No Greater Joy

by Rosemary Carter

  'Of course.' Her heart was beating hard inside her.

  'I don't think you mean that. You must have known the picture you made. Your swimming costume so low.. .just here...'

  His fingers touched the swell of her breasts, and her breath jerked in a harsh gasp.

  'Stop it, Clint...' She didn't know if the words made it past her lips, or if they were stuck in her dry throat.

  If he heard her, he gave no sign. 'Shapely legs seducing me on the water.'

  'You have to stop this! You really do,' she said faintly.

  His only answer was to hold her tighter against him as he bent his head all at once and began to kiss her. A slow kiss, tantalising, and so erotic that something wild and unexpected stirred deep inside her, a raw and primitive ache, a sensation Alison did not want to acknowledge, though she seemed helpless to do anything about it.

  For at least a minute he went on kissing her, his tongue playing at the corners of her lips, trying to coax a way between them. And then suddenly sanity returned, and with it some of her strength. Balling her fists, she pushed them hard against his chest.

  His head lifted, but his arms remained around her. His hair was wet, clinging to his head, as he grinned down at her, white teeth flashing against the wet tan. A pirate—erotic, marauding, sexy.

  'Why did you do that?' Eyes blazing, she flung the words at him.

  'I wanted to,' he shrugged.

  'And do you always do everything you want?'

  Dark eyes glinted. 'Whenever possible.'

  She tried again to stand, but once again her feet made contact only with his legs.

  'I told you how I feel about touching. Clint, how could you?' 'You're making such a big deal of it. I thought we shared a lovely day, Alison. A kiss seemed like a good way to end it.'

  'I hated it!' she snapped.

  'Did you really?' he as.ked very softly. 'I sensed your body telling me a different story.'

  Was it possible that he had sensed her excitement? 'You'll never have me.'

  'I'm not sure about that,' he drawled.

  'Have you forgotten that I have a boyfriend?'

  'I haven't forgotten that he allowed you to come away with me.'

  'I told you—I make my own choices.'

  'I believe he could have stopped you.' Cupping her face with one hand, he tilted her head a little away from him. 'You're not wearing a ring, Alison.'

  'Rings don't mean a thing,' she shrugged.

  Not true. They did. They meant love, commitment, a lifetime together. Very soon now Edna would be wearing Raymond's ring on her left hand.

  'This isn't the moment to debate rings, Alison.' Clint's face was inches from hers, his voice husky. 'We're here alone together, you and I, a man and a woman. I want you so badly. I believe we want each other.'

  Alison trembled. As they swayed together in the water, she could feel the evidence of his desire against her, and she realised that in his own fashion he was probably being restrained.

  She pushed at him. 'All I want is for you to let me go, Clint. I can't take any more of this, I really can't!'

  His arms were hard around her, like bands of steel imprisoning her vulnerable body. Alison made herself go limp in his embrace. And then suddenly his arms, loosened, and she was free.

  With trembling limbs she swam to the edge of the pool. Gripping the stone wall with her hands, she turned her head and looked back at Clint.

  'Don't try that again,' she warned. 'Ever. I won't stand for it!'

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT WAS the day of Raymond and Edna's engagement party. The day Alison had never dreamed could ever happen had arrived. Tonight Raymond and Edna would officially tell the world that they loved each other enough to spend their lives together.

  Overriding Alison's emotions of anger and betrayal was a sense of total unreality. Going all the way back to her childhood, she could not remember a time in her life when she and Raymond had not been together. Which was why it was so very difficult to think of him making his life with another woman. There was a finality about this day which made her very sad.

  Trying her best to push Raymond and Edna from her mind, Alison showered and dressed. Clint was nowhere to be seen when she entered the camp kitchen. The sparkling mountain air made her constantly hungry, but this morning, her third day at Bushveld, she was not in the mood for food. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she made her way to the office.

  A little grimly, she looked at the heap of files on her desk. At least she would be too busy to think about Raymond.

