Dark Fire. Robyn Donald

had to wait for a phone call from Britain,’ Aura interposed curtly, not caring whether he thought her rude, ‘so Flint very kindly offered to take his place.’

      ‘Only for the drive back,’ Flint said in a voice as smooth and bland as cream.

      Flakes of colour heated Aura’s cheeks. ‘Naturally,’ she retorted too quickly.

      ‘I’m staying with Paul until the wedding,’ Flint told Natalie, ‘so if you want me to take a message to him, I’ll do it gladly.’

      Aura’s brows drew together as she stared significantly at her mother, willing her to be silent. But Natalie had learned that the best way to get what she wanted was to use a mixture of cajolery and sexuality on the most powerful man within sight, and it was too late for her to study new tactics.

      ‘No, no,’ she said, smiling at Flint as though he was the most fascinating man she had ever met, ‘it’s just the new flat. I couldn’t work out what I didn’t like about it, and only a few minutes ago when I was sitting looking at this hideous affair here I realised that it was the carpet. Too middle class and tacky. We’ll have to get it changed, but don’t you worry about it, I’ll discuss it with Paul when I see him next. Now, do sit down and tell me all about yourself. Aura, aren’t you going to make us some coffee, darling?’

      Sure that Flint was too astute to be taken in by her mother’s calculated seductiveness, she watched with astonishment when he gave her mother a slow, tantalising smile and sat down.

      Natalie, who adored flirtations and knew just how to conduct one, eyed his hard, unhandsome face with an interest that had something of avidity in it, and proceeded to show how skilled she was in such sport.

      Flint responded to her sophisticated coquettishness with a lazy, dangerous charm that had Natalie eating out of his hand in no time. Fuming, Aura had to make coffee and listen to her mother being questioned by an expert. Within five minutes Natalie had artlessly divulged that dear, kind, thoughtful Paul had not only bought a flat for his mother-in-law to be, but had also offered a car.

      ‘Only to have Aura throw it back in his face,’ Natalie sighed. ‘So middle class and boring and prissy of her! It would make life infinitely less stressful, especially now. As it is, unless friends are generous enough to put themselves out for us, we have to use public transport.’

      Her voice registered the kind of horror most people reserved for crawling over oyster shells. Flint’s brows shot up.

      Much encouraged by this, Natalie went on, ‘And what difference is there between moving before the wedding and moving after it? I’m not complaining, but it would have made life so much easier for us all if we’d had the new flat, which is four times the size of this dreary little place, to entertain. But no, Aura had some idea that it wasn’t the done thing. As though I’m no judge! Not that it really matters, it just means that I’ll be stuck here until they come home from their honeymoon. I’ve been ill, so I can’t cope with moving by myself.’

      Whenever it seemed she might run down, Flint asked another seemingly innocuous question, and away she went again, spilling out things Aura would much rather he didn’t know. Cosseted and adored all her life, Natalie had been valued only for her looks, for her pleasing ways. She naturally gravitated towards men who looked as though they could protect her. Flint filled the bill perfectly.

      If you liked that sort of overt, brash male forcefulness. Aura’s fingers trembled as she set the tray. She knew she was being unfair; Flint’s air of competence, of authority, that inbuilt assurance that here was a man who was master of himself and his world, was not assumed. It was as natural a part of him as his smile and the complex hints of danger that crackled around him.

      Aura knew better than to display her anger and resentment, but when she appeared with the tray she very firmly took command of the conversation, steering it away from personal things to focus on the man who sat opposite, his lean, clever, formidable face hiding every thought but those he wanted them to see.

      Fortunately, Natalie knew that men adored talking about themselves. She demanded the details of his life, so they learned that he was some kind of troubleshooter for his firm, that he travelled a lot overseas, that he had been born in the Wairarapa and still went back as often as he could, and that he was thirty-one, a year younger than Paul.

      Which, Aura thought as she sipped her coffee, probably explained Paul’s protective attitude to him at school. He certainly didn’t need protecting now. A more confident, invulnerable man than Flint Jansen it would be hard to imagine. She could see him troubleshooting right across the globe, keen intelligence fortified by disciplined energy and confident control, the hard-edged masculine charisma warning all who came up against him that here was a man who had to be taken very seriously indeed.

      He could tell a good story, too. In a very short time he had them both laughing, yet although he seemed perfectly open Aura realised that he was revealing very little of either his work or himself. What they were being treated to was a skilfully edited version of his life, one he’d clearly used before.

      A quick, unremarked glance at her watch informed her that he had only been there thirty minutes. It seemed hours. Restlessly, she thought she’d never be able to look around the small, slightly squalid room, rendered even smaller by the furniture that her mother had managed to salvage from the wreck of her life, without remembering Flint in it. Somehow he had managed to stamp the dark fire of his personality on it as Paul never had.

      At least he hadn’t paid much attention to her; his whole concentration had been almost entirely on her mother.

      Which worried Aura. She knew skilful pumping when she heard it, and thanks to Natalie he now knew that they had no money beyond her pathetic little annuity. Natalie even told him all about Alick’s generosity over the years, thereby reinforcing, Aura thought savagely, his estimation of both Forsythe women as greedy and out for what they could get.

      Still, it didn’t really matter. Paul knew she wasn’t like that, and Paul’s opinion was the only one she cared about.

      Perhaps he had noticed that surreptitious glance at her watch, for almost immediately he rose. Aura overrode her mother’s protests by telling her crisply that Flint had been flying most of the day and must be exhausted.

      ‘You don’t look tired,’ Natalie murmured. ‘You look—very vigorous.’

      Aura stirred uneasily. She was accustomed to her mother’s innuendoes, but her coyness grated unbearably.

      Flint’s smile hid a taunt as he responded, ‘Aura’s right, I need some sleep.’

      ‘Ah, well, we’ll see you tomorrow,’ Natalie said sweetly, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. She held out her hand. It was engulfed by his, but instead of shaking it he kissed her pampered fingers with an air.

      Natalie laughed and bridled and, amazingly, blushed.

      Austerely, Aura said, ‘Goodnight.’ She did not hold out her hand.

      His smile was measured, more than a little cold-blooded. ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said, and somehow the words, spoken softly in that sensuously roughened voice, sent shivers down her spine.

      When at last he was gone, and Aura was able to breathe again, she said drily, ‘Well, there’s no need for him to ask any more questions. You’ve told him all he ever needs to know about us.’

      ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Aura, try not to be too drearily bourgeois.’ Into the weary flatness of her mother’s tone there crept a note that could have been spite as she added, ‘You’re not the tiniest bit jealous because he wasn’t interested in you, are you?’

      For some obscure reason that hurt. Aura’s lips parted on a swift retort, then closed firmly before the hot words had a chance to burst out. Over the years she had learned how to deal with her mother, and an angry response was the worst way. The nasty incident on One Tree Hill must have shaken her usual restraint.

      Smiling wryly she said, ‘No, not in the least. You can have the dishy Flint; your friends