Free Brittle Shadows by Vicki Tyley Page A

the footpath to wait.
    Marcus greeted
her with a warm smile, before turning to the willowy blonde on his arm.
“Danielle, I would like you to meet Tanya’s sister, Jemma. She’s staying on in
the apartment for a while.” He then introduced Danielle as his wife.
    Ignoring
Jemma’s proffered hand, the feline-featured Mrs Bartlett turned to her husband.
“We’re already late.”
    “And whose
fault is that?”
    His wife’s
expression hardened, her nostrils flaring. Jemma almost expected her to stomp
her feet, but then that wouldn’t have been becoming of a woman of her standing.
Not in public, anyway. It was hard to guess her age, but Danielle had to be ten
or more years younger than her husband, her long neck and erect carriage
hinting at a past life as a catwalk model.
    “We’re on our
way to lunch,” Marcus said. “Why don’t you join us?”
    Danielle’s grip
on his arm tightened, the look she gave Jemma enough to short out a
motherboard.
    “Thanks, but I
have other plans. Another time, perhaps.”
    “Sure. I’ll
give you a call later,” he said as his wife dragged him away.
    Jemma released
her breath, feeling the tension go with it. She had lied; she didn’t have
plans. However, she would rather poke pins in her eyes than have lunch in some
upmarket restaurant with a woman like Danielle Bartlett.
    She made it
back to the building entrance without further incident. Digging in her bag for
her keys, she thought she heard someone call her name. She paused, her hand
still deep in her bag, and peered over her shoulder. No one on the footpath
appeared to be paying her any attention. With a shrug, she went back to looking
for the keys, a long cool drink and putting up her feet uppermost in her mind.
    “Excuse me,”
said a male voice from behind her.
    She started.
“Sorry,” Jemma said, stepping sideways out of the way.
    “Are you Jemma,
Tanya’s sister?”
    Her head jerked
up at the mention of her sister. “Yesss…” she said, taking in the man’s
surfie-blond locks and muscly arms. “Who’s asking?”
    His wide mouth
stretched in a smile. “Ash Bartlett,” he said, grabbing her hand in both of
his. “Great to finally meet you.”
    Her mouth
opened, but no sound came out.
    The man’s blond
eyebrows drew together. “Bartlett as in Marcus Bartlett’s son.”
    “Of course.”
Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? With those clear blue eyes, he couldn’t be
anyone else’s son. Before she knew it, she was inviting him up to the apartment
to talk.
    Riding the lift
up, Chris’s warning about being wary of strangers rang in her ears. But the
people he defined as strangers weren’t strangers; only friends and
acquaintances of her sister she had yet to get to know. They were also her only
real link to Tanya’s Melbourne life.
    Once inside the
apartment, she kicked off her sandals. “Can I get you something? Cold drink?
Coffee?”
    “Sounds good.”
His gaze strayed to the vase of roses on the dining table and then back to her.
“Just whatever you’re having.”
    In the throes
of telling him to make himself at home, she remembered her makeshift bed. She
rushed over to the couch and bundled up the pillow and rumpled sheets. “Back in
a jiffy.”
    She dumped the
bedding in the study and headed for the kitchen. Ash stood at the balcony doors
looking out. Jemma loaded two tall glasses with ice cubes and mineral water and
went to join him.
    “Cheers,” he
said, unhooking his hands from his cargo pants’ pockets to take the proffered
glass. “Good spot you’ve got here.”
    “You mean your
father has here.”
    He frowned.
“Sorry?”
    “Didn’t you
know, Marcus or at least his company owns this apartment? Tanya was renting it
from him. He’s kindly letting me stay on until I get everything sorted.”
    “No, I didn’t
know.” He shrugged. “But I don’t know why it should surprise me. Anyhow enough
of that.” He smiled, dropping into one of the leather armchairs. “It’s you I’m
here to