Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates: Purchased: His Perfect Wife. HELEN BIANCHIN

      ‘You mean the touchy-feely thing? Stefania? The fact you’re a babe magnet?’ She waited a beat or two. ‘Or is Stefania off-limits?’

      ‘This is the part where we conduct a post mortem?’

      She summoned a superficial smile. ‘Of all your women? How long will it take?’ She deliberately arched both eyebrows. ‘I would like to go to bed before dawn.’

      His husky laughter undid her, and without a further word she crossed the lounge and made for the bedroom.

      For a brief moment she considered occupying one of the guest rooms, only to change her mind.

      Instead, she’d undress, remove her make-up, don her nightshirt, slip beneath the covers on her side of the large bed … and turn her back on him.

      Not exactly subtle, but he’d get the message.

      Except it didn’t quite work out that way—for she pretended sleep when she heard him enter the main suite, followed by the soft rustle of clothes being removed, and several minutes later she sensed him occupy the other side of the bed.

      There was a faint click as the bedside lamp plunged the room into darkness … then nothing.

      Silence. No movement. And soon she detected the sound of his even breathing.

      He was asleep?

      How could he do that, when she so needed to vent …?

      Conducting a silent mental fight wasn’t anywhere near as satisfactory as the real thing, and she plotted his downfall in several different ways before drifting to sleep.

      CHAPTER NINE

      LARA woke to find the bed empty, the apartment quiet, and when she checked there was a set of keys and a note propped up against the kitchen servery from Wolfe, alerting her that he’d already left for the office.

      Her phone rang as she was drinking her second cup of coffee, and she picked up to discover Wolfe on the line.

      ‘I’ll be caught up with business meetings all day,’ he began without preamble. ‘One of which will inevitably stretch into the evening. Don’t wait dinner.’

      ‘Fine.’

      ‘Mike will call in the next few minutes, and take you anywhere you want to go. Shopping?’ ‘Thanks.’

      Short, polite, the necessities covered.

      What had she expected?

      So why did she feel disappointed?

      When Mike called, she asked to meet him downstairs in ten, and she slipped her feet into comfortable shoes, caught up a jacket, shoulderbag, keys and made for the lift.

      ‘Fifth and Madison?’ Mike queried as she slid into the front seat. ‘It’ll be a pleasure to act as tour guide.’

      She lifted both hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘OK, I get it. Wolfe’s orders.’

      ‘Instructions,’ Mike corrected as he swung out into the traffic.

      It was a pleasant day, and an interesting one, as they explored the different levels of the Guggenheim museum, studying the displayed art and the special exhibitions featuring major works by nineteenth- and twentieth-century artists in the Rotunda and Tower galleries.

      Mike was an easy person to converse with, and it didn’t seem intrusive to ask how long he’d been in Wolfe’s employ.

      ‘Five years.’

      Maybe she’d ask Wolfe to fill in some of the blanks.

      Meantime there were places to go, things to see, and who better to have as a companion than someone who knew the city?

      He delivered her to the apartment building just before six, and she showered, changed into jeans and a knit top, then made herself an omelette with mushrooms, tomatoes, shallots and cheese. She ate it in the dining room, tidied up the kitchen, then settled herself comfortably in the media room and surfed the cable channels, viewed a movie, then switched to a comedy special.

      At eleven she closed down and went to bed, unsure when Wolfe returned, only that when she woke in the morning the bed showed signs of his occupancy, but yet another note awaited her in the kitchen … followed by a call to her phone as she was eating breakfast.

      ‘I have back-to-back meetings set up over the next few days,’ Wolfe imparted when she picked up. She offered sweetly, ‘I hardly noticed you weren’t here.’

      ‘In that case, I’ll wake you tonight.’

      His drawled response set all her nerve-ends to vibrant life.

      ‘I’m sure you’ll be too tired.’

      His soft chuckle sounded husky on the line. ‘Enjoy your day.’

      ‘I shall.’

      Exercise was a wonderful stress-reliever, and when Mike called to ascertain her plans for the day she opted for a walk through Central Park.

      She sensed his inaudible groan. ‘You wouldn’t prefer to go shopping?’

      ‘Are you inferring you’re not up to it?’ she parried lightly.

      ‘Five kilometres, no more.’

      ‘You’re on. With one condition—we get to do lunch.’ She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Research.’

      ‘For your Sydney restaurant.’

      ‘I have a few ideas.’

      ‘Indeed?’

      Lara listed the names of some top New York restaurants.

      Mike winced. ‘I’ll phone ahead for reservations. I can feel my waistband expanding already.’

      The sun shone, there was a slight breeze and the temperature was cool.

      Ideal for walking, and she said so as they headed out.

      ‘Isn’t this great?’ she enthused some time later as they passed a man-made lake, and then went on to cross a graceful bridge.

      There was time for a brief shower and a change of clothes before she met Mike downstairs, and they went out for lunch. The food was divine, the floral displays dazzling, the service faultless, and people-watching provided an intriguing visual diversion.

      It was late afternoon when she entered the apartment, and the thought of facing another lonely evening didn’t appeal. There was a charming little bistro a short walk from Wolfe’s apartment, and it would be fun to sample their food.

      An hour tops and she’d be home.

      Early night-time New York wasn’t all that different from its Sydney counterpart; the street was well-lit and there were people walking their dogs, and a few elderly men gathered together on the sidewalk conversing in voluble Italian.

      The bistro was cosy, busy, and the food surprisingly good. It was pleasant to sit and observe, to be a patron instead of working a kitchen.

      It was almost nine when she re-entered the apartment, and after ten when Wolfe arrived home.

      Was it her imagination, or were the lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes a little more pronounced than she’d remembered?

      ‘Tough day?’

      He removed his jacket and loosened his tie, discarded both, then he crossed to where she sat reading a magazine. Without a word, he set the magazine aside, caged her body, then he laid his mouth on her own, explored a little, and deepened the kiss with an expertise that sent her heart racing.

      ‘That was hello?’ Lara queried when she caught her breath, and his eyes gleamed with amusement as he scooped her into his arms and positioned her on his lap as he sank down into the chair.

      Her image had taunted him throughout the day … the tilt