by Diana Fraser
“What a mess,” she muttered.
“What’s a mess?” asked Gabe, as he entered the kitchen. “Not your food, I assume.” He opened the fridge, took out a chicken leg and began eating. “No,” he said with his mouth full. “Definitely not your cooking.”
“What are you doing here at this hour anyway? Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I’ve been on a home visit and was passing so I thought I’d drop in.”
“To eat the contents of our fridge?”
“No. To invite you to dinner.” He walked over to the door. “Tonight. Five-thirty my place.”
“Five-thirty? That’s not dinner, that’s…”
But there was no point finishing her sentence because Gabe hadn’t waited for an answer and was already walking across the grass to his car. “See you later then,” he called before getting into the car.
Rachel drummed her fingers on a copper bottomed pan as she watched her kind, but interfering, brother roar off down the road in his old bomb of a car.
Gabe never invited her to dinner in such a formal way. His was an open house for her and their family, always had been and, she hoped, always would be. Gabe’s lack of private life was public knowledge, not that he seemed to mind. Rachel sometimes wondered if he minded anything. If he did, he hid it well. Whatever Gabe’s reason for inviting her, she was glad. She was tired of being alone with her own thoughts which refused to stop tormenting her.
With dinner prepared for her father who declined to join her and Gabe, she left her father happily sorting out his drinks cabinet which he seemed to think would be required when the place was descended on by the film crew the following week. She walked the twenty minutes to Akaroa, along the water front. She made a detour down Rue Jolie past the school and the adjoining field where some boys were kicking a ball around. She looked away again, annoyed with herself for her obsession, and turned down Church Street toward the old Telegraph Office which was now Gabe’s home and practice.
The stone building with its ornate arch and pediment over the front door was an incongruous choice for Gabe, who was modest to a fault. But the door and the two large sash windows, which sat either side, opened up directly onto the pavement and had an amazing sea view. A window was invariably wide open from which, out of practice hours, music generally flowed, as it did now. It suited Gabe because he liked people, and he liked to live amongst them, even if he did live on his own.
Rachel raised her hand to give a cursory knock on the door but the door opened before her hand hit the varnished wood.
“Beat you to it.” Gabe grinned. He stood back, one hand clutching a file which barely contained a bundle of obviously unsorted papers.
Rachel gave Gabe a kiss on the cheek and lifted his hand with the overflowing file. “When are you going to get yourself an assistant?”
“When I find someone who can do the job without trying to organize me, too.”
Rachel proceeded through to the comfortable lounge which also served as a study and opened out onto the small courtyard. “By organize, I’m guessing you mean want to marry you.”
“Twice it’s happened in the last six months, would you believe?” He dumped the pile of papers onto another pile on top of his desk.
“I would. You’re a nice guy.”
He mumbled something and poured her a glass of wine.
“Isn’t it a bit early for wine?”
He passed her hers and poured himself one and took a sip. “No.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“You’ll see.”
Butterflies danced in her stomach. “So, you are up to something.”
“Mrs Jones put a crockpot on and prepared some veggies.” He took another swig, glanced at the clock and reached for his jacket.
Rachel jumped up. “Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “House call or something.”
“Gabe!” But before he’d a chance to escape, there was a brief knock at the door, followed by the sound of the door opening, and footsteps coming towards them. Zane stepped into the room, looking as shocked as she felt
“Zane, good to see you, mate,” said Gabe. “I have to leave now. But I’m sure my sister will entertain you until I get back.”
Rachel glared at Gabe who didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.
Zane took one look at Rachel and placed a six-pack of beer on the table and stepped away again. “Look, Gabe, I’ll come back another time.”
“Not at all. Dinner’s ready and Mrs Jones would be deeply hurt if you didn’t try her beef casserole. She made it especially for you.” He hesitated, before deciding more persuasion was needed. “She’s very fond of you, you know. She asked that you tell her whether you liked it with the tomatoes.” Gabe cleared his throat, obviously making it up as he went along. “Or not.”
Rachel shook her head in disbelief. Gabe knew Zane would have done a 360 and walked straight out if it was left up to him. And he also knew that Zane’s reluctance to hurt anyone—especially Mrs Jones—would make him stop in his tracks, at least long enough to let Gabe get away.
Gabe shot Rachel a half-apologetic, half-hopeful look. Maybe it was for the best, thought Rachel. It would give Zane a chance to apologize.
“And you wouldn’t want to lie to Mrs Jones when you see her at school tomorrow, would you, Zane?” asked Rachel with a smile. As well as being devoted to Gabe, Mrs Jones was a dinner lady at the school and notoriously fierce.
“Anyway, I’ll see you guys later. I… have to go.” Gabe left the house, banging the door shut, and walked up the street.
“Doesn’t sound as if your brother needs a car to get him to his next appointment.”
“No. I’m guessing his appointment is taking him to the pub up the road for his dinner.”
Zane stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around uncomfortably. “He’s never pulled anything like this on me before.”
“Me neither. I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She chewed her lip indecisively. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”
“Bit early isn’t it?”