  For several hours she worked steadily, and then her interest was suddenly sparked by a file that was different from the rest.

  Alison was frowning as she put down Timmy Roscoe's file. Why was Timmy coming to Bushveld Camp? Why an adventure camp for this particular child? Would he be able to participate in the camp activities? Did he need special treatment?

  Pushing aside the file, she stretched her cramped back and legs. She'd been at the desk all afternoon, doing the paperwork which Patricia, the girl who had been delayed, would normally have done. Unaccustomed activity for Alison, who was used to the physical work entailed in running a stable.

  The desk was near the open window. From where she sat Alison could not see very much of the mountains— the Drakensberg, whose majesty surpassed anything she had ever imagined—but she could see the velvet green of the lower slopes. High on a barren cliff, above the green, a bird swooped, then soared out of sight. She smiled as she watched two lizards chase each other on a sunny rock near the window.

  And then a tall figure strode purposefully into view. By the time Clint appeared in the office, the smile had vanished from Alison's face.

  He grinned at her from the doorway. 'Still at it?'

  'Still at it.'

  'Patricia will be duly grateful.'

  'I hope so.'

  He came to stand by her chair. 'I think it's time for a break.'

  He was all male, utterly and overwhelmingly male. The strong lines of his face were echoed in the powerful proportions of his body. His shoulders and chest were broad, his hips narrow. Accompanying the strength was that constant aura of sexuality which was as much a part of him as his long, tanned limbs.

  In his presence, Alison felt alarmingly vulnerable. 'I think I'll go on for a while,' she said.

  'Glutton for hard work, are you?'

  There was something in his smile that was infinitely disturbing, so that she found she had to look away from him. 'Not exactly.'

  'Or are you running away from me?'

  'Good heavens, what's that supposed to mean?' She sat back, pretending astonishment.

  'We both know you've been doing your best to avoid me since we arrived here,' Clint said calmly.

  'I've been working,' she shrugged.

  'That's a lame excuse, Alison.'

  A pulse throbbed in her throat. 'Don't you ever stop?''

  Clint laughed softly. 'Have dinner with me tonight. We'll go up to the hotel.'

  Alison didn't have to consider the invitation. 'Thanks, but I don't think so.'

  'Why not?'

  'I... I'm not really in the mood.'

  He laughed again, a husky laugh which many another woman might have found seductive. 'My guess is that you're still thinking of our kiss in the pool.'

  She lifted her chin at him. 'And if I am?'

  'I'd say you were making too much of it. It was just a kiss, Alison.'

  'There's something you're forgetting, Clint.'

  'The boyfriend, I suppose,' he said drily.

  Today, the lie was especially painful. But necessary, she reminded herself. 'Yes.'

  Clint's jaw tightened. 'How we always get back to him! I find that strange, since he hasn't bothered to phone you once since we've been here.'

  The blade twisted a little further in the wound. 'That doesn't mean anything.'

  'I'd phone you every hour if you were my girl, Alison.'

  'To check up on me? He's not the jealous ki
nd.'

  'And you, Alison—what kind are you?'

  'I really don't think that can be of any interest to you.'

  She tensed as Clint caught her wrist in his fingers. 'Wrong,' he said. 'I'm interested in everything about you.' He began a slow, stroking movement with his thumb, a movement that was so sensuous that Alison felt her pulse begin to race beneath the long fingers.

  'There's not much to know about me.' Her voice was choked. 'Look, Clint, about...'

  'Do you get jealous?'

  'Of course not. Clint, about this entry here...'

  'If you're never jealous, then perhaps you're not really serious about that man you left behind.'

  The stroking grew more sensuous by the moment. Alison did not know how much longer she could bear it.

  'I wish you wouldn't keep on about him.' In vain, she tried to pull her wrist out of the grip of the wicked fingers. 'And stop doing that! You know how I feel about touching.'

  ' Will you have dinner with me?'

  Raymond and Edna would be having a good time tonight.

  'Well, all right, thank you,' Alison said.

