Travis Denton leaned casually against the brick wall, his stare fixed on a villa on the other side of the street. The door of the house opened and a woman and child emerged. The golden-haired youngster skipped happily beside her companion and Travis smiled as the girl’s chatter drifted across the road.

He switched his glance to the woman and his eyes clouded with confusion. The way she was dressed was startling. Legs clad in fishnet tights disappeared under a miniscule black miniskirt, which rose even higher as she strutted down the street. She turned to speak to the child, and he saw her lips were thick with bright red lipstick, which mirrored the colour of her spiky fingernails as they patted her piled-up dark hair. A laughing response to a comment from the child shook the cheap plastic earrings dangling from each ear, and they knocked against the turned up collar of her black leather jacket. A skimpy yellow rib top showed beneath the jacket and Travis noticed it stopped just below the breasts to expose a bare stretch of suntanned stomach.

Travis frowned. He had travelled to New Zealand from California to meet eight year old Brooke and her aunt, Darcy Farrell, but the sight of the woman in her flashy clothes and overdone make-up worried him.

His temper rose when a car pulled up and the woman bent down to speak to the driver, her breasts swaying enticingly. She straightened up, took a step backwards and stuck her leg forward, then with one hand on her hip, she lifted her skirt suggestively. The action disgusted Travis and left him with no doubt about her profession. How dare she ply her trade when she had the child with her! Grey eyes darkened with fury when both Darcy and Brooke got into the car.

He cursed under his breath. If what he had just witnessed indicated the morals of Darcy Farrell, his reason for being here was even more urgent. Travis wished he could follow them, but he’d been so concerned about not being seen that he’d parked his car on the next street. Jaw muscles clenched. He knew now that he must win the battle ahead.

Still frowning, Travis walked back to his vehicle and returned to the hotel.

* * * *

The strange car drawing into the side of the road surprised Darcy, but she struck a cheeky pose when the driver rolled down the passenger window and she realised it was Phil Callaghan.

“Hi, Darcy. Like the new car?”

“Very nice, Phil. I almost didn’t recognise you.”

“Can I give a lift to the two most beautiful girls in town?” He grinned.

“We haven’t far to go,” Brooke informed him importantly, her freckled nose tilting defiantly and her tone frosty. “My friend, Minnie, only lives around the corner.”

“You speak for yourself,” Darcy told her. “Dressed in this outfit, I stand a good chance of being accosted by every strange man we see. Is it okay if we drop Brooke off at her friend’s house?”

“Sure, no problem.” Phil leaned across and opened the door.

Brooke climbed reluctantly into the rear seat while Darcy wriggled into the front, tugging at her short skirt to try and prevent it from riding further up her thighs.

“Hold on, ladies,” Phil cautioned, as he let out the clutch.

Darcy turned to Brooke and sighed. The girl was looking out the window, deliberately ignoring Phil. She wasn’t sure if Brooke’s dislike stemmed from Phil personally, or if the eight-year-old was frightened that the man might destroy the closeness between them.

“Have a nice sleepover. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Darcy kissed Brooke as she got out of the car. “Give me a ring when you want to come home.”

She had to call out the last words, as Brooke was already halfway up the path to where Minnie waited at the front door.

“Looking forward to the dance?” Phil asked as Darcy squirmed back into the front seat. He revved the engine as he pulled back into traffic. “You sure look the part in that outfit.”

Darcy grinned, but didn’t reply. Phil wove through the Friday night traffic then turned the car into the church hall car park. A poster on the notice board blared at them.

VICARS & TARTS PARTY THIS FRIDAY! Men dress as vicars! Women dress as tarts!

Crowds of people filled the hall and Darcy’s eyes widened with amazement at the variety of hairstyles and gaudy colours the women wore. Most of the men wore jeans or suits, and one guy even had on a cassock, but every one of them, including Phil, wore a pristine white dog collar to announce their status as vicars. She murmured her excuses to Phil and disappeared into the ladies’ to freshen up.

