Chapter Two
Fraser
My heart is banging on my ribs, and I have to fight not to get up and stride out of the room.
Normally, Hallie wears her white lab coat to work, but today she’s in a hot-pink skirt and a white top that makes me think of cotton candy in a summer fair. I bet she tastes sweet, too…
Argh! No! I mustn’t think things like that!
I can’t believe it’s happening again. Anger bubbles up inside me at my own foolishness. It’s been nearly eighteen months since my affair with Ginger ended. I’ve dated a couple of girls since then, and I honestly thought that maybe Ginger had cured me of The Stutter, because neither of them turned me into King George VI.
It hasn’t happened with Hallie before, either. I’ve been very careful to compartmentalize and keep her in the ‘colleagues’ box in the dusty attic of my brain since she began working here. So I was completely unprepared for the way my ability to form words vanished just now with one glance from her gorgeous dark eyes.
It would happen at the moment that Whina Cooper calls, too.
I make sure not to look at Hallie as Whina answers with, “Kia ora Fraser, Whina here.”
“Kia ora, Whina,” I say briskly. “You’re on speakerphone, and Hallie is in the room as you requested.”
“Kia ora, Hallie,” Whina says. “Thanks so much for coming in on a Sunday.”
“That’s okay,” Hallie replies, “no worries at all.” Her voice is like a summer’s day, full of sunshine. She’s such a positive person. I really like that about her.
Concentrate, Fraser.
“I’ve briefed Hallie on the p-problem,” I say. Cursing myself under my breath, I stare hard at the phone, making sure not to make eye contact with Hallie. This is business. This is business. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I explained the situation the museum is in.”
“Thank you,” Whina says slowly. Ah… did she pick up on the way I stammered? If so, that’s very bad news, because she knew it happened with Ginger. But she continues, “So, Hallie, you’re aware that the majority of our funding has fallen through?”
“Yes,” Hallie says. “What a run of bad luck.”
I glance up at her, and she gives me a small smile. She’s trying to make me feel better.
Despite my best intentions, our eyes lock, and for a moment I can’t look away. I think about the first time we met. Simon, the head of HR who’d taken over when Ginger left, had hired Hallie to work in the conservation office. Usually I took part in the interviews for new staff, but I’d been visiting the Australian Museum in Sydney, discussing a possible exchange of exhibitions, and Simon had gone ahead with the interview without me. It had frustrated me beyond measure, because if I’d been there, I’d have been able to make sure we hired someone else. Instead, he’d given Hallie a tour on her first day and brought her into my office, and I’d come face to face with the brown-haired and brown-eyed, beautiful and curvy girl without any warning.
I could have been in real trouble from the start, except that Hallie had mentioned her boyfriend in our very first conversation, so I knew immediately she was out of bounds. That made it easier for me. Off she went, into the colleagues box, and as a result I’ve managed to remain stutter-free for the entire year.
And then everything went tits up at the dinner party the other evening. I arrived to find Hallie with red eyes and discovered she’d just broken up with her ex. She looked so upset, and I really felt for her, because I know too well how dismal a breakup can make you feel. Wanting to cheer her up, I sat beside her, squashed up on Elora’s tiny sofa, for the evening, and even though I didn’t do or say anything completely out of order, I know I overstepped our professional boundaries and flirted more than I should have.
I told myself I was just trying to make her feel better, and the fact that The Stutter didn’t make an appearance convinced me I was safe. But now it’s reared its ugly head, which tells me I’ve been a complete idiot, and she’s broken out of her box, and I’m in big trouble.
Whina is talking, and I drag my attention back to the moment as if it’s a feral dog I’m trying to get under control.
“…Williams letters, and of course the donation,” Whina is saying. “It’s a shame that his daughter is openly contesting her father’s wishes. But he didn’t put the donation in his will, and an email is unlikely to be enough to convince a judge. Isabel is saying that her father wasn’t well in December. Apparently a doctor was treating him for a bladder infection, and she’s making the claim that because of that he wasn’t of sound mind, and to be honest I think she has a good case.”