  'Good.' Despite her somewhat ungracious acceptance, Clint sounded remarkably pleased. 'Can you be ready to go around eight?'

  * * *

  Heads turned as they walked into the dining-room of the hotel. Alison was certain that all the looks were directed at Clint, who was easily the most attractive man in the place. What she did not realise was how many male eyes were turned her way.

  She was looking very pretty in a narrow-waisted, rose- pink dress which emphasised the slim curves of her figure and enhanced the colour of a heart-shaped face. Narrow straps revealed a slim neck and smoothly tanned arms and shoulders, while an antique silver pendant on a thin silver chain nestled between her breasts. Lynn had persuaded Alison to pack the dress and pendant—with Alison arguing that she would have no use for pretty things in a children's holiday camp. The auburn hair, which she normally wore tied back in a snood hung loose and shining to her shoulders, and her lovely green eyes were luminous beneath a dusting of green shadow.

  'This must be one of your hotels,' she remarked, having noted the special deference with which Clint was treated by everyone, from the receptionist in the lobby to the haughty maitre d' and the waiter who came to take their order.

  'Yes, it is. This was the first one. The others—there are ten of them around the country—came later.'

  'So this hotel must have special meaning for you?'

  'It has. One day, I hope, you'll see the others.'

  Politely Alison said, 'I don't do much travelling.'

  'That can be remedied.' There was something enigmatic in the look he gave her.

  Alison made herself smile smoothly back at him. 'Oh, I doubt it. I'll be far too busy to think of travelling once I get started on my stables.'

  'When do you think that will be?'

  'I don't have a date. So much depends on the money * I can come up with. But I'm going to start with the planning as soon as I get back from camp.'

  'You still haven't told me what the boyfriend thinks of your plans.'

  He had a way of riling her with Raymond. 'I told you the first day that I do what I want!' she snapped.

  'I just wonder about his feelings,' Clint said mildly. 'Does he approve?'

  'Why shouldn't he approve?' Alison's tone was abrupt.

  'No reason at all.' Dark eyes lingered for a long moment on a small, flushed face and trembling lips. 'What shall we drink to, Alison?'

  Her reply was brisk. 'The success of the camp.'

  'Do you know what I'd really like to drink to?' he asked softly.

  'What?' Her questioning look was open and unguarded.

  'I'd like to drink to the day I make love to you.'

  Alison jerked in her seat. Then she shoved the wine away from her, so abruptly that a few drops stained the white cloth. 'That's outrageous!'

  Clint gave a shout of laughter, drawing the eyes of people at nearby tables. 'Are you always so prim? It must drive that boyfriend of yours crazy.'

  She looked at him through pain-filled eyes. 'Clint, please...'

  Something of her emotion must have got through to him, for the laughter suddenly left his face. When he spoke again, it was in a different tone.

  'That was just my way of telling you that I find you very beautiful—and desirable.' His hand went across the table to touch one of hers, very briefly. 'I'm sorry if you were offended. We'll drink to the camp, if that's what you prefer.'

  They raised their glasses, and said 'To the camp,' but there was a look in Clint's eyes that made Alison shift in her seat.

  She was relieved when the first course was served, a delicately flavoured rack of lamb, with new potatoes done in a parsley butter sauce and mushrooms marinated in wine sauce.

  'I was working on Timmy Roscoe's file this morning,' she told Clint, glad to be turning the subject away from herself. 'I see he was injured in a motor accident.'

  'Right. It occurred very soon after he'd been enrolled at camp. Poor little kid—he was travelling with his parents when their car was hit by a drunken driver. They're lucky to all be alive.'

  'But his parents are still in hospital?'

  'They were quite badly hurt, yes. Timmy was lucky to get away with a broken leg. He's staying with relatives now.'

  'The plaster cast has been removed, hasn't it?'

  'Yes, it came off recently.'

  'Poor little mite, he's only ten,' Alison said sympathetically. 'He must be feeling so confused and frightened. I wonder how many camp activities he'll be able to participate in?'

