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CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
COMING NEXT MONTH
CHAPTER ONE
‘LUCKY YOU!’ Maria shouted, holding the punch bag as Lydia boxed away, repeating the words like some kind of chant as Lydia thumped ever harder.
Lydia’s red curls had long since worked their way out of her hair tie, and moved in time as she pounded the punch bag, her pale, slender arms delivering surprisingly strong blows. The rhythmic, vigorous exercise was wonderfully cathartic as, egged on by Maria, Lydia vented some of her anger and frustration.
‘Lucky, lucky you! Come on, Lydia. Hit harder!’
‘I’m done!’ Lydia breathed, shaking her head and resting her gloved hands on her knees. ‘And lucky certainly isn’t how I’d describe myself, being stuck here for the next few nights—I haven’t had a day off for weeks!’
Even though the place was deserted, mindful that someone could be listening, Lydia spoke in low tones as she pulled off her gloves and turned the sink taps on full blast to distort their conversation. She needlessly refilled her water bottle and took a few moments to splash her face.
‘What are you moaning about? Being joined at the hip with Anton Santini is my idea of an absolute dream job. Imagine how I feel!’ Maria grinned, offering Lydia her own water bottle to fill. ‘Being lumbered playing assistant to his female PA! Why couldn’t they have given me Anton Santini to guard?’
Lydia held up a long strand of red curls in answer and gave a wry smile. ‘I don’t somehow think I’d make a very good undercover Italian PA, when the only Italian words I know are the names of pasta!’
‘I’d go ginger in a moment if it meant sharing a bedroom with Anton Santini.’ Maria giggled. ‘I still can’t believe they chose you to pass off as his girlfriend!’
If it had been anyone other than Maria saying it Lydia would have thought the comment sounded catty, but Maria was simply speaking the truth—it was unbelievable that she’d been considered the most suitable person to serve as Anton Santini’s girlfriend during his whirlwind visit to Australia.
Anton Santini liked his women petite, stylishly groomed and demure.
Lydia was painfully aware that she failed on all three.
Although her body was slender and toned, she stood five feet eight without heels—five feet ten if her mass of red curls was running particularly wild! Lydia wore jeans and T-shirts like a second skin, and as for demure—well, it wasn’t exactly a prerequisite for a detective. Sure, she refused to buy into the beer-swilling, coarse language world of some of her colleagues, but she wasn’t exactly afraid of expressing an opinion…
‘Smile, Lydia! You’re a real misery this morning,’ Maria observed. ‘This is one of the top hotels in Melbourne, we’ve been given full access to everything, and here you are moaning…’ Catching Lydia’s frown, Maria looked around and, seeing a yawning man staggering into the massive pool area outside the gymnasium, abruptly ended the conversation.
‘Fancy a sauna?’ Maria asked, and Lydia was about to shake her head—a sauna was the absolute last thing she fancied at this hour of the morning—but she knew it was the one room in the place where it had been agreed detectives could meet and talk unhindered.
After rolling her eyes in protest, Lydia gave a very sweet, very false smile. ‘What a great idea!’
‘How’s Angelina?’ Lydia asked, once they were wrapped in white towels with the door safely closed.
‘Efficient.’ Maria rolled her eyes. ‘And extremely talkative! I can’t believe his entire team travels ahead of him to ensure that everything is to his liking!’
‘It’s just as well that they do,’ Lydia pointed out. ‘It’s thanks to Angelina’s efficiency that we’re even aware of the security threat.’
‘Yeah, but it’s not much to go on though,’ Maria mused. ‘A bunch of flowers sent to his hotel room before his arrival—they could just be from an old girlfriend—’
‘I doubt it,’ Lydia interrupted. ‘Given that on the two previous occasions Santini was sent flowers he was involved in potentially life-threatening incidents! It’s a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think? Not forgetting all the abusive phone calls Angelina’s been fielding. It’s right the Feds are taking this seriously. Can you just imagine the negative publicity if something happens to him?’
‘I guess.’ Maria shrugged. ‘It just seems a bit over the top—senior detectives acting as bodyguards. They’ve even got Kevin behind the bar fixing drinks—it just seems so extreme.’
‘If this deal Santini’s looking to sign up goes ahead, then it’s going to be such a massive boost for tourism. I’m not surprised that all the stops are being pulled out to protect him!’
