The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

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       CHAPTER SEVEN

      AYSHA woke early, padded barefoot to the kitchen, poured herself some fresh orange juice, then headed outdoors to swim several laps of the pool.

      After fifteen minutes or so she emerged, towelled off the excess moisture, then retreated indoors to change and make breakfast.

      The ambivalence of the previous evening had disappeared, and in the clear light of day it seemed advantageous for she and Carlo to spend the weekend apart.

      With that thought in mind she crossed to the phone and punched in his number. The answering machine picked up, and she replaced the receiver down onto the handset.

      He was probably in the shower, or, she determined with a glance at her watch, he could easily have left. She keyed in the digits that connected with his mobile, and got voicemail.

      Damn. It would have been less confrontational to cancel via the phone than deal with him in person.

      It was almost seven when Carlo walked into the kitchen, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of her in cut-off denims and skimpy top.

      ‘You’re not ready.’

      ‘No.’ Her response was matter-of-fact. ‘I think we both need the weekend apart.’

      His expression was implacable. ‘I disagree. Go change and get your holdall. We don’t have much time.’

      ‘Give me one reason why I should go?’ she demanded, tilting her chin at him in a way that drove him crazy, for he wanted to kiss her until all that fine anger melted into something he could deal with.

      ‘I can give you several But right now you’re wasting valuable time.’

      Without a word he strode through the lounge and ascended the stairs. She followed after him, watching as he entered the bedroom, opened a cupboard, extracted a leather holdall and tossed it down onto the bed, then he riffled through her clothes, selected, discarded, then opened drawers and took a handful of delicate underwear and dumped it in the holdall.

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

      A pair of heeled pumps followed sandals.

      ‘I would have thought it was obvious.’

      He moved into the en suite bathroom, collected toiletries and make-up, and swept them into a cosmetic case. He lifted his head long enough to spare her a searching look.

      ‘You might want to change.’

      Her eyes flashed fire. ‘I might not,’ she retaliated swiftly.

      He shrugged his shoulders, pressed everything into the holdall, then closed the zip fastener.

      ‘OK, let’s go.’

      ‘Don’t you listen?’ His implacability brought her to a state of rage. ‘I am not going anywhere.’

      Carlo was dangerously calm. Too calm. ‘We’ve already done this scene.’

      Aysha was too angry to apply any caution. ‘Well, hell. Let’s do it again.’

      ‘No.’ He slung the holdall straps over one shoulder, then he curved an arm round her waist and hoisted her over one shoulder with an ease that brought forth a gasp of outrage.

      ‘You fiend! What do you think you’re doing?’

      ‘Abducting you.’

      ‘In the name of God... Why?’

      Carlo strode out of the room and began descending the short flight of stairs. ‘Because we’re flying to the Coast, as planned.’

      She struggled, and made no impression. In sheer frustration she pummelled both hands against his back. ‘Put me down!’

      He didn’t alter stride as he negotiated the stairs, and she aimed for his ribs, his kidneys, anywhere that might cause him pain. All to no avail, for he didn’t so much as grunt when each punch connected.

      ‘If you don’t put me down this instant, I’ll have you arrested for attempted kidnapping, assault, and anything else I can think of!’

      Carlo reached the impressive foyer, took three more steps, then lowered her to stand in front of him.

      ‘No, you won’t.’

      He was bigger, broader, taller than her, yet she refused to be intimidated. ‘Want to bet?’

      ‘Cool it, cara.’

      ‘I am not your darling.’

      His mouth curved with amusement, and she poked him several times in the chest.

      ‘Don’t you dare laugh!’

      He curled his hands over her shoulders and held her still. ‘What would you have me do? Kiss you? Haul you across one knee and spank your deliciously soft derrière?’

      ‘Soft?’ She worked out, and while her butt might be curved, it was tight

      ‘If you keep opposing me, I’ll be driven to effect one or the other.’

      ‘Lay a hand on me, and I’ll—’

      He was much too swift, and any further words she might have uttered were lost as his mouth closed over hers in a deep, punishing kiss which took hold of her anger and turned it into passion.

      Aysha wasn’t conscious when it changed, only that it did, and the fists she lashed him with gradually uncurled and crept up to his nape to cling as emotion wrought havoc and fragmented all her senses.

      Carlo slowly eased the heat, and his mouth softened as he gently caressed the swollen contours of her lips, then pressed light butterfly kisses along the tender curve to one corner and back again.

      When he lifted his head she could only look at him with drenched eyes, and he traced a forefinger down the slope of her nose.

      ‘Now that I have your full attention... A weekend at the Coast will remove us from all the madness. No pressures, no demands, no social engagements.’

      And no chance of accidentally bumping into Nina.

      ‘Last call, Aysha,’ Carlo indicated with a touch of mockery. ‘Stay, or go. Which is it to be?’

      It wasn’t the time for deliberation. ‘Go,’ she said decisively, and heard his husky laughter.

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