The Helen Bianchin Collection. Helen Bianchin

drew a deep, calming breath. ‘If we don’t go back in there, Enrique will imagine he’s scored a point against me.’

      ‘Fifteen minutes,’ Nicos conceded. ‘Then we leave.’

      It was closer to an hour, and almost midnight when they entered the house. Together they ascended the stairs, and Katrina turned as they reached the landing.

      ‘Goodnight.’

      Nicos lifted a hand and caught hold of her chin, then his mouth closed over hers in an evocative kiss that was all too brief as his tongue skimmed hers, tasted, then retreated.

      For a moment it left her wanting more, and she fought against the instinctive need to move in close and kiss him back.

      Except that would be tantamount to an admission of sorts, and she’d spent too many months building up a barrier against him. To allow him to begin tearing it down would be the height of foolishness. Besides, she doubted she could bear the pain.

      She pulled away from him, and he let her go.

      Too easily, she reflected as she reached her room and closed the door behind her.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      SUNDAY dawned with grey skies and the imminent threat of rain. Katrina rose early, donned a sweatshirt, shorts and trainers, went downstairs to the kitchen, made up fresh orange juice, filled a glass and drank the contents, then traversed the spiral staircase to the gym.

      The house was quiet, and she entered the large room, viewed the various equipment, crossed to the punching bag and swung a solid right into its centre. Something which bruised her knuckles, but gave infinite satisfaction.

      ‘If you aim for a repeat, I suggest you don a boxing glove,’ Nicos drawled as he entered the room, and she turned towards him with a glare that merely caused him to arch an eyebrow in silent query. ‘Or perhaps you’d rather hit the quarry instead of making do with a substitute?’

      Had he followed her down here? Doubtful, given time spent in the gym was part of his daily routine. She cursed herself for unintentionally choosing an early morning sojourn.

      ‘Don’t tempt me.’

      She looked about seventeen, devoid of make-up and her hair caught in a pony-tail. Her eyes were stormy, her mouth soft and full. He had to curb the desire to cross the room and explore her mouth with his own, aware such an action would probably earn him a swift jab in the ribs and a diatribe worthy of a seasoned navvy.

      Katrina crossed to the treadmill, adjusted the settings, and set it in motion, increasing the speed to a punishing pace, then followed it with time on the exercise bike.

      She deliberately concentrated her energies on achieving a predetermined number of kilometres, and was unable to stem a heightened awareness of Nicos as he spent time with various weights, the bench press, and the treadmill.

      Her fitness regime didn’t come close to his, something that appeared clearly obvious as she picked up a towel and began to dab the sheen of sweat beading her forehead.

      Katrina spared Nicos a surreptitious glance as she curled the towel round her neck. He could have been taking a walk in the park for all the effort it appeared to cost him.

      The flex of well-honed muscle and sinew presented a dramatic mesh of strength and power, one that was impossible to ignore. For it brought images to mind she’d tried hard to forget.

      It mattered little that she’d been unsuccessful. Or that being thrust back into his presence forced her to confront an ongoing battle with her emotions.

      Anger and pain warred with a primitive alchemy. One she recognised, the other she condemned.

      How could she feel anything for a man who had not only kept his mistress after marriage, but had foolishly impregnated her without caution?

      Why, then, had Nicos agreed to Kevin’s ridiculous suggestion? Worse, what role did Georgia play in all of this?

      Dammit, there was a child involved. A baby boy who must surely be only a matter of weeks old. What of him?

      There were too many conflicting thoughts chasing through her mind for easy conjecture, and with a mental shake of her shoulders she contemplated entering the sauna, then the plunge pool. Except that would mean stripping off, and there was no way she intended to disrobe in his presence.

      Besides, she really needed to put some space and distance between them, and she quietly exited the room. Breakfast, followed by a shower, then she’d don casual clothes and go out for the day.

      Anywhere that would take her away from this house and the indomitable man who owned it.

      Twenty minutes later she descended the stairs, en route to the garage, and encountered Nicos in the lobby.

      He took in the bag slung over her shoulder, and car keys in her hand. ‘Going out?’

      ‘You object?’ Katrina countered coolly.

      ‘Now, why should I do that?’

      She made to move past him. ‘Don’t wait up.’

      A hand closed over her forearm. ‘An observance of common courtesy wouldn’t go astray.’

      She cast his hand a telling glance, then lifted her gaze to meet his. ‘As to where I’ll be, and the time of my return? Difficult, when I have no definite plans.’

      ‘Except to escape.’

      It irked that he knew her so well. ‘Yes.’

      He let her go, and minutes later she eased her car through the gates, then headed towards the northern beaches.

      She could have phoned a friend and organised to share the day, but she preferred solitude and a good book.

      Choosing a relatively isolated beach, she spread out a towel, switched her mobile phone to message-bank, and opened the latest paperback release written by a favourite author.

      Lunch was a sandwich bought from a nearby kiosk, plus bottled spring water, and she read for a few hours, then oddly restless she packed up her belongings and drove into the city where she browsed the shops at Darling Harbour.

      It was easy to lose herself in the wandering crowd, and she paused to admire a silver bracelet displayed in a silversmith’s window. Its intricate design was sufficiently unusual to warrant closer examination, and she was about to enter the shop when a familiar voice greeted her. ‘Slumming, darling?’

      Katrina turned to face a tall, slender blonde whose attractive features had, she knew, been cosmetically enhanced. The result was perfection, complemented by exquisite make-up, and her designer apparel emphasised sculptured curves and a physically toned body.

      ‘Paula,’ she acknowledged, aware her stepsister’s smile was as superficial as her apparent warmth.

      ‘Trying for incognito, Katrina? Or am I missing something, and this—’ she indicated the shorts, shirt knotted at the midriff, and trainers ‘—is a new look?’

      ‘It’s called casual,’ Katrina responded lightly, and witnessed Paula’s faint moue.

      ‘And where is the inimitable Nicos?’

      ‘I left him at home.’ That much was true. Although how long he remained there was another thing.

      ‘So newly reconciled.’ Her smile was the antithesis of sweet. ‘Although everyone knows it’s only to comply with dear Kevin’s last wishes.’

      ‘Everyone?’

      ‘Why, yes, darling.’ She appeared to sharpen her claws. ‘You’re the lead topic among the social set.’

      Doubtlessly fuelled by erroneous speculation. So what else was new? ‘Really?’