The Wrong Sister(44)

Later that evening her phone trilled again. Her pulse quickened. Name with-held on the screen—it had to be him.

“Hi,” she said, hoping she was right.

“Hi yourself,” he growled. And then added, “I need a big favor, Blondie. Can you get down here tomorrow? Kathy’s gone.”

Fiona grabbed for a nearby armchair and leaned on it, literally knocked off her feet by his sudden and unexpected request. She regained her balance, and sat, swallowing in confusion. “What? Gone where?”

“Madrid. Her last family decided they needed her after all. One day’s notice. I can’t blame the kid—it’d be hard to resist an all-expenses-paid trip to Europe at her age.”

The tightly-coiled spring that vibrated in Fiona’s heart every time she heard his voice, wound up another couple of turns. Kathy was out of the way. And Christian needed a replacement. Should she be offended, or pleased or wary?

“Can you do it?” he asked while she agonized.

“Yes.”

“Will you do it? Just for a few days until I get something sorted?”

“Only on that basis, Christian. I’m due back on the boat pretty soon. You said you wanted to cool things down. That’s fine with me—I don’t want...to start anything again.”

A small silence strained between them.

“Understood.” His voice was careful and neutral.

“I’ll book a flight, then.”

“Already done—just in case.”

Fiona’s hackles rose. Was she so predictable?

He must have heard her indrawn breath. “Just in case,” he repeated. “I’m not taking you for granted, Fee. Can you be at the airport for three-thirty? I’ll forward your e-ticket and meet you at this end.”

“Fine,” she said and snapped her phone shut.

Oh God, this wasn’t fair! She’d ripped herself away from him when she’d wanted desperately to stay. Had never contacted him in case her good intentions crumbled after that first tiny concession. Had only needed to keep her heart hard and her resolve high for another few days and she’d have been home safe on the other side of the world.





She speared her fingers through her hair as the big jet settled lower at the end of the journey. Was she mad to take this on?

If I had a seat on the other side of the plane, I could see the house.

The harbor winked brightly in the sun. Homes crowded the surrounding hills. Only minutes away, Christian waited for her.

She massaged her scalp, trying to push the jittery anticipation out of her brain. Attempted to relax her tense shoulders. Unclasped her clenched hands and laid one on each thigh. And found upon landing she’d scrunched up a handful of fabric in each. Sighing with annoyance she attempted to smooth it flat again while the plane taxied toward their arrival gate.

He was only a man, for heaven’s sake. And a man she was having no more to do with. At all.





“Arty Fee! Arty Fee!” Nicky squealed.

Fiona grinned at the flailing fists and adoring smile of her only niece. She had to force herself to look at Christian. He ducked his head, eyes holding hers.

“Welcome back, Blondie,” he said, handing Nicky over for a cuddle. “I hope you’ve got a couple of slinky dresses packed?”

“Yeah, I take slinky dresses on every beach holiday,” she said, looking away from him, down to Nicky. Thank heavens for Nic! If she’d been meeting Christian alone, she’d have thrown herself into his arms instantly. She prayed he couldn’t see the desire in her eyes, hadn’t noticed her helpless soft gasp as she first caught sight of him.

This is such a bad idea.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





Christian reached to take Nicky back, wondering how the hell he was going to make the situation work. It had taken only a glimpse of Fiona to send his blood racing south again.

“She’ll be way too heavy for you to carry unless that shoulder’s a lot better by now,” he said, attempting to reclaim his wriggling daughter, and finding he needed to slide an arm against Fiona’s breasts to do so.

“Hold still, Nic!” he ordered. Nicky immediately grabbed for the scooped neckline of Fiona’s red T-shirt and clung like a limpet. He disengaged her after a short tussle and a generous eyeful of pale flesh, which did nothing to deflate him.

“Sorry,” he grated.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

She’s as chilly as a glacier.

As he walked uncomfortably toward the baggage claim area, he cursed his stupidity. He could have managed Nicky on his own for a few days. God knows, once Jan was in the hospice for the final time they’d got by. Some help from just-returned Amy Houndsworth, an hour or two each day with Jen’s nanny, Nicky napping in her special safety-seat as he drove briefly to work to keep a handle on things...