Darcy pouted her thickly-coated lips at her reflection in the mirror, and then raised a hand to check her hair. One of the false fingernails caught in her earrings and disentangling herself, she patted the dark mass to make sure the hairpiece attached to her own short dark waves hadn’t moved. It shouldn’t have; she’d fixed it with enough hair spray and pins so that a hurricane would be the only thing to have any effect. Electric blue eye shadow reflected the paler blue of her eyes, and her lashes were heavy with the vast quantities of mascara she’d used.

Wriggling her hips, Darcy stepped back and adopted a seductive pose. Hands on her waist, she let her gaze roam over the leather outfit and calf-high matching boots. With a final tug to her miniskirt, she turned back to the hall, smiling as she recalled Brooke’s laughing dare to Darcy to walk with a wiggle suitable for the outfit.

Darcy enjoyed the evening of laughter, music and dancing. Running her own business and bringing up Brooke didn’t leave much time for a social life, but with her niece sleeping over at Minnie’s tonight, she didn’t have to worry about getting home for a babysitter. She danced three or four times with Phil, but also took turns with other men and caught up with several of her women friends.

By the end of the evening, her legs and feet ached and when Phil offered her a lift home, she gratefully accepted. In the car, he talked about the dance, and Darcy relaxed. He was a nice guy. She knew he wanted more than friendship, but she’d already let him know she wasn’t prepared to commit herself. There was Brooke to consider, and her niece didn’t get on well with Phil.

The bond between Darcy and the child was very strong, and she’d put all plans for her own future on hold until her niece was old enough to live her own life.

“Are you listening to me?” Phil’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“Sorry, I was daydreaming. What were you saying?”

“I said we’ve arrived. In fact, we’ve been here for about a minute, but you were miles away.”

Darcy smiled an apology and leaned forward to give him a goodnight peck on the cheek, but Phil flung his arms around her and dragged her towards him. His lips came down hard, bruising hers as he claimed a kiss. There was no passion in the embrace. His action seemed to be driven by a desperate possessiveness. Sad rather than angry, she disengaged herself from his arms.

“I’m sorry, Phil. I’ve told you before I don’t want to get into anything serious until Brooke’s old enough to fend for herself.” She smiled gently to take the sting out of her words.

“You’re wrong you know,” Phil said shortly. “Every kid needs a father figure and you’re denying Brooke that right. Besides, by the time she grows up, you’ll be too old to start a family of your own.”

“I think we should leave it there, Phil,” Darcy said tightly. Every time Phil tried to tell her what she should or shouldn’t do, resentment stirred. He might be a pleasant companion, but that didn’t give him the right to tell her how to live her life.

Before Phil could continue with the same old argument, Darcy got out of the car and walked up the path. Once the front door shut behind her, she calmed down and reminded herself Phil was only trying to help in his own way. Why couldn’t he understand his way held no appeal for her?

* * * *

Darcy got up early on Saturday morning to catch up on her work. Running a secretarial business from home had definite advantages. She was always there for Brooke after school and if she needed to finish work early, she could. It also meant she could wear what she liked to the office, such as the denim shorts and bright yellow T-shirt she had on today.

The down-side of working from home meant people rang her at any time of the day or night. Two or three regular clients delivered work during the morning and she concentrated on finishing all the urgent jobs, and then struggled with her least favourite activity, getting the business accounts up to date. Eventually, she sighed with relief and sat back to ease her aching shoulders, but the slamming of the back door startled her.

“Hi, Darcy. I’m home!” Brooke yelled from the kitchen, and with a smile, Darcy closed her office door behind her and went to join her niece.

“I thought you were going to ring when you wanted to come home,” she commented as she switched the kettle on.

“Minnie’s mum had to go shopping so she gave me a lift. What’s to eat? I’m starving.”

“Have a piece of fruit cake and I’ll get lunch started.”

