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He started barking his head off again. She continued to slice the onions, cabbage and red peppers for this evening’s stir-fry.
‘What I was thinking was a lovely big property where you could run about to your heart’s content, and...’
He didn’t stop barking. He no longer looked at her, just barked and barked. Her chopping slowed. She glanced at him again. In fact, he seemed to be barking at a point behind her and—
Her nape prickled. In the reflection of the window, something moved.
Whirling around, she held the knife out in front of her, every muscle tensed and readied.
A broad male figure loomed in the kitchen doorway. Adrenaline flooded her. Her heart clawed up into her throat. She gripped the knife harder.
The figure raised his hands very slowly in a gesture of non-aggression and then he backed all the way down the hallway and out of her house until he stood on the other side of her screen door. Only then did her pounding brain recognise who it was that stood on the other side. Rico D’Angelo. Her new boss.
Her heart didn’t stop hammering. Her hands didn’t unclench.
Rico raised a hand and knocked. She didn’t hear it. Undoing her fist enough to reach out, she turned off the radio. ‘Quiet, Monty!’
Amazingly, the animal obeyed her.
‘Neen, I’m sorry I frightened you.’
She suddenly realised she was still holding the knife. With burning eyes she threw it into the sink. She gripped her hands together at her waist and tried to stop their shaking, tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. The lump dislodged itself to settle in her chest.
‘Mr D’Angelo.’ The shaking wouldn’t stop. ‘I...uh...come in.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. I just wanted to drop this off.’ He held up a sheaf of papers.
Monty promptly started barking again and her head throbbed in time with each booming sound. God, how to explain? She pressed her shaking fingers to her temples.
‘How about a walk? I take it that’s Monty, there? It sounds as if he could do with one.’
Gradually, little by little, her heart rate started to slow. ‘I’m sure you’re busy.’
‘I dropped by so we could discuss a few things and to get your signature on the contract.’
The normality of their conversation after her over-the-top reaction finally returned her pulse to normal.
‘I know I should’ve rung first, but I had an appointment in the area so I thought I’d drop by on the off-chance you’d be home.’
She needed to get out of the house. She needed to find a sense of equilibrium again. ‘If you’re sure you have the time?’
‘I have the time.’
‘I’ll just get Monty’s leash.’
She clipped the lead to Monty’s collar, led him through the house and locked her front door. She averted her gaze from the carport opposite and her car, with its four slashed tyres. She hoped her enigmatic employer hadn’t noticed them. She bit back an oath, her hand tightening on Monty’s lead. Mr D’Angelo must think he’d employed an utter fruitcake!
‘I’m pleased you accepted the position of café manager, Neen. I have great hopes for the café and I know you’re the perfect person to head this up.’
His smile was too kind, too compassionate...too knowing. His tone too well modulated. She bit back a sigh. ‘You saw the tyres, didn’t you?’
Monty chose that moment to try and yank her arm out of its socket. Without a word, Rico reached across and took the lead from her. He smelled of cold air and peppermint.
‘It happened today?’
She folded her arms and nodded. ‘Which begs the question, why was I so careless as to leave the front door unlocked, doesn’t it?’
‘Monty?’
She bit back a sigh. ‘It was all I could do to stay on my feet when I returned from the supermarket. Monty is always so...so delighted to see me.’ She could have sworn that she’d locked the screen door, but she mustn’t have. So foolish.
She closed her eyes and hauled in a breath. Ever since she’d received the news that Grandad’s will was being contested, her head had been in turmoil. Not to mention her heart. Her concentration was shot to pieces. It had to stop! She had to start paying attention again. She had to.
‘Have you reported the incident to the police?’
‘Yes.’ She swallowed and risked glancing up at him. ‘Mr D’Angelo, I’m very sorry for...um...’ Her stomach churned. What if she had stabbed him? ‘I’m a bit jumpy at the moment.’
She made him stop when they reached the end of the block.
‘Monty, sit.’ The dog stared up at her with his big dopey eyes. She made a hand signal. ‘Sit.’ He continued to stare at her. She folded her arms and looked away. Eventually he sat. ‘Good boy.’
