'As well as what?'

'I think you know, you teasing witch.'

'Oh. . .that. . .'

'Yes, that. Now shut up while I get us to where we're going.'

Where they were going was Kirribilli, pulling up in front of a very tall darkened block of flats which was not quite finished, if all the building materials left on site were anything to go by.

'Where on earth are you taking me?' she asked when he took her hand and helped her out of the car.

'To my hideaway.'

'Your hideaway. . .'

Vince guided her over to a gate in the high wire- meshed fence that ran around the perimeter of the property, where he produced a set of keys and let them in, locking the gate behind them. Ava a.s.sumed this must be the building site he'd been working on lately, but she felt uneasy about what they were doing.

'Won't you get into trouble if we're caught, Vince?' she whispered.

'Who's to catch us?'

'Surely these places are patrolled by security guards at night, aren't they?'

'I certainly hope so,' came his dry reply. 'I pay them enough. Don't worry, I'll give them a call when I get inside and tell them I'm spending the night in the penthouse. Ava, do stop frowning at me. Look, didn't you see the sign on the fence? It says "Morelli Constructions". I own this building. I can do with it what I d.a.m.ned well I like.'

'You own this building,' she repeated in a curiously flat tone, the result of her brain going on strike. She hadn't seen the sign. Neither would she have known what to make of it if she had.

Vince was eyeing her confusion with a confusion of his own. 'Ava, you're the one who told your brother back at the party that I built things. I thought that meant you'd found out I was Morelli Constructions. I a.s.sumed Giuseppe must have told you.'

Ava shook her head which was already spinning. 'I've never heard of Morelli Constructions.'

'Then why did you say I built things?'

'Because when you rang me the other day, you said you were just turning into a building site. I thought you must have been doing some handyman work there, or some labouring.'

'You thought I was a builder's labourer. .

"Well, yes. . .I suppose I did. I mean, you did say you weren't mowing lawns any more.'

He laughed and drew her into his arms. 'Oh, Ava. . . Ava. . .you are one special person/ 'What are you, then?'

'I'm an engineer.'

'You mean with a degree and everything?'

His smile was wry. I don't know about the everything but I do have a degree. Took me a few years longer to get it than I originally planned, however. Dad's sudden death put a spanner in the works for a while. He was a good builder, you see, but not a good businessman. Left the family in all sorts of financial trouble. I had to leave university and earn money any way I could, so I started a lawn-mowing and handyman business with my brothers. Had to finish my degree part-time at night. Once I was qualified, Giuseppe had enough faith in me to lend me some money and I started buying land, building blocks of units and selling them. Giuseppe quickly got his money back and I've subsequently done very well for myself.'

'But. . .but why didn't you tell me any of this before?'

He shrugged. 'I guess it just didn't seem to fit naturally into the conversation without sounding as if I was bragging.'

Ava's heart was filled to overflowing with admiration and love for this man. Not only was he strong and warm and kind, he was charmingly modest. If only he could see that there was room in his big heart -and his busy life -for a real relationship with a woman. If only he c ould see that she would do anything, make any sacrifice to become a permanent part of his life, however small that part might be.

'Look, I didn't bring you here to stand outside in the cold and play true confessions,' he grumbled. 'Let's go inside and be comfortable, at least. Besides, I have something I want to show you.'

Inside, the building was virtually finished, except perhaps for a lot of dust. Vince rang the security firm from one of the red phones on the wall in the foyer and informed them that they should ignore lights in the penthouse, after which they rode the lift up to the top floor. Once there, Vince inserted a special key, the doors whooshing back to reveal a most eerie sight.

A watery moonlight was streaming through the large uncurtained windows of the huge, open-plan, split- level apartment, casting shadows across the floors and walls of the starkly empty rooms.

'I think some lights are called for,' Vince said, and reached for a switch. Immediately, a myriad wall-lights snapped on, en ma.s.se giving the bare rooms a softly warm glow, but each one directing rays of light on to a painting hanging on the wall underneath it.

Ava quickly realised she was looking at Vince's art collection.

'Come and tell me what you think,' he said with quiet satisfaction in his voice and a hand on her elbow.

Ava allowed herself to be guided across the concrete floors, through the rooms, down various steps and a long wide corridors, taking her time to inspect each painting as they ambled through the unfurnished penthouse. Most of the paintings were landscapes, with the occasional still-life thrown in. What they all had in common was an atmosphere of beauty and peace, as well as a delicacy in the colours and brushwork that had a soothing, calming effect. It was a collection designed to relax.

Ava loved it.

After she'd viewed more than a dozen works she broke her silence, turning her admiration to the man whose eyes had chosen them even though there wasn't one by an artist of any note. They were all unknowns, all worth comparatively little at this present time.

'You have marvellous taste, Vince,' she said with warm sincerity. 'You must get an enormous amount of pleasure out of looking at these.'

T do, now that I've found the right place to put them. Tm going to come and stay here when things get hectic at home. That's why I call it my hideaway.'

