Chapter Seven

Connor’s enraged eruption into the elegant shop had all the assistants’ focus trained on him. Zoe’s mouth dried as she stared at him. She felt, and probably looked, like an animal caught in the gleam of a car’s headlights.

“I-I umm…”

Her voice wouldn’t work and, coupled with her ragged breathing, must be making her look guilty. Heedless of the pressure he was exerting, he shook her sharply.

“You lousy, low-down little bitch.” He didn’t seem to care everyone in the shop was now looking at them. “She’d give you the shirt off her back”—he threw her arm away—“instead you wait until she’s out of the house—”

Zoe gasped. “No, Connor, it’s not like that. You don’t understand. I—”

“Oh, I understand all right.” His hand dragged his beeping pager off his belt. He looked at it blindly before turning his gaze back to her flushed face. “I was onto you the day I met you, Zoe. I’ve been wondering when you’d make your move.” He poked a finger at her chest. “Be outta the house before I get back, and if they’re”—he pointed at the figurines—“not back on the shelf, I’ll be calling the police.”

“Will you shut up and listen to me?” She only just stopped herself from stamping her foot.

He glared into her flashing eyes.

“I can explain, if you’ll just get off your high horse for―”

Connor looked pleased the ringing of his cellphone broke into her tirade. “I’m on my way.”

The summons from the hospital must have been more urgent than this little debacle. He shot her a final angry glance as he turned and rushed off.

Zoe’s teeth ground as she stared after him. Stupid oaf. If only he’d let me explain. Her face burned as her gaze swept around the shop. The assistants and other shoppers averted their eyes, pretending to be busy.

Stiffening her back she thrust out her chin, daring anyone to comment. Eyeballing the assistant still standing in front of her, Zoe continued with her mission to have a professional check Bess’s figurines for any possible hairline cracks not visible to the naked eye.

****

The house looked deserted. There was no motorbike parked under the carport and no lights showing in the windows. Connor gave a satisfied nod as he unlocked the back door. She was gone. Good.

Refusing to allow any niggle of guilt to take hold, he strode into the lounge, flicking on the overhead lights as he went. The sight of the three figurines on the shelf near the fireplace drew a wry twisted smile to his face.

At least she had the decency to return them, he pondered as he walked over to examine the items. A flash of light, seen from the corner of his eye, caused him to turn quickly and he bumped the shelf with his hip. Lightning-quick reflexes allowed him to snatch the figurines before they, and the shelf, slid onto the carpet.

His heart thumping, he lay the treasures down and picked up the shelf. Black tape had been stuck across the bracket responsible for holding one end of the shelf. Ripping it off, Connor saw the screws were loose and no longer catching the wood. Even with the amount of tape applied, the shelf had been unstable. A light tap would have been enough to knock it down.

He stood staring at the shelf in his hand, his mind reeled as he considered the possibility Zoe had knocked it down, just as he had. But perhaps she hadn’t been able to catch the figurines before they fell. Had she been taking them to the jeweler to check they weren’t damaged?

No, he argued desperately with himself. She’s a con, doing whatever she needs to get my grandmother’s approval. He wasn’t taken in by her big, blue eyes and her sad stories. He needed her away from here, away from Bess. Away from him.

Then why was his breath caught in his throat as he walked toward her door? He couldn’t believe his hand was shaking as he twisted the door handle.

His shoulders slumped as evidence of her still being here lay all around the room. It appeared she’d returned in a temper though. The place was a mess, clothes thrown across the bed and onto the floor. Her bedside table looked like a tornado had hit it. Tipped-over bottles of makeup and books and a couple of downturned photo frames littered the small surface, some items hanging precariously close to the edge. Her clock lay dangling by its cord above bags of even more books.

But, thank God—he slid down onto the side of her bed—he could see no suitcase or luggage. Air whooshing from his lungs, his head fell into his hands. She’d called his bluff. She hadn’t shifted out.

He refused to consider his relief was personal. No. It was the idea of having to tell his grandmother Zoe had stolen from her that suddenly seemed more heartbreaking than he’d considered before. His grandmother loved Zoe. He didn’t want to think Zoe’s feelings for Bess were just a sham.