Cheerfully ladling water onto the coals and upping the already stifling temperature several degrees, Maria, unlike Lydia, was only too happy to veer off the subject of work. ‘I love it here,’ she rattled on happily. ‘We’re going to look fabulous by the time this assignment’s over—can you feel your pores unclogging?’
‘I can feel my hair frizzing,’ Lydia replied, sitting down on the bench. Tears were appallingly close, and she wished she could snap out of her morose mood, surprised at how much Maria’s ‘misery’ comment had stung.
Burying her face in the towel for a moment, Lydia closed her eyes and dragged in the stifling air. ‘I really wanted the next couple of nights off,’ she carefully elaborated. ‘I had things to do.’
‘What could you possibly have to do?’ Maria smiled, her words laced with friendly sarcasm. ‘You know that a detective’s not supposed to have a life.’
‘I just wanted a couple of days to myself.’ Lydia gave a defeated shrug. ‘You know—listening to music, eating chocolate, feeling sorry for myself…’
Seeing her friend and colleague, usually so assured, so driven and focussed, slumped on a bench with her face hidden by a towel, Maria faded out the wisecracks, and sat down next to her, her voice gentle. ‘What’s going on, Lydia? Is it you and Graham?’
‘We broke up.’ Lydia nodded, finally peeking out from the towel and seeing Maria’s shocked expression.
‘But you two seemed so happy!’
‘We were.’ Lydia shrugged. ‘So long as I didn’t mention work.’ She took a deep breath and, closing her eyes, shook her head. ‘And with a job like ours it doesn’t exactly leave much else to talk about. I thought Graham was different; I thought the fact we were both detectives meant that he’d understand that I wouldn’t be greeting him at the door at the end of a long day all scented and oiled in a strappy little number…’
‘Graham didn’t want that from you.’ Maria gave a shocked laugh. ‘Lydia, he adored you—jeans and all!’
‘I thought he did.’ Lydia swallowed. ‘But over the last few weeks he’s been acting weird. When I was on that drug stake-out he kept ringing me up about the most ridiculous things—’
‘He was worried,’ Maria broke in. ‘That was one hell of a dangerous job, Lydia. I was worried about you too!’
‘But you didn’t phone me on the hour every hour,’ Lydia pointed out. ‘You didn’t ring me at two in the morning to ask if I needed someone to feed my goldfish.’
‘Your goldfish died last year!’
‘Exactly,’ Lydia said dryly. ‘And then we were going to his mum’s for dinner one night and he asked me to dress up a bit…’
‘Dress up?’
‘It wasn’t as if I was in jeans or a tracksuit for heaven’s sake. I was wearing a black suit! And then he asked if maybe while we were at his mum’s I could try to refrain from mentioning work…’ Lydia paused as Maria’s lips tightened, watching as her friend struggled to give an objective answer.
‘Lydia, it is a dangerous job, and we do see a lot of the more seamy side of life—it must be hard for any man to put up with, let alone someone who knows the full truth about what we do. I know my father and brothers hate my job, and they don’t know the half of it! I’m the family shame.’ Maria nudged Lydia until finally she managed a glimmer of a smile. ‘So, who finally finished it?’
‘Me,’ Lydia said, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, not sure whether to reveal her secret—the supposedly good news that had finally brought things between her and Graham to a head. ‘I’m being considered for a promotion.’
Maria’s eyes widened and a smile broke out on her face. Because they really were good friends, as well as colleagues, and because they both knew how tough it could be to climb the ladder in what was still very much a man’s profession, Maria’s smile was completely genuine and her embrace was warm as she hugged her friend. ‘Inspector Lydia Holmes.’
‘It’s not definite,’ Lydia quickly pointed out. ‘But Graham found out, and suddenly all the little niggles, all the little problems we’d been having lately, seemed to magnify.’
‘Is he jealous?’ Maria asked, and Lydia gave a soft, mirthless laugh.
‘Apparently not! He insists that he’s just worried about me. He says that he’s not sure if it’s the sort of job he wants his wife doing. He doesn’t think—’
‘Back up a second.’ Maria was way too sharp to miss a snippet of conversation as juicy as this! ‘So you’ve had an offer of promotion and a proposal?’