I hadn’t heard that piece of information, and my heart sinks. “So that’s it?” I ask. “We have to say goodbye to the letters and the donation?” I’m bitterly disappointed. I was hanging on to the hope of the donation as a way out of the hole I’ve dug for myself.
“Maybe,” Whina says. “Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sebastian’s family is holding a ball in their father’s honor after the funeral. It’s going to be a huge event. He was into politics, of course, but he was also involved in lots of charities and environmental concerns, and everyone wants to come and pay their respects.”
“And pick at the carcass,” I say sarcastically. Every charity in the country is going to sniff around and see if they appear in his will.
“Fraser,” Whina scolds. “I know you’re upset, but there’s no need for offensive comments like that. He was a good, decent man, and he will be sorely missed.”
She’s right. “I apologize,” I say quietly, not looking at Hallie.
Whina clears her throat. “Anyway, I’ve managed to snag you a ticket to the ball. The funeral is on Tuesday—the family wants a small, private affair, so you don’t need to go to that. But the ball is on Wednesday, in the family house in Bethlehem, on the outskirts of Tauranga, and it’s going to be a big, public event. Adam and Isabel are going to be there, and it’s an opportunity for you to talk to Isabel face to face.”
I frown. “I don’t know that I’m comfortable with doing that. Isn’t she going to consider it inappropriate?”
“Fraser, I don’t think I have to convince you just how desperate our situation is. I don’t blame you personally—Hallie’s right, for all those grants to fall through at roughly the same time has been extremely unfortunate. But if we’re going to keep the museum open, first and foremost we need to find a way to pay for the work that’s already been done.”
“I know.”
“Look,” she soothes, “I’ve met Isabel. She’s not a bad person, and she’s not cold. You’re a man of inimitable charm when the mood strikes you. I think that if you can get in front of her and plead your case, explain how her father saw you speak and was won over by your argument, she might just cave.”
“All right,” I say. Well, I don’t really have a choice, do I?
Hallie clears her throat. “So how can I help?”
“I’d like you to go with Fraser,” Whina says. “I’ve bought two tickets. They weren’t cheap—the proceeds are going to a children’s charity that Sebastian was the patron for. But I’ve convinced the CEO of Heritage New Zealand to keep the grant open in case we’re able to get the letters. They want a conservationist to assess them and report back about their condition.”
“You want me to go to the ball?” Hallie asks. She glances at me, startled.
“Yes, please,” Whina says. “It’s a formal event, black tie, so you’ll need an evening gown.”
“Um… I don’t have anything suitable.”
“The museum can fund the cost of a dress,” Whina says. “We’ll consider it an investment. We need those letters, guys, and more than anything we need that donation. Do you understand?”
Hallie’s eyes meet mine again. They’re a gorgeous chocolate-brown color, fringed by long dark lashes. She has a pretty snub nose and full pink lips. Her hair is also chocolate-brown, and it’s exceedingly shiny. How does she get it so glossy? It looks as if it’s made of satin. It hangs past her shoulders, and when she leans forward it swings to hide her face. I can imagine sliding my hands into it, feeling the soft, silky strands curl around my fingers as I kiss her…
She’s staring at me, and I blink.
“Fraser?” Whina says. She asked me a question, and I wasn’t listening.
“Uh… Sorry?”
“So you’re in agreement?” she asks. “You will both go to the ball, Cinderellas?”
I can’t think how to back out of it. “Of c-course.”
There’s a slight pause.
“Fraser…” she says again, slowly this time. “I hope you’re being sensible.”
“N-naturally.” Fuck it.
“Do I need to be worried?” she asks.
I close my eyes for a moment, shutting out the image of kissing Hallie Woodford. “Absolutely n-not.”