She laughed. “That’s what I said. But, to be honest, I think Gabe has something there. I think I need one.”
“Me, too. Except make mine a beer.”
Her hand shook slightly as she poured a glass of beer for Zane. She was conscious of the space he occupied in the room. He was like one giant mass of energy, sexual energy at that. She had the strange feeling she was being drawn to him. That if she let down her guard, she’d physically sway toward him. Ridiculous! As she handed him his drink, their fingers brushed and she jumped back as if burned.
“Is everything all right?” Zane asked.
She shrugged and walked determinedly back to the kitchen bench and took hold of her wine, her other arm wrapping defensively across her waist. “As all right as anything is when you feel you’ve been tricked by your brother.”
“We don’t have to do this, you know, not if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine. I’d quite like to hear you apologize.”
“Me, apologize? I thought you were.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, placed her drink back on the kitchen bench and walked toward the door. “Then maybe we should quit right now.”
Rachel got as far as Zane before he reached out and touched her arm. It was a gentle touch, but it might as well have been a metal trap, because there was no way she could move. She was aware only of the heat of his touch against her naked arm.
“Look, Rachel, this is crazy stuff. Gabe’s right. We need to clear the air.”
She looked up from under her long lashes, her default expression when trying to hide her thoughts. Perhaps Zane really did feel something for her. “Maybe.”
“I mean,” Zane continued. “We’ll be seeing each other around Akaroa until you leave, so we may as well make it as easy for ourselves as possible.”
“Oh,” she said, unable to stop the disappointment entering her voice. “Of course.�
�� She was getting hotter and more flustered by the minute. Rachel Connelly, professional chef and show business personality, never got flustered. “Let’s go outside, shall we?”
Without waiting for an answer she pushed open the doors and sat on one of the wrought iron chairs grouped around a table under a sheltering arbor of pink and white jasmine. In an effort to improve their appearance, Amber had painted the rusting chairs white after Gabe had taken exception to the pink she favored, but they remained uncomfortable and rickety. Gabe probably hadn’t noticed as he preferred to sit on the doorstep. Zane sat, looking too large for the delicate chair, and spectacularly ill at ease.
Rachel was determined not to be the first one to speak. If he was still expecting an apology from her then he had a long wait ahead of him. She looked steadily across the small brick courtyard, through which tufts of alyssum and straggling weeds emerged, toward the hills, just visible above the fence. The silence lengthened and she took another sip of wine and crossed her legs, jiggling them in irritation.
Then Zane placed his hand on her knee and she jumped, lifting her startled gaze to his calm, resigned one.
“Rachel, stop jiggling. You’re driving me nuts.”
“I’ll jiggle if I want to,” she said, trying to force her leg to move, which it now proved quite unwilling to do.
He took his hand from her leg and she wondered if it would be inappropriate of her to take it and place it back where it belonged again. She decide that, on balance, it would.
“It’s just that I want to apologize and the sight of your skirt shifting up your leg is proving distracting.”
“Oh.” She pulled her dress down a little. Her leg was no longer jiggling.
He brought his chair around to face her. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I’ve been an idiot. All you’ve been guilty of is doing what you agreed to do, and more.”
“That’s what I thought you asked me to do.”
“Yes, I realize that now. But I had no idea about what you really did for a living.”
“That makes it sound shady. Like I have some illegal business on the side.”
“I guess I made it sound shady, because that’s how I feel about the world of celebrity. I hate it. I hated living it as an All Black, I hated seeing what it did to the celebrities themselves, and I hated seeing what it did to people who hung on their every word and action, and thought and deed. It’s a shallow life which brings out the worst in people. People pretend things they don’t feel so as they can be a part of that world.”
“I know it can be like that, Zane, and I’ve been used like that, like you have, by the sounds of things. But you live and learn a little, and there are parts of my job I absolutely love. It’s fun for one thing, it’s educative for another, and, yes, I guess I enjoy being a bit of a show-woman, putting on an act.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t make me shallow. Think of it as a kind of amateur dramatics, like Dad enjoys—the kind of comedy farce which The Little Theatre puts on during the summer.”
“I over-reacted.” He shot her a rueful smile.
“Yes. And some. I mean, you did tell me about your ex and how she liked the limelight and how you didn’t. But I hadn’t imagined it would have such a drastic effect on you.”
He grunted. “It’s all or nothing with me.”
“But”—she grimaced and looked up at him—“life’s not really like that though, is it? People aren’t black and white, and nor are situations.” He didn’t answer and she thought he had simply dismissed her remark. “I mean…I do understand. I’ve been in the same situation as that and it turns your world upside down, doesn’t it?” Still no response. “Makes you doubt everything, including yourself. Especially yourself.”
He settled on her a narrowed, assessing gaze. “I’ve never doubted myself.”
“Well, lucky you.”
“And I don’t know why you doubt yourself. You’re an intelligent, charming, beautiful woman. Why would you?”
She grinned. “Tell me that again and I might answer you.”
He tipped his head to one side and shook it. “I’d like to know the answer to my question.”
She sucked in a steadying breath. “Okay. There’s other stuff that’s gone on in my life, other things which I now realize had been causing a certain amount of self-destructive behavior.”
Zane’s frown deepened. “What do you mean, self-destructive?”
“Nothing like drugs. I’m way too frightened of that stuff to do anything like that. No, I mean in terms of the choices I’ve made with men. It’s like, I knew they were doomed from the beginning. I knew they didn’t want me for who I was, because I didn’t like me, particularly.”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re one of the loveliest people I’ve ever met. I mean I know we haven’t known each other long, but I can tell. I’ve experienced enough in my life to know bullshit when I hear it, and to recognize quality when I see it.” He squeezed her hand. “And you’re definitely quality.”
She tore her gaze from his and rose from the chair. But before she could move away, she realized he was still holding her hand and it didn’t seem he was in a hurry to let it go.
“Rachel, don’t turn away from acknowledging how good you are. You should accept the compliment for the truth it is. You should accept it, and know it, and believe it. Only then can you move forward.”
She pressed her lips together to stop them from quivering. No one had said such things to her before. Her brothers had tried, but it had never come out right. Her sisters also had, but they were her sisters, weren’t they?
“Okay. Cool. I can do this. I’m… quality.” She grinned. “I like that. It sounds like I should have a red sash with a seal of approval on it.”
He laughed. “You should.” Then his smile dropped. “You should treat yourself like a most treasured object. Hold yourself gently, ensure you’re always safe and regarded tenderly.”
She exhaled. “You don’t talk like a sports coach.”
He grinned. “I do when I’m on the field. But now isn’t the time for yelling at you to get out of the mud and carry on.” He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand he still held. “Although, on second thoughts, it might be worth a try.”
Rachel laughed. “I think I prefer the ‘tender regard’ speech better.”
He stood up and brushed his hands lightly up her arms before resting them on her shoulders. “Have we sorted it, Rachel? Have you forgiven me for being such a complete and utter fool as to be angry with you when all you’d done was your very best to please me and the school?”
She cocked her head to one side. “I reckon. But maybe all that you said to me, you should say back to yourself. Maybe you haven’t recovered from your breakup with your ex as well as you think you have.”
“Oh, I have. She’s past, long gone.”
“But you run from anyone who reminds you of her.”
“Okay, you probably have a point. It was an instinctive reaction. But I know better than to do that again.”
“Do you? Why’s that?”
“Because,” he said, lifting her chin upwards. “I won’t be able to do this.” His kiss was as gentle and as tender as if he were treating her like the treasure he called her. It melted her from the lips down, until she thought her legs would give way. A problem which was sorted by Zane placing his hands firmly around her until he was supporting her with his arms and his body. No one had a right to taste so good, or kiss so good, Rachel thought lazily as she met his tongue along her lips with her own. Any thought of a brief kiss was instantly gone as her mouth opened under his like a flower at its first glimpse of sunlight. She wanted all he had to offer, as if she’d suffered too long under a long dark winter and was cold and needy for warmth and love.
Any last remaining traces of anger, resentment or confusion evaporated under the heat of his kiss. She wanted to dissolve under its intensity, wanted to become one with him desperately. It wasn’t until he pulled away that she realized how much she wanted this, and how hard s
he’d pressed her body against his. Her hips were pressed against his. She didn’t even remember leaning into him. Her body had responded of its own accord. She tried to pull away but his hands moved over her butt, keeping her firmly in place as he kissed her once more, and any thought of moving away vanished.
With the firm, commanding feel of his hands against her body, his mouth taking control of hers and his unmistakable arousal pressed against her belly, it was all she could do to stay standing. She felt he could have done anything to her then and she’d have been a willing party to it. As he pulled away once more, his eyes roving her face, his lips nipping her ear and her neck, she whimpered with desire.
“Christ…” he murmured against her neck.
“Kiss me again,” she said.
There was a clatter of garden furniture way too close. Both of them pulled apart and looked over the brick wall.
“Hey, you two, there’s a time and a place for that and it’s not in the backyard while I’m trying to eat fish and chips!” The disgruntled neighbor glared at them, wrapped up his dinner and took it inside his house, slamming the door as he went.
They fell, laughing, against each other. He lifted her chin.
“I don’t know how Gabe stands it,” she whispered. “He doesn’t seem to care about privacy.”
“Well, I do. Maybe we should continue inside?”
She nodded and he grabbed her hand and they went running inside and closed the door. They got no further than the door, against which Rachel was pinned by Zane’s arms, as his mouth found hers in yet more passionate kisses. He took her trembling hand and pulled her into the nearest room—the bedroom—and they fell to the bed, kissing and holding each other.
He pulled away and swept her hair back from her face, his gaze sweeping her eyes, her nose, and her lips, his thumb sweeping over her lower full lip, exactly where his own lips had so recently been. He rose and pulled her to her feet. “Now, where’s this food Gabe promised?”
“Food? You want food?”