‘An offer of promotion or a proposal,’ Lydia corrected. ‘It would seem I can’t have both.’
‘Oh, Lydia.’ Maria’s groan was sympathetic. The problem was all too usual—one that had been pondered by female detectives the world over. As attractive and as sexy as a kick butt detective might sound to a potential lover, the cruel reality was that she didn’t make promising wife material. This didn’t matter a scrap, of course—until you met someone you really cared about. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ve already done it!’ Lydia gave a firm nod as Maria winced. ‘We really are finished.’
‘Then let’s just hope it was worth it. I mean with the promotion coming up and everything—let’s just hope you get it.’
‘It doesn’t matter if I get it or not,’ Lydia said firmly. ‘It would be nice, but it just wasn’t working out between me and Graham. If he can’t take me as I am, then it wasn’t meant to be.’
‘Well, at least you get to lick your wounds in style!’ Maria said. ‘Full access to the beauty salon and you’ve been placed with Anton Santini—you’re a single girl now, Lydia. Who better to have a rebound relationship with?’
‘Anton Santini doesn’t do relationships,’ Lydia said, a smile finally wobbling on her face. She felt so much better for having opened up to her friend. She gave a tiny shocked laugh. ‘You haven’t read what I read last night—his bio’s unbelievable! He’s always been a bit of a rake, but this last year I swear the man’s been on a mission! His list of ex-girlfriends reads like the top one hundred most beautiful people in the world: actresses, European royalty, supermodels, soccer-players’ wives…’
‘Who?’ Maria asked, agog. ‘Anyone I know?’
‘Yep.’ Lydia nodded, but didn’t elaborate. ‘And every last one has ended in tears—for the woman at least.’
‘Is he really that bad?’
‘Worse!’ Lydia nodded. ‘And I’m supposed to be guarding him. God, I hope he behaves himself.’
‘Well, if he doesn’t you can always pass him over to me—I’ll entertain him for you!’
‘You’d be so much better at this than me,’ Lydia happily conceded. ‘You’re way more suited to Anton Santini.’
‘I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.’ Maria feigned a hurt expression. ‘If you’re implying that just because I once had Botox…’
‘I’m implying that you’re a born flirt.’ Lydia laughed. ‘I’m implying that you’re so gorgeous no one would turn a hair if you were draped over Santini’s arm. Whereas I’m going to look so awkward and out of place tagging along beside him…’
‘You’ll be wonderful,’ Maria wailed. ‘You’ll look fabulous and you’re going to have an absolute ball. Unlike me. Angelina’s well over sixty, a confirmed spinster, and tops the scales at one hundred kilos. You’d think someone as divine as Anton would hire a gorgeous assistant. I guess this one must help him keep his mind strictly on business…’
‘You’re shocking.’ Lydia laughed again. ‘This is supposed to be work, remember?’
‘I know.’ Maria managed a tiny groan, but it changed into a giggle as she stared down at the very new, very false nails she’d had applied the moment they’d checked into the hotel yesterday. ‘Right, I’m really cooked now.’ Maria stood up. ‘And if we’re going to pull this off, I suppose we ought to hit the beauty parlour. I’ve got to start looking like a chic Italian businesswoman, while you, Lydia Holmes…’ Maria’s voice trailed off as Lydia groaned. ‘It will be fun,’ Maria insisted. ‘It’s going to be like one of those makeovers on the television—watching you turn from a dark-suited detective to a fabulously rich jewellery designer.’
‘A fabulously rich exclusive jewellery designer,’ Lydia corrected with a wry grin. ‘Here in Melbourne to sell my wares!’
‘Well, whatever you are and wherever you’re from, Graham’s going to be kicking himself when he sees what a stunner you are underneath it all!’
‘Underneath what?’ Lydia frowned, but Maria wasn’t going to elaborate.
Glancing at her watch, she grimaced. ‘I’d better get over to the salon—and you’d better get ready to head to the airport. Santini’s plane is just about due in.’
Lydia shook her head. ‘I don’t have to head to the airport—Graham and John are going to pull him out at Customs, to warn him about the security situation and escort him back to the hotel.’
‘So when do you get to meet him?’