“All right.” I can’t tell whether she’s furious or smiling. She’s passionate about the museum and New Zealand history and I like her a lot, but she’s in her fifties, and she tends to think she’s my mother. “I’ll forward you the tickets when I get the email,” she says. “Thanks for coming in, Hallie.”
“That’s okay, nice to talk to you.”
Whina ends the call.
I sit there for a moment, studying my phone where it sits on the coffee table. Hallie doesn’t say anything.
Eventually, without moving my head, I lift my gaze to hers.
“You all right?” she asks.
I nod.
Her lips curve up a little. “So,” she says, “we’re off to Bethlehem? Seems appropriate just after Christmas. Do I need to travel on a donkey?”
Normally I’d laugh, but right now I’m so confused my brain won’t function. The last thing I want to do is go away with Hallie Woodford on a business trip. How do I get myself into these situations? I need to tell her she can’t go… but I saw her eyes light up when Whina mentioned that the museum would buy her a dress. Knowing Sebastian Williams, it’s going to be a do to remember—what woman wouldn’t like to dress up and go to the ball?
But then she says, “I can’t believe we’ll be able to see the letters,” and her eyes sparkle, and I realize that’s what she’s looking forward to—the archaeology.
Oh, I think I’m in love.
“Fraser?”
We both look over as a voice sounds from the doorway to see my PA, Louise, standing there with a baby in her arms.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I thought you’d be alone.”
“That’s okay.” Hallie gets to her feet and goes over to Louise. “Aw, he’s so gorgeous! Look at those little booties!” She laughs as he kicks his feet.
“Gaz reckons he’s going to be a fly-half,” Louise says, and Hallie giggles.
“What are you doing in here today?” I scold.
“I want to print out the Heritage New Zealand report,” she says. “Whina said she’d like it ASAP and I didn’t manage to get it done on Friday, so I typed it at home. I’ll just put Junior here in his stroller and then I’ll only be a few minutes and I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Give him to me,” Hallie says, “I’d love a cuddle.”
“Thanks.” Louise offloads her baby, then disappears into her office, and soon I hear the printer whirring as she starts it up.
“Hello, Sunshine.” Hallie smiles at the baby boy in her arms. “Let’s go and look at the seagulls, shall we?” She walks across my office to the window and turns to show him the birds wheeling in the air, then she glances over her shoulder and says, “You can carry on if you want.”
“I’ll wait,” I say. “I’m just going to send a text.”
I pick up my phone, but when she turns back to the view, I lower it, captivated by the image of her singing softly to the baby as she rocks from side to side. The baby stares up at her as if she’s his guardian angel, and I understand how he feels. There’s something about this girl I can’t put my finger on. She’s not classically beautiful, she’s not model thin, she’s not quirky like Zoe, or as pretty as Elora with her golden hair. But there’s something inside her that lights her up like a Christmas tree. Her spirit, her soul, whatever you want to call it… like now, while she’s looking at the baby—an inner switch has been flicked, and she’s smiling, and she’s positively glowing. She’s stunning.
Louise comes back into the office. “Here you go,” she says, handing me the report. “I’ve emailed it to you to forward on to Whina because I thought you might want to add a few notes when you’ve read it through.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you doing that, even though you shouldn’t come in on your day off.”
She shrugs. “I like showing Bib-bab around the museum. He loves the geological exhibit with the volcano spewing out all the lava.”
Hallie chuckles, kisses his forehead, and hands the baby back to his mother. “I’d do the same if I had kids,” she says. “I think it’s good for them to grow up going to museums and art galleries. I hate it when you see kids tearing around without any respect for history and archaeology.”
That’s it. I need to put an end to this now before I take her in my arms and kiss her senseless.
“I have a few phone calls to make,” I say briskly, getting to my feet.
“Oh, of course,” Hallie says. “I’ll leave you to it. You’ll let me know when you get the details of the ball?”
I nod curtly. “Thanks for coming in.”
