by Diana Fraser
He buried the ax in the wood and stood up straight. The sight was even more arresting. “Rachel!”
That man, that body, with her name on his lips.
“Zane!” Her voice was croaky and she cleared her throat. “Zane!” she called, more decisively, and walked over to him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Particularly only partially clothed, she thought as she tried to restrain her gaze from wandering all over his glorious body.
He grinned as if he could read her mind and stepped toward her. “I’m away tomorrow so thought I’d make a start on the firewood.”
“Good idea,” she said, maybe too appreciatively. She tried to focus. “Thanks for doing all of this. I’ve been worried that tree would fall down on the house in winter but Dad wouldn’t let the boys touch it.”
“I guess me not being his son made it easier for him to agree. No threat, different approach. There are different ways to go about something, and it’s not always so easy when there’s a relationship at stake.”
“I guess you’re right.”
He glanced at the pile of wood. “I’m just about finished. It didn’t take long to get it down. Pretty rotten, but it’ll make good firewood.”
He stepped toward her again and she stepped back, afraid of what she’d do if she came too close to him. “Would you like a drink? Something long and cool?”
“That would be great. I’ll tidy up here and then come up to the house.”
She nodded, unable to think of a thing to say as her mind lingered on his body. “I’ll have a drink waiting on the dock. It’s coolest there this time of day.” She walked up the steps of the house, willing the heat to leave her cheeks. She kept checking on him through the window while she changed into her bikini and sarong, before preparing a tray of snacks and drinks. Once done she continued to watch him, this time looking at his attitude, his face, so focused on what he was doing. He was full of intention and deliberate in his movements. It fitted with her first impressions of him.
He finished up and she backed away from the window. She grabbed the tray and walked outside and across the short lawn to the sandy bay and the dock that projected into the water. It was high tide and the water lapped around, sending cooling air up from below the slatted wood.
She was acutely aware of the sound of his movements as he walked from the front of the property around the back, toward the dock. She could have sworn she felt his eyes on her as she set down the tray and sat down, her back against one of the pilings and one of the cushions which were strewn around the low rail.
She held up a glass of water and a beer as he approached. “I wasn’t sure which you’d like.”
“Both.” He grinned. He downed the water in one and took the beer from her and sat down opposite. She wished he’d sat beside her, because then she wouldn’t have to fight the urge to look at every inch of his body.
“So what have you been up to today?” he asked.
She thought briefly of the conversation she’d had with her father, of the lack of success looking at the school, and was sick of it all. “Wasting time.”
He raised his eyebrow. “You know how the saying goes… you’ll never get it back.”
“Yeah. I know. And it’s right. I bet you don’t waste time.”
“No. I’ve too much to do. But maybe you have, too. Sometimes people need time to think.”
“I’ve done too much thinking and not enough acting.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “You sound different. Had a rough day?”
“You could say that.” She took a sip of the wine she’d bought and sighed. “I’ve been trying to do the impossible, Zane, and I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that I should restrict myself to the possible. It’s a whole lot simpler, not to say more successful.”
“And so what’s possible for you at the moment?”
She shrugged and held up the glass of wine. “Enjoying a glass of wine in the sun in good company,” she said evasively.
He smiled, satisfied, and took a swig of his beer. “I’m good company, eh?”
“Sure are.”
“Good. Because so are you.”
She took another sip of wine and felt a welcome lightness drift over her. “Really? All I’ve done is talk you into some hard labour on our land. Not sure that’s so good. Not for you, at least.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s better than working out in a sweaty gym and besides…”
He didn’t finish the sentence and she looked up at him. “Besides?”
“The sight of you in your swimming togs sure beats the sight of… well just about anything else I can think of.” He grinned, narrowed his gaze out to the gray-blue hills on the opposite side of the wide harbor, and took a swig of beer.
She tried to hide her blush by looking down at her feet which nervously toyed with her jandals, as her hair fell like curtains over her face. She cleared her throat. “Swimming togs? It’s a Stella McCartney bikini, I’ll have you know.”
“Um.” He glanced quickly at her and then straight back out to the horizon. “That mesh bit at the top is nice.”
It was also see-through, to the tops of her breasts anyway. This time Rachel knew that no amount of waiting would cool her down.
She jumped up. “I’m going for a swim.”
She jumped off the dock and swam out across the calm water. There was a splash and the sound of strong arms slicing through the water as Zane wasted no time in following her. She continued until she was out of her depth. The water was cooler here, much cooler, and she lifted her bottom and dived down, her fingers brushing along the sandy floor. When she surfaced she found Zane directly in front of her. Her legs faltered and she dropped in the water. In an instant he reached out for her and held her. He wasn’t out of his depth.
“Hey, I can swim.”
“You appeared to be sinking then.”
“That’s only because you distracted me.”