'What about furniture? You're going to need something to sit in occasionally, aren't you?'

'I have all the furniture I need for now.'

'You have?' Her head swivelled as she glanced around. 'From what I can see, you haven't any?'

Oh, yes, I have. There's one room you haven't seen yet. Come. . .'

He led her down a hallway and into the master bedroom where she could do nothing but stare at the huge bed with a deep wine velvet throwover bedspread and a semicircular black lacquered bed-head complete with built-in accoutrements. She'd never seen so lavish- looking a bed, despite its resting on a bare floor.

'What more could I possible want?' Vince said. T can even lie in bed and look at the stars through here.' He waved at the gla.s.s wall which opened out on to a balcony overlooking Sydney harbour.

'Come and try it,' he said, walking over to sit on the bed and pat the quilt. 'It's very soft.'

Ava hesitated, then decided not to be so silly. She went over and sat down on the opposite side, still feeling rather awkward.

'No, no,' Vince said. 'Take your shoes off and lie down properly.'

Ava shrugged and did as she was told, glancing rather nervously up at Vince. If he wanted to take her to bed this was a rather obscure way of going about it.

'Now look across the foot of the bed at that wall,' he smiled.

She did, immediately gasping upright into a sitting position. For it was her painting on the wall. Framed exquisitely in gold, it was lit with not one but two wall brackets which threw a delicate glow upon its surface, bringing out the gentle colours and making it look as she had never dreamt it could ever look. Silent tears of joy and grat.i.tude p.r.i.c.ked at her eyes, a lump filling her throat.

'Oh, Vince,' she choked out. 'It's so beautiful. . .'

He came up behind her, holding her shoulders and kissing her seductively on the neck. 'Not as beautiful as the lady who painted it. . .'

Ava shivered underneath his kisses, her eyes still on the painting but her mind and body already responding to Vince's touch. 'Stay the night with me,' he said thickly, his lips moving up her throat and along her jawline. 'Don't ask me to take you home. . .'

He removed her right earring and covered the ear with his mouth, blowing warm air, inside, then sliding his tongue into the well. Ava shivered convulsively, and tried to turn her head away, but he cupped her chin and kept it still, driving her mad till, with a tortured cry, she twisted round and gave her mouth to his in total surrender.

'G.o.d, you don't know what you do to me,' he groaned as he pushed her back into the pillows and started undoing her jacket. 'I can see I'm going to be rearranging a lot of schedules for you.'

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

GEMMA couldn't sleep. She lay back in the motel bed, sta ring up at the ceiling and wondering if Nathan was enjoying Byron's party. G.o.d, but she was missing him. Terribly. She'd felt bereft from the moment she'd climbed on to the plane this morning. Not even seeing Ma at the other end had lightened her spirits. Then had come the shock when Ma had taken her back to visit the place where she'd spent most of her growing up years.

Had it always been so appallingly primitive, so dirty?'

Admittedly, Ma did not keep the dugout in the same condition she had done, but still. . .

Gemma shuddered just thinking about it. What kind of father had hers been who would bring up a child in such conditions? Gemma had become so distressed this morning even sitting in the place that she had found the first excuse she could think of to get out of there. She told Ma she wanted to see Mr Gunther while he was sober -he usually started d rinking around noon.

Ma had driven her back to Lightning Ridge and Mr Gunther's ramshackle house, at the side of which was a garage which served as Mr Gunther's workshop. He made a meagre living by buying small uncut opals, then cutting and polishing them and reselling them to the shops around town. Her father had always sold his opals to Mr Gunther rather than deal with Byron Whitmore, claiming city dealers were crooks and would cheat you blind. This was ironic, since Mr Gunther was widely thought of as a mean old skinflint who wouldn't pay a fair price for an opal to his own grandmother.

The meeting with Mr Gunther had been as unrewarding as she'd thought it might be. The old grouch had been uncooperative and .unforthcoming. He claimed he knew nothing about her father before he came to live at Lightning Ridge. When confronted with the old photograph of her parents, he'd growled at her that he didn't recognise the woman and he'd always known her father as Jon Smith, not Stefan, and that Jon had never spoken to him about his past or her mother.

'And that's all I told that other chap as well!' he'd finally flung at her. 'Now get out of here and leave me in peace. I don't want any trouble.'

Gemma had mulled over this last statement while she had lunch with Ma in the same cafe in town she'd once worked in, wondering if the old man was keeping some secret which might get him in trouble with the law if he revealed it. She told Ma of her suspicion but Ma seemed to think he was so paranoid by nature that any questioning would make him react guiltily. He'd been extra secretive lately, Ma had added. Rumour had it he'd bought some new equipment and was probably afraid the tax people might get wind of it and want to know where the money had come from. Like Gemma's father, Mr Gunther never paid taxes, claiming he never made enough money out of opals to be taxed.

