by Daphne Clair
`That wasn't fair!' she protested as the man moved away from them. He still held her wrist, and she tried to pull away, but he tightened his fingers against her resistance.
`No, you were unfair,' he said quietly. His fingers found her pulse, beating just a shade fast, he thought. 'You told me something you wouldn't have told a sighted man, because you thought I couldn't use it.'
She went very still and silent for a. few moments. Then she said, 'I'm sorry.
`Don't be.' He raised her hand to his lips and then let it go. 'Let's wait outside, shall we?'
Outside the doorway he said, 'Is anyone about?' `No. It's very late.' He felt her shiver against his arm on her waist.
`And dark?'
`Yes.'
`Good,' he said, and kissed her.
For an instant she was stiff, as though he had surprised her, and he thought cynically, surely not! But her lips were parted and soft under his, and in a very few seconds her body curved into his as he pulled her close, and she felt warm and willing.
fie kissed her closely and long, then whispered, 'Shall I tell the driver to take us both to my hotel?'
She drew back suddenly in a startled movement. `Do you mean—are you Oh, I can't. I'm sorry. Not tonight.'
Pulling her back to him, he kissed her hair and throat. He wondered if it was can't or won't. She seemed to be a free agent, and had admitted she knew no one in Sydney. So it was won't. He could try to change her mind. There was, he sensed, a quality of reserve about her. A one-night stand wasn't her scene, he guessed. Nor his, normally, come to that, but this girl was intriguing and powerfully attractive, and in
two days their ways must part. If he could persuade her that it needn't be for ever ...
His finger tracing the line of her throat, he murmured, 'I have one more day here—so do you, don't you?'
She nodded, then said, 'Yes.' But he had felt the ,,movement of her cheek against his hand.
'Can we spend the day together—and maybe—tomorrow night?'
'I don't know. I can't promise.'
'But you'd like to?' he insisted. His lips traced the line of her jaw, his hand moved down to sweet, rounded softness, but she withdrew quickly at he heard a car stop at the kerb.
'The taxi,' she said, on a note of relief.
Inside the cab he tried to put his arm around her, but she moved away and he thought resignedly, she doesn't like kissing in taxi-cabs. That hint of reserve again. But, dammit, we only have two days. And she wasn't indifferent.
He moved his hand and found hers, the left one. There were no rings on it. He had hoped there wouldn't be. He spread her fingers on his knee and put his hand over them. 'I asked you something,' he reminded her.
`To spend the day with you?'
`And the night.'
I'm not going to answer that one.'
She didn't sound at all coy. Most women would have. Cade wondered if she was going to tease. He thought from her voice that she had her head turned away from him and was looking out of the car window.
`No?' he said.
`No.'
She still had her head turned away, and it began to annoy him. 'Is the view so fascinating?' he asked sharply.
He felt the jerk in her fingers as her head turned quickly.
`I'm sorry!' she said. 'How did you know?'
Something her brother hadn't taught her, he thought. But perhaps she wasn't in the habit of looking the other way when she talked to her brother. It occurred to him that was the third time she had apologised to him tonight. It might have been irritating, but he found it a rather graceful habit.
`What about the first question, then?'
'I thought,' she said rather carefully, `that you might prefer not to ask it again unless I said yes to the second one.'
He thought about that. She had been giving him an out—rather gallant. He acquitted her of teasing.
`Carissa, dearest little schemer,' he said, laughing softly. 'I will be very disappointed if you turn me down tomorrow night, but I just might bear it if you let me meet you tomorrow morning immediately after breakfast, and take you to lunch, and dinner, and supper: She hesitated, and he added, 'Just a day out sightseeing —no strings, I promise.'
He felt her suddenly relax, and she said, 'I'd love to. I really would love to!'
He hired a cab for the day, over Jack's protests that they had things to do, even though there was no show that evening.
'You're the manager,' said Cade. 'Go ahead and manage. I'm taking a day off, I'm resting. And Jack, do me a favour. Make yourself very scarce tonight, will you?'
`Carissa Martin? Look, Cade, do you know what you're doing?'
`I know what I'm doing!' Cade snapped. He supposed Jack was worrying about that ridiculous name of hers. 'Just get lost tonight and let me do it, will you?'
'But, Cade—'
'But nothing. I'll see you tomorrow, Jack.
He took her to the Blue Mountains, a longish drive that gave them time to talk, in between her brief descriptions of the scenery.
'Why did you call me a little schemer, last night?' she asked him.
'Dearest little schemer,' he said. 'It's the meaning of your name. Didn't you know?'
'No!' she exclaimed. 'Is it? I don't believe it!'
'But it is!' He told her about Jack's book of names and the importance he attached to it. 'Jack says names are important, especially in show business. At one time he wanted me to call myself Estebanito. He said it had a good ring to it. I think he'll always regret someone else thought of Engelbert Humperdinck before he did.'
She laughed and said, 'But your name is your own, isn't it?'
'Near enough,' he told her, and changed the subject.
Carissa described the muted sunset colours of the landscape to him as they passed, and the looming bulk of the mountains as they approached and began to climb. She told him how the peeling silvery bark of the gum trees looked in the sun, and when they got out she picked some of the blue-green leaves for him to rub in his fitters and sniff the pungent eucalyptus scent, and he ran his hand over the peeling bark for himself.