Brooke settled in her room after lunch to do her homework, with the sound of loud music filtering through her door. Darcy viewed her dusty lounge and decided the housework couldn’t wait any longer. She vacuumed the hall last and gave the telephone table a quick polish. As she straightened the instrument, the letter that had arrived this morning caught her attention.

She sighed, picked up the letter and took it into the lounge. Sitting in her favourite armchair, she read the confusing contents again.

Dear Miss Farrell,
We would appreciate you making an appointment to see our Mr. Case at your earliest convenience.
The matter concerned is delicate and we hesitate to commit anything to paper. We would prefer to meet with you in person.
We would stress the subject is extremely urgent and look forward to meeting with you as soon as possible.
Yours sincerely,
C. Baker
Personal Assistant to Herbert Case

The heavily embossed paper carried the letterhead of Chambers and Case, an old, established firm with an upmarket clientele in the Timaru business district. This made the request even more perplexing. Why would they want to speak to me?

“It will just have to wait until they open on Monday,” she decided after rereading the letter several times. “Trying to read between the lines isn’t giving me any clues.”

“Darcy!”

She hadn’t heard Brooke come into the room, but she noticed the worried look on her niece’s face and jumped to her feet.

“What’s the matter, hon?” she asked, putting her arm around Brooke’s shoulders.

“There’s a man sitting in a car across the street, and I think he’s watching the house.
I’m sure the same car was there when Minnie’s mum dropped me off.”

Darcy frowned and moved cautiously to the window. There was a dark blue car across the street, but as she peered through the net curtains, the driver started the engine and drove off.

“Well whoever it was has gone now,” she comforted Brooke. “They probably wondered if the house was up for sale. You know how desperate people are to get hold of the old villas in this part of Timaru.”

“You wouldn’t sell, would you?” Brooke’s voice trembled with fear. After her grandmother’s death two years ago, the girl had become clingy and even after all this time, she still reached for Darcy when she became scared or uncertain.

“Of course not, silly,” Darcy hastened to comfort her. “This is our home.”

Although she’d calmed Brooke’s fear, Darcy became alarmed when she saw the same car lurking across the street late the next morning. She debated whether to confront the driver, but he drove off again before she could get a good look at him.

It was a beautiful day, and to distract herself and Brooke, she put together a picnic lunch and they set off in Darcy’s old Toyota to the beach at Caroline Bay.

Brooke soon threw off all the self-imposed restraints of her eight years and they built a most elaborate sandcastle. Darcy felt hot in her shorts and t-shirt, but felt self-conscious about stripping down to her new bikini. The sunshine and the sparkling blue sea eventually overcame her doubts and she quickly stripped off her outer garments. Her niece’s laughter and the sea and sand soon made her forget her inhibitions as she threw herself into enjoying this precious leisure time romping in the waves with Brooke.

* * * *

Travis saw the net curtains twitch and realising he’d been seen, he drove off, but only as far as the next street. There he turned the car and parked on the corner so he could still see the villa. When the Toyota drove off down the street, he followed her.

At the beach, he parked his rental car near Darcy’s Toyota but followed the pair at a distance. He stopped on the grassy expanse above the beach, trying to look as if he was merely enjoying the sunny day. Travis leaned against a tree; his gaze never leaving the pair on the sand. Every time Brooke ran to the sea for shells or water, his stare followed her longingly.

He found it difficult to believe the woman was the same person he’d seen on Friday night. The short waves of her dark glossy hair complemented her elfin face, but the T-shirt and shorts, though attractive, were unexceptional. He caught his breath as she peeled off the outer clothes to reveal a tiny bikini and a figure of perfect proportions. Despite his body’s physical reaction, the logical part of his brain calculated that such a figure would earn a fortune in her profession.

* * * *

The sun was low in the sky when Darcy and Brooke collected their belongings and walked up the beach to the car park. The ice cream van was parked a few spaces away from their car and Brooke pleaded for a cone. Darcy needed little persuasion to hand over the money. She packed everything into the car, and then leaned against it while she waited for Brooke to return.

