Rescuing Rudi Read online

  Denver ignored the question and headed for a door leading to the outside, but she dug her heels in, forcing him to either stop too or drag her along. He stopped.

  “What’s in there?” she asked again. “Can I see? Or is it a secret?”

  Denver stood motionless. Looking at him, she had no way of knowing what was going through his mind. For a second, she thought he might be angry, but then he shrugged.

  “You can see,” he said, but she could see the muscles in his neck tighten and wondered what the mystery of the room could be.

  He led her to the door, and with only an almost imperceptible pause, punched a code into a small box on the wall next to the door, and then, as it unlocked, swung the door open.

  “Oh!” Rudi gasped looking at the crystal clear twenty-five metre indoor pool surrounded by blue and white tiles and with a raised concrete seat running along one wall. Two banana lounges sat idly on the other side. “Jeeee zuzzz! An indoor pool.”

  She pulled her hand free and, walking to the edge, crouched down to feel the water.

  “And it’s heated! How come you aren’t swimming in it every day?”

  “Come on.” He took her hand again and dragged her out without answering her question, shutting and locking the door behind her.

  “Don’t ever use language like that again.”

  Instead of going back upstairs, he marched her through a door to an outside path that led along the front of the house, past the front door and to the self-contained studio a short distance past the house.

  “Time’s getting on. I’m getting hungry.”

  She followed silently, wondering about his strange reaction to the pool. Maybe he couldn’t swim and was ashamed to say so, she thought. It would be pretty silly, though, owning a house with a huge indoor pool and not being able to swim. Somehow, she doubted that was the reason. He seemed so sure of himself, so capable, it was hard to imagine there was anything he couldn’t do, and how many people grew up in Australia without learning how to swim?

  “Were you born in Australia?” she blurted out.

  “I was born in Melbourne, yes, and grew up there. But I’ve spent quite a bit of time overseas and around the place as well. I travel a lot with my work.”

  “What do you do?” she asked.

  “I’ll show you,” he replied, taking out a key and unlocking the studio door. Inside was a room decked out as an office with a large desk, on which was a laptop, against one wall, and another desk, with an index card system and papers stacked on it, against the opposite wall. Bookshelves, full to capacity, took up the rest of the available wall space.

  “I see you’re a big fan of this guy: Todd Morgan,” Rudi chuckled running one finger along a row of hardback books next to his desk. “Jee– Crikey, he’s written a few. Have you read them all?” She took one out and read the title: “The Man Who Loved Death. Ew, sounds a bit grim. You like reading this stuff, do you? Funny. I had you picked for something a little less… sensational.”

  She turned the book over and looked at the back cover before opening it to read about the author on the inside of the sleeve. Above the author’s short biography was a photo. She gasped and shot a look back at the man standing behind her.

  “Hey, that’s you, isn’t it? You’re Todd Morgan?”

  He shrugged and opened his arms, hands palm up. “It is. Guilty as charged. I am the Todd Morgan responsible for writing this ‘grim, sensational stuff’. That one you are holding is the most recent.”

  “You wrote all these?” Rudi asked wide-eyed looking at the two shelves holding fourteen books, most with similar jackets. “Are you famous or something?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I wrote them all. I don’t know about ‘famous’, but I am very fortunate. Enough people like my books to enable me to live very comfortably.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing every day? Coming here and writing?”

  He nodded. “Yes. It’s my job, and even though I am able to do it at home, I treat it like any other job. I start at eight o’clock every morning, Monday to Friday. I’m never late. I have a break for coffee in the morning and afternoon, and I work until five o’clock with an hour off for lunch. Sometimes I work longer but try not to; I prefer to keep my mind as fresh as possible.”

  “You’ve even got a kitchen in here.”

  “Yes. It’s actually a self-contained one-bedroom bungalow. Through that door is a bedroom and the toilet and bathroom are those two doors down there. The bathroom is handy but otherwise I prefer to just work in here and sleep and eat in the house. I need the break. And speaking of eating, we’re going to do that now. And then you’re going to have a rest while I do some other work inside. After that we’ll look around the garden. Bring the book if you think you might like to read it.”

  The afternoon passed exactly as he’d said it would. He seemed to have shared as much of his personal life with her as he was prepared to, and he was sticking to his promise not to pry into hers, consequently the small amount of conversation over lunch was mostly about the food and the view, and a little about what books they each liked to read.

  During her enforced rest, she read the biography on the book cover, but it told her little she didn’t already know.

  An hour later, he took her back outside. The area around the house had been cleared for some protection in case of fire, but most of the rest of the big block was natural bush.

  “Do you do the gardening?” she asked, looking at the circle of lawn at the front of the house and the flowerbeds and herb gardens nestled against the house.

  “Some of it,” he grinned. “I have a gardener who comes in once a week for the morning, and everything is reticulated. I often spend time on Saturday and Sunday afternoons pottering about in it, and I do like cooking…”

  “I’ve noticed,” Rudi interrupted thinking of the meals he’d prepared for her. He waited but she didn’t say anything else, so he continued.

