Free Sins of the Past by Elizabeth Power Page A

working on her laptop on her new concept for concealed additional lighting.
    She should have been finished ages ago, she thought, her body tense as cat-gut, every nerve straining, while she willed her jumpy fingers to work over the keys. Her shoulders slumped in relief when he moved away from her and, without saying a word, left the room.
    At least she was nearly finished here today! she thought, gratified, reaching for her cell phone to speak to a lighting specialist about the particular fittings she had in mind.
    Realising her mistake—she couldn’t get a signal, even fromthe terrace—she was putting the phone aside when she noticed the display showing
‘One Missed Call'.
    A quick scroll to the relevant menu showed that it had been Kate Shepherd.
    Ben!
    All the worst possible scenarios started racing through her mind. He’d had an accident! Been taken ill! Why would Kate ring her while she was at work unless something was terribly wrong?
    ‘He wouldn’t eat his lunch,’ Kate told her after Riva had rushed outside into the courtyard to return the woman’s call. ‘It’s probably because he’s been so irritable all morning and it’s affected his appetite. But I’ve got a malted milk drink I could tempt him with—at least he’ll be getting some protein. I just wanted to check with you that that’s all right.’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Riva assured her, weak with relief as her initial worries drained away. ‘He isn’t sleeping very well,’ she went on to remind Kate. He hadn’t been for the past few days, and the previous night he’d been awake so long that she hadn’t managed to get back to sleep until after four a.m. ‘I’ve got a particularly important job on at the moment that’s made me rather edgy. I think I must have passed on those vibes to Ben—which is why he’s been so restless at night—but it isn’t doing either of us any good.’
    ‘He’s probably just unsettled because you aren’t your usual relaxed self. Don’t worry. He’ll get through it,’ her friend promised, just as Damiano emerged from the house. ‘You both will.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Riva uttered, quickly ending the call.
    ‘Problems?’ he enquired, those perceptive eyes touching on the way she snapped her cell phone shut, much too unsettling, far too aware.
    ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ she said, a little too brightly.
    ‘Is something not going to plan?’
    ‘Everything’s fine,’ she stressed with her stomach muscles tightening up.
    His mouth compressed in wry acceptance. ‘Why didn’t you use the landline inside?’
    The tension in her stomach was like a vice now, squeezing her intestines. ‘I prefer to be independent,’ she bluffed.
    He looked at her quizzically before tilting his chin skywards. ‘Even in this?’
    It had started to rain since they had come in, a soft yet relentless drizzle that was already gleaming on his thick black hair and dripping from the shrubs that bordered the front of the house.
    Grabbing at straws, Riva said, ‘I didn’t realise it was raining until I came out.’
    He didn’t believe her, she realised despairingly. She would have to be witless not to realise that.
    ‘Why don’t you just admit you were making a personal call—and one you didn’t particularly want me to hear?’
    ‘That’s your view,’ she retorted, swinging away from him. ‘Anyway, I hadn’t realised there was a law against personal calls.’
    ‘There isn’t,’ he said succinctly, his soft shoes crunching over the gravel. ‘As to my view—I’d be inclined to call it gut instinct, and my instincts are usually right.’
    Not to mention his powers of observation as to body language—her defensiveness and how quickly she had reacted in breaking off that call! But her professionalism couldn’t look well in his eyes when she’d dashed in almost late for her meeting with him this morning, fallen asleep under a tree and now used up time he was paying her for—or rather the studio—in making private