“Um, maybe I should distract you some more.” Before she could answer, or maybe her lips which opened immediately were answer enough, he’d brought her towards him and she drifted through the water, and bumped against his body. His large hands slipped around her waist and for one long moment she thought he was going to kiss her and she could have sworn she stopped breathing. But then his grip tightened, his lips quirked at the corners and he lifted her up and threw her up into the air. She landed with a yelp and a splash on her back. Allowing herself to sink down to the bottom, she swam a few long strokes under water. She could see through the water that the disturbed sand had hidden her progress. Quickly she hooked both hands around his ankle and pulled. If he hadn’t been twisted around, checking to see where she’d gone, he’d have stayed put. As it was, he fell down to the bottom and reached out to grab her. She pushed off and swam strongly back to shore, with Zane hard on her heels.
He thrust his fingers through his short hair as he waded toward her on the shore. “No one’s got the better of me swimming since I was a kid.”
Laughing, she reached for her towel. “You forget I was raised here, as much at home in the water as out of it. I know this shoreline like the back of my hand.”
He reached out and took her hand and pretended to scrutinize it. “Not such a big hand, it would be easy to know.”
He dropped it again.
“You reckon?” She squinted up at him, the sunlight directly behind, obscuring his expression.
“Yeah, I reckon.”
She couldn’t help it. The challenge was there in his eyes, in his voice, and all she wanted to do was meet it. She bridged the space between them in an instant. He stilled, his lids lowered as they looked down at her with an impenetrable gaze. Whatever its meaning, it had only one effect on her and that her mind had no chance of controlling.
She pressed her hand against his chest, hot and wet against her soft palm. It rose as he inhaled sharply.
“Rachel,” he said, his voice low with warning.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Zan
e?” She’d intended something light and innocent, but it emerged husky and full of promise. She swallowed and smoothed her hand upward across his chest, feeling each movement across the springy hairs and the contoured muscles acutely. Suddenly he clamped his hand over hers and she looked away from his chest, up into his eyes.
“Rachel,” he growled again. “What are you doing?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious. Touching you.”
“Why?”
She shrugged and grinned. “Maybe… to seduce you?”
He pulled her hand away from him, his fingers thrusting between hers before gripping it firmly. “You want to seduce me, here, now? You want me to throw you to the ground and ravish you? Hey? Is that your idea?” His tone was gruff and disapproving.
“You say that like it’s a bad idea.”
“That’s because it is.” He shifted her hand so he held it tight between both of his. “I don’t do casual. Not any more. I want to get to know you”—he smoothed his finger over the back of her hand—“and your hand, much better before we go any further.”
“Oh.” The word had no capacity to convey both how disappointed and yet how thrilled she was at the same time.
“I’m going now. I’ll be away for the rest of the week but I’ll see you Saturday at the fundraiser, yes?” He took her hand, glanced at it and kissed it, his lips grazing her still wet skin.
“Yes. Definitely, yes,” she breathed.
He grinned and walked away, picking up his shirt as he did so. She followed him slowly up to the house which he by-passed, walking up to the drive and out onto the road beyond. He’d take the short-cut over the hills to the marae. She stood and watched him. He turned only once and gave her a brief wave.
Oh boy, she was smitten. Even more so by his control and ability to hold off where she’d have dived straight in. This man had control. This man had the ability to disarm her like no other.
Rachel had forgotten how much she enjoyed her business. The school had worked hard on setting up the stage to make it look identical to Rachel’s usual TV set, complete with accessories and a backdrop of the Wellington skyline, and the place was packed with locals and people from as far as Christchurch, come to see New Zealand’s premier TV chef in action.
All Rachel could see was a sea of faces and she flicked her hair as she usually did with her trademark flirtation and began the show. Her inner diva had made a quick appearance and she was soon going full steam ahead, with the chat, the jokes and above all the food. This was what she knew; this was what she was good at. Soon people were literally eating out of the palm of her hand, laughter and good spirits filled the air and, from the look of the organizers’ huge smiles, the money was flowing in. Rachel cast another quick look around. She’d have seen Zane if he were there, being taller than everyone else, but he wasn’t. She felt disappointed. Maybe something had kept him. He’d come later, she reassured herself. She hadn’t imagined any of the desire she’d seen and heard in him. He’d be there, he’d said he would. But part of her wanted him to see her in action, doing what she was good at. Part of her, a whole big part, wanted to impress him.
* * *
He should have walked to the school, Zane told himself, as he tried once more to find a car park. It was never this busy. There were cars everywhere—parked illegally, parked all the way down the road and around the corners onto the main street. In the end he parked at a mate’s house and had to walk the half hour back to school.
He walked quickly. He was looking forward to seeing Rachel. His evening with her had changed things for him. She was totally gorgeous but she also had a vulnerability and softness which appealed strongly to him. Not to mention the sweetness. He’d told her that Amber was sweet. What he hadn’t told her was that he thought she was, too. It had taken all his willpower to return straight home from her house the last time he’d seen her.