  “So, I look after the herb and vegetable garden, but that’s about it. The gardener mows the lawns and looks after the flower beds.”

  “Is that a chook shed?” she asked pointing to a secure wire frame enclosing a wooden hut.

  The light went out of his face and the tension returned. He looked away.

  “Could be used for that,” he said brusquely. “No chooks in there, though.”

  “I love chooks. I’ve always dreamed of one day having a cottage in the country, with chooks and a garden.” She said it without thinking. It was so true; it slipped out before she knew. Embarrassed, seeing him looking at her oddly, she waved her arms around.

  “Not in a place like this, though. In a nice place,” she blurted out.

  She regretted her words immediately.

  “Right, well, I’m sorry you don’t like it,” he said, his eyes narrowing and his mouth hardening. “You’ll be able to leave soon enough. Once I’m sure I’ve fulfilled my responsibility to you, you can be on your way.”

  Watching him walk away, leaving her to follow behind, she mentally kicked herself for her big mouth. This was a gorgeous place and, truthfully, she’d never dared dream the chook shed and herb garden she wanted so badly could ever be part of such a beautiful, big house with an indoor pool and breath-taking views. And a gorgeous man to share it with her.

  Once inside, she feigned tiredness and went to her room. She needed to think. Somehow her thoughts had got all jumbled up, and she wasn’t sticking to her plan which was to seduce this guy, wrap him around her finger and move in on a permanent basis.

  She mentally ticked herself off as she reviewed her progress and was forced to admit she’d got nowhere. He’d given her the opportunity, holding her hand, showing her around, and what had she done? Been rude about the clothes he’d bought her, insulted his work and then insulted his whole property. She was an idiot. She had the perfect place here to hide in luxury, and if she wasn’t careful she was going to blow it and find herself out on her ear.

  Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow I�
��ll make a move. But that wasn’t to be either.

  Over dinner, he explained that on Sunday mornings he went into the centre of Emerald itself for breakfast at his favourite cafe, followed by the weekly grocery shop, firstly at the supermarket and then the farmer’s market for fresh fruit and vegetables not available out of his own garden.

  “I’d invite you along, but I think there’ll be too much walking for you just yet, so you’ll stay here,” he told her. “If the jeans are comfortable, you can wear those, or if your hip is still too sore, you can wear the clothes you wore home from hospital. I’ve washed them. You can read, or watch television, and help yourself to anything out of the kitchen so long as you tidy up after yourself, but you are not to go downstairs unless you are with me, do you understand? Ever.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she said. “I’ll be fine. My hip hardly hurts at all anymore. Or my shoulder.”

  “I said I am going alone. You are staying here. I’m sure you can find yourself something to do, or shall I find something for you?”

  “No!” Rudi frowned and pouted at him. She didn’t want to go with him because she needed something to do! “I want to go with you is all,” she half-whispered, looking up at him from under her lashes with her eyes as wide as they’d go.

  When she caught and held his eyes, she tried batting her eyelashes and smiling a shy little smile. Automatically her arms pressed against her chest to increase the swell of her breasts as she leaned toward him. Unfortunately, the ploy was not as effective in her demure jumper as in her usual low-cut skimpy tops, but still, she was sure she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Yes, he’d noticed. He’d clearly got her message.

  Her heart skipped a beat as his hand reached across the table towards her. Her breath stopped and her skin tingled in anticipation of his touch as she reached her hand towards his.

  Ignoring it, he picked up her plate and stacked it onto his, growling, “Clear the rest of the table,” as he stood up and took their plates into the kitchen.

  Embarrassed at being so blatantly rejected, Rudi ignored his order for her to help with the clearing up after dinner. “Clear it yourself!” she muttered as she ran to her bedroom, slamming her door behind her.

  Throwing herself face down on her bed, she felt her eyes burn with mortified rage. What an idiot she was. For two pins, she’d grab her bag, stuff her clothes into it and leave right now! Except she didn’t know where her backpack was and she had no clothes of her own left to stuff into it, only the stuff he’d bought her. Damn! She leaped up from the bed again, and paced, rubbing the leftover soreness in her hip.

  Any minute now he’d come after her, and then what? Would he be angry? Yell at her? Throw her out? Maybe he’d just been shy and was now regretting he’d ignored her offer. He could be out in the kitchen now kicking himself for being so inept. Perhaps he was worried that she might be too fragile after her accident and he was afraid he’d hurt her.

  Deciding the best ploy was to be as inviting and delicate as possible and pretend nothing had happened, she showered and changed into the soft, flannelette pink pyjamas with teddy bears on them he’d bought that morning. Cursing her lack of make-up, she ruffled what hair she had, cleaned her teeth and then arranged herself provocatively on her bed with his book.

  Her ears keenly attuned to the noises coming from the kitchen, she heard him finish cleaning up and waited expectantly for him to come to her room. Deciding that looking too pale might scare him off again and having no make-up, she resorted to the old-fashioned method: biting her lips and pinching her cheeks to put some colour into them.

  But he didn’t come. She waited and waited, and finally fell asleep waiting.