Just because there could be an acceptable explanation for Zoe having the figurines, didn’t mean that was the case, a voice warred inside Connor’s head. She could just as easily have been stealing them.

Connor scrubbed a hand across his face, accepting he didn’t know what the hell to believe anymore. But one thing he could check. He stormed into the kitchen and found the phonebook. Soon he was talking to an assistant at the jewelry shop in the mall. His face was burning by the time he hung up.

The woman had clearly remembered him and his behavior. She seemed to take great delight in telling him the figurines had been presented for inspection after suffering a fall. She stressed at no time had any mention been made of their value.

He thanked her stiffly; thankful he hadn’t carried out his enquiry in person.

I was wrong.

Wiping a hand across his face he looked about sightlessly. How do I atone for such a gaffe?

He paced the house questioning his actions. Walls, door jambs, tables—all felt the weight of his fists as he berated himself. Why did I get so riled?

Angrily ripping off a page of notepad he wrote a stilted apology to stick under one of the fridge magnets. That wouldn’t do, but it was a start. He’d have to think of some way of begging her forgiveness when he saw her next.

Thank God she hadn’t packed up and disappeared. He scowled, thumping the door jamb again as he stalked into the lounge. Just imagine having to explain to Bess he’d thrown Zoe out for no reason.

****

“She’s a bit of a honey, all right, but don’t you think she’s a little young for you?” Connor’s friend had given up discussing the latest cricket tour. “Could even be jailbait by the looks of her.”

Mike’s words registered. Connor had lost interest in his friend’s conversation the moment he’d spied Zoe entering the plaza. She sat at a bench seat across from where he was having lunch with his old university buddy.

He hadn’t seen her since that day in the jeweler’s and he found himself drinking up the mere sight of her. Her casual outfit suggested she’d thrown off her overalls and come here straight from work. She was waiting for someone.

Connor tensed as he recognized something furtive about her movements. “What?” he murmured.

“That girl you haven’t been able to keep your eyes off.”

Connor gritted his teeth at the speculative look leveled at him across the café table.

“Do you know her? Or just wish you did?”

“She’s a friend of my grandmother’s.”

Mike’s raised eyebrows showed his comical disbelief.

“Her name’s Zoe. And she’s older than she looks.” Connor wasn’t about to justify himself further to his old friend. Who cared whether Mike believed him or not?

He opened his mouth to tell his friend exactly that, but paused. His fingers tightened and he sucked in a sharp breath as a disreputable figure slipped onto the seat beside Zoe. Connor recognized the man.

He half rose before Zoe’s reaction sent him slumping back into his seat. His teeth grated as Zoe hugged the lowlife.

Were they lovers?

Connor’s breath caught as he imagined Zoe allowing that dirty creep to touch her, run his hands over her… His jaw ached as his teeth ground against each other.

They were talking amicably, although the man’s gaze continually flashed about the crowded plaza. Probably watching for the police, Connor reckoned, his fists clenching under the table as Zoe closed the gap between the pair again.

Uncertainty yielded quickly to fury as Zoe handed the man something. Even at this distance, Connor could see it was obviously money. His distrust of Zoe returned, skyrocketing, setting noisy alarm bells reverberating through his mind.

The flash of the man’s smarmy smile, and the quick hug he shared with Zoe, forced Connor to his feet.

“I’ll catch up with you again sometime, Mike.” Connor ripped some money from his wallet to throw onto the table, his gaze never leaving the couple a few meters away.

Breath caught in his throat as disappointment surfaced, stronger than his anger or disgust.

Since his mistake about the figurines, his distrust of Zoe had almost disappeared. He’d been forced to re-evaluate his ideas. Going over his conversations with her, he’d began to understand his grandmother’s captivation. Her spell had been slowly weaving its way around him, too.

She was vibrant and full of life. Despite the unhappiness that must have colored her growing up, unlike him, she had managed to put that aside. More and more he’d sensed a happy, well-adjusted woman, not someone trying to con an old lady.

Too bad he was way off, again. His first impressions about Zoe appeared to be more accurate. She was chummy with a lowlife no respectable woman would even talk to. With his own eyes, he’d seen her feeding him money.

Question was where did the money come from? She’d made no secret of having a very tight budget. Her bike was so old and dilapidated he wondered how she kept it going. Her clothing didn’t suggest she was spending much there. And yet she could hand over a sizable roll to some druggie mate.

Has she stolen something else from the house and sold it? At least with Gran away, I don’t have to consider she might have given Zoe the money.

Disillusionment began fuelling anger as he stalked toward the two. He intended finding out why Zoe was giving this creep money. What’s she paying him for? Does he have some hold over her? Connor had seen enough drug abuse to be pretty certain Zoe wasn’t an addict, but…

Whether it was his agitated claw at her arm or the scowling stare of the man that warned Zoe of his approach, Connor didn’t know. The frightened glance over her shoulder changed into a glare of shock as Zoe turned toward him.

“Zoe?”

Connor’s pace quickened as he caught the whispered query from the man’s lips.

“It’s okay. Go, Rangi. Quick.” Anger blazed from her eyes as she leapt to her feet. “What are you doing here, Connor? Are you spying on me?”

The creep still had his hand on Zoe’s arm. Connor tensed, ready to dodge a fist or a knife. Zoe, standing between them, stopped Connor dragging that hand from her arm.

“It’s all right, Rangi.” She turned her back on Connor and hugged the poor excuse for a human being.

Black eyes drilled into him. Connor met the threat by lifting his chin and taking a half step closer.

“You sure?” The words were low, but no less threatening.

The sweetness of Zoe’s smile, as she nodded and urged the man away, sent blood pounding through Connor. His fists clenched and unclenched.

“Next Thursday?”

At Zoe’s nod the man slinked away into a crowd of Japanese tourists and disappeared from view.

Zoe picked up her bag and stormed away in the opposite direction. Away from Connor.

Connor followed. “I’d like an explanation.” He grabbed her arm.

She escaped his hold and glared at him through narrowed eyes. “I’m sure you would.” Her tart tone quivered with resentment. “But you can wait until hell freezes over, Connor, ’cause you’re not getting one.”

Again he hastened after her stalking figure. “Who was that creep? What were you doing with him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I think it is. I—”

Her eyes bulged and her voice rose incredulously. “What makes you think that?”

She’s right. What am I suggesting?

“You have nothing to do with me, Connor. We might temporarily live in the same house, but—”

“You gave him money, a lot of money.” As she turned into a narrow side street, he grabbed her arm again and yanked her to a stop. Her insolent stare as she glared up at him fired his anger. “Where did you get it from? Has Gran given you money? Did you steal something from her?” He shook her. “I mean to find out.”

“Oh, yeah? And just how do you plan to do that?”

Hell! He stiffened as if she’d struck him. Frowning at her haughty expression, he was momentarily nonplussed. He had no idea how he planned to make her talk.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He gave her another, less vigorous shake.

The slight tremble in her lower lip gave him the idea—the idea of covering those sensual lips with his own and staving off a hunger he’d been trying to ignore for days.

He hauled her roughly to him and smothered her lips with savage intensity, trying to bully her into succumbing to his forceful domination.

Fists thumping against his shoulders broke through his concentration of how great she smelled, how sweet she tasted—even with her lips jammed shut.

He abruptly let her go, sucking oxygen into deflated lungs.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Her face was expressionless, her eyes cold and remote. She scrubbed the back of her hand across her lips as if something foul had touched them. “You ever touch me again, Connor,”—her caustic tone made him flush with shame—“I’ll hit and kick and scratch you with all my might. Then I’ll report you to the police.”

He slumped as she stormed away. He’d never been tempted to kiss a woman in anger before.

Even without her diatribe, his actions had left an acid taste in his mouth. He turned away, thankful no one noticed anything amiss.

She deserved an apology, and he’d have to give her one. He stuffed his fists into his pockets as he made his way to the parking building where he’d left his car.

Now his annoyance returned. She’d managed to put him in the wrong. He swore.

How am I going to find out whether she got the money by selling something belonging to Gran? Finding out if there was anything missing from the house wouldn’t be easy. Eight years ago he might have had a hope, but now?

Damn. Would the parents know what valuables Gran has in her house? Perhaps he could call them.

No. Dad would get worried and come rushing up. That has to be a last resort. Dad’s health was too delicate to risk needless upset. Connor had to figure out how to deal with this on his own.

****

Zoe’s heart was thumping as she approached the house. The deep breath she’d sucked in rushed out of her lungs as she rode into the drive. No car. Connor wasn’t home.

Swinging off her bike, she hoped he was doing triple shifts for the next few days. At least until Bess was home again, ’cause she wasn’t sure she could stay in the same room as him without hitting him. The arrogant sod.

What right did he think he had to demand answers from me? How dare he touch me, kiss me? Nobody, but nobody treats me like that. She fumed as she yanked off her gloves and jammed them into her helmet.

Last person to lay unwanted hands on her had been when she was sixteen. Rangi had long since shown her how to defend herself. Billy Royce had spoken with a high, squeaky voice that night and stayed hidden for weeks, lest Rangi exact his own revenge.

So why didn’t I knee Connor where it hurt? She stopped on the pathway as the question yelled inside her head. I hadn’t thought of it? I hadn’t been afraid of him? I’d really been fantasizing what he would taste like, what those sensuous lips would feel like pressed against my own? No.

No, that wasn’t it. She hadn’t wondered about him. She’d never thought about him except to wish he was gone from this house and her life.

She slammed into the house and retreated to her own room, determined to stay there after she heard Connor moving around the house.

Connor tapped on her door. “Could I have a word with you please, Zoe?”

“Sorry, I’m going out. I have to wash my hair,” she replied, pleased at how nonchalant she sounded. Scared he’d barge in, she wrenched open the door and sailed past him into the bathroom, not caring if he heard the locking of the door behind her.

Only after she’d sank down onto the side of the bath did she realize she should have come up with a better excuse. She could have gone for a ride, a run, taken off to visit a friend, anything would have been more sensible than this. She cursed not having her cellphone. She could at least have texted a friend to come and pick her up. Get her away for the evening.

Heaving a huge sigh of annoyance, she dug under the sink and grabbed the cleaning gear. She might as well be doing something productive while she was here.

Sometime later she rushed to put her ear against the door. That was his pager. Sure enough, after a short phone call his car had taken off with a squeal of rubber. With a puff of relief, Zoe eased open the door of the spotless bathroom and, after making doubly sure his car was gone, she wandered into the kitchen.

Squinting into the fridge Zoe shook her head. She wasn’t really hungry. She slammed the door shut, dislodging a couple of Bess’s magnets in the process. Damn Connor Matthews. She looked wildly around the room. Why let him upset me? I don’t give a damn what he thinks of me.

Strong, sharp pain kicked at her stomach.

Zoe’s shaky legs collapsed and she slumped onto a chair. What’s the matter with me? I don’t care. I don’t. All afternoon she’d been wishing she’d clocked him on the jaw. Blinking furiously she stared up at the ceiling.

She did care what he thought of her. So much. Only because he was the first relative—a test for her, she convinced herself—after Bess. If she couldn’t forge some bond with him, what chance did she have with her uncles and other cousins?

They were family, real family, the same blood. Would they accept her as being part of them? Her head slumped down onto the table, visualizing their actions would be like Connor’s, full of disdain and suspicion.

How long she slept there she didn’t know. Amidst her jumbled dreams of rejection and dismissal, she clung to the glorious certainty, no matter what happened now, someday she’d have her very own family, her own children to love and protect. That joy stayed with her as she opened her eyes and rubbed the kink in her neck as she sat up.

She stretched, grimaced. Her disturbed nights and long busy days were catching up with her. Watching her bank balance shooting up was worth it though. She’d take as many extra night shifts as she could get with John—a quadriplegic who needed twenty-four hour on-call attention—until she started uni again.

Except for those few days in Wellington, she had nothing planned for the next couple of months except work. Lots of hard work. She’d work so hard she wouldn’t have time to think about Connor Matthews.

****

Connor did a double take at the light on in Zoe’s room as he turned into the driveway. He glanced at the digital clock on his dashboard. It was almost four o’clock in the morning. A feeling of self-disgust washed over him. Am I the cause of her sleeplessness? Thumping the steering wheel he swore, then swore again.

Slumping back and closing his eyes, guilt over the incident with Zoe adding to his feeling of inadequacy, Connor tried to think of something pleasant, anything that might take away the pictures embedded in his head. Forgetting the last few hours wouldn’t be easy.

A picture of the little scrap of humanity he’d tried so desperately to save flashed in front on his eyes. The apparent innocence of the mother, barely more than a child herself, as, despite the evidence, she’d sworn nobody had hurt her baby.

His fists tightened around the steering wheel as fierce anger burned inside. Thank heavens the nurse manager had bundled him out the door and told him to go home before he’d had a chance to make a fool of himself.

Forcing himself from the car, Connor quietly entered the house, and without conscious thought found himself standing outside Zoe’s door.

“Zoe?” His voice sounded flat as he tapped on her door. He didn’t know what he could say, but he needed to absolve himself from at least one incident.

The door jerked open, and she stood with one hand on the door and the other firmly resting on her hip. For a split second he appreciated how her stance stretched the top of her cotton nightie tightly across her breasts, outlining her nipples quite clearly.

“Yes?” she snapped.

Connor shook his head to clear the image of those breasts without the top. That’s what caused this problem in the first place, my furtive imagination.

He stared mutely at her, watching her eyes lose the chipped icy coldness. The expression on her face slowly changed to something less confrontational. What do I look like? Do I look as awful as I feel? He scrubbed a hand across his face.

“I’m sorry.” He continued looking deeply into her eyes, words he’d rehearsed earlier now gone from his mind. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again and turned away.

The soft touch of her fingers on his arm stopped him dead.

“Connor? What’s happened? Are you all right?”

He heaved a huge sigh, tried to shrug, tried to smile, but all he could do was stare into those big blue eyes. They seemed so familiar, so caring, so wise…

“Would you like a hot drink?”

Before he could answer she’d grabbed a bathrobe from behind her door. “Come on, I’ll make you a hot chocolate.”

He followed her into the kitchen like a docile lamb, slumping into the seat she pulled out from the kitchen table. She never spoke as she heated milk and prepared two mugs of steaming chocolate she soon brought to the table. Sitting down opposite him, she wrapped her hands around her mug, watching him, but not saying a word.

Connor welcomed the heat as his fingers encircled his mug. He shivered, despite the balmy warmth of the room. His gaze roamed before returning to Zoe’s face. All signs of her anger were gone. She couldn’t have forgiven his behavior so readily, and yet her expression was filled with compassion and concern.

“I lost a little boy.” The words were dragged out. “Three months old.” He ignored the heat burning his mouth as he gulped a mouthful. “We worked on him for hours. But…”

Apart from a saddened gasp Zoe made no response. She sat, silently listening, as he relived the whole ordeal.

Taken aback to hear the clock chime five, Connor struggled to his feet. “Oh God, I’ve kept you up. You―”

“Don’t worry about it; I wasn’t intending to sleep any longer. I’ll head off to work a little earlier this morning. We’ve got a big job on and I’ll be able to get in a few extra hours.” Her wink as she reached for his empty mug lightened the atmosphere a little. “Impress the boss.”

“Zoe?” He touched her arm as she slipped toward the door. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I guess I needed to vent some of that anger.”

She threw him a gamin grin. “That’s cool. See you tonight.”

“Zoe.” He sprang up and clasped her arm but hastily let go as her gaze fell to his hand. “About this afternoon…”

The grin disappeared from her face.

“I am truly sorry for the way I behaved. I had no right to bully…force myself…”

He groaned as he remembered someone else, someone he hated so intensely. “I’m no better…using superior strength to intimidate…”

“Don’t be so crazy,” Zoe snapped. “You’d have to try a lot harder to intimidate me, pal.”

With a quirky twitch of her eyebrows, she was gone, leaving Connor staring into the empty hallway, shaking off the images of his father. He tried to assimilate the compassionate companion of the last hour with his negativity of this afternoon.

Falling into bed moments later he concluded there must be a rational explanation for Zoe’s behavior. Unfortunately he didn’t have the right to demand to know what it was. But once again he wondered if his grandmother was right about Zoe. Despite her meetings with this Rangi fellow, Connor still couldn’t prove one disparaging thing about her.

Can she be as genuine as she appears to be? Or is she just that clever at disguising her motives?