by Diana Fraser
“Maybe I don’t want to escape.” She wasn’t joking either.
The waiter cleared his throat and they both looked round. With a smile at Zane, Rachel slid her finger from his grip. It slid easily. He had no need to hold on tight, and, she guessed, he’d never try. Women would come willingly to him, and willingly stay. She liked that.
“How about you order for us, Rachel,” said Zane, closing the menu.
“Sure.” She glanced at the menu, and ordered something quick and easy for them both. She didn’t want a protracted lunch, there were other places she’d rather be. And, from the look in Zane’s eyes, he agreed.
“Thank you.” She smiled at the waiter who grinned back.
Zane watched the interaction. “You’re lovely with people, you know that?”
“Aren’t most people?”
“No, they’re not.” He considered her for a few moments. “Especially when they’re famous. People tend to forget about other people then. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t imagine, when I first met you, that you were famous.”
“It could also be something to do with the fact you rarely watch TV and have zero interest in gossip.”
“It’s not only that. Fame usually brings out the worst in people. But, for some reason, not with you. Or, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it does.”
“How so?”
“Maybe your worst is better than most people’s best.”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
His face suddenly went serious. “No, I’m not. I really like you, Rachel. More than like. I respect you.”
He sat back in his chair and took a sip of water, waiting for her to reply. She didn’t know what response to give. She felt his compliment more deeply than any of her exes proclaiming undying lust for her. “Respect… is good,” she said at last.
“It’s a good basis to work forward from.”
“And you want to work forward? With me?”
“Yes. Most definitely. How do you feel? I mean, I know you’ve had a rough time in the past with men and coming down here was one way to get away from all of that.” He paused, waiting for her to speak, but she was too charmed by his consideration. “And…” He took a deep breath. “I understand that you might not want to begin a relationship.” Another pause and his eyes narrowed this time. “Rachel,” he warned. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
She warred with herself. How could she resist this man? And yet he was right, on more levels than he knew. “Honestly? I don’t know. Life’s complicated.”
“It can always be simplified.”
“Not easily.”
“Why? Is there someone in Wellington?”
“No, there’s no one in Wellington.”
“Then, what is it?”
She should tell him now. Tell him about her child. Tell him that she suspected he would know her daughter, at least know of her, and where Rachel could find her. But after he’d said he respected her, he might believe she’d used him, and she couldn’t bear to see herself lowered in his eyes.
“No,” said Zane. “Don’t tell me. It’s your business. Now”—he looked up as their meals were placed before them—“let’s eat.”
Zane continued to talk, to fill the silence, and slowly the knot of anxiety over her secret—the secret she would tell Zane, but later—unwound. Zane kept the conversation light and flirtatious and an hour passed easily and enjoyably. It wasn’t until the dessert menu was presented that things hotted up again.
She glanced at Zane over the top of the menu and caught his gaze. “What do you fancy?”
All she could see were his eyes, which crinkled at the corner at her question. And one raised eyebrow. She cleared her throat, not waiting for his answer. “I hear the sorbet is wonderful here.”
Zane glanced at the menu, closed it and placed it on the table and leaned over to her. “What I want is something wonderful that will melt in my mouth.”
Rachel really hadn’t imagined he could say anything that would turn her on further. But it seemed he could. She sat back and grabbed the menu and fanned her face. “Zane!” She shot him a warning glance. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Do what?” he asked in mock innocence. He took a sip of water and Rachel could see he was as aroused as she was.
“You know exactly what.”
He licked his lips and Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off them, as she imagined parts of her melting under his tongue. He slipped his foot alongside hers. The heat of his body traveled up her legs. She groaned. “Zane,” she warned. He pressed his leg against hers. “If you do that, I can’t guarantee I won’t leap across this table and climb into your arms.”
His leg stayed as he digested the thought. He pressed his leg closer. “I’d kind of like to see that.”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t! I really don’t believe you’d appreciate images of me and you going viral on the internet.” She indicated a nearby table where both occupants were busy with their cell phones. “It wouldn’t take a moment for one of them to be pointed on us and the whole thing to become public knowledge.”
He sighed and pulled away his leg from hers. He sat back on the chair, his face relaxed with a smile, the sun catching the left side of his face, and his brown eyes. He’d rolled his white shirt sleeves up and the sea breeze ruffled his hair which had grown a shade too long. It was all she could do to not walk over and sit in his lap and kiss him, even after all she’d said.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he asked.
“I’m thinking… that…” She thought better of revealing her thoughts. “That I can’t decide between the ice-cream and the sorbet.”
“You want something to cool you down?”
“I think so.”
“Um,” he said. “Come to think of it, I have some ice-cream in the freezer at home. Care to try out my culinary genius at home?”
It was exactly what she cared to do. “That would be nice.”
“Good. I have to drop by the school first, and then I’ll take you back to my place and woo you further with creamy New Zealand ice cream, straight from the supermarket.”
“Wonderful,” she murmured, her mind not on the ice cream.
“But, I have to say, I kind of like you hot and bothered.”
* * *
Watching Rachel’s breasts heave as he brushed his knee inside hers, had Zane even more eager to leave. Okay, he might have wanted to take his time getting to know Rachel, but a week without her was quite enough. Seeing her so relaxed, so beautiful and so damn sexy, had him anxious to get her home with him. Alone, for once. But he had to pick up some papers he needed to grade before school on Monday.
He paid the bill and walked back to the car, his arm around her waist. He didn’t care who saw, only that they knew that he was with her. He felt possessive for once. She got into the car and he was immediately aware of her fragrance. He took a deep breath and let his gaze slip to her legs where her dress had ridden up. Slim, tanned. He could almost feel her as if his hand were sliding up…
She locked in the seatbelt and looked at him with a smile as if knowing what thoughts had passed through his mind. And not only knew them, but acknowledged her mind was tending the same way. He hoped not, otherwise they’d be making love in the car, at the side of a busy street.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll make it a brief stop at the school.”
He pulled up the car, glanced around to make sure there were no stray cell phones pointing their way, and gave her a long, lingering kiss. She groaned with a need which he was only too aware of himself. “I won’t be long.”
* * *
Rachel watched him walk quickly across to the administration block. It was hot in the car so she stepped out and wandered inside the school grounds. It was recess and all the kids were playing in the yard and out in the adjacent field. She sat down on a bench and looked around. Any of these kids could be hers. Any one of them. Her eyes lingered on one girl bossily telling a group how to do something. She smiled. Exc
ept for the blonde curly hair, she could have been her daughter.
Then her eyes moved on to a girl sitting quietly in the corner reading, twiddling her plait as she did so. She had thick dark hair and when she glanced up nervously, her eyes were wide and large, like Rachel’s. But if Rachel had spent more time on her books instead of having fun, she’d never have got herself pregnant in the first place.
Then she heard a shout and saw Zane, hands on hips, looking across the playground toward the playing fields. She followed his gaze, curious to see who he was telling off. It didn’t take her long to figure it out. At the top of the cross bar of a rugby goalpost, a girl was holding her hands steadily out either side as if she were a ballerina and walking along it as if it were a tight rope. Rachel gasped. It was at least three meters off the ground and the girl didn’t wear any shoes, only shorts and a t-shirt revealing a skinny, but very determined, figure.
She didn’t look right or left, but stared levelly ahead at the opposite goalpost. Below her a group of boys chanted and clapped, counting each step she made. One of them jeered. “You can’t do it!” They were soon scattered by the approach of Zane. One look at him and they fell back, looking sheepish. He didn’t need to say a word.
For one tense moment, she wondered what Zane would do. But he didn’t call out again. He’d only done that when he saw what she’d intended to do. If he called out again, it might disturb her concentration which could be worse for her.
The seconds dragged out and still she continued along the cross bar. Finally she made it, and reached out in a leisurely way for the upright, as if she’d never been in any doubt she could do it. She looked around for the boys, her expression confident and arrogant. “See! You losers! I—” Whatever else she was about to say was swallowed up by the sight of Zane glaring up at her.
“Etta! Get down here at once. How many times do I have to tell you that goal posts are for kicking into, not clambering over.”
“I’m not clambering—”
“And don’t answer back. Down! Now!”
She bit her lip and sat down on the bar, and then gripped it either side, flipped upside down and swung down, landing on the soft turf like an acrobat. She walked up to him with her head held high.
She performed the whole movement with such skill and grace that, even from this distance, Rachel could see that Zane was trying hard not to smile. The girl was evidently a favorite with him.
As he started talking to her, she looked around and Rachel caught sight of her profile. She was going to be a stunner, thought Rachel, with her lustrous dark hair and fine bone structure. Skinny now, she’d no doubt develop into a fuller figure, just as she had. Suddenly a chill wave washed over Rachel. She repeated her thoughts. Just as she had.
She was still staring as the girl walked sullenly away toward the boys before the walk turned into a run and she punched the air. Zane noticed and shook his head, unable to prevent the smile now as he came back to Rachel.
“That girl!” he said as he walked out the school grounds. Before Rachel got in the car she looked back to see the girl now playing rugby with the boys.
“Who is she?”
“Just one of the kids. A real tomboy. She’d rather be playing rugby, risking life and limb, than studying. But she’s bright enough. She has her heart set on a rugby scholarship in the States. With her determination, she could do it, too. Trouble is, she has no sense of self-preservation.”
“Who has, at that age?”
“Me. I did,” said Zane as they drove off.
“What’s her name?”
Zane glanced over his shoulder to make sure it was safe to pull out into the road. “Sorry?” he asked.
“Her name. I just wondered who she was.”
“Etta. She lives on the marae. She’s part of the whanau.”
“She’s your niece?”
He gave her a curious glance. “Good guess, although I’ve so many, I suppose it wasn’t that wild a guess.”
