LITMIR.BIZ

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      Sonya had paused, a stem of roses in each hand, in the middle of arranging a massive vase of freshly cut blooms from the Miramare gardens. She raised her elegantly shaped brows even higher. “I thought the purpose of today’s shopping expedition was to choose a dress for tonight.”

      “That was our excuse to go shopping,” Kimberley said with a wink. Then, over her shoulder, as she proceeded through to the living room, she said, “I would never have got you to agree to come along otherwise.”

      And they’d both needed to get out of the house. Kimberley hadn’t thought she would miss the presence of Perrini and Ryan and Garth, after they’d taken their mobile phones and their constant grim-faced pacing and returned to the city megalith that housed the headquarters of Blackstone Diamonds. Danielle had left, too, to apply the final touches to her col lection for the annual Blackstone Jewellery show. Each year the event launched the latest in-house collections, as well as showcasing an emerging young designer. This year was Dani Hammond’s big break.

      This is what you’ve worked so hard for, Sonya had said, encouraging her reluctant daughter to return to her Port Douglas studio. I have Kim here now, so I won’t be alone. You still have work to do, so go, be inspired, be brilliant. Make me proud, make Howard proud…and make those critics who pooh-poohed his choice eat their words!

      Without them all, the house echoed its vast emptiness. Kimberley had felt the impact most acutely when she’d woken that morning. Wednesday. Marise’s funeral day. Beautiful, headstrong, self-assured Marise was dead and for the first time Kimberley forced herself to face the reality that her father, too, was gone. This house, which had always been a reflection of the man and his taste for the grand, the opulent and the glamorous, would forever feel empty without him and the ever-present party of business and society acquaintances he brought home.

      Sonya felt the emptiness, too. Kimberley had taken one look at her aunt’s haunted eyes and restless hands as she fussed around preparing a breakfast neither of them would eat, and she’d decided they both needed a distraction.

      Perrini provided it with a phone call and what had sounded like an off-the-cuff invitation.

      “Dinner?” she’d asked. Her heart kicked up a beat and her free hand curled around her pendant charms. “I don’t think that—”

      “You need to eat? To get away from that house for a few hours? To discuss details of my proposal about the Blackstone’s board vacancy….”

      Oh, yes, he’d been clever. He’d known over the weekend that the waiting and inactivity were making her stir-crazy, and he’d picked the perfect time to lure her with the board position and the prospect of changing old animosities from the inside. Then he’d left her a day too long to think it over. Now she was hungry for more information, to find out exactly what was going on at Blackstone Diamonds…and why she’d been targeted for the Blackstone-only board position.

      That’s the only reason she’d accepted his invitation. That’s why she’d gone with the plain business-meeting dress, despite playing along with Sonya’s fancy to choose something fun, flirty, and way different from her usual classic style. The shopping trip to her favourite Double Bay boutique had been a game, a ploy, a distraction to take both their minds off the funeral in progress just a couple of suburbs away.

      It had nothing to do with tonight’s “date.”

      Now, as she wandered the living room unable to sit or stand or settle, Kimberley wished she’d insisted on meeting Perrini at the restaurant instead of letting him railroad her into the “more convenient” pickup. Being all dressed up and waiting for a man to arrive on her doorstep only played into the nerve-jangling notion of a real date.

      She should have asked him to call when he left the office. Then she could have timed this better. Perhaps she still had time to go upstairs and change her earrings. Or to pin her ponytail into a chignon. At least that would fill some—

      The chime of the doorbell echoed through the cavernous interior and startled Kimberley’s jumpy heart. He was here. About bloody time.

      “I’ll get it,” Sonya called. Seconds later Kimberley heard the murmur of voices fol lowed by the deep rumble of Perrini’s laughter. She’d already taken several strides toward the foyer but the punch of that sound brought her up short. Laughter, so unexpected, so familiar to her female heart.

      A hot charge of anticipation rocketed through her veins, tightening low in her stomach and tingling through her skin. She so wasn’t ready for this. She needed a minute or two to compose herself, to restore her cool poise…time she didn’t have as footsteps and the melodious notes of Sonya’s voice heralded their approach.

      At the last second, she scurried for the nearest chair and picked up a glossy from the side table. When Sonya said, “Kim, Ric’s here,” she managed to lower the magazine with surprisingly steady hands. Her smile was cordial, calm, controlled. Then she looked up into the deep sapphire of his eyes and her heart lurched like a poleaxed drunk.

      “You’re here,” she said nonsensically.

      Not the opening line she’d rehearsed—that was supposed to be a cool you’re late, as she swept past him and strode out to the car—but better than thanking him for being here and bringing laughter into the emptiness.

      “Ready to go?” he asked.

      She put down the magazine. “For the past twenty minutes.”

      One of his brows rose marginally. “Nice to know you’ve acquired punctuality.”

      The subtle jibe at the past, referencing one of the flaws she’d fixed in the new grown-up version of Kimberley Blackstone, cooled the remaining impact of his arrival from her blood. Ignoring his proffered hand she rose to her feet and, after kissing Sonya on the cheek, swept past Perrini and out to his car. Marcie, the housekeeper, opened the front door and allowed her to proceed unimpeded. If only they had valet parking she could have swept all the way to his car and into the passenger seat.

      Instead she was left beside the locked Maserati cooling her three-inch heels. She’d chosen them to help level out the height difference and therefore the power dynamic, although she still needed an extra couple of inches to bring her eye-to-eye with Perrini’s six-one.

      Why in heaven’s name had he felt the need to lock his precious car?

      Arms folded, she tapped her toe and frowned back toward the still-open front door. Several minutes later he appeared, and paused to speak to Marcie. Okay, she was honest enough to admit that he looked bloody good. Even though he’d likely come straight from the office after a twelve-hour day, his charcoal suit was immaculate, his white shirt crisp, his sapphire tie perfectly knotted.

      But it wasn’t only the expensive hand-tailoring, it was the way he wore the clothes. Whether he was striding into a meeting wearing one of his suits or sauntering by the pool in nothing but a brief pair of swimmers, he had a unique combination of cool authority and kick-ass confidence that drew attention to the man rather than the external trappings.

      The effects of that long, open inspection were still rippling through Kimberley’s body when he bent and kissed a blushing Marcie on the cheek, and peeled away to jog down the steps. The remnants of a smile softened his mouth and she had to work hard to maintain her irritation.

      “Don’t you trust our staff?” she asked, inclining her head toward the locked car.

      “Force of habit.” The doors popped with a scarcely audible snick. He opened her door, then waited until she’d slid inside before he leaned down to meet her eyes. His were no longer smiling. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t expecting to see any staff.”

      Kimberley recognised the pointed dig. “I couldn’t see the sense in keeping loyal, long-serving staff laid off for fear they may leak private information, when it is obvious the press is getting whatever details they want from their own sources.”

      “Are you referring to Marise’s supposedly private funeral?”

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