‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Guess I’d better go and see who it is.’
Both of them were naked. Serena had loved the physical awareness, the casual caresses that kept excitement simmering, the wonderful sense of being there for each other, freely within reach, no barriers. However, as Nic heaved himself out of the pool and fastened a towel around his waist, the security she’d felt in his company started slipping.
Cleo was racing inside, barking to let them know someone was at the front door, someone who might find her presence highly questionable.
‘I’ll send them away,’ Nic growled, obviously vexed by the situation.
Serena watched him stride across the patio, wondering if he was vexed at the unwelcome interruption or vexed at the thought of being trapped into introducing her to someone he couldn’t turn away—a close friend, an important business associate—someone who might find his involvement with a local nobody…amusing.
Goaded by this spine-chilling possibility, Serena scrambled out of the pool and raced to the sun-lounger where they’d dropped beach towels. She quickly dried herself, fastened the sarong above her breasts, then wrung the wetness from her wet hair before raking it back behind her ears, effecting a reasonably tidy appearance. Just in time!
‘Well, well, well, who do we have here?’ a voice drawled from behind her.
Nerves screaming, heart clamouring, Serena spun to find a woman, having apparently chosen to stroll around the house rather than wait for the front doorbell to be answered.
And not just any woman!
It was Justine Knox, in full battle make-up and full battle dress, looking as though she’d top the polls at a photo shoot during Fashion Week.
The message was instantly loud and clear.
Justine had come for Nic Moretti and she still considered him her man!
But he wasn’t, Serena fiercely told herself, quelling the sickening rise of panic. Nic had asked her to trust him. He wouldn’t let anyone put her down. Not in his company. She had to give him the chance to prove what he’d said and this was undoubtedly a prime opportunity.
Justine came to a halt beside the spa where she had a commanding view of anyone emerging from the house, as well as the lower pool level where Serena had remained, determinedly standing her ground and refusing to feel intimidated.
On the surface, Justine looked all class. She had a wonderful mane of long tawny hair, falling in rippling waves around her shoulders. Her face would turn heads anywhere, strikingly beautiful. She wore a green silk top with a low cowl neckline above slacks in the same colour, printed with huge pink and gold flowers in an artful splendour that shouted designer wear, probably Escada. Gold chains adorned her long graceful neck, gold sandals on her feet, and a pocketsize gold handbag hung from her shoulder.
She looked stunning, and made Serena acutely conscious of her wet straggling hair, bare face, bare everything but for the sarong. On top of that, Justine was tall, statuesque, a much better match in physique to Nic. And, in other people’s eyes, a more appropriate match in every way, Serena thought, her heart quailing again at the stark contrast between herself and the other woman.
Justine cocked her head consideringly. ‘Do I know you? Your face looks familar but…’
Serena dragged air out of suddenly tight lungs and forced herself to reply, ‘We haven’t been introduced.’
‘I’m Justine Knox, a friend of Nic’s,’ came the confident announcement, not the slightest hint of uncertainty that she might not be welcomed by him.
‘Serena Fleming.’ With a sense of doom rushing at her, she added, ‘You were here when I picked up Cleo one Monday morning.’
‘Good God!’ Justine rolled her eyes as memory clicked in. ‘The dog-handler!’ Her perfect mouth tilted into a smirk. ‘So that’s why you’re here. Nic’s had more problems with the wretched little beast.’
Hot angry blood flared into Serena’s face at the patronising assumption. Before she could correct it, Cleo came hurtling out of the house, barking like a maniac at sight of Justine, who drew herself up in haughty contempt at the little terrier’s fierce reaction to her presence.
Good dog! Serena silently but heartily approved. At least Cleo wasn’t blinded by surface class. She recognised an enemy straight-off. Superficial glamour meant nothing to her.
Nic followed, looking grim-faced, his gaze cutting from Justine to Serena and back again. Clearly he didn’t like the situation, but the basis for his ill humour was yet to be determined. Serena couldn’t help tensing up. Last night she had believed that snobbery played no part in his character, that he was absolutely genuine in liking and wanting the person she was. She would not change her mind unless he changed it for her.
‘Do call this yappy creature off, Nic, or haven’t you learnt to control it yet?’ Justine said a trifle waspishly, the shrill barking putting a crack in her perfect composure. It was instantly papered over as she switched on a condescending smile, beamed straight at Serena. ‘Silly of me. I should have asked you, Serena, since you’re the dog expert.’
‘Shut up, Cleo!’ Nic thundered.
It shocked the little terrier into jumping around to face him, the barking silenced, her little tail frantically wagging as though pleading to know what she’d done wrong. Nic bent and picked up the dog, tucking it protectively in the crook of one arm while using his other hand to calm it down, ruffling the silky hair behind her ears. Cleo responded by eagerly licking every reachable part of Nic’s bare skin.
‘Well, this is progress,’ Justine remarked, trilling an amused laugh.
‘I went to the front door, only to find your vacated SAAB parked at the steps,’ Nic said tersely.
She shrugged. ‘Oh, I thought I’d find you out here. Such a glorious morning!’
‘Yes, it is. And I’m wondering why you’ve come, driving all the way from Sydney without first calling me to…’
‘I just dropped in on the off-chance you were home, Nic,’ she rolled out, putting on an expression of charming appeal. ‘I’m on my way to Terrigal, joining friends for lunch at The Galley. You remember the Norths, Sonia and Joel. They’re just back from racing their yacht at San Diego. And Liz and Teddy…’
Serena numbly listened to the celebrity status of Justine’s friends, knowing this was Nic’s social circle, too. An A-list luncheon party, without a doubt, and being described to tempt Nic into joining it, as well as spelling out that Serena wouldn’t fit, if indeed Justine even saw the dog-handler as anyone to be counted.