‘In the restaurant. They want the initial contact to look completely accidental—I’m accidentally going to spill my drink on him. You’d think they could have come up with a better pick-up move than that! I’m supposed to be about to check out of the hotel, and he’s apparently going to be so bowled over by me that he moves me straight up to his suite…’ She could see Maria’s lips twitching as she tried not to smile. ‘That’s the sort of thing he does, apparently. I’m going to look a right fool.’
‘A gorgeous fool, though. I can’t wait to see what you look like.’ Maria rubbed her hands in delighted glee. ‘Right, I’m going to have a quick shower, and then off to the parlour—are you coming?’
Lydia shook her head. ‘You go ahead. I think I’ll have a swim first, and try to wind down a bit.’
‘Will you be okay?’ asked Maria.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Lydia smiled, and the smile stayed in place until Maria had closed the sauna door behind her.
Finally alone, Lydia allowed herself an indulgent moment. Raking her fingers through her damp hair, she rested her head in her hands, bracing herself for the huge task that lay ahead over the next few days—guarding a VIP with a security threat in situ. She had to push aside her own problems—or lack of them, now that it was over with Graham.
God, it was hot!
Lydia stepped outside the sauna, visibly blanching at the sight of the cool plunge pool and opting instead for the hopefully warmer lap pool.
Popping into a cubicle she pulled on the rather boring navy bathers she used for her daily swim, knowing that if she was going to carry off the part of Anton Santini’s latest girlfriend she’d better head over to the boutique and buy a decent bikini. Folding her clothes and placing them in her bag, she padded out to the pool area, glad to see that it was deserted again, and glad for a few moments of solitude before the rigours of the next few days began.
A wealthy financier, Anton Santini part-owned a vast string of international hotels. According to the detailed brief Lydia had been given, his hotel chain was considering adding this luxury Melbourne hotel to its impressive list of residences. More importantly, down the track he was considering building a vast, brand-new hotel complex in Darwin, which would not only mean more tourists, but would also provide many vital jobs for the locals in the Northern Territory.
Everyone wanted his whirlwind visit to Melbourne to go well—hence the panic that had ensued when a potential security threat towards Anton Santini had been revealed. There had been no time to reschedule the gathering—he was already on his plane and heading for Australia—so instead red panic buttons had been pushed and a massive security operation had been hastily put in place—with no expense spared! And though professionally Lydia relished the opportunity, she was cringing at the prospect of playing the part of Santini’s girlfriend. She knew that no amount of buffing and coiffing was going to bring her up to his exacting standards—she could still hear the sniggers from her colleagues when she had been chosen—but, worse, she could almost see the scorn and incredulity that would surely be visible in Santini’s eyes when they were finally introduced.
Swimming always calmed her, and a half-hour of concentrating on her breathing, focusing on nothing more than reaching the cool marble at the other side of the pool, was exactly what she needed now. Dipping her toe in the inviting-looking pool, Lydia found it pleasantly warm, the deep blue water seemingly calling her to dive in and forget for a moment the pressures of modern living. Diving in gracefully, she closed her eyes as she hit the water, and felt the tension that had held her together disperse as she slid beneath the surface, propelling her body along the floor of the pool, her breath bursting in her lungs as she held it in.
It was good to be alone. Punching his desired level, Anton glanced at his expensive heavy watch as the lift descended from the Presidential Suite to the lower ground floor and realised that had he caught his scheduled flight then his plane would only just be landing now. He was infinitely grateful to the unknown first-class passenger on the packed flight that had preceded his who had cancelled, allowing Anton the luxury of five hours’ sleep in a hotel bed before he faced his horrendous schedule.
Sitting in the luxurious surrounds of the first-class lounge, sipping on a brandy as he’d waited to board the earlier plane, in a reflex action he’d reached for his mobile to call his PA and tell her about the change. But then, almost defiantly, he had clicked his phone off, filled with an urge to have a few hours in his life that were, for once, unaccountable.
Feeling as if he was playing hooky, Anton had boarded the plane and, in a move that was so unusual for him it bordered on the bizarre, he’d handed over his laptop to the flight attendant and refused the latest copies of overseas newspapers. Shaking his head at the endless delicacies that were offered as the plane hit altitude he’d chosen instead to pull on a pair of headphones and gaze unseeing at the international news, his eyes growing heavy as it morphed into a film…
As the lift doors slid open, Anton Santini, automatically polite, pressed the button to hold it open for a dark-haired woman wrapped in a white robe. Her flushed faced indicated that she had just come from the gym area where he was heading. She did a double take when she saw him, but Anton didn’t give it a thought. He was more than used to women giving him a second look. His six-foot-three frame and dark Latin looks merited that alone, and given that these days there was barely a newspaper or magazine published that didn’t contain a photo of him, it wasn’t just women who looked twice.
