Christmas Wishes (novella) (6 page)

When not glued to the keyboard you’ll find her, book in hand, avoiding any and all housework as much as possible. For more on Rhian, visit her website
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ISBN: 9780857990044

Title: Christmas Wishes

Copyright © 2012 by Rhian Cahill

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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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“You want me to locate and recover naked photographs of you?”

It took all of Allegra’s self-control not to squirm in the plush leather seat as she stared at Luke Neilson across the polished surface of his office desk. To his credit, the man didn’t bat an eyelid, and why would he? Former
Special Air Services
, he’d probably seen everything, and more.

Breaking eye contact, she reached for the glass of water he’d poured for her at the start of the meeting, dismayed to find her hand unsteady. “Does your company handle such cases?”

His gun-metal grey eyes narrowed and he gave her a sardonic half-smile. “Reconnaissance and retrieval? Come on Ms. Greenwood. You know we do.”

Unable to meet his eyes, Allegra sipped her water and glanced beyond his rugged features, to where the Sydney Harbour Bridge arched resplendent in the window behind him. If the photograph appeared on the Internet, she’d lose her position at Grace and Poole Lawyers. And losing wasn’t an option.

With an effort she looked squarely at him, hoping her desperation didn’t show in her eyes. “I wondered whether you’d agree to see me.”

He lifted his eyebrows and leaned back in the chair. “I was curious. We should have won the contract for your firm’s investigative work, but you drew a line through our name.”

Allegra’s face flushed with heat. “You
kissed
me at the Meet and Greet. You left me no option.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s not often I misread the signals. And I did apologise, though I don’t remember you accepting.”

“It was unprofessional.”

He drummed his fingers on the desk, his eyes turning a colder shade of grey. “You broke your own ‘don’t mix business with pleasure’ rule. It spooked you into signing a second rate firm. Now that’s unprofessional.”

How could she argue with the truth? Neilson’s were the most highly qualified team of ballistics experts in the country, their services sought after. A veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan, Luke Neilson’s evidence had sent many a criminal to prison. His agency was top notch, his security and investigation service second to none.

Allegra took an unsteady breath. “I was angry. I thought you were trying to charm me into granting your firm the contract, with the promise of a—a physical relationship.”

His eyes flashed and he gave an exasperated shake of his head. “You insult me, Ms. Greenwood. What made you change your mind?”

Allegra’s face burned.
God, could this be any more embarrassing?

“What can I say?” She took an unsteady breath. “I allowed my personal feelings to influence my decision. Is that going to pose a problem now?”

He leaned back, completely at ease, short cropped, dark blonde hair glinting in the sunlight, broad shoulders encased in an expensive striped business shirt.

“
I
never let personal feelings interfere with business, so no.” A shadow of a smile touched his lips, his observant eyes never leaving her face. “Tell me more about the naked photograph, and we’ll see if we can work something out.”

Allegra studied the contours of his face, the faded scar on his right cheek. It made him look sexy as all hell, the imperfection giving his handsome features an interesting edge.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. There was no turning back.

“Any time today will do…”

His dry tone jolted her into action, and she looked down at the leather satchel in her lap. She lifted the flap, and slowly withdrew a printed sheet of paper, which she passed across the desk.

“It came this morning by bicycle courier.”

He slid open a drawer and took out plastic tweezers. Using the instrument, he snared the sheet from her, carefully unfolding it so he could look at the picture.

It took a superhuman effort to sit still as he looked at her naked image, much the way a doctor would look at a patient’s sore throat. Allegra went hot all over, then icy cold, sweat breaking out on her brow. Digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, she watched as he carefully folded the sheet and set it to one side.

What was he thinking?

Avoiding her eyes, he rose and turned to a filing cabinet a few steps from the desk. “Who took possession of this?” he asked.

She cleared her throat, gripping the handle of the satchel. “Our receptionist at Grace and Poole. From there it came to my office on the fifth floor.”

He pulled out a drawer and extracted a manila folder. Sliding the steel drawer closed with a bang, he sank down into his chair, eyes averted as he turned to stare at the computer monitor on his desk.

Allegra got the distinct impression he was giving her time to compose herself, and if that were the case she was grateful for the small courtesy he extended. The former SAS Commander had found his inner gentleman. Who would have thought?

“Anyone else see it?” He jabbed at the keyboard.

“No, my PA knows anything marked Private and Confidential is never to be opened.”

Finally he turned to look at her. “Do you have the envelope?”

She nodded, reaching into the satchel again and sliding it across the desk. “What do make of this?”

She watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That’s a relic.”

“I know.” She leaned forward and peered at the old brown envelope with the brass fastener. “It must be, what, fifty years old?”

“Easily.” He snagged the envelope in the tweezers, turning it this way and that as he checked it out. “It’s an old document packet.”

“Yes, the type used to store wills and deeds. We have some like this in our safe custody. No unused ones though—I checked.”

