The replacement salesgirl sent by the agency proved to be a dramatic improvement on Chantal, and Hannah began to relax as the morning progressed.
Renee rang to check how the new girl was shaping up, and Miguel called to say they’d landed in Perth.
When the phone rang again minutes later Hannah automatically lifted the receiver and intoned her usual greeting.
‘Bonjour, Hannah.’
The voice on the other end of the phone was familiar. Far too familiar, and not one she wanted to hear.
‘How did you get my number?’ A silly question, she silently castigated herself the instant the words slipped from her lips.
‘Dearest Hannah,’ Luc drawled with cynical humour. ‘Your boutique has a name, which is listed in the telephone directory.’
The connection to Camille was obvious. ‘What do you want?’
‘Ah, chérie,’ he chastised softly. ‘Straight to the point.’
‘I don’t have time to chat.’ Her voice was distant, formal.
‘Meet me for coffee.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You have to break for lunch, surely?’
‘Yes, but I don’t intend to have it with you.’
‘Afraid, chérie?’
Had he always been this insufferably arrogant? She almost cringed at the thought she’d once been attracted to him. ‘Of you? No.’ She replaced the receiver, and turned towards the sheaf of invoices waiting to claim her attention.
A client entered the boutique, and Hannah watched surreptitiously as Elaine moved forward with a practised greeting. In only a matter of hours the girl was showing her worth, and Hannah felt cautiously hopeful she’d work out.
Elaine took a lunch break at midday, and on her return an hour later Hannah crossed the street to the café she usually frequented. The food was good, the coffee superb.
Big mistake, she realised within seconds of entering the busy eatery. Being a creature of habit had its downfall, for anyone familiar with her regular routine would be aware this particular café was her favourite haunt for lunch…whether she chose food to take away, or took the time to eat in.
Seated at a table overlooking the street was Luc Dubois, looking the relaxed urbane sophisticate he aspired to be.
Now why wasn’t she surprised to see him there? Luc did nothing without motivation. It made her feel distinctly wary.
‘Bonjour, chérie,’ Luc greeted with deliberate warmth. ‘I knew if I sat here long enough it would be only a matter of time before you arrived.’
‘I must remember to change my eating venue.’ Without a further word she turned on her heel and walked out again.
The entire street held several equally trendy eating places. She’d go somewhere else.
Five minutes later she was seated at a table and had just given her order when someone slid into the seat opposite.
‘Whatever the lady ordered,’ Luc instructed the waiter, ‘make it two.’
Hannah cast him an arctic glare. ‘Just what in hell are you trying to pull?’
Luc extended one arm in a sweeping gesture. ‘We’re in public,’ he indicated with an eloquent shrug. ‘Why not combine lunch with a little reminiscing?’
Hannah arched one eyebrow. ‘To what purpose?’
He tried to look hurt. ‘Why, chérie. We shared some good times together.’
She spared him a bitter smile. ‘It took me three months to discover your charm was only an act.’
‘Not all the time.’
‘Oh…p-l-e-a-s-e,’ she discounted wearily.
‘The attraction was Daddy’s bank account and my healthy annuity. I was irrelevant.’ Every instinct told her to get up and walk out now.
The waiter delivered two lattes, and against her better judgement she tore open a sugar tube and tipped the contents into the milky froth. Luc did the same.
She cut straight to the chase. ‘What has Camille paid you to do?’
He spread both hands in a conciliatory gesture.
‘Why should Camille have anything to do with me wanting to share a coffee with you?’
She speared him with a look. ‘Don’t take me for a fool.’
The waiter arrived with two plates, each containing a salad sandwich. As he turned away a flash bulb exploded nearby, and she caught a brief glimpse of a photographer making a rapid exit.
‘Pay dirt,’ Luc informed with a cynical smile.
It all clicked into place in an instant, and Hannah rose to her feet in one angry movement, extracted a note from her purse, then flung it down onto the table and walked out into the street.
Dammit, she should have seen it coming! Luc played a tune to the highest bidder. In this instance, Camille. Another step down a diabolical path towards Camille’s main goal…Miguel. Now, there was photographic evidence Hannah had shared a meal with Luc. It didn’t take a genius to work out how Camille intended to use the photograph.
A car horn blared, and she halted mid-step. Dear God, she whispered shakily as realisation hit that she’d stepped off the footpath onto the road. Get a grip!
Minutes later she entered the boutique, caught Elaine’s surprised look, and offered a humourless smile. ‘That bad, huh?’
‘Are you okay?’
Hannah attempted to downplay the past thirty minutes. ‘Something disagreed with me.’
‘Or someone?’
‘You’re good,’ Hannah accorded wryly. ‘Any problems while I was gone?’
‘I sold two shirts, a scarf, and took two orders.’
‘Well done.’
‘You weren’t away long. Did you get to eat?’
‘I lost my appetite.’ Wasn’t that the truth!
It was after six when she arrived home, and she ate the meal Sofia had prepared for her, then she retreated to the study and keyed in the digits to connect with Miguel’s mobile, only to get his voice-mail.
Maybe he and Alejandro were out to dinner. She left a message, then took a shower and changed into jeans and a singlet top.
Her mother called, and Hannah accepted an invitation to dinner the following evening. They chatted for a while, catching up on each other’s news, and afterwards she watched a television movie before opting to indulge herself by reading in bed.
It was almost eleven when the sudden peal of the telephone startled her into dropping the book, and she caught up the receiver, uttered a brief curse as it slipped from her fingers.
Seconds later she managed an articulate greeting, and heard Miguel’s husky voice on the line.
‘Did I wake you?’
‘No,’ Hannah said at once. ‘I was reading.’
His soft chuckle set all her fine body hairs standing on end. ‘You left a message to call.’
‘I—’ She hesitated, then opted for the banal. ‘How are things going?’
‘What is it?’ Miguel demanded