She fondled his ears and then nodded to Rico. They set off across the road and then turned right towards the park and Bellerive beach.
‘He’s improving,’ she murmured, more for something to say than anything else.
‘Look, Neen, I’m the one who should apologise. I shouldn’t have come in like I did and I’m sorry I startled you.’
His eyes were dark, almost black. She didn’t doubt his sincerity for a moment.
‘I knocked and knocked, and I could see you at the end of the hallway. I called out...’
‘But between Monty and the radio—’ and her own too-busy thoughts ‘—I couldn’t hear you. It’s not your fault, Mr D’Angelo. You don’t need to apologise.’
‘Rico,’ he ordered.
The name suited him in one respect, with his dark Italian good looks, but Rico sounded breezy and carefree. She wasn’t sure she’d ever meet anyone less carefree in her life. He was a man on a mission—an important mission. And, like most do-gooding types with a quest to save the world, he carried that world around on his shoulders.
They might be broad shoulders, but nobody could carry around that kind of weight forever.
He suddenly stopped and swung to her. Monty strained on the lead. It could pull her completely off balance, but it barely seemed to register with Rico.
‘Look, I couldn’t help noticing that yours were the only tyres slashed. Is something up, Neen? Is there something I ought to know?’
A weight pressed down on her chest when she realised she’d have to tell him—in the interests of his staff’s safety. It grew heavier when it occurred to her that in their interests he might in fact retract his job offer.
For a moment she could hardly speak. The sun that glinted off the expanse of water in front of them dimmed. Finally she gestured to the remaining distance between them and the beach. ‘Let’s go down there and let Monty tire himself out.’
When they reached the sand Rico’s hand hovered uncertainly on the lead’s catch. ‘Are you sure he won’t run away?’
No, but... ‘He’ll stay on the beach,’ she promised. She’d learned that much.
Without further ado he released Monty and the giant dog charged helter-skelter straight into the water, spraying it in all directions.
Rico shook his head. ‘You’re going to have sand everywhere when you get home.’
‘Sand is something I can vacuum up. And it’s preferable to him chewing the furniture. An hour of this and he’ll be a relative lamb for the rest of the afternoon.’
He turned to her, hands on hips. She shrugged. There didn’t seem much point in delaying the inevitable conversation.
‘The slashed tyres aren’t an isolated incident. The police are aware of the situation but there’s not much they can do.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘Four months ago I broke up with a man who, it appears, can’t take no for an answer.’
‘And he’s persecuting you? Threatening you?’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘I have no proof that today’s tyres are his handiwork.’ But she knew in her gut it was. ‘I’ve taken a restraining order out on him.’
And she still couldn’t believe she’d left her front door unlocked!
CHAPTER TWO
‘NEEN?’
Rico touched her arm and Neen started. He immediately backed up, his eyes darkening. She wanted to reach out and tell him it wasn’t him, but...
But what? Was she going to let Chris turn her into a timid mouse? Was she going to let his behaviour rule her life?
She leaned across and clasped Rico’s arm. ‘I’m sorry. I was a million miles away.’
Beneath the crisp cotton of his business shirt, his arm was firm and warm, vibrant, and her fingers were curiously reluctant to release him. For a few precious seconds the solid feel of him reminded her there was more in this world than her worries and troubles.
And while she continued to focus so closely on her troubles she was missing out on a lot of those other things—on laughter and friendship and...and simply being young. She’d applied to manage Rico’s café hoping it would provide her with some much-needed distraction. Eventually Chris would get bored and give up. She crossed her fingers.
In the meantime she would not sit around and spin her wheels while she waited to see what the outcome of Grandad’s will would be. She’d get experience, she’d become even better at her job and...
She swallowed. And she wouldn’t focus on her sense of betrayal. That was what.
Rico watched her through narrowed eyes that saw too much. She tried to find a smile. ‘It’s been a while since there’s been an...incident. I’ve obviously become careless.’ She frowned. ‘But...’
‘But?’
In the spring sunshine his hair gleamed dark, but she could pick out the deep auburn highlights that threaded through it. While he’d shrugged out of his business jacket, his tie was still perfectly knotted at his throat. She shoved her hands into her pockets to stop herself from reaching out and loosening it.