“They weren’t exclusive to legal offices.” His brow furrowed in thought. “Banks, building societies, government departments have all used these in the past.”

He set it next to the photograph. “It won’t be easy, but we might be able to get a print.”

She nodded, continuing to watch as he switched on a handset recording device and placed it between them on the desk.

“Want to give me the background story on this Ms. Greenwood?”

Allegra exhaled slowly in an attempt to slow her breathing, a tactic which worked well before the opening statement of a trial. As a criminal lawyer, she should find this interview a breeze. Still, it felt weird being on the other side of the desk.

“Could we at least drop the formality?” she asked, moistening her dry lips with her tongue. “
Ms.Greenwood
sounds like a dorm matron.”

His exasperated look suggested she tested his patience. “All right, first names it is. Can we get on with this now?”

She nodded, the small victory satisfying.

“Okay.” He depressed the button on the recording device. “Who took this photograph and when?”

“This is one of fifteen.” Her cheeks grew warm again as she watched for a change in his expression, but it appeared to be painted on, Venetian mask style. “They were taken in Melbourne eight years ago when I was twenty-one. I was a law student at the time. My boyfriend, Chris Noble, took them.”

He gave a derisive snort. “
Noble
?”

Allegra narrowed her eyes. “Very funny.”

He glanced at the folded sheet on the desk, though he didn’t take a second look at it. “It’s hardly a snapshot taken by a sleazy ex-boyfriend, it’s professionally done.”

“It is. He’s a professional photographer.” Allegra moved her heavy satchel onto the floor and crossed her legs, uneasy at discussing her private life. “We met while working on the launch of a new hair product. I made ends meet with promotions work, waitressing, anything really.”

Stop babbling, just answer the questions.

“Nothing unusual there.” He shook his head, the white flash of even teeth complimenting the golden tan of his face. “God knows I turned my hand to anything that would earn a buck. But posing naked, were these a gift to him?”

Allegra shook her head.

His eyes narrowed. “Because if you did gift them to him, legally they’re his property.”

“I know that.” Did he doubt her word? “I’m aware some women give photographs of themselves to their partners, but that’s not me.”

God, now she sounded like a prude. “I gave Chris permission to take the shots, but they were
never
a gift. They were taken purely for the purpose of making money.”

And that sounded worse, but she struggled on, determined to be straight with him. “Having said that, let me point out, I’m not ashamed of them.”

His look turned shrewd. “But you’d hate anyone else to see them.”

Allegra’s stomach clenched. “Exactly! I head up the criminal division of a very conservative law practice. If these turned up on the Internet, there’s no question I would lose my job.”

His eyes slanted towards the photograph and envelope. “But you’re the public face of the firm, somewhat of a celebrity in your own right. You really think the partners will hang you out to dry while the media crucify you?”

She watched as he tipped back his head and loosened his tie, long dexterous fingers working away at the knot. His cold summation of her situation hurt.

“Feeling a little—hot under the collar?” The words were out of her mouth before she could engage her brain.

His blowtorch stare said it all. “That would be foolish of me, Allegra. I’ve been frostbitten by you before.”

“Well that hurt,” she said, trying to deflect his stinging barb. God, she was better at verbal sparring than this.

She’d thought about that night on the terrace, even regretted running away from him. For a whole five minutes. No way would she get involved with a real life G.I. Joe. Not after what happened to her brother.

He gave her a steely look. “Your boyfriend took the photos, why?”

Shame washed over her in waves. “I was desperate for money. Chris was a commissioned photographer for a number of publications, among them a men’s magazine. I wasn’t thinking logically. How it might affect my future career didn’t even register on my radar.”

He didn’t comment, just waited her out.

She shifted in her seat. “Things were tight back then.”

“I’m listening.”

She closed her eyes for a long second. All these years later, the images were still imprinted in her mind. An Australian flag, draped over her brother’s coffin, a guard of honour in the shadow of a Royal Australian Air Force Hercules. The urgent wail of an ambulance.

She coughed, a lump forming in her throat. She hated recounting the horrible time where she’d moved like an automaton, overwhelmed with grief while the rest of the world went about its business.

“My brother, Martin, was killed in Afghanistan. My mother suffered a total breakdown on the tarmac when they brought his body home.”

He stilled, then slowly leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“I had university fees, rent and text books.” She didn’t want to sound defensive, but her words came out that way. “I became responsible for my mother’s care costs. They were extensive, continue to be.”

Suddenly weary, she leaned back in her chair and stared past him at the window. “After treatment, she needed a low care facility, so I put down a substantial bond. She deserves to be somewhere nice. I often have to travel, and when we’re running a big case, I can be at the office all night. Knowing she’s properly cared for gives me peace of mind.”

She paused, the room silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually.

The disquiet in his voice made her look at him. Did his empathy stem from her brother being a comrade in arms?