Smiling fondly, she saw the child carefully choose the type and size cone she wanted and pay for it. As Brooke turned from the van, a man spoke to her and Darcy straightened up. Timaru might be a quiet place with very little crime, but after the last few days, she’d become more alert. She started walking towards the pair, but Brooke finished the conversation and made her way back to Darcy.

“What did that man want, hon?” Darcy asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Man?” Brooke delicately licked some ice cream that had melted onto her hand. “Oh, him! He wanted to know the name of this cone. He reckoned it looked nice and wanted to buy one.”

Darcy glanced over at the van and saw the stranger looking at her. A frown crossed her brow; he seemed familiar, but he turned away and she shook her head. She must be mistaken.

* * * *

First thing Monday morning, Darcy rang the solicitors and made an appointment to see Mr. Case at ten. Deciding it might help to create a good impression, she dressed in the dark blue linen jacket, skirt, and crisp white blouse she usually wore for a first meeting with new clients.

The offices of Chambers and Case were in a stately building off Stafford Street.
Elegant, but discreetly decorated. As she waited nervously in the reception area, Darcy felt inferior. She perched nervously on the edge of a leather armchair until Mr. Case’s secretary arrived at exactly ten o’clock to show her into the solicitor’s office.

A middle-aged man with flecks of grey in his hair sat at the huge rimu desk. A second man in his early thirties leaned against the filing cabinets lining the wall behind the desk.

Her breath caught in her throat. The younger man was incredibly handsome—and looked familiar. Auburn hair, so dark it was almost mahogany, shone above a finely sculptured, tanned face, and when his body shifted slightly, muscles rippled beneath the sleeves of his tailored suit. Dreamlike, her gaze shifted to his eyes and she blinked, her admiration replaced with confusion.

The grey eyes staring at her were steely with disapproval. She didn’t know him, so why on earth would he look at her with such obvious dislike? Recognition dawned as she realised she did know him, or at least she’d seen him before. He was the man who’d talked to Brooke at the ice cream van yesterday.

“Miss Farrell.” The middle-aged man rose and held out his hand. “I’m Herbert Case, and this is my client, Mr. Travis Denton.” He indicated his companion.

“Mr. Case, Mr. Denton,” Darcy murmured, realising the younger man was taking in every detail of her clothing. To her surprise, she saw a look of disbelief cross his face.

“Now if you’d like to take a seat, I think it would be better if I came straight to the point, then we can progress from there.”

“As you wish.” Darcy felt disadvantaged as she sat across the desk from Mr. Case. The other man still leaned against the cabinets, arms folded across his broad chest, eyes hard and unforgiving, his whole demeanour intimidating.

“I believe you have an eight-year-old niece named Brooke, whose mother died giving birth to her.” The solicitor looked at Darcy over his half-rimmed glasses, waiting for her acknowledgement of these facts.

Darcy nodded, bewildered by this opening statement. What does this have to do with Brooke? She’s only a child, for heaven’s sake!

“And you are her legal guardian?”

“Yes. I’m also her only living relative,” Darcy replied.

“I don’t think so.” Travis Denton spoke for the first time and she blinked in surprise as his broad American accent cut through the room.

“I beg your pardon, but I believe I know my own family situation better than a total stranger,” Darcy said,prickling defensively, determined not to be intimidated by the man’s dislike of her.

“Now, now.” Mr. Case tried to ease the tension which had exploded into the room. “Perhaps it might be better if I explained my client’s circumstances. Mr. Denton’s wife left him almost nine years ago, telling him she was going to sue for divorce. When he had no further communication from her, Mr. Denton assumed she’d obtained her divorce and no longer wanted anything to do with him.”

“Mr. Denton’s private history is fascinating,” Darcy said sarcastically. “But I fail to see what it has to do with me.”

“My wife’s name,” Travis Denton stated, a smug smile creeping across his lips, “was Kelly Farrell—your sister. Brooke Farrell is my daughter!”