Gemma had spent the afternoon in the bar of the Diggers' Rest Hotel speaking to any of the miners who had known her father, but no one could tell her anything about her missing mother or where her father had lived before Lightning Ridge. One miner had a.s.sured her that she definitely hadn't come to Lightning Ridge from White Cliffs, since he'd mined in that area regularly for the last thirty years and he knew everyone around that town. He suggested, however, that she might try asking around the opal fields in Queensland and South Australia, or maybe the gold fields in Western Australia, his idea being that maybe her father had been mining somewhere else before coming to Lightning Ridge. Once a miner, always a miner, he'd reckoned.

Gemma thought it was worth a try and resolved to ask Nathan if his investigator had done that. Who knew? Maybe he hadn't. Anyway, she would discuss it with Nathan as soon as she got back home. Which couldn't come soon enough. G.o.d, what was she doing way out here anyway, when her life was back in Sydney?

Gemma sighed. She'd grown away from Lightning Ridge. Ma had seen it and said so in her usual blunt fashion at dinner tonight.

'You're a city girl now, love,' she'd said. Through and through. But then. . .maybe you always were. . .'

When asked what she meant by that Ma had shrugged and said she supposed she meant Gemma's mother must have been a city girl and she'd pa.s.sed that on to her daughter.

'You're nothin' like Jon,' she'd finished up saying. 'Not even in nature.'

Gemma lay in her motel room now and felt a degree of satisfaction that she wasn't like her father. Who would want to be cruel and mean? Whatever good genes she had, had to have been inherited from her mother. . .whoever she was. . .

When depression threatened again -thinking about he r mother always depressed Gemma -she swung her thoughts to Nathan a nd how sweet he'd been to her that morning. Which didn't really make her feel any better.

Perversely, she'd chosen to stay in the same room in the same motel where she had first met Nathan. A silly thing to do when she was missing him so much. Yet in a way it was good to have her memory prompted, to look back and remember why she had fallen in love with him in the first place.

How kind he had been to her that day. And how gallant. Her father had not long died and she had come here to sell some small opals for pocket money, thinking she'd be doing business with Byron Whitmore. But it had been his adopted son who had opened the door to her, looking so handsome and so very, very different from any of the men she'd known around Lightning Ridge. He'd been deputising for Byron as buyer for the family business while Byron recovered from the boating accident that had killed his wife, Irene.

Gemma recognised now that her fate had been sealed from the moment Nathan had ushered her into this room. She'd been his from that moment, even if it had been several weeks before Nathan had consummated their love for each other.

She groaned when she realised they could have been up at the beach-house at Avoca at this very moment, making love. Instead, she was lying here alone hundreds of miles away, feeling frustrated and lonely.

Gemma rolled over and stared at the bedside clock.

Eleven-thirty. Nathan would still be at Byron's birthday party. She wished she were with him.

The idea to telephone him there came out of the blue. What more natural thing than to call, wish Byron a happy birthday then have a chat with her husband? Nathan had told her not to bother to call -he hated telephone conversations at any time -but she didn't think he' d mind this one.

Besides, Monday was such a long way away. . .

Feelings excited at the thought of even hearing his voice, Gemma snapped on the light, sat up and dialled direct to Jade's number.

The telephone rang several times at the other end before it was answered, a slightly husky female voice saying, 'h.e.l.lo.'

Gemma stiffened with instant recognition. Lenore. It was Lenore!

'h.e.l.lo?' Lenore repeated.

'I'd like to speak to Nathan, please,' Gemma said, without acknowledging her husband's ex-wife. 'Is he there?'

'I'll get him for you. . .'

Gemma's head whirled. Lenore was at Byron's party? Why? There was no love lost between those two. Gemma was pretty sure Jade would not have invited her. Then how come she was there?

Surely Lenore wouldn't have dared come openly with Zachary Marsden, would she? She wasn't supposed to be seen with him till after his divorce came through. If she had been so bold, then why didn't she acknowledge Gemma on the other end of the line? Why just slink off to get Nathan without saying h.e.l.lo. Unless she hadn't recognised Gemma's voice. The party sounded quite noisy with music and chatter in the background.

'Gemma?' Nathan said brusquely.

Gemma's heart sank. Lenore had recognised her voice. How else would he have known who was on the line? The possibility that Nathaq had brought Lenore to the party made Gemma feel sick to her stomach.

Ts there something wrong?' he went on. 'You're all right, aren't you? Lenore said you sounded upset.'

Gemma's imminent distress was sidetracked by Nathan making no attempt to hide Lenore's presence at the party. Would a guilty man do that?

'No,' she' said, feeling confused now. 'I. . .1 just thought I'd ring and wish Byron a happy birthday.'

'Oh, is that all? I thought you must have found out something about your mother.'

Gemma sighed. 'I'm afraid not. Er -what's Lenore do ing at the party, anyway?'

'I brought her. She was awfully depressed about Kirsty going away on some school excursion for a couple of weeks. I thought it would do her good to get out the house and have some company.'