  'Most of them. He may feel a bit fragile for a while, but his leg is basically all right now. Timmy's aunt and uncle considered withdrawing him from the camp, but his parents still wanted him to come. Fortunately, Virginia—our camp director—will know how to handle him. She knows a lot about children.'

  'Really?''She's studied a fair bit of child psychology, and she does a good job of running the camp for me.'

  It was said with such confidence in Virginia. Virginia, who had probably been something more than friends with Clint, if Alison had understood Jenny correctly. Alison had a sudden picture of Virginia—clever, beautiful, sophisticated, tremendously sexy.

  'It doesn't take psychology to help a hurt child,' she said.

  'It helps.'

  'I would think hugs and kisses are more important than psychology,' Alison said thoughtfully.

  Clint looked taken aback for a moment. 'You've got something there. But don't underrate Virginia. She's very competent.'

  'I'm sure she is,' she agreed.

  'She's been leading the camp for years. And that's very important to me, because the hotels quite often take me away from Bushveld.'

  Alison played with the food on her plate. 'It must be a relief to know you have competent staff.'

  'It is,' Clint agreed. 'But I didn't bring you here to talk about Timmy and Virginia. If you've finished your lamb, I want to dance with you.'

  Alison hesitated, wanting to refuse him. If she meant to remain detached from all men, the last thing she should be doing was to dance with this one particular, too attractive man.

  He was watching her. 'You do dance, don't you?'

  Raymond and Edna would be dancing tonight, celebrating their future. It was ridiculous for Alison to sit around and be miserable. Have fun, Jenny had said.

  So she smiled at Clint across the table, her eyes glowing in the candlelight. 'I adore dancing,' she admitted.

  The band was enthusiastic. The music was quick and loud, the dances lively. Best of all, they were dances that did not require touching. It came as no surprise to Alison to find that Clint was lithe on his feet. As she laughed at him across the safe space that separated them, she couldn't think when last she'd had such a good time.

  The band stopped playing for a while, and Alison and Clint went back to their table for strawberries and cream and more wine. When the music started again, Clint
cocked an eye in the direction of the dance-floor, and this time Alison needed no persuading.

  And then the mood of the music changed. It became slower, more mellow—golden oldies meant for closeness, for dreaming. For the first time, Clint held Alison in his arms while they danced. Somewhere deep inside her a voice sounded a warning, but the good food and all the wine had had an effect on her, so that the warning was no more than a murmur.

  She made no protest when Clint's lips touched her hair, and he drew her against him. She actually found herself enjoying the sensuous movements of the long male body against hers. With the wine dulling her mind, she only knew that it felt good to be close to Clint.

  Shock hit her when the band began to play 'In the Mood'. Their song—hers and Raymond's. And then Clint begun to hum the tune against her ear, just as Raymond used to do.

  She pushed against Clint, who said, 'Relax,' and went on humming as he drew her closer against him. Alison was distraught now. It didn't matter that it was Clint who was humming and not Raymond. She only knew that she couldn't bear it—not tonight of all nights.

  So upset was she that she didn't stop to wonder what Clint would think as she twisted out of his arms and hurried from the dance-floor. There was only one thought in her mind—she had to be alone.

  Clint came after her. 'Wait!' he was saying as she grabbed her bag, but she didn't hear him. She was only intent on getting out of the place.

  She didn't see the curious glances of the other guests as she rushed headlong from the dining-room and through the lobby of the hotel. She didn't notice the darkness outside. She didn't even notice the isolation as she began to run, awkwardly on her high heels, in the direction of the camp some five miles down the road.

  When the lights of a car came on her from behind, she shrank into the darkness at the side of the road.

  The car shrieked to a halt. A door opened, banged shut, then someone bore down on Alison—an intensely angry man, who didn't seem in the least affected by the sight of the girl quivering like a small wounded animal in the bushes.

  'You little fool!' he shouted. 'Get in the car!'

  She put out her hands to ward him off. 'No...'

  'This minute!'