"You count the stairs for me, I can't see them." Through a red haze of pain she could hear Marion burbling. "One, two, three … Wait, let me adjust the box, get a hand free."
Kezia shoved to her knees in an instant and was on her feet in another. "Marion!" The word came out as a croak, desperately she cleared her throat as she hurtled down the hall. "Don't touch anything!"
Unable to stop herself in time, Kezia slammed into the wall at the top of the stairs. Marion turned in surprise, one hand reaching for the banister. "Leave that," Kezia cried, "it's not safe!"
Marion dropped her hand, her brown eyes startled as they peeped above an enormous box. "Where did you spring from?"
Kezia's knees gave way; she sank to the floor.
"Can I try that, Auntie Kezia?" John Jason sounded impressed. "Run into the wall, too?"
"Sure," she said, light-headed with relief and pain. She cradled her throbbing injury. "My wrist is killing me."
"You hurt yourself?" Marion started back up the stairs.
More than you'll ever know, thought Kezia.
Then everything happened really fast. Marion's foot missed a step and she overbalanced. She dropped the box to save herself and the bottom blew out under the impact, sending blocks cascading around her feet. Kezia scrambled upright. Instinctively, Marion grabbed for the banister and a sharp crack rent the air. The wood gave as Kezia jumped a couple of stairs and caught at her friend's blouse with one hand. Started to topple forward. Pain knifed through her injured wrist.
And she let go.
Screaming, Marion fell backward down the remaining ten stairs, hit the bottom with a thud and lay still.
In the sudden terrible silence John Jason began to shriek, "My mummy's dead! My mummy's dead!"
"WHO DIED?"
"What?" Christian looked at the redhead blankly. A frown marred the smooth brow of Miss Congeniality, her affability waning under the lack of attention. "Sorry. What did you say?"
Thrusting out breasts she'd probably paid a great deal of money for, she repeated the question. "I asked, who died? You were miles away and the look on your face … "
"No one died," he said shortly. "Look, I'll go chase that drink." He was on his feet before she could answer and heading for the bar where his business partner had disappeared earlier, ostensibly to buy another round. Now he realized he'd been set up with the lovely Michelle. Or was it Rochelle? He honestly couldn't remember.
It was a Friday night and the Auckland bar was packed, but Jordan King's height and the long blond hair falling over quarterback shoulders made him easy to spot as he sat on a bar stool holding court. The females jostling around him were all of a type, Christian noted, show ponies with taut rumps, glossy manes and lots of jingling gold. A fortnight ago he would have found them attractive. Now he changed course and threaded his way to the other end of the bar. If he had to look at one more set of bleached teeth he'd go blind as well as mad.
At the gleaming metallic counter he shouted his order over the football commentary blaring from the big-screen TV. "A champagne cocktail for the lady in booth five." He handed over a big bill. "You can keep the change if you deliver it."
Across the bar, Jordan saw him alone and raised an eyebrow.
Christian shrugged and said, "All yours." He received a disgusted look in return. The unspoken message was easy to read: What the hell is happening to you?
Kezia Rose, that's what. Christian had been back a week. Or more precisely-he glanced at his Rolex-four hours short of five days. And was driving himself and Jordan crazy by doing what he'd never done in his life-vacillating over a woman.
Monday, he'd done the noble thing in leaving Kezia to find a better man.
Tuesday, he'd kill any better man who came near her.
Wednesday, so she didn't want him, fine, there were plenty of women who did.
Thursday, why the hell would anyone want to be monogamous anyway?
Friday, maybe he should call her to make sure he hadn't misunderstood. Or did Jordan think that was too pushy?
"Cut this emotional crap, tell her no isn't an option, and screw her into submission." Jordan King had inherited more than looks from his Viking forbears, and witnessing Christian's man-of-steel in meltdown had stripped away his veneer of civilized male. "Thank God, Luke is back in the country. I'm through with being Dear Abby."
Christian couldn't blame him. He was heartily sick of himself.
"Damn it, Kelly." Jordan had slammed his fist on the board table. "Why are you pining for one mulish woman when there are so many beautiful weak-willed ones out there?"
"Good point," Christian had agreed. "Let's go find some."
They'd gone to The Bar, where Jordan had ordered two beers.
"Actually-" Christian had been determined not to look sheepish "-I've quit drinking."
Jordan had sent him a withering look.
Christian scowled back. "Screw you. This has nothing to do with her." And the night had gone downhill from there.
A hand grasping his shoulder brought Christian back to the present and he steeled himself for Miss Congeniality's breathy tones. The grip tightened beyond a woman's strength. "If you're buying, I'll have a double."
Christian heaved a sigh of relief. "Man, am I glad to see you." He changed the order, then turned with a welcoming grin, which faded almost immediately. In his youth Luke Carter had been a world-class athlete and he still had the physique and vitality of someone whose blood pumped at optimum efficiency.
Tonight, however, he looked like hell.
His tailored suit must have been slept in, his gray eyes were bloodshot and he was white under his tan, but what really shocked Christian was the look on his friend's face. He looked … defeated.
Luke's expression tightened. "You don't look so hot yourself." He cast a glance across the bar at Jordan, a Viking afloat in a sea of Chanel and pheromones, and shook his head. "I see our boy is busy. Let's find somewhere quiet."
By its nature the sports channel had created a female-free zone; Christian led the way into the room's dimmer recesses and found an empty booth, his mind working overtime. Luke had been in Europe for a week, back last night. He and Jordan had expected him in the office this morning but figured he was making up for lost time with his wife.
Luke threw back his Scotch, caught sight of Christian's orange juice and raised a brow.
"I met a kid who made me realize I was following too closely in my father's footsteps." Christian kept it short, knowing Luke, who'd had a similar childhood, would understand the shorthand. The other man nodded and Christian cut to the chase. "What's up?"
"Amanda's left me for someone else." Luke's delivery was short and brutal, but his hand shook on the glass. "I came home last night to an empty house." He shook his head in disbelief. "She ended our marriage with a goddamn note."
Christian censored his first reaction-"You're well rid of her"-and tried to imagine how Kezia would approach this. "How do you feel about that?" he said carefully.
Luke stared at him. "I feel like shit, thanks for asking. And whatever you've substituted alcohol with, I'll have some."
Embarrassed, Christian dispensed with Kezia's approach. "You want to know what I really think?" He took a sip of orange juice. "You poor bastard."
"Damn right." Luke signaled for another drink.
"I mean the guy who's taken Amanda on," said Christian.
THERE WAS ABSOLUTE SILENCE while he watched Luke struggle against the urge to knock him senseless. As he braced himself for the blow, his friend suddenly dropped his head between his hands and laughed.
"I knew I could count on you to put this into perspective." Luke sat back and raked a hand through his disheveled hair. "So what if my marriage of twelve years is breaking up? So what if my wife says she's found true love with someone else? It comes down to you feeling sorry for the other guy." His tone grew bitter. "And all these years I thought you liked her."
"I gave her the respect due my best friend's wife." Christian studied Luke's reaction closely as he added, "And I will again if you two reconcile." He caught Luke's instinctive recoil and was satisfied. Still, best to be sure. "Do you love her?" It wasn't a question any of them had ever-would ever-ask. Sourly attributing this new empathy to Kezia's influence, Christian wondered if his friend knew what had become so evident to his partners-that he didn't love Amanda.