The Seduction Season. HELEN BIANCHIN

comply. ‘You’ll stop?’

      Those sensuously moulded lips curved slightly. ‘You asked me nicely.’

      Anneke opened her mouth, then closed it again.

      She watched in silence as he removed the ladder and stored it, gathered up the used section of roof guttering and collected his tools.

      Without a further word he turned and covered the distance to his cottage with an easy, lithe stride.

      Denim hugged every curve, hinted at superb thigh and calf muscle, and emphasised the length of his legs. Lean waist, fluid muscular grace evident in the breadth of his shoulders denoted more than average strength.

      Dammit, why was she standing here watching him, for heaven’s sake? Men weren’t her favoured species at the moment, and this man irritated her beyond measure.

      She retreated indoors, paused long enough in the kitchen to fill a glass with water and drink it, then she made for the bedroom and slid between the sheets.

      The anger hadn’t subsided; if anything it had intensified. Joined by the stinging realisation that she had no job, no salary, and running expenses to maintain on her apartment.

      On the plus side, she had an annuity from inherited investments, sufficient to live quite comfortably until she found employment, and there was a reasonably healthy savings account from which she could draw funds to meet weekly expenses.

      Anneke closed her eyes and deliberately summoned pleasant thoughts, employed meditation techniques, and resorted to counting sheep. Nothing worked.

      With an angry jerk she tossed off the sheet, rose and pulled on a swimsuit. A swim, followed by a walk along the beach, then breakfast. After which she’d examine the contents of Aunt Vivienne’s refrigerator and pantry, decide what to prepare for Sebastian’s dinner, then drive into Byron Bay and collect everything she needed from the supermarket.

      Anneke paused long enough to clean her teeth and run a brush through her hair, then she slid on a pair of sunglasses, caught up a towel, and made her way down onto the sandy foreshore.

      The sun was warm, with the promise of increasing heat as the day progressed. A faint sea breeze teased the ends of her hair, and she inhaled the tangy salt air with pleasure.

      There wasn’t another person in sight, and she relished the solitude, choosing to explore the familiar shoreline for several minutes before opting to wade into the cool water.

      Effecting a neat dive, she broke the surface and began a pattern of leisurely strokes parallel to the shore for a while, before emerging to towel the excess moisture from her skin and hair.

      It didn’t take long for the warm air to dry her swimsuit, and she wrapped the towel round her waist, then set out towards the outcrop of rocks at the furthest end of the bay.

      Anneke could feel her body relax as the tension eased, and she increased her pace to a light jog, enjoying the exercise, the morning, the solitude.

      It was almost an hour before she re-entered the cottage, and after a shower she dressed in casual shorts and a top, then caught up a pad and pen as she examined her aunt’s pantry and refrigerator and noted what food supplies she’d need to collect from the supermarket.

      CHAPTER THREE

      BREAKFAST comprised cereal, toast and fruit, followed by ruinously strong black coffee.

      Anneke tidied the few dishes, then she caught up her car keys, slid the strap of her bag over one shoulder, and made her way out to the carport.

      Byron Bay was a pleasant seaside town, a popular holiday area, and the community centre for outlying banana, avocado and sugar cane farmers.

      Parking the car wasn’t a problem, and she took her time browsing through the supermarket as she selected her purchases and stacked them in the trolley.

      It was almost midday when she returned to the cottage, and after unloading her various purchases she took time to have lunch before beginning preparations for Sebastian’s evening meal.

      At five she showered and changed into jeans and a singlet top, bound her hair into a single plait, then returned to the kitchen.

      Artichokes stuffed and served with a rich cream sauce, marinated baby octopus, risi e bisi, two baby pigeons confits aux raisins, and, for dessert, her speciality—bombe au chocolat.

      Anneke hoped he had a supply of antacid on hand, otherwise he was certain to be a victim of indigestion.

      At precisely two minutes before six she trod the short path linking both cottages and knocked on Sebastian’s back door.

      She heard a deep bark, followed by a curt command, then the door swung open.

      Anneke saw the dog first. A huge Alsatian with liquid brown eyes, a dark velvet pelt, and possessing all the qualities of a trained guard dog.

      ‘Shaef,’ Sebastian qualified. ‘Let him become acquainted, then you’ll never need worry about him again.’

      Her eyes travelled over snug black jeans, a black open-necked shirt, to features that bore a faintly mocking expression.

      He was an arresting man, compelling, and possessed of a leashed quality that some would find vaguely frightening.

      Anneke didn’t question his authority with Shaef. She had a healthy respect for canines, and the Alsatian was an awesome breed.

      ‘Will you come in?’

      ‘No,’ she responded quickly. Too quickly, for she saw the sudden gleam apparent in his eyes, and caught the slight quirk at the edge of his mouth. ‘Enjoy your meal.’

      ’Merci.’

      No man had the right to look so darned sexy, or possess a voice that sounded like melted chocolate being dribbled over ice cream. Smooth, very smooth, she perceived. Yet there was tensile steel beneath the smoothness. The hardness of a man well-versed in the frailties of his fellow men.

      Without a further word she turned and retraced her steps. In her aunt’s kitchen she set about cleaning up, then when it was done she made herself a light, fluffy omelette, added a salad, and took the plate into the dining room.