“No,” said Rachel, gazing back at the girl who was running full pelt at a defender, with the rugby ball tucked under her arm. “It wasn’t.”
“Yeah, my younger half-brother’s daughter—Tommy’s girl.”
Tommy’s girl… and hers.
8
“Zane, look, I’m sorry, I’m wanted back at Belendroit.”
He frowned but immediately responded by taking a road which would take them back there. “This is sudden. Has something happened?”
“Yeah. I…” She tapped her phone on her knee. “I received a text. I’m needed for a meeting.”
He stopped at the junction and glanced at her. She looked the other way, out the window at the shops where people still lingered.
“On a Friday evening,” he said. “Unusual.”
“My whole life’s unusual.”
She felt his curious glance burn into the back of her head as she stared at the passing shops, which turned into houses, which turned into countryside. Minutes passed and she didn’t speak.
He pulled into the driveway and switched off the engine. He pushed a stray strand of hair off her face. “So… will I see you tomorrow?”
She bit her lip. “Work.”
His eyes narrowed. “Well, how about next week?”
“I’ve some meetings scheduled for Wellington.” At least that was the truth. But it didn’t sound like it after the feeble excuses earlier.
He withdrew his hand, twisted away from her, and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she said lamely.
“Hmm… Me too.”
He opened the car door and she followed suit. To her consternation he followed her out of the car and up to the house. “No, really. It’s fine. You’ve your paper grading to do.”
She stopped short of the house, lingering on the veranda. She could hear the others inside, a little worse for her father’s generous supply of wine. If Zane came into the house, he’d know it was a ruse, know she’d lied. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looked around in confusion, then put one foot on the step and looked up at her. “What’s going on, Rachel?”
She should have known that he’d spot a lie a mile off. She should have known that she couldn’t fob him off with half-truths and excuses, like a normal guy—like a guy who couldn’t have cared less. Because Zane did care.
“I’m sorry, Zane… ”
He took a step back, recoiling almost. “Hey, I don’t want to force you into making some kind of excuse. I’d just thought”—he looked around as if for some kind of answer from the woods, then back to her, his face resigned and disappointed—“I just thought we were getting on okay.”
“We were. I mean we are. But… I’m sorry, I can’t see that we have a future together.”
“Really? Earlier on today you suggested that we had exactly that. What’s happened to change your mind?”
Rachel shivered. The late summer heat had gone from the sun. There was a chill in the air, a change of atmosphere, as autumn approached. “Honestly? I don’t believe you’ll want to be with me in a little while.”
“In a little while? What are you talking about?”
“What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think it’s me who will be changing my mind.”
“You mean, it’ll be me. And why would I do that?”
“Because… months ago, I set something in train, something which—” She paused, unable to bear the thought of this man hating her.
“Darling!” Sean, the cameraman appeared from inside the house, obviously tipsy from the wine he’d been drinking. He placed his hands either side of his mouth and turned back to the house. “Rachel’s back everyone. And she’s brought the gardener!” Rachel grimaced in embarrassment.
“What are you doing here, Rach?” asked Amanda, emerging from the back of the house. “I thought you were gone for the day.”
Rachel caught sight of Zane’s hurt gaze as the truth hit him—she’d been making excuses not to be with him. He shook his head and without saying anything further,
walked back to the car.
“Zane!” she called.
He halted for an instant before continuing on without comment. And she knew, there and then, that she had to tell him. She ran down the steps but he’d outpaced her and was revving up the car by the time she reached him. She banged once on the window but he pulled away without looking at her.
She watched him disappear, but part of her was glad. Because what the hell would she have said to him if he had stopped? Nothing short of the truth would have sufficed. And she had no words to explain the tumult of emotion going through her on the discovery of the identity of her child. Equally she had no words to soften the fact that she’d given her baby away… and not just to anyone, but to Zane’s family—people he’d protect with his life. Yes, she had to tell him the truth but she had no idea how.
Zane couldn’t avoid going around to Belendroit any longer. But one thing he could avoid was seeing Rachel. He knew she’d gone to Wellington and that Jim was alone, which was fine with him. He had no idea what had happened, no clue as to the reason for Rachel’s abrupt change of mind of the previous week, despite spending every waking moment obsessed with going over and over the events of that afternoon. Had he gone too far? Had he assumed too much? But the memory of how she’d been with him as soon as they’d met, at the café, and afterwards, was enough to reassure him that Rachel had been as ready to move to the next step of their relationship as he’d been. Which left the question, why the hell had she backed off so spectacularly? A question to which he had no answer.
With the file of photos under his arm, Zane walked up to the front door, which as usual was open. The radio was turned down, and Jim Connelly emerged from the dark hallway.
“Zane!” Jim opened the door wide and greeted Zane enthusiastically. Zane wondered again why he hadn’t noticed the similarity between Jim and Rachel before. Both were born entertainers. “Come in, come in. I’m afraid Rachel isn’t here. All we have is all this clutter. More filming, you know. Next week.”