‘Let’s walk for a bit,’ she suggested, because standing there staring at him seemed suddenly absurd. Besides, the sand was packed tight from the outgoing tide. He shouldn’t get too much sand in his beautifully polished leather shoes.
He fell into step beside her. ‘What were you going to say?’
She shrugged, trying to replay that moment when she’d returned home from the supermarket. She’d unlocked the door...Monty had barrelled into her...she’d pulled the screen door shut so he couldn’t escape and...
‘It’s just that I’m pretty certain I did lock the screen door.’ It was an action that had become second nature.
‘How certain?’
‘Ninety per cent.’
A second passed. Rico’s hands clenched. ‘You think someone picked the lock?’
Her mouth dried. ‘I’m probably being paranoid, that’s all.’ She pressed her hands together and prayed that was all it was. ‘About a week after Chris and I broke up I came home after work one night to find my entire apartment open—front door, back door and every single window. He must’ve still had a key. That was the first time I moved. The second time was after I woke one morning to find the house I’d rented splattered with red paint. I don’t want to run like that again.’
She would not be turned into a fugitive.
Rico’s right hand formed a hard, tight fist. She stared at it for a moment before glancing back out at the water.
‘I have deadbolts on all the doors and windows, but not the screen door. Normally I don’t leave the doors open, but it was so lovely and sunny today, and I...’ For heaven’s sake—it had been the middle of the day and broad daylight!
‘You should be able to leave your front door open without fear of reprisals.’
He spoke fiercely and a lump lodged in her throat. She closed her eyes, counted to three and then shoved her shoulders back before turning to face him.
‘I have been distracted today, though. I was offered the job.’ She flashed him a smile that was meant to reassure him, but it didn’t seem to do the trick. ‘And I have a dinner this evening that I’m really stressing about. I need it to go well.’ If it didn’t... Her gut clenched. ‘It’s why I banished Monty to the courtyard. I just needed thirty minutes to get the dinner preparations sorted. I was trying to work quickly and I was focused on chopping and quietening the dumb dog.’
‘And after the slashing of the tyres you were understandably jumpy.’
He didn’t make reference to her over-the-top reaction. He didn’t have to. It hung in the silence between them. But for several terrified seconds this afternoon she’d thought she’d have to fight for her life. Her mouth dried all over again at the memory. She hadn’t realised how spooked she’d become.
She clenched her hands. She would not allow Chris to do this to her. She might not be able to control his actions, but she could control her own. She had no intention of letting her guard down again, but she’d allowed her life to shrink. That had to stop.
There was just one last thing...
‘The incidents had become fewer and fewer. I thought perhaps Chris had finally given up. And, honestly, it’s illegal for him to come within twenty metres of me. The moment he does I can throw the book at him, and I doubt very much he’d risk that. However, as he obviously hasn’t given up would you prefer it if I stood down as your café manager?’
He halted and planted his hands on his hips. ‘Why would I do that?’
She didn’t say anything, just let him come to the same conclusion she had.
He frowned. ‘You think he might start targeting your place of work?’
‘I don’t pretend to know what goes through his mind. It’s a possibility, though, isn’t it?’
‘I’m not letting some sociopathic freak of a bully determine who I will or won’t employ!’
Just for a moment she glimpsed something in him beyond the self-possessed, preoccupied executive. Something dark and dangerous that should have had her backing away but actually had her wanting to edge closer.
‘I know you’re the right person for this job.’
She stared at him, at the fire in his eyes, and the weight of his expectation slammed down on her shoulders, making them sag.
‘But for heaven’s sake, Neen, what possessed you to go out with a jerk like that in the first place?’
She hugged her arms about her waist and started walking blindly up the beach again. She’d been searching for love. She’d ached for it. That was why she’d fallen for Chris. He’d focused all his attention on her in a way nobody in her life had before—except for Grandad—and she’d lapped it up like a starving woman. Like the stupid, weak woman that she was.
It was only later that his possessiveness and jealousy had come to light. Or at least that she’d recognised them for what they were. If she hadn’t been so needy she might have realised sooner and she could have ended the relationship then. But she hadn’t, and now she was paying the price.
