CHAPTER THREE

      BREAKFAST comprised cereal, toast and fruit, followed by ruinously strong black coffee.

      Anneke tidied the few dishes, then she caught up her car keys, slid the strap of her bag over one shoulder, and made her way out to the carport.

      Byron Bay was a pleasant seaside town, a popular holiday area, and the community centre for outlying banana, avocado and sugar cane farmers.

      Parking the car wasn’t a problem, and she took her time browsing through the supermarket as she selected her purchases and stacked them in the trolley.

      It was almost midday when she returned to the cottage, and after unloading her various purchases she took time to have lunch before beginning preparations for Sebastian’s evening meal.

      At five she showered and changed into jeans and a singlet top, bound her hair into a single plait, then returned to the kitchen.

      Artichokes stuffed and served with a rich cream sauce, marinated baby octopus, risi e bisi, two baby pigeons confits aux raisins, and, for dessert, her speciality—bombe au chocolat.

      Anneke hoped he had a supply of antacid on hand, otherwise he was certain to be a victim of indigestion.

      At precisely two minutes before six she trod the short path linking both cottages and knocked on Sebastian’s back door.

      She heard a deep bark, followed by a curt command, then the door swung open.

      Anneke saw the dog first. A huge Alsatian with liquid brown eyes, a dark velvet pelt, and possessing all the qualities of a trained guard dog.

      ‘Shaef,’ Sebastian qualified. ‘Let him become acquainted, then you’ll never need worry about him again.’

      Her eyes travelled over snug black jeans, a black open-necked shirt, to features that bore a faintly mocking expression.

      He was an arresting man, compelling, and possessed of a leashed quality that some would find vaguely frightening.

      Anneke didn’t question his authority with Shaef. She had a healthy respect for canines, and the Alsatian was an awesome breed.

      ‘Will you come in?’

      ‘No,’ she responded quickly. Too quickly, for she saw the sudden gleam apparent in his eyes, and caught the slight quirk at the edge of his mouth. ‘Enjoy your meal.’

      ’Merci.’

      No man had the right to look so darned sexy, or possess a voice that sounded like melted chocolate being dribbled over ice cream. Smooth, very smooth, she perceived. Yet there was tensile steel beneath the smoothness. The hardness of a man well-versed in the frailties of his fellow men.

      Without a further word she turned and retraced her steps. In her aunt’s kitchen she set about cleaning up, then when it was done she made herself a light, fluffy omelette, added a salad, and took the plate into the dining room.

      Tomorrow night she’d serve him everything stuffed…carpet steak with an exotic sauce, stuffed mushrooms, zucchini, tomatoes and potatoes. She would even bake a vanilla sponge for dessert and stuff it with fresh strawberries and cream whipped with kirsch.

      And Monday… She positively glowed at the thought of what she could do with seafood.

      Anneke prayed fervently that if he didn’t already have an ulcer, her epicurean offerings would soon provide him with one. Revenge, she determined, would be sweet.

      Very sweet, she determined, upon waking next morning to the shrilling sound of an electric skill-saw cutting through wood.

      Anneke spared a glance at her watch. Six-thirty. A half-hour earlier than yesterday. At least this morning she wasn’t the victim of only a few hours’ sleep.

      If Sebastian Lanier was playing a game, then so, too, would she.

      A slight smile played over her lips and she slid from the bed. A visit to the bathroom, then she pulled on briefs, shorts, and a singlet top. Her hair she deftly twisted into a single braid and let it fall between her shoulders. Then she slipped her feet into joggers and went to the back door with a ready smile in place.

      He wore the same faded stonewashed jeans from the day before, and a different tee-shirt. Nice muscle structure, tight butt, firm waist, with no visible fat apparent on that mean frame.

      ‘Good morning,’ she greeted as she ran lightly down the few steps. ‘I had no idea Aunt Vivienne needed more repairs. What is it today?’

      He pulled the switch on the electric saw and straightened as he turned to face her. The dark hair was neatly bound, but he had forgone the morning shave. It gave him a distinctly piratical look, and heightened the planes of his face, sculpted hard cheekbones and emphasised the strength of his jaw.

      If he’d suffered a restless night due to indigestion, it didn’t show.

      ‘A section of the picket fence needs replacing. New posts, new palings.’

      She widened the smile, and her eyes took on a sparkling gleam. ‘How kind. Aunt Vivienne will be pleased.’ She turned towards the path leading down to the beach, then cast him a backward glance over one shoulder. ‘Have a nice day.’

      Anneke broke into a leisurely jog, and on reaching the sand she crossed down to the water’s edge and ran parallel to the shoreline until she reached the outward curve of the bay, then she slowed to a halt and went through her usual morning exercise routine.

      She deliberately took her time, and when she returned to the cottage Sebastian was nowhere in sight. The carpenter’s horse, any wood cut-offs had been cleared away, and a brief glance along the length of picket fence displayed the new section in place.

      A muted throaty purr from an engine sounded loud in the morning’s silence, and she turned towards its source. Reversing from Sebastian’s garage was a late model Range Rover, with, she soon saw, Sebastian at the wheel.

      So he was going out. Good, she thought happily as she let herself into the cottage. She had a few household chores to perform, then she’d shower and put a call through to Aunt Vivienne. After lunch she intended to curl up in a comfortable chair and read until it was time to begin preparing Sebastian’s dinner.

      Anneke had just finished lunch when the phone rang, and she crossed the room and lifted the receiver from its handset.

      Her usual cheery greeting brought no response, so she repeated it. Still nothing. She was about to hang up when she heard the soft sound of human breathing.

      Even, steady, it became louder and faster, until there could be no mistaking the implied simulation.

      She