  She woke much later but the house was quiet and dark when she peeked out her door. Going back to bed, she tossed and turned for a long time, eventually falling into a fitful, dream-filled sleep.

  A knock on her door woke her the next morning.

  “Please be in the living room in five minutes,” she heard him say from outside.

  Her clock told her it was eight o’clock. Damn, she was supposed to be up and dressed by now! Scrambling as fast as she could she pulled on jeans and a jumper, washed her face and cleaned her teeth, but it was still more like eight minutes than five before she hurried to join him, leaving her room in a mess with her bed unmade and clothes strewn about.

  She was cross. Who gets up at eight o’clock on a Sunday, for crying out loud? Him and his silly rules.

  She was also nervous. She hadn’t seen or spoken with him since she’d rushed out the previous evening and she had no idea what was coming. Would it be her marching orders? Or had he just called her in to say she could go out with him this morning? She hoped it was the latter.

  In black jeans and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he was standing looking out the giant picture windows. Her heart contracted painfully when she saw him. She really didn’t want to leave, and it wasn’t only because it was a lovely home and she had nowhere else to go.

  Sensing he was being watched, he turned to look at her still standing in the doorway. She could see his furrowed brow and found herself wanting to stroke the worry lines away. His hands were plunged in the front pocket of his jeans, and his shoulders hunched.

  Whatever he was about to say, it wasn’t going to be an invitation for a drive in the country.

  Chapter 3

  Feeling increasingly more uncomfortable as he continued to stare at her without speaking, Rudi shrugged and sauntered to the couch, plopping herself down.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “Stand up, please, and come here.”

  “Why?” She made her question sound as flippant as possible as she picked up the remote, turned on the TV, then tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

  In three long strides, he’d reached the couch, picked up the remote, turned the TV off and was looking down on her with a face as dark as thunderclouds.

  “Stand up,” he repeated through tight lips.

  She shrugged again and stood up.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he began. Her heart sank. This is where he told her she had to go.

  “I gave you my word that I would look after you until you were fully recovered and had somewhere safe to go, and I don’t go back on my word.”

  Rudi silently breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe.

  “But…”

  Her heart sank again.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

  He held his hand up.

  “It’s rude to interrupt. Don’t speak again until I have finished, please.”

  He looked sternly at her. She nodded, whispering, “Sorry.”

  “Right. So, this was my dilemma: I’ve given you my word that I would take care of you for at least a bit longer, but I can’t have my house and routine upset by your anarchy. I thought I had made it clear that I have certain rules and I expect them to be obeyed if you stay here. Did I make it clear?”

  Rudi nodded.

  “Apparently, I didn’t make it clear enough. You left a mess in the kitchen, didn’t help with the tidying up last night – in fact, ran to your room the minute I asked you to clear the table. Speaking of your room: is it clean and tidy?”

  He paused. Rudi hoped he would go on without waiting for an answer, but he didn’t.

  She shook her head.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “No,” she whispered, her eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

  “I suspected as much. Look at me, Rudi.”

  Rudi lifted her eyes to his, expecting to see anger and possibly dislike, but instead she saw a warmth that enveloped her like a gentle hug.

  “I’m going to be very honest with you, Rudi, because that’s what I do. I believe in honesty, and I dislike dishonesty and lying more than anything. So, honestly, I have been enjoying having you here. I’ve been a long time on my own, and having to look after someone else, I think, has been good for me as well as for y
ou. And you have been happy here, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.” She blushed at how true that statement was.

  “Good. Well, my goal is for you to stay here, get well, and decide what you want to do next. I will help you get started so you can leave here with a job and a place to live, as I don’t intend for you to leave and go back on the street. I’ve been hoping you might feel safe enough to tell me how you got there and,” he paused and grinned, “your real name.”

  Her heart started pounding.

  “Rudi is my real name,” she said sullenly.

  “Is it? Even if it is, I doubt Kizmyaz is,” he chuckled. “Rudi Kizmyaz sounds more like a young lady with a chip on her shoulder than a proper name.”

  “How did you…” Rudi interrupted, but he went on as though she hadn’t spoken.

  “I saw your discharge papers at the hospital and that that was the name you had given them. Anyway,” he waved his hand, “that’s not important. I use a nom de plume; I can’t complain about you using an alias.” His voice became more serious. “But I hope you will soon trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

  She looked back at the ground and didn’t answer; the last thing she was going to do was divulge her true identity.

  “For now, though,” his voice had become serious again, “you and I have to sort this out so it works. So, this is the plan I have come up with: As you will need a job when you leave here, I am offering to hire you starting tomorrow. You will work as my assistant, and I will pay you, less board and lodgings. That way you won’t feel like you are free-loading and you will have money in the bank when you go – enough to get a place to live and so on. I know it will be a bit difficult until you get your sling off, but I can find you jobs you will be able to do. How does that sound?”

  Getting paid to live in this perfect hiding place, which also happened to be a beautiful house, and work with this gorgeous man? How did it sound? How about like she’d won the lottery? She looked down quickly to hide her joy and excitement.