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She could hardly imagine it. ‘You could start by moving away from the door.’
For a second or two he stayed there, then he unfolded his arms and stood aside, waiting.
Briar took an uncertain step forward, and Kynan leaned over and turned the handle, throwing the door wide.
‘Thank you,’ she said, sweeping past him into the passageway.
He closed the door and came to her side, saying nothing as they returned to the other room.
Some people were leaving, and Kynan took her arm in a light hold, drawing her closer to him to make way for them. Her father and Laura were seeing them out, Xavier casting Briar and Kynan a sharp glance.
‘I should be going, too,’ Kynan murmured. ‘I think I may have outstayed my welcome.’
She gave him a sarcastic look, and he laughed. ‘I’ll go home and find some sackcloth and ashes,’ he promised. ‘Can you bear to say goodnight to me civilly?’
Briar regarded him stony-faced. It seemed to her he was taking the whole thing rather casually. He was doubtless used to charming birds from trees when he took a mind to it, but it would take more than a smile and a careless apology to mollify her. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, and held out her hand.
He looked down at it, smiling faintly, before he took it in his. ‘Goodnight, Briar.’ He turned her hand over, and raised her fingers fleetingly to his lips. She felt the warm brush of his mouth against her skin, and some unidentifiable sensation passed through her body. Then he released her and went to say goodnight to her father and stepmother.
* * *
Next day two huge florist’s bouquets arrived at the house. One was addressed to Laura, with a card thanking her for dinner and an enjoyable evening, signed Kynan Roth. The other was for Briar.
She opened the envelope and read the card. There was nothing on it but his name. She supposed it was a reinforcement of his apology.
‘Aren’t they lovely?’ Laura breathed in the scent of pink roses and carnations as she arranged them in a white porcelain vase. ‘That’s a man with style!’ She looked sidelong at Briar. ‘Did you...get along with him?’
‘Does it matter?’ Briar asked, tucking the card back into its envelope. Her bouquet featured yellow irises and deep creamy roses shading to gold in the centre. She wondered if he’d chosen the flowers himself.
‘Oh, no! Not specially. Your father seemed to think...’ Laura pushed a tall carnation into the vase, and the stem snapped in two. ‘Oh, I’m so clumsy!’
‘You’re not. It was too long,’ Briar pointed out absently. ‘What’s going on, Laura? Has Dad told you?’
‘He doesn’t tell me about his business affairs, you know that. But something has been bothering him.’ Laura twiddled with the broken stem she had pulled from the vase, then dropped it and picked up the piece with the flower on it, regarding the arrangement uncertainly.
‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing much at all,’ Laura said quickly. ‘But I know he’s worried.’
‘Financial problems?’ Kynan Roth had said so, but why should she believe him? Her father had always been successful. Some years ago he had moved from straight accountancy to setting up a financial advice and investment service. He was regarded as a man who knew where the best deals were to be made. Lawyers and accountants often referred to him clients who had some money set aside and were unsure as to where to invest it.
‘I suppose so,’ Laura said. ‘When I asked him what was the matter he said there’s been a downturn in the share-market, but he’s sure things will straighten themselves out.’
‘Is he hoping to attract some investment money from Kynan Roth?’
‘I don’t know. He said more than once that he couldn’t afford to lose Mr Roth, so I was to make sure he enjoyed himself and that there were no slip-ups last night. But knowing how important it was just made me go to pieces.’
‘You did fine.’
‘Do you think so? I must admit that Mr Roth was perfectly nice, although something about the man makes me nervous. It was kind of him to send flowers. Didn’t you like him?’
‘Not specially,’ Briar answered crisply. ‘Did Dad say that he wanted me to...?’
‘What?’ Laura turned enquiring blue eyes on her.
‘Never mind, it wasn’t important.’ Laura was inclined to make a big worry out of quite trivial things. She might have blown up a casual remark out of proportion to its real significance, Briar told herself. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Of course her father hadn’t set her up with Kynan. Not deliberately. He might have had some vague hope that if they took to each other it would make a business arrangement easier to bring about. He certainly hadn’t been asking her to sell herself in return for some of Kynan’s money.