“I’m just going to check on the artifacts that came in from the Nelson dig before I go home,” Hallie says. “Don’t work too hard.” She and Louise go out together, and I hear them talking as they head for the staircase.
I sink back into my chair and put my head in my hands with a groan. I can’t possibly go to Bethlehem with Hallie. I’ll have to come up with a reason to turn her down. I’ll say that the Williams family will only let us have one ticket, and so I need to go alone. Yes, that’ll do. What’s the point in putting myself in that position?
In fact, I’m going to tell her now. I’ll say Whina rang as soon as Hallie left. No point in hanging on.
I get up and stride out of my office.
The museum is open from nine a.m. until four p.m. on Sundays. It has a skeleton staff: reception, security, guides, cleaners, but the offices are empty, so even though there’s a steady stream of visitors, it tends to feel quieter than on Saturdays.
I run down the central staircase and cross the large foyer, heading for the conservation room. As I pass the reception desk, though, Cait, the receptionist, who’s in the middle of accepting payment from two backpackers, waves to me, so I cross over to her.
“Are you going to see Hallie?” she asks. When I nod, she says, “I forgot to tell her she had a letter arrive for her on Friday. Would you mind giving it to her, please?”
“Yes, of course.” I take it from her, leave her to the backpackers, and cross to the conservation room.
I glance at the letter in my hand and stop walking. The envelope is plain white. The corner bears an official, printed logo of a shield and crown flanked by two figures, one Māori, one Pakeha. The Māori text next to it reads ‘Ara Poutama Aotearoa’. Beneath that is the English translation: Department of Corrections. It also states: ‘Mail sent from a prison’.
I turn the letter over. There is a sentence on the back: ‘This mail is from a person in prison.’ It explains that if the recipient doesn’t want to receive mail from the sender, they can call or email, and it gives a website for further information.
I turn it back over. The address is handwritten. The writing is quite beautiful, almost as if it’s calligraphy. It’s addressed to Miss Hallie Woodford, but what’s odd is that the writer began to spell out Hallie’s name, then crossed it out, then wrote it again before going on to her surname. People do make mistakes, of course, but it’s just odd considering the writer obviously took care over the rest of the words.
I open the door to the conservation room and go inside.
Zoe and Elora are both away, so it’s just Hallie in the room. All of them enjoy working here, and I can understand why. It’s an archaeologist’s dream, with several long white tables, specialized equipment for cleaning, drying, and preserving, microscopes and computers, and a rack filled with boxes of all kinds of artifacts that are awaiting examination.
Hallie is standing at the central table, rummaging through a tub of animal bones that she and Elora have been working on.
“Hello,” she says, surprised, as I walk in. “I thought you were making phone calls. That was quick.”
“I heard from Whina again,” I say, walking over to her. “Oh, by the way, Cait said this came for you on Friday.” I hand her the letter before I forget.
She takes it, glances at it, looks away, then does a cartoon-like double take. It would have been comical except for the fact that all the color drains from her face, and she goes completely white.
“Hallie? Hey, what’s the matter?”
She stares at the letter as if she can’t tear her gaze from it. “It’s nothing… I… oh…” She sways. Just before her knees buckle and she collapses, I slide an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly to me.
She clutches hold of my top and rests her forehead on my shoulder, and I wrap my other arm around her. “It’s okay.” I rub her back. “Breathe,” I remind her, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.
Mmm… despite my concern, I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t aware how soft she is in my arms, or the fresh smell of her hair as I inhale it discreetly. This isn’t good… Physical contact is the last thing that Hallie and I should be having. Even so, I’m reluctant to let her go, but I force myself to steer her to a stool and make sure she’s sitting before I release her. She presses her fingers to her lips, and her hand where she’s holding the letter is shaking.
“Hallie,” I say firmly, “what is it?”
She looks up at me then. Her eyes are shiny with tears, but as she focuses on me, she blinks them away, and her spine stiffens. “It’s nothing,” she says.