The only contact he’d had with the school during his week away had been from one of the organizers of the fundraiser, thanking him for getting Rachel involved, and the great news about the bookings for some show or other. He didn’t know what. So he had no idea that the fundraiser would be so popular. Whatever Rachel was cooking for the stalls was obviously going down well.
He looked around the stalls and games in the school grounds, and frowned. For all the cars, there didn’t seem to be many people in the playground or fields. Only some kids playing ball and a few people talking. They glanced across at him and greeted him as he walked by. He paused on the steps to the hall and looked around. Where was everyone? And then he heard cheers and laughter coming from inside the hall, and a voice coming from a microphone, loud and clear—Rachel’s voice.
A prickle of surprise ran through him. He didn’t like surprises. He liked to control his environment, he liked to understand his family and friends and be able to anticipate their moves. It was instinctive but also something honed on the rugby field under the pressure of high-profile games. And this he neither expected, nor liked. He walked slowly up the steps, unsure what he’d see inside the hall.
He stood at the back, in the shadow of a pillar, and followed the eyes of everyone else in the crowded room, to the stage where someone who looked like Rachel, someone who spoke in Rachel’s voice, commanded the stage. It was her, but it wasn’t her. She held herself differently, she spoke in a different way, she interacted with people differently. Instead of the self-possessed but wary person he knew, he was looking at someone flirtatious and, he had to admit, fun. As he listened to her cooking instructions, combined with banter from the audience, and personal observations, he felt unsettled by this very public display of her charm.
“She’s great, isn’t she?” asked one of his nieces who had come bounding up to him. “I didn’t know you knew her.”
“Do you know her?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. Everyone knows her. She’s on TV every Saturday with her cookery programme.”
“What?”
His niece looked pityingly at her uncle. “You’d know that, Uncle Zane, if you ever watched TV.”
He leaned his head back with a clunk against the pillar.
“And she’s in—or used to be in—all the celebrity magazines. But, come to think of it, I haven’t seen her in the press for a few months… or even longer. Not since that stupid ex posted some photos of her on Facebook.”
“Photos… Facebook,” said Zane faintly.
“Yeah. Nude apparently. Not that many people saw them. They were taken down pretty damn smart. But I guess they’re still around if you want to find them.” She looked up at Zane. “Don’t tell me you want to find them, Zane?”
“No, I do not!” he replied indignantly.
She grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you don’t need to.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean.” She laughed and jumped out the way before teasing her uncle became a physical sport.
But Zane wasn’t in the mood for reprimanding his niece. All he could think about as he stared at the stranger on the stage, was that the woman he’d thought he was coming to know had now appeared in public and revealed herself to be a completely different person—a public person. One who lived her life in the gossip columns and women’s magazines. Someone a million miles from the person he thought he knew, from the person he wanted. He backed away. He’d left that life behind him after his fiancée dumped him. He’d left that life behind him after he turned his back on the job as sports coach and commentator. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted real. And the woman performing on the stage now was the opposite of that.
He looked away as Rachel’s glance caught his own and walked down the steps and out into the bright sunshine of the playground. A few of the kids from his extended family were kicking a ball around the playing field and an uncle sat on a bench talking to a friend. He looked around the hills and out toward the water. This was his home. These were his people. That, in there, was nothing to do with him.
<
br /> 4
Zane was half way toward the school gate before he stopped himself. What was he doing? Okay, so the woman he was becoming obsessed with had turned out different to what he’d imagined. It wasn’t like that hadn’t happened before.
He looked around. People were beginning to emerge from the hall, smiles on their faces. It didn’t look like they regretted paying for their ticket—however much that was. He plucked a programme from a nearby bench and read it through. He’d provided the rough draft but hadn’t seen it in its final form. Completely different from his draft, the front page was now plastered with Rachel’s professional photograph, in a kitchen setting and marked ‘as seen on TV’. Then his gaze dropped to the admission price and he let out a low whistle. A quick calculation made him realize that the fundraiser had been an outstanding success.
“Zane!” He looked up to see the school principal, Ian, beckoning him over. He was talking to Rachel who kept glancing at Zane with a nervous smile.
Zane had no option but to approach Ian. Not because he was his boss, but because of the look in Rachel’s eyes. But no amount of confusion could make him reassure her.
“Rachel.” He greeted her coolly.
“Zane.” Her smile wilted.
Ian clapped Zane on the back. “I want to thank you for persuading Rachel to help out here. She was fantastic. Everyone loved her. And the money has come rolling in. No more fundraising required, Zane, for this trip, nor the next. That must be music to your ears.”
Zane felt none of Ian’s joy, only a steely determination not to have his plans changed. He had no intention of letting this publicity circus change his plans for his kids. “We’ll continue fundraising. It’s as much for the kids as for the money.”