* * *
Over lunch, Xavier asked her, ‘How did you get on with Kynan Roth?’
She looked up from her salad. ‘All right.’ And bluntly she asked, ‘Why?’
‘No particular reason. I thought you might enjoy meeting someone nearer your age...’
‘I meet people my age all the time,’ Briar said. ‘Who exactly is Kynan Roth, anyway?’
‘He’s been overseas for a number of years—he was chief executive of a big Australian steel firm. When his father died last year he came home to take over the family company. Created quite a stir. Bit of a whiz-kid.’
‘Quite a number of whiz-kids lost their shirts in the last crash, didn’t they?’ Briar commented.
‘Yes, indeed. Got caught on the market with their pants down. Young idiots who flew around in their corporate jets taking over companies and throwing champagne parties every time their shares doubled in value.’ Xavier’s lips curled distastefully. ‘Roth’s not that sort. The business has a rock-solid base, manufacturing plants that have been in the family for a long time. He brought new ideas back with him and expanded the original company. Old money and business acumen are a winning combination.’
‘Big money?’
‘Hundreds of millions. Low profile, like his father, but it’s there, all right.’
‘He said you need cash.’
Xavier looked at her sharply. ‘When did he say that?’
‘Last night, when I was showing him the Heaphy. Is that why you asked me to be nice to him?’
A dull flush rose in Xavier’s neck. ‘He’s a useful contact, just like all the others who were here last night.’
‘As a possible source of quick money?’
Laura put down her fork. ‘Do you want some more ham, Briar?’
‘This is business, Briar,’ her father said dismissively. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
Briar’s glance at her stepmother was apologetic, but she turned again to her father. ‘Just how important to you is this man?’
Xavier replied testily, ‘Nothing to worry about. I simply need a bit of short-term finance to cover a temporary cash-flow problem.’
Alarm bells were ringing in Briar’s head. ‘You’re hoping he’ll give you a loan?’
‘A business loan is more complicated than—than mortgaging a house, or buying a car on hire-purchase.’
Laura’s smooth brow creased. ‘You won’t have to mortgage the house, will you?’
‘The house! It wouldn’t begin to cover—’ Xavier scowled. ‘Wherever did you get that idea?’
‘I suppose,’ Briar said, ‘you could sell the Heaphy.’
‘A few thousand dollars!’ Xavier gave a rather harsh laugh. ‘It won’t come to that. I told you, it’s nothing to worry about.’
He bent his attention to the cold mutton on his plate. Briar’s eyes met Laura’s over the table. Laura’s blue gaze was clouded, and the frown had not left her face.
* * *
The phone rang as the two women were stacking the dishwasher after lunch, and Laura went to answer it. Hearing her muted voice in the hall, Briar assumed the call was for her stepmother. But after a minute or two Laura called, ‘Briar—can you come to the phone?’
As Briar took the receiver, Laura whispered, ‘It’s Kynan Roth!’ She retreated back to the kitchen as Briar lifted the receiver to her ear.
‘Thank you for the flowers,’ Briar said formally. ‘They’re beautiful.’
‘I’m glad you like them. Have you forgiven me, yet?’
She deliberately let half a second elapse before she said coolly, ‘Of course.’
Faint laughter came down the line. ‘But not entirely? Let me make amends—’
‘I thought that was what the flowers were for.’
‘They haven’t done the trick, have they? I’d like to take you to dinner tonight, if you’re free.’
‘On the theory that an evening in your company will “do the trick”?’ she enquired drily.
‘Nasty, Briar! On the theory that a good dinner in a comfortable restaurant might have a soothing effect. Where would you like to go?’
‘With you? I’m not sure that I want to go anywhere.’
Laura appeared in the kitchen doorway, a plate in her hand, her expression tense. She’d been listening, Briar realised. As her eyes met Briar’s, she gave an apologetic smile and ducked back.
‘But you are free tonight?’ Kynan was asking.
As she debated over whether to admit she was, he said, ‘Have you been to Benedict’s?’
‘Not yet.’ It was a new place that had opened in a blaze of publicity. The owners were said to have lured the best chef in town from his previous position in the kitchen of a top hotel.
‘I’ll book us a table,’ he said. ‘Pick you up at seven, OK?’
She wanted to tell him no, it wasn’t OK at all. But Laura’s disquiet had communicated itself to her. She hesitated and was lost.
‘See you then,’ Kynan said. And she was left holding the phone, with the dialling tone humming in her ear.
* * *
She wore an apricot wild silk jacket over a flowered skirt and soft jade green blouse, and put on the highest heels in her wardrobe, remembering that Kynan Roth was a tall man. She didn’t want him towering over her.
He arrived promptly and she opened the door to him herself. Laura had already served a meal for herself and Xavier, and they were watching a favourite programme in the TV room. ‘Briar’s going out with Kynan Roth,’ Laura had told Xavier brightly.
Watching her father’s face, Briar thought he seemed almost disconcerted. Then he’d said, a shade too loudly, ‘Well, that’s nice, Briar. Must have taken a fancy to you.’
* * *
Kynan ushered her into the passenger seat of a shiny dark blue car. He had manners, if nothing else, she reflected. And quickly amended that—as well as everything else. Money, good looks, power, and the sex appeal that went with them. All the superficial advantages were his.
And superficial they were, she reminded herself as he slid into the driver’s seat, smiling at her before starting the engine. There were more important qualities that she looked for in a man. Compassion, kindness, understanding, the capacity to love, and a sense of humour.
He had that last, but she wasn’t sure if there was any warmth or gentleness behind it. An ability to laugh at others didn’t necessarily go with an equal willingness to laugh at oneself.
She concentrated on the view from the side-window—the big, rambling old houses and professional buildings lining Remuera Road. But as Kynan stopped for a red light she peeped speculatively at his profile, eyeing the jutting nose and strong chin.
He turned as though he’d felt her gaze, and asked, ‘What’s that for?’
‘What?’ She looked away, watching a woman walk by on the pavement with a Siamese cat on a leash.
‘That look you just gave me,’ he said.
‘I was wondering if you can laugh at yourself.’ She raised her chin and met his eyes.
‘Think I can’t?’ He stared back at her.
Behind them a horn tooted gently. ‘The light’s changed,’ she told him.
He gave the other driver a wave, and sent the car gliding over the intersection. Picking up speed, he kept his eyes on the road and the traffic. ‘You didn’t seem to think I was particularly funny,’ he said, ‘last night.’
Last night she’d thought he was particularly insulting. ‘I wasn’t thinking of last night. Just...in general.’
‘Well...’ He slanted her a glance. ‘Perhaps you’ll find out, in time.’
Which suggested that they’d be seeing each other again after tonight.
They cruised through the Newmarket shopping area, and then crested a hill and drove past the colonial-style shops and trendy eating places in Parnell village. He didn’t speak again until they reached the restaurant down near the harbour, and he let her out of the car.
Briar half expected him to take over ordering her meal for her. Instead he allowed her to make her own choice and consulted her preference before deciding on the wine. The restaurant was crowded, but their table, lit by a single candle and discreetly dim wall-lighting, was screened by a couple of plants and a trellised partition, and next to a window overlooking a glimpse of the Waitemata Harbour. She wondered if he’d asked for it specially. ‘Have you been here before?’ she asked him.
‘Once. The food’s good. And the service.’
‘And the view.’ The darkened water reflected the lights of the city near the shore. Further out the moonlight had washed it with a subtle silvery patina. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘Mm-hmm.’ But when she looked back, his eyes were on her face. ‘You’re looking wonderful tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ve been telling myself all day you couldn’t be as beautiful as I remembered.’
‘I...thank you.’ She wasn’t unaccustomed to compliments. She’d travelled in Italy and France, and the men there weren’t backward in their comments on a woman’s appearance. But she was oddly flustered now. He didn’t sound admiring, but rather as if he was reporting a fact, almost clinically detached.