‘I made a mistake,’ she said when she was sure of her voice. ‘Haven’t you ever made a mistake?’
She glanced up, but his face had frozen into a dark mask.
He gave one hard nod and a curt, ‘Yes,’ and then swung on his heel and set off back the way they’d come.
She glanced around—Monty was still splashing in the water beside them—and then dashed to catch up with Rico. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make that about you.’
He blinked and the mask disappeared. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s hit me what a high price innocent mistakes can carry. It hardly seems fair.’
She took in the knotted tie, the polished shoes, and wondered what mistakes lurked in his past.
‘Take the youth I work with. Most of them are paying for other people’s mistakes. It’s not their fault they were born to teenage mothers or have parents who’ve turned to alcohol or drugs.’
‘And you want to make a difference?’
His eyes flashed. ‘I will make a difference!’
For some reason his words chilled her. Or perhaps it was the tone in which they were uttered.
‘Have you ever taken self-defence classes, Neen?’
It wasn’t a question designed to dispel the chill that gripped her. She chafed her arms. ‘No.’
‘Why on earth not?’ He reached out and pulled her to a stop. He dropped his hand again almost immediately. ‘Surely that’s one of the sensible precautions you can take?’
She turned away from him and stared out across the water and up at Mount Wellington, which towered over the city of Hobart, dominating it.
‘Neen?’
She finally turned back. ‘I kept hoping I wouldn’t need to, that the threat wouldn’t become physical.’ She scanned the beach and the park beyond. ‘Besides, I suspect he’s watching me, following me. I haven’t wanted to give him any ideas.’
* * *
Rico stared down at Neen and his heart clenched. She seemed suddenly small and fragile. His hands fisted at the thought of anyone hurting her—at the thought of any man hurting a woman.
Knowing how to protect herself against a physical assault was vital, even if it wasn’t a fact she wanted to face. He didn’t know if her ex—this Chris—would actually resort to violence, but it would be better for her to be prepared.
Besides, knowing she could physically handle herself would empower her.
He straightened and readied himself for an argument. ‘Self-defence classes have just become a mandatory requirement for the position you were offered this morning, Neen. It’s one of the things I came around to discuss with you.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Ooh, Rico D’Angelo, that’s a big, fat lie.’
For a moment he thought she might even laugh. He’d like to see her laugh. He frowned and dragged his attention back to the matter at hand. ‘It was an oversight of mine that I forgot to mention it when I interviewed you. The fact is you’ll be working with disadvantaged youths. Some of those kids have been brought up by the scruffs of their necks.’
‘And violence is a language they know?’
‘Fluently.’
He had no intention of staffing the café with anyone who had that kind of a question mark hanging over them, but... He stared at Neen and his blood ran cold. ‘I don’t think we’ll run into those kinds of problems, but you will be dealing with teenagers.’
‘And teenagers can be hormonal and unpredictable?’
He let out a breath when he realised she wasn’t going to put up a fight. ‘So can some of their parents and friends. It’s the world they’ve grown up in.’
‘Which you’re trying to change?’
He read the scepticism in her eyes. He should be immune to such scepticism—he fought it every working day of his life—but for some reason hers burned and chafed him. He rolled his shoulders and tried to dismiss it.
‘The café budget will cover the cost of your self-defence classes.’ She looked as if she was about to argue and he held up a hand. ‘I insist. I’ll be the one choosing the trainer, and I’ll be receiving reports on your progress too.’
She blinked.
He’d make sure he chose the best. He couldn’t believe this hadn’t occurred to him before. If he could get more funding for future initiatives of the same nature, he’d make it an essential requirement for all his managers.
‘I’ll wait to receive the details from you, then.’
She turned to survey Monty and he couldn’t help noticing how the sun picked out the lighter strands in her chestnut hair. ‘I can’t believe how much energy that dog has.’
Monty still frolicked in the waves—chasing them as they receded, snapping at them and leaping over them as they rolled in. The dog’s utter physical joy in being alive struck him.
He shook himself. What was he thinking? He was too busy these days for swimming and beachcombing. He set his jaw. And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit.