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“It’s from… an old friend.” She leans over and stuffs it in her purse, then does up the zip as if she’s trying to put it out of her mind.
An old friend? I presume she means an ex. “From Ian?” I ask, naming the guy she’s just broken up with. He didn’t work in a prison, and as far as I know he’s not incarcerated.
But she shakes her head. “No. I’d rather not talk about it.”
I’m disappointed, but I can’t force her to discuss it.
She forces her lips into a small smile. “So you said Whina called? What did she say?”
I came down here to tell her I wouldn’t be needing her to come with me to Bethlehem, but as I look into her eyes, I can’t bring myself to do it. “I was just going to tell you that she sent the tickets, so we’re all set to go,” I reply lamely.
“Fantastic.” She brightens. “Will we drive up?”
“God, no, it’ll take about seven hours. We’ll fly.”
She nibbles her bottom lip, then says, somewhat shyly, “I’m not sure I have the money for that, Fraser. It’s just after Christmas, and now Ian’s moved out, I have to pay the rent on my own…”
“I’ll organize the flight,” I tell her, hiding my surprise that Ian has left her to pay for the apartment by herself. I would have covered half the cost until she’d found herself a cheaper place. “And I’ll book us a couple of rooms in a hotel nearby. Don’t worry, the museum will cover it.” It won’t—I’ll pay for it—but she doesn’t have to know that.
“Oh, okay.”
“And I’ll get you the money Whina promised for a dress.”
“Will you wear a tux?” she asks.
“If it’s black tie, I’ll have to. I have one. I’ll need to see if I can still fit in it.”
She gives a weak smile. “You haven’t put on weight, have you?”
I pat my stomach. “As soon as you hit thirty you get middle-aged spread. Nothing to do with my weakness for Kit-Kats.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, and I’m transported back to the dinner party, and the fun and flirty conversation we had there.
“What’s your favorite food?” she’d asked.
“Chocolate,” I replied as I studied her shiny brown hair and dark eyes. “Did you know that it melts at body temperature?”
“How did you find that out?” she asked, eyes sparkling.
“Dropped some on my arm by mistake and had to lick it off,” I replied, and she gave a delightful giggle.
I’d like to hear that giggle again, but her gaze lowers, then slides to her purse, and I know she’s thinking about the letter.
“Have you had breakfast this morning?” I ask, ignoring the stab of warning I’m sure Whina is sending me telepathically.
Hallie looks back up at me. “No, only coffee.”
“Want to go out and get some? I’m starving. My treat.”
Her lips slowly curve up. She hesitates, though.
“I don’t bite,” I say. “Not unless…” My voice trails off. You want me to , I was going to say. Dammit, Fraser!
She doesn’t smile though. Instead, she says cautiously, “I have something to admit to you.”
“Oh?”
“When I came in today, I assumed you were going to reprimand me for flirting with you at the dinner party.” Her cheeks redden.
My eyebrows rise. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know, because you’re too nice, but it was out of order, and I shouldn’t have done it.”
I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “I seem to remember that I flirted back.”
She sucks her bottom lip, trying not to smile. “Maybe. But that’s not the point.”
“We’d had a couple of glasses of wine,” I remind her gently, “and you’d just broken up with your boyfriend. You were sad, and I was trying to cheer you up. I think you can be excused the mild flirtation that arose as a result.”
“You really weren’t angry?” She looks very unsure, as if she couldn’t possibly comprehend why a guy might have been interested in her.
I give her a puzzled smile. “Of course not. I’d have stopped you at the time if I didn’t like the direction of the conversation.” I realize it makes it sound as if I enjoyed flirting with her. I have to remember that she works for me, and I must keep my distance. I shouldn’t be taking her out.
But it’s just breakfast, and I am hungry, and she needs cheering up. “Come on,” I say, “let’s go and have an Eggs Bene or something. I’m hungry enough to eat a dolphin on toast.”