It certainly didn’t cross his mind that the dark-haired woman might be an undercover detective who didn’t expect him to be in the country just yet! And it never entered his head that Maria was battling with a surge of panic because an unsuspecting Lydia was swimming in the pool—where, judging from the towel draped around his shoulders, Anton was clearly heading!
With a brief nod he stepped out, following the signs for the hotel pool and gym, noting with a wry smile that despite the fact he was in Australia, literally on the other side of the world, he might just as well be in Rome, or London, or Paris, or wherever his hectic schedule took him. No matter how much the hotels fought to be different, to stamp their originality in the minds of affluent businessmen, each and every one was pretty much the same.
Still, at least he had the place to himself.
Even as he processed the thought Anton retrieved and corrected it. As he had turned the corner he hadn’t acknowledged the massive marble pool—he was used to extravagant surroundings, and the marble floor and glittering blue water had barely merited a glance. All he had noticed was the still surface of the water, the thick scent of chlorine, the silence of an empty room. But now, in a beat, his eyes were drawn to the long dark shadow beneath the water, to a hand breaking the surface tension, followed by a slender, pale arm arching a perfect stroke. As he went to walk on, to deposit his towel and robe on the bench, something held him back. In another beat, after another moment’s hesitation, his eyes were drawn to the figure in the water. Her pale length was effortlessly gliding the length of the pool, titian hair dragging behind her, eyes closed as she rhythmically swam towards the edge, then executed a perfect tumble-turn before disappearing beneath the surface again for an impressive length of time.
Anton found himself drawn to the willowy figure. There was something about the effortless way her body moved, a natural litheness that held his attention—something different about this woman. He took a moment to fathom what it was: she was actually enjoying herself! Unlike most early morning swimmers in a hotel pool, she didn’t appear to be working on toning her thighs or extending her endurance. Instead she seemed to be taking a moment, an indulgent moment, oblivious to her surrounds, and inexplicably he didn’t want to disturb her, didn’t want to invade this woman’s privacy, didn’t want to break her delicate stride.
But it was a hotel pool, Anton reminded himself with a brisk shake of his head. It wasn’t as if he’d climbed a fence and stood in voyeuristic silence as the lady of the house swum in her back garden. Almost defiantly he pulled off his robe. Unlike Lydia, he didn’t test the water for warmth, didn’t gingerly dip in his toe—ice could have been floating on the surface and Anton would have merely dived straight in—and as Lydia neared the far end of the pool he slid into the water.
She felt his presence.
She couldn’t really explain how she knew the presence was male, but as she felt the wedge of water buffet her slightly Lydia knew quite simply that it was, and, snapping out of her almost hypnotic trance she shifted back to an alert, edgy state. The effortless strokes she had been executing were more cumbersome now. Her breath was no longer coming regularly, her strokes were no longer deep and rhythmic, and she grasped the marble beneath her fingers, turned around and held onto the edge to catch her breath a moment.
Her eyes gazed the length of the pool, idly focusing on the man coming towards her, and suddenly, despite the width, it was as if the pool had shrunk. Maybe she was too used to the routine of her usual gym—the lanes neatly divided by a row of yellow buoys, swimmers keeping strictly their lanes—but he was heading straight for her, every stroke drawing him closer, long, muscled arms stroking their way nearer. Inexplicably she didn’t move, just held onto the edge as he came in too soon, too fast.
‘Scusi.’ Even though it was the shallow end the water was still deep, but he stood his ground, didn’t need to clutch the edge as Lydia did, shaking his black hair, blinking his eyes and facing hers. ‘I thought it was bigger…’
‘Me too.’ She gave a small shrug, understanding instantly what he meant—the regular length of a pool like this was twenty-five metres, but this one fell a couple short, and if you were used to swimming—as this man clearly was—used to pacing yourself, it was an easy mistake to make. ‘You soon get used to it.’