The Helen Bianchin Collection. Helen Bianchin

to the broad expanse of his back, and felt rather than heard his faint rumble of laughter.

      ‘You object?’

      She clung onto his shoulders, felt the shift and play of powerful muscles as he moved towards the bedroom.

      ‘Would it make any difference?’

      Miguel entered their suite, closed the door, then lowered her down to stand in front of him. ‘You don’t want to play?’

      Hannah looked at him carefully, saw the sensual curve of his mouth and glimpsed the darkness in his eyes.

      ‘Yes,’ she answered simply, and tried not to wish with all her heart that it was her he needed, not just the woman who bore his name.

      He made lovemaking an art form, and she told herself she didn’t care. It was enough he could make her feel like this. Enough that together they created a sexual magic that transmuted sheer sensation and became exquisite ecstasy.

      Desire flared…wild, mesmeric and primitive as instinct met with hunger, and ravaged them both.

      Afterwards they showered, then dressed in casual clothes before making their way downstairs, choosing to collect the delectable paella and eat on the patio adjoining the pool.

      Occasionally they paused to tempt each other with a forkful of food, and they sipped a fine white wine, ate crusty bread, and watched the summer sun slowly sink over the horizon.

      They took time to discuss the day, and Hannah deliberately made no mention of Camille. Somehow it seemed almost a sacrilege to spoil the moment, and the night.

      Outdoor lights provided a soft glow, illuminating the gardens, throwing long shadows from surrounding shrubbery. Moths fluttered around the electric lamps, fascinated by the brightness.

      It was a while before they silently collected plates, glassware and cutlery and returned them to the kitchen.

      ‘Tired?’

      ‘A little,’ she answered honestly as he mobilised the alarm system.

      He held out his hand and she curled her fingers within his as they ascended the stairs. In the bedroom he removed her clothes, then his own, drawing her down onto the bed before gathering her close into the curve of his body.

      She succumbed to sleep within minutes, and Miguel lay staring with brooding reflectiveness into the darkness, all too aware of the rhythmic beat of her heart beneath the palm of his hand, the faint muskiness of her feminine scent, the clean, fresh fragrance of her hair as her head nestled close in against the curve of his shoulder.

      She moved, snuggling closer, and the hand that rested at the edge of his waist slipped down to his hip. She slept, for her breathing pattern remained unchanged.

      He shifted his head slightly to brush his lips to the edge of her forehead and a faint smile softened his mouth as a soft sound sighed from her lips.

      Independent, strong, individualistic, he mused as he courted sleep. A generous and passionate lover who matched him with an equal hunger of her own.

      His.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      THE day began badly with a phone call from Cindy’s mother to say Cindy had been rushed into hospital for an emergency appendectomy and wouldn’t be able to return to work for at least a week.

      Hannah felt genuinely upset, for Cindy was a friend as well as someone who worked part-time in the boutique, and she organised flowers to be sent to the hospital, made plans to visit after work, then began ringing the first of two women who made themselves available to work when required.

      The first was overseas, the second had a family emergency, and her only recourse was an employment agency. Failing any success there, she could call on her mother, if only to fill in for an hour around midday.

      Breakfast was a non-event, with only time to swallow half a glass of orange juice and follow it with a few sips of coffee.

      ‘Por Dios,’ Miguel swore swiftly as she caught up her bag and slid the strap over one shoulder. ‘Sit.’

      He reached out, closed his hand over her arm, and forced her into a nearby chair. ‘Eat.’ He pushed a plate towards her, split a croissant and spread conserve onto each half.

      She threw him a wry look. ‘I can’t. I’ll be late.’

      ‘So be late,’ he suggested evenly. ‘Five minutes is all it will take. You could easily be caught up in traffic that long.’

      ‘I’m not a child, dammit.’

      ‘You’re wasting time,’ Miguel said imperturbably.

      She was hungry, and failing finding someone to fill in, or if Renee wasn’t available, she’d have to temporarily close the boutique for the ten minutes it would take to go fetch a sandwich.

      Stubborn single-mindedness forbade that she actually sat, but she did eat both pieces of the croissant and followed it down with the rest of the fine, hot, sweet coffee.

      ‘Satisfied?’

      He cast her a brooding glance. ‘No.’

      She gathered up her car keys. ‘You, of course, rarely suffer emergencies that toss your schedule out the window.’

      ‘Occasionally,’ Miguel conceded.

      ‘Don’t tell me—you always have a back-up plan,’ she responded drily.

      ‘A few minutes ago you couldn’t wait to leave,’ he drawled, arching an eyebrow. ‘Now you want to argue?’

      ‘Why, when I never win?’ Hannah flung with exasperation, and threw him a startled glance as he moved swiftly to cup her face.

      He angled her mouth to meet his in an evocative kiss that tore at her emotions and made her wish she could take the time to deepen and savour it. Then she was free.

      She could only look at him, her eyes wide and unblinking. Just when she thought she could predict how he’d react, he managed to surprise her.

      She unconsciously moistened her lips, aware her mouth shook slightly, and saw his eyes flare briefly.

      ‘Go, querida. I’ll call you through the day.’ Hannah turned away from him and moved quickly through the foyer to the garage.

      Could the day get any worse? she queried silently as she put a call through to her mother, only to discover Renee was en route to the airport to catch a scheduled flight to Sydney.

      ‘I’ll be back tonight, darling. Tomorrow is fine, if you need me. I’ll ring when I get in.’

      Within minutes of opening the boutique she rang the first of two agencies on her list, and felt immeasurably relieved to discover half an hour later they had a suitable salesgirl available to report for work the next day.

      Hannah was kept busy all morning as several clients came by to examine the latest delivery of new stock. Telephoned requests to put some items aside for a few hours meant the boutique wasn’t empty for long.

      At midday she affixed a ‘back in ten minutes’ sign on the door, locked up and quickly crossed the street to a nearby café. A salad sandwich with coffee to take away would assuage her hunger, and with luck she might even get to eat it without any interruption.

      ‘Hannah.’

      The sultry accent caused the hairs to rise on the back of her neck. Tell me I’m wrong, she pleaded silently, only to turn and discover Camille seated at a nearby table.

      The Frenchwoman’s presence here seemed too coincidental. Another of Camille’s ploys to draw attention to her knowledge of Hannah’s daily routine?

      ‘Camille,’ Hannah acknowledged with forced civility as she stood waiting for