He swung back to Neen. ‘In the meantime...’
She raised an eyebrow.
He’d make sure her class started asap—next week if he could arrange it—but... ‘It won’t hurt for you to have a couple of pointers now. Remember, if someone does attack you, your primary goal is to disable them long enough to get away. You don’t want to stick around and fight someone who’s bigger and more experienced than you are.’
‘Right.’
He set her square on to him. ‘If your attacker comes at you from the front, like this—’ he made as if to grab her shoulders ‘—I want you to knock his arms away like this, then grab a fistful of his shirt and knee him in the groin as hard as you can.’
She eyed him doubtfully. ‘As hard as I can?’
‘Believe me, any jerk who tries to grab you deserves everything you can throw at him.’
‘Right.’
‘And scream. Scream your head off as hard and as long as you can.’
Nine times out of ten fear of discovery would have an assailant hightailing it for the hills. ‘Now turn around.’
She did.
‘If an attacker grabs you from behind, like this—’ he seized her around the shoulders, pulling her hard back against him and pinning her arms to her sides ‘—I want you to—’
He broke off as a growling, snarling dog hurtled towards them. Monty had been transformed from boisterous goof to frightening assassin in a blink, and Rico watched in frozen fascination.
Neen, however, was caught by no such abstraction. Before he had the wit to push her behind him she’d reefed out of his hold and boomed, ‘No!’ at Monty, holding one hand straight out in front of her like a traffic cop.
The dog skidded to a halt, kicking up sand.
‘Down!’ she commanded in a hard, loud voice, making a demanding downward motion with her hand.
Monty whined and pawed at the sand.
‘Down!’ She repeated the hand signal.
Monty lowered himself to the ground, resting his nose on his front paws, but his eyes remained glued to Neen.
‘Dogs work on a system of hierarchy,’ she told him in a much softer, more modulated voice.
‘Uh-huh.’ His heart-rate started to slow.
‘I need Monty to know that you’re higher in the food chain than he is, so he learns to treat you with respect.’
He swallowed. ‘Happy to help out in any way I can.’
‘Shake my hand.’
He did.
‘Now keep hold of it and bend down so I can kiss your cheek.’
He did as she bade and her scent hit him hard—a mixture of strawberries and oakwood...and dog. Cool lips touched his cheek and something in his chest lurched. Suddenly every bad-boy impulse he’d spent the last ten years repressing roared into ear-splitting life.
And then she moved away, although she kept hold of his hand. It gave him a chance to drag a steadying breath into his lungs. It was the beach. It had to be. All this sun and sand. It had been a long time since he’d stopped to enjoy either. And being here felt like a holiday.
‘Monty.’ She kept her voice soft and clicked her fingers. The dog immediately rose to nuzzle her hand. ‘Put your hand down to him, Rico, so he can smell it, remember it...and apologise.’
Rico did as she said, not the least afraid Monty would bite him now. Neen’s confidence had filtered into him, and he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who would put anyone at risk. Monty promptly licked Rico’s hand.
‘Good dog,’ Neen said, finally releasing Rico and giving Monty a lusty scratch all the way down his back.
The dog groaned and arched against her. Rico didn’t blame him one little bit.
‘How come you know so much about dogs?’ he asked, in an attempt to take his mind off the curve of her hips in those jeans that she wore. The sun. The beach.
‘I grew up with them.’
‘But you don’t like them.’
‘That’s right.’
He watched as she pulled a tennis ball from her pocket. ‘Okay, Monty, let’s really wear you out.’ And she threw it.
Rico shook his head. ‘My teenagers aren’t going to know what’s hit them.’
* * *
Neen returned home from the beach with Monty early the next morning to find workmen waiting by her front door. Her palms turned clammy. She scanned the complex and its surrounds, but nothing looked out of place.
Except for the workmen. Her hand tightened about Monty’s lead as she approached them.
‘Are you Ms Cuthbert?’ one of them asked. At her nod he said, ‘We’ve been booked to fit new screen doors, as well as security systems to each of the five apartments here.’
She straightened. ‘Who hired you?’
He glanced at his clipboard. ‘The real-estate agency responsible for these properties.’ He named the company.