The Marriage Possession. HELEN BIANCHIN

his cheek. ‘Do you have anything important planned for the next hour?’

      Zac moved a little so her mouth met his. ‘Nothing without you.’

      Morning sex, Lisane mused as they rose from the bed, was a great way to begin the day.

      Together they shared a leisurely shower, then, towelled dry, she followed him into the bedroom and collected fresh underwear from her overnight bag and pulled on jeans and a pink singlet, added a cropped top in black and slid her feet into kitten heels.

      With quick, smooth fingers she caught her hair into a loose knot, applied minimum make-up, added a touch of lip-gloss, then packed her overnight bag.

      Zac took it from her hand, and trailed light fingers down her cheek. ‘Hungry?’

      ‘Uh-huh.’ Her eyes sparkled with mischievous humour. ‘For food.’

      He pressed a thumb-pad to her lower lip. ‘Of course.’

      She was something else. Intelligent, savvy and possessed of an innate honesty. What was more, there wasn’t an ounce of coquetry…which made for a refreshing change from most young women of his acquaintance.

      Together they decided on a Park Road café not far from Lisane’s cottage, selected a pavement table and ordered a full breakfast, preluded by strong, hot coffee.

      The sun shone brightly, promising a warm late-spring day, and there was a freshness in the air that would dissipate as the temperatures rose, along with the humidity.

      It seemed almost a shame to consider spending most of the weekend indoors. For a moment Lisane thought wistfully of Zac’s waterfront home at Sovereign Islands, his cruiser moored at the jetty, and the occasional weekend they’d spent together there when the constraints of work had allowed them free time.

      ‘More coffee?’

      Lisane was seriously tempted to delay their departure, and it helped a little to know she could. Except she knew time was an important factor, given Zac was engaged in a particularly difficult case, one that required long, tedious hours as he meticulously built undisputed evidence and framed his questioning technique in preparation for a trial due soon to go to court.

      ‘I’m fine.’ She slid her sunglasses into place from atop her head, and rose to her feet. ‘It’s time to hit the road.’

      Zac paid the bill, then caught hold of her hand as they walked to where he’d parked the car.

      ‘Thanks for breakfast.’

      He slanted her a warm smile. ‘My pleasure.’ As the night had been. And the early hours of the morning.

      She made it easy for him to relax and unwind, didn’t make any demands, and rarely rose to anger. None of which were an act. He never felt the need to play a part, and her wit and wisdom provided a lightness that had been seriously missing before she entered his life.

      They reached the Jaguar, and he saw her into the passenger seat before crossing to the driver’s side.

      A few minutes, maybe five, was all it took to reach the street where her cottage was situated, and Lisane leant towards him as soon as he brought the car to a halt outside her gate.

      ‘Take care, and don’t work too hard.’ She brushed her lips to his cheek, and bit back a faint gasp as he framed her face with his hands and took possession of her mouth.

      Oh, my.

      She could hardly find her breath when he released her, and she met his warm, steady gaze, glimpsed the faint wickedness evident…and wrinkled her nose at him in teasing remonstrance.

      ‘I guess that’ll hold me for a while.’

      A wide smile curved his generous mouth. ‘Sassy. Definitely sassy.’

      Lisane reached for the door-clasp, caught up her overnight bag and slid out from the car. ‘Go suss out the legal arguments that’ll tie the bad guy up in legal knots.’

      His soft laughter remained with her as the car disappeared from view, and she smiled a little as she extracted her house-key and unlocked the front door.

      The morning was spent on household chores, and clearing the detritus of a hectic week. Wielding a very careful paintbrush, she completed the finishing touches to the remaining windowsills and two architraves.

      Strong paint fumes provided a reason to escape the house for an hour or two, and she took the car to the nearest supermarket and stocked up on essential groceries. On her return she swiftly changed into old jeans and top, and spent time tending her garden. It wasn’t a chore, for she loved the smell of freshly-turned soil, the caring work that produced a fine vegetable patch, the neatly trimmed ornamental shrubbery, and her pride…several herbs in terracotta pots.

      Lisane liked to cook, and her kitchen bore all the necessary utensils needed for almost every dish in her late mother’s repertoire of fine cuisine.

      Who would have thought such a serious law student would thrive on domesticity? Or choose an aged, rundown cottage instead of high-rise apartment-living?

      It probably had everything to do with her inherited French gene pool, she mused as she showered and washed her hair before pulling on shorts and a fresh top, then fixing an omelette stuffed with mushrooms, chives and a hint of garlic for her evening meal.

      Afterwards she slotted in a DVD, watched it to the end, then climbed into bed and fell asleep within minutes of her head touching the pillow.

      Sunday morning was divided between the gym, fixing decorative borders on the walls in the guest bedroom, then adding the white embroidered bedcover with its numerous ruffles and matching pillow covers.

      It looked great, the numerous sewing hours necessary in its making well worthwhile.

      Initially, she’d made allowances to cover tradesmen’s expenses, for, although she could take care of the painting and most of the finishing touches, the kitchen had been in serious need of a complete overhaul and the acquisition of new electrical appliances. The bathroom and laundry also required new fittings. Electrical wiring replaced, the plumbing checked…

      In many ways, it had been a mission. But now, twelve months down the track, she could honestly say she was pleased with the result, aware that the money spent had added measurably to the property’s market value.

      Lisane spent the afternoon completing the remaining architraves, then she cleaned up, took her laptop out to the small table and chair set beneath a magnificent jacaranda tree and caught up on work she needed to review in preparation for the following day.

      Dinner was a mixed salad and smoked salmon, a bowl of fresh fruit, and she had just finished dispensing with the dishes when her cellphone rang.

      She quickly dried her hands and picked up.

      ‘Lisane…Solene.’

      It wasn’t seven already, surely? ‘I was going to call you.’ A quick glance at her watch assured it was a few minutes past the hour. ‘How are all the wedding preparations?’

      Her sister gave a faintly hollow laugh. ‘We’re contemplating an elopement.’

      Lisane crossed into the lounge and sank into a comfortable chair. ‘That bad, hmm?’

      ‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’

      It didn’t take three guesses to determine the source. ‘Jean-Claude’s beloved maman?’

      ‘Uh-huh. Two weeks before the wedding she wants to change floral arrangements for the church…again.’

      Two months ago it had been orchids, only to be discarded last month for cream roses.

      ‘It gets worse,’ Solene lamented. ‘She thinks ivory would complement my gown, rather than pale pink, for the flower-girl, when the dressmaker has already finished the dress.’ Solene gave a heartfelt groan in despair. ‘I’m about ready to scream.’

      Oh,