swept down a wide, palm-lined driveway and drew to a halt beneath the porte cochère of a magnificent Mediterranean-style mansion whose white-rendered exterior and terracotta-tiled roof conjured up images of the hillside vineyard estates of the Côte d’Azur.

      A grandly proportioned home, it contained over a hundred square feet of luxury living on two levels, with five bedrooms and six bathrooms in the main house, a guest cabana which included a lounge and bar, a free-form swimming-pool and a full-size tennis court.

      Scrupulously maintained, its gracious formal rooms had been used to entertain Yanis’s business associates, and family friends. A generous man, he’d lent his name to a few worthy charities, and a small fortune in much needed funds had been raised through a variety of functions held here over the years.

      Leanne slid from the car, then followed Dimitri through double leadlight doors to the formal entrance hall—a stately marble-tiled room with a crystal chandelier and sweeping mahogany staircase.

      Although it had been her home for the past ten years, Leanne never failed to experience a feeling of awe at the sheer magnificence of displayed wealth.

      Cream marble-tiled floors graced the ground floor, and there was an abundance of expensive Chinese silk rugs woven in designs employing mushroom, pink, pale blue and green against a cream background. Expensive tapestries graced the pale cream silk-covered walls, and vied for supremacy with original works of art. Yanis had indulged Paige her love of Louis XVI furnishings, and much of the furniture had been imported from France and Italy.

      Now a chill slowly traversed the length of Leanne’s spine, and she had consciously to still the sudden shiver that threatened to shake her slender frame with the knowledge that, although Yanis had bequeathed this beautiful mansion to Paige for her exclusive use during her lifetime, upon her death it would inevitably revert to his son.

      Which meant that within weeks Leanne would no longer be able to regard it as her home, for afterwards she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear seeing Dimitri here with the woman he would inevitably choose to take as his wife.

      It shouldn’t be too difficult to reduce contact gradually to an occasional telephone call, a few brief, friendly written missives, followed by a card at Christmas.

      ‘Leanne, it is so good to see you.’

      A heavily accented voice broke into her reverie, and she turned at once to exchange a warm greeting with Eleni Takis—cook and housekeeper who, together with her husband George, took care of the house and grounds.

      ‘Eleni.’ There was evidence of barely contained tears, and a wealth of genuine affection.

      ‘George will take up your luggage,’ Eleni declared as she stood back. ‘And lunch will be ready in thirty minutes.’

      ‘You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble,’ Leanne protested, knowing she’d have difficulty in consuming more than a few mouthfuls of anything.

      ‘Nonsense,’ Eleni admonished, and her appraisal of Leanne’s slender frame became faintly critical. ‘You have lost weight. In one so small, that is not good.’

      ‘If I ate even a half of what you served me, I’d go back to the Coast half a stone heavier and one dress size larger.’

      Eleni looked slightly perplexed. ‘But this time you stay. Yes?’

      ‘Any messages, Eleni?’ Dimitri drawled, and Leanne intercepted an unspoken warning in his tone.

      ‘Your secretary rang. She is sending you faxes.’

      Leanne shot him a quick, enquiring glance as Eleni departed, and met his dark, discerning gaze.

      ‘Paige requested I take up temporary residence, as she didn’t want you to be in the house on your own.’

      Her stomach churned at the thought of having to live, even for a short time, in such close proximity to a man with whom she felt the antithesis of comfortable.

      She drew a deep breath, then exhaled it slowly as she sought to keep her voice light. ‘I fail to see why, when I’ve lived alone for the past five years. Besides, Eleni and George live above the garages.’

      His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘Go upstairs and unpack. We’ll talk over lunch.’

      About what, for heaven’s sake?

      Her bedroom was spacious, airy, and had a splendid view of the pool and gardens. The muted colour scheme was restful, the furniture the epitome of elegance with its imported silk upholstery, and the adjoining en-suite bathroom was a feminine delight in the palest pink travertine marble with crystal and gold fittings.

      Without further thought, she discarded her clothes and stepped into the shower cubicle, emerging minutes later to select elegant trousers