As they drove further up into the mountains the driver became talkative, telling them tales of the bush fires that periodically ravaged the countryside, and were always a danger in the summer when the temperatures climbed into the nineties and the dry trees needed only the smallest spark to ignite. 'Some families have rebuilt their homes three times,' he said. 'They just keep coming right back after every fire.'
'Why don't they live somewhere else?' Cade asked,
finding it hard to imagine such stubborn stupidity. 'They say it's home, and they'd never live anywhere else.'
'They'd have to start all over again each time,' said Carissa.
'Yeah—I reckon,' the driver agreed. 'But some of them are just so glad to be alive, I guess that seems a small thing, after all. Last fires up here, one family spent three hours in their swimming pool, with wet blankets over their heads, while their home just burned down practically round .their ears. The fires simply swept right over them, they said.'
Carissa spoke again. 'I remember, a few years ago when there was a big fire over here, in New Zealand we had beautiful sunsets for days—especially spectacular, I mean. It was the haze from the smoke drifting from Australia that caused them.'
The driver whistled in surprise. 'Is that so? Clear across the Tasman, eh?'
'How far is that?' Cade asked.
Carissa answered, 'About thirteen hundred miles.'
He brushed a hand against her arm and said softly, 'Not very far by today's standards—by plane, for instance.'
There was a tiny silence before she said, 'No. But it's still a long way for smoke to drift.'
The driver was apparently still listening, because he interjected with an awed, 'Sure is! Jeez ! Clear across the Tasman, eh?'
Carissa, sitting close to Cade's shoulder, quivered a little, and he wished he could see her smile.
The driver's manner to her amused Cad
e by its contrast to the waiter's admiration last night. The man had a hearty Australian twang and spoke to Cade with what passed, in this egalitarian society for respect, and to his companion in a slightly avuncular way. Occasionally' he hesitated over an adjective, and Cade guessed he was
guarding his language for Carissa's benefit.
When he and Carissa got out again to walk for a while he said, 'Tell me if I've got our driver right. Late fifties—heavy-built, a bit overweight?'
`Very good! ' she congratulated him. 'Also a moustache and thinning hair.' She paused, and tightened her grip on his arm. 'There are stones on the ground here. Watch your step.' They walked a little further and found a seat to rest on. Carissa described a panoramic view of the mountains backed by a blue-hazed sky, and fresh breezes blew the scent of the trees to Cade's nostrils.
'Are you always so good at guessing how people look?' she asked him.
Smiling, he said, 'You are blonde, about five foot five, green-eyed—' he ignored a small disparaging exclamation from her, and went on. 'About—twenty-two? Twenty-three? Twenty-one?' he paused, and then laughed at her continued silence. 'You're not going to tell me. Am I close?'
`You're close,' she said. 'Don't you know it's not done to expect a woman to reveal her age?'
`You don't need to worry about that until you're nearer my age,' he told her.
'thirty?' she said. 'But it doesn't matter for a man, does it?'
`So you know my age.'
'Of course. I'm a fan, I've read all about you.'
Okay,' he challenged her. 'What else do you know?' 'You were born in Mexico. Your mother was from an old Spanish family, and they disapproved of her marrying your father, so they ran away 'to get married. Your father was a naturalised American, and you were born an American citizen, after they went to the States. You have a younger sister, but your father died when you were four years old. He left you a guitar, and by the time you were sixteen you were supporting your
mother and sister playing in cafés. You were discovered by—'
'Okay, okay!' he stopped her. 'You're a fan! I believe you.'
'Didn't you believe me on the plane? Or when I came to the show?' she asked. 'I told you how I loved your music.'
'I was waiting for you to tell me that you have all my records.' He grinned at her, not his famous smile, but a look few people had seen, of pure enjoyment. 'What are you laughing at?'
'I have!' she said, still laughing. 'Every last one! Cross my heart, I have! '
He stood up, pulling her to her feet, and something soft and fine blew across his face. He touched her shoulders and held them in his hands. 'You've left your hair loose,' he said.
'Yes.'
He moved his hand to touch it. It came past her shoulders, and was soft in his fingers.
'It makes you look younger,' he said positively. 'What? How can you possibly know—?' She gave a soft, puzzled laugh.
`I know. I know by the way men react to you. It's different.'
'Is it?' she asked uncertainly. 'But it can't make any difference to you.'
He tightened his grip a little on the strand of hair he held, and moved it to tilt her face for his kiss, surprised and a little angry when she made a small movement of resistance, as though she had thought better of inviting it.
He wouldn't let her get away with it, because she must have known that her remark had provoked his action. He slid his free hand to her waist to pull her against him, and if his mouth was a little rougher than
it might have been against her soft lips, she had herself to blame.
Perhaps the small punishment was more harsh than he had intended, because when he let her free her mouth from his she sounded almost frightened, pleading, 'Please—let me go '
Please, Cade!' he prompted, teasing her with faint cruelty, but wanting to hear her say his name in that lovely voice of hers.
'Please, Cade,' she whispered, beginning to struggle, her hands against his chest. 'Someone's coming.'
For a moment he didn't believe her. Then he heard the muted sound of footsteps and approaching voices, and let her go.
They stood above a deeply cleft valley and she told him about the stark standing grey rocks called 'The Sisters' that brooded over it. Then they rode across the valley in a swaying cable car, and she started to describe the view below, then suