The Helen Bianchin Collection. Helen Bianchin

the day from hell. Traffic was backed up due to an accident, trebling the usual time it took to reach the city. Consequently it was after nine when she walked into her office.

      To discover the computer network was down, and several irate messages from a client company whose head honcho wanted Macbride to supply top quality work for a cleverly worded contract worth peanuts.

      There were, Katrina fumed, still men who imagined they could slip anything by a colleague simply because of her gender. She made the call, confounded him with figures and logic, then icily informed him Macbride was not interested in dealing with him, only to have pithy invective heaped on her head.

      Just when she thought the day couldn’t get any worse, her secretary relayed,

      ‘Georgia Burton is in reception.’

      Katrina felt her stomach twist at the announcement. It would be easy to insist Georgia make an appointment, with no advantage except to delay the confrontation.

      ‘Show her in.’ Nerves had her smoothing a hand over her hair and repairing her lipstick. She’d just tossed the capped tube into her drawer when a discreet knock at the door preceded Georgia’s entrance.

      The model looked a million dollars in a pale silk suit, an artfully draped scarf, stiletto heels, and perfectly applied make-up.

      Katrina indicated one of three comfortable chairs. ‘Please, take a seat.’ In a calculated movement she checked her watch. ‘I have to attend a scheduled meeting in ten minutes.’

      ‘Darling, five minutes will do.’ Georgia crossed to the plate-glass window and took a few valuable seconds to look out over the city before turning towards Katrina.

      ‘Nicos and I have struck a deal.’

      Don’t let her get to you. ‘Indeed?’

      ‘I thought you’d be interested.’

      ‘Why would you think that?’

      ‘Doesn’t it bother you that Nicos still continues to see me?’

      ‘Should it?’

      ‘Yes, considering you’re an obstacle that prevents him being a father to his son.’

      ‘An obstacle you intend to remove?’

      ‘I’m glad you get the drift.’

      ‘That this is a last-ditch effort on your part?’ she queried with deadly softness. ‘How long, Georgia, before due legal process forces the release of your son’s DNA results?’ Her gaze didn’t falter as she mentally sharpened her claws. ‘A day, hours, before your elaborate scheme falls apart?’

      ‘Nikki is Nicos’s son!’

      ‘I’m sure you wish that were true.’ Katrina aimed for the kill, and played the biggest gamble of her life. ‘But it’s not, is it?’ Dear Lord, what if she was wrong?

      Georgia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Two days ago Nicos was in Brisbane with me.’

      ‘A meeting which took place in a lawyer’s office.’

      ‘Is that what he told you?’

      ‘What if I told you I have a private detective’s report tabling Nicos’s every move?’ She didn’t, but Georgia wasn’t to know that.

      ‘Then, you have precise details of each liaison.’

      Stay calm, Katrina bade silently. She’s merely calling your bluff. Or was she? Don’t go there.

      Summoning icy control Katrina stood to her feet and crossed to the door. ‘You’ll have to excuse me.’

      Georgia’s features were composed, her voice dripping with pseudo sympathy. ‘He may remain married to you, darling, but he’ll always be mine.’

      She swept out the door with the sort of smile that made Katrina want to smash something.

      Déjàvu, she reflected grimly as she crossed back to her desk.

      Nine months ago she’d stood in this office shattered beyond belief at the news Georgia was pregnant with Nicos’s child.

      Had she been wrong? Could Georgia have contrived evidence that, while appearing irrefutable, was in fact erroneous?

      Nicos had asserted his innocence from the beginning. What if he was right?

      There was nothing she could do, but wait for the DNA results to be released.

      Lunch wasn’t even an option, and by mid-afternoon she was punchy. Make that very punchy, she determined after taking a call from her wayward and very persistent stepbrother.

      She couldn’t even threaten to expose him to Chloe, for his mother was well aware of his habitual need for money and why. It was, Chloe had explained languidly, a phase. As far as Katrina was concerned, Enrique had long outgrown this phase and was several steps down the path to addiction.

      It was five-thirty when she left the office, and she joined the commuter trail of bumper-to-bumper vehicles clogging the city’s arterial routes leading to suburbs on all compass points.

      Nicos’s car was already in the garage when she parked the Boxster close by, and he was there in the lobby when she entered it.

      Katrina threw him a fulminating glare as she bypassed him and made for the stairs. ‘Don’t even ask.’ And she missed the way his eyebrow slanted with cynical bemusement as he viewed her ascending.

      When she reached the landing she deftly removed one heeled pump, then the other, and by the time she reached the bedroom she’d unbuttoned her jacket, had loosened the camisole she wore beneath it, and was working on the zip fastening of her skirt.

      A minute later she walked naked into the en suite, cast the spa-bath a covetous glance, longing to sink into the capacious tub and have the numerous jets work magic on her tense muscles…except she couldn’t afford the luxury of unlimited time.

      The shower beckoned, and she twisted the dial, adjusted the temperature, then stepped beneath the cascading water, collected the rose-scented soap and began lathering her skin.

      She felt tired and emotionally wrung out and, dammit, she hurt in places she didn’t even want to think about.

      A slight sound alerted her attention, and she turned, gasping out loud as Nicos stepped naked into the shower stall with her.

      ‘What in hell do you think you’re doing?’

      He took the soap from her nerveless fingers. ‘I’d think it was obvious.’

      ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Katrina said with a growl as he smoothed the soap over her shoulder. She made to grab it from him, and failed. ‘Give me that!’

      ‘Why don’t you just relax?’

      Relax? She was about as relaxed as a tightly coiled spring. ‘Don’t.’

      His hands were effecting a soothing massage at the edge of her neck, and she gave a silent groan that was part pleasure, part despair as his fingers eased out the kinks, then shifted down her back, inch by blissful inch, then they began working their way up again.

      It felt so good, she forgot her anger, the tension of the day, and she simply closed her eyes and relaxed beneath his touch.

      He soaped every inch of her skin, slowly, and she sighed as his fingers trailed the contours of her breast, then travelled low over her hips.

      ‘We don’t have time for this.’

      ‘Yes, we do.’

      His fingers slid towards her navel, then slipped down to tease the soft curling hair at the apex of her thighs…and stroked with unerring expertise.

      ‘We shouldn’t arrive late.’ She groaned as sensation began a slow spiral through her body.

      ‘No,’ Nicos murmured in agreement, shifting his hands to bring her