The Wrong Sister(45)
At the Lodge it would be way easier than that.
If he was honest with himself, this was all about Fiona, not Nicky. He’d been desperate to see her just once more before she was out of his reach in the Mediterranean—and in case some slight attraction for him might still linger in her heart.
“Anyway—slinky dresses—I grabbed one of Jan’s, just in case.”
“Er... oh, for dinner? He watched her clear green eyes widen in surprise. “It’s that classy?”
“Pounamu Lodge expects a certain standard...”
“Does it indeed?”
“Dinner’s the high point of the day. A genuine degustation meal—eight entree-size courses. Wines specially chosen to match. No menu. Different every day of the year.”
“Your idea?”
“Antoine’s. But I select a lot of the wines.”
“So talented.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Is it to be open warfare then?” he asked.
“No. Of course not, Christian. But you rub me up the wrong way sometimes.”
“By being interested in wine? Oh, come on now Blondie, New Zealand produces some of the world’s best these days. It’s an exciting thing to be part of.”
“Not the wine. Of course not the wine.” She ignored him and smiled across at Nicky as they walked along the bright impersonal terminal concourse. “Just by being you,” she muttered.
His lips twitched. Presumably she’d not intended him to hear that.
He heard her draw a deep breath, and saw her breasts rise under the soft scarlet fabric.
“And what,” she asked, making an apparent effort to be more sociable, “is there to do at this place?”
He ripped his eyes back up to hers.
“Horse-trekking. Quad-biking. It’s an angler’s paradise not far up the river. Nine-hole golf course—we’ll be extending that in a year or so. Swimming pools, indoor and outdoor. A couple of nice tennis courts. Sauna. Gym. Enough for you?”
“I brought some books to read while I watch Nic.”
His brow furrowed with displeasure. “I’m not expecting you ‘on duty’ every hour of the day, Fee. We’re there to relax...to wind down a bit. After losing Jan, we both deserve a break.”
She bowed her head in silent acknowledgement.
“I was already having a break,” she muttered.
“You call that a cottage?” she asked as the big silver-grey Mercedes coasted slowly to a halt.
Her imagined rustic timber effort was a miniature French-style masonry chateau. It sat creamily in the sun, backed by tall Pohutukawa trees, still with tufts of their feathery firecracker flowers in bloom. Black forged-iron railings edged the upstairs balconies. An expansive tiled terrace dotted with outdoor furniture faced the spectacular view.
“We had it built to match the Lodge.” Christian pointed through a gap in the trees to a magnificent building partially visible in the distance. “It’s rented out a lot of the time. Ideal for honeymooners or small private groups. The Lodge administers it.”
“At an interesting price, I dare say.”
He grinned at that. His tanned skin showed off dangerously good teeth. Fiona’s pulse increased its tempo.
“It sleeps six. There’s a daily rate, dinners included.”
“You wouldn’t want six on a honeymoon,” she objected.
“Total privacy for two—and a choice of three huge beds.”
Why were there sudden butterflies in her stomach?
Christian unloaded her bags from the luxurious car.
“The ocean view or the morning sun?” he asked, waving her in once he’d opened the door. He picked a protesting Nicky up to stop her wandering away.
Fiona prowled, peering into each of the rooms, acutely conscious of his tall quiet presence. Hand-loomed rugs softened the tiled floors, and exquisite quilts dressed each bed. She ran her fingers over the intricate patchwork surface of one.
“Local crafts—all for sale.” Christian pointed down to a discreet price-tag attached to the corner of a flat-weave pure wool rug in misty grays and mauves.
She laughed at that. “You know how to make money.”
“Jan’s idea—and a good one. She thought guests might like a souvenir of a memorable time. The quilters and weavers were her friends. The painters, too. And there’s still some of her own pottery here.”
He fell silent as Jan’s memory intruded between them yet again.
“The ocean view,” Fiona said, making the only decision possible. She had to stay clear of him somehow. The downstairs bedroom opened out onto the huge terrace. Christian would be well out of her way upstairs in the master suite.
He sat Nicky on her bed while he retrieved her bags from the entrance lobby and hefted them onto the luggage shelf.