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Unnerved by Ethan’s silence, Emily decided it was time for a strategic withdrawal.
‘Well, I’d better be off if I want to get everything done before I have to return the car,’ she said brightly, jumping up.
‘Shall I send Jeff to bring you over from Julie’s when you’ve got your packing-up done there?’ said Peter. ‘I’d already mentioned to Coop that she might leave us something special to celebrate you moving in,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘I’m a dab hand at the microwave.’
Emily chewed her lip as she thought of all the things on her rapidly growing to-do list. There was also the fact that she needed a little breathing space. She trusted Peter, but once she moved in she was going to be totally dependent on his goodwill. What if he changed his mind? Her stomach cramped at the thought of another round of upheaval.
‘It could be quite late before I’m finished all my errands…maybe it’s just better if I move in tomorrow,’ she said apologetically. Preferably without the hostile observer!
‘I’ll be pretty shattered tonight anyway, with all the hauling I’m doing today,’ she added with a wry laugh. ‘I’d probably fall asleep in my soup!’
Peter looked crestfallen, but nodded understandingly and she instantly felt mean.
‘I suppose it is a rather traumatic day for you,’ he said, and, seeing Ethan’s sharpened interest, explained about her difficulties at the house, and the lack of capacity of the borrowed old banger.
Emily had thought Ethan would have been pleased at the prospect of having more time to drip poison into his uncle’s trusting ear, so she was stunned when he offered to accompany her on her next trip.
‘Thanks, but I can manage,’ she said shortly.
‘I didn’t ask if you could manage, I asked if I could help,’ he said, rising to his full, intimidating height.
‘But…your business suit—you’re obviously dressed for work—’ she murmured weakly as he unhooked his jacket from the chair.
He flicked up an arrogant eyebrow. ‘I own the business. I don’t have to ask permission from the boss whenever I want to take time off.’ she opened her mouth; he said impatiently: ‘The office knows I was planning a detour to see Peter on my way in—I didn’t say for exactly how long. I’ve been away for several days, a few more hours isn’t going to cause the company to collapse. So shall we get this show on the road…unless there’s some reason you don’t want my help?’
‘Of course she does!’ Peter chirped. ‘It’s just her stubborn pride talking. That car she has for a start—if it was bigger it wouldn’t take her so many trips…’
‘I told you, I’m not going to use the Rolls!’ Emily protested.
‘Right, that’s settled, then—we’ll use my vehicle,’ Ethan told her.
Her mind boggled. ‘Your helicopter?’
Fifteen minutes later she was pulling boxes from the boot of Julie’s dusty little car still embarrassed by her naïvety. Naturally someone like Ethan would have more than one car! It turned out that as well as the one he reserved solely for his use on Waiheke, he had another that he garaged in Peter’s barn, and a company car in a permanent parking space near the downtown ferry terminal.
She found the locker that Jeff had left open for her and began transferring the sad collection of cardboard cartons, trying to ignore the sleek, silver-grey sedan slotted in next to the Rolls Royce. She wished now that she had accepted Peter’s earlier offer of Jeff’s help, but she knew that the reason Mrs Cooper’s husband only worked part-time as a light handyman/driver was because he had a bad back, and that bending and lifting might be too much for his herniated disc.
When she looked up from her brooding thoughts her eyes widened at the sight of Ethan in jeans, a green bush-shirt and steel-capped black work-boots. From being as hard as nails, he had gone to looking as if he chewed nails for a living. In his suit he had looked cool, arrogant and sophisticated—totally out of her league. In his current garb he looked just as arrogant but devastatingly earthy and unpolished—a sexy rough diamond who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.
‘What?’ he growled, coming to a halt as she continued to stare.
‘When you said you were going to change, I didn’t realise you meant so completely,’ she murmured, trying to conceal her dangerous fascination. ‘You look—’
‘What—?’ he repeated, when she bit off what she was going to say.
Good enough to eat.
‘Um…’ She sought for something suitably unrevealing. Rumpled? No, he might think she was criticising.
‘Younger.’
For some reason that made him scowl. ‘I’m an engineer,’ he said. ‘This is what engineers wear—good for scrambling over rocks and around building foundations.’
‘So why the suit?’ she wondered.
‘I was on my way to an appointment with some money-men, the kind who look for the gloss on their dollar.’
‘Oh, but—?
