Chapter Four
A fortnight later, just after midday on a Friday, Yvonne found herself disembarking from an airplane with Nolan and not a kid in sight. When she’d tried to wriggle out of going to Auckland, using the café as an excuse, he’d made a personal appeal to her aunt.
Gina, who never took sides, agreed Yvonne deserved a weekend away from her job and the boys. She’d cut Yvonne’s arguments short by saying if Yvonne took a weekend off, then Gina would feel justified taking a break later in the month. Her aunt—the workaholic. Shocked, Yvonne had stuttered her assent, and now she was suffering the consequences.
“Where are we staying?” she asked, once they’d navigated the airport and collected their bags.
“Tyler recommended a place.” Nolan wheeled his bag outside and headed for the cab rank. “Susan is expecting our call.”
“Have you met her other friends?” Yvonne asked once they were in a cab and on their way to the city center.
“I have. There’s Maggie and her husband Connor. Julia is the owner ofMaxwell’s, and she’s married to Ryan. You’ve met Christina already. Don’t worry. You’ll like them.”
“What’sMaxwell’slike?”
“Did you see the clip onFarmer Seeks a Wife?”
Hell no.She shook her head, and hopefully didn’t reveal the flash of fury that punched through her like a bullet. She hadn’t watched the show on principle.
“We filmed a segment there.” His gaze bored into her for excruciating long moments, and her heart rate did a little change-up. “You’ll see the club for yourself. It’s on K’ Road and has been in Julia’s family for several generations. All the girls—Susan, Christina and Maggie—dance a few nights a week. Julia too.”
Yvonne’s brows shot upward along with her respect. “Wow.” She presumed the costumes were skimpy. “They must be fit.”
“Most people hear the word K’ Road club and turn up their nose, but it’s not like that. The clientele span the ages and you’ll see groups of women on their own.”
“That’s unusual. When I think of a club, a group of horny men comes to mind. Drunk men.”
Nolan chuckled and laced their fingers together. Her heart did another one of those gear changes. Lord, this man was getting to her. She was trying so hard to remain aloof, to keep her scabbed-over heart safe, but he made detachment difficult.
“I thought the worst when Susan announced she was a dancer on the very first day of the reality show. My mind veered in the wrong direction,” Nolan said. “You’ll see when we visit the club.”
Yvonne stared out the cab window at the buildings—first commercial ones, but soon residential properties butted against shops and businesses. Office blocks. “I haven’t visited Auckland for years. It’s much busier than I recall.”
“More traffic too. Is there anything in particular you want to see?”
“Will we have time to catch the ferry to Rangitoto? The boys are keen on volcanoes and Michael wanted to know if we were going to visit.”
“Sure, we can do that on Sunday morning. Our flight back is an early evening one, so we have plenty of time. Would you like to bungee off the Sky Tower?”
Yvonne snorted. “You have rocks in your head if you think I’m jumping off a tower, but you go right ahead.”
“Just teasing, but I wouldn’t mind going to the top. I didn’t get a chance to last time I was up here. We should walk to the top of Mt. Eden too. We can get some shots of the crater and some city views for the boys.”
The hotel was quiet and luxurious and not far from the harbor. Yvonne gave a gasp when they entered their room. A large king-size bed dominated the space, but the view beyond drew her straight to the window. The blue water sparkled in the sun and yachts raced across the waves, their sails bulging with air. The classical cone shape of the dormant volcano Rangitoto was evident from where she stood, and she knew her boys would have loved seeing the island.
“You’ll need to take some photos,” Nolan said with a smile.
“I will.”
His arm curled around her waist and she managed not to jump. Since the television show had ended, he stroked her at every opportunity. Other people present—no problem. And if they were alone, he still touched her.
Holding her hand.
Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
Kisses.
It was those kisses that struck the killer blow. She didn’t have any immunity, and damn it, those barricades around her heart kept cracking. The sticking-plaster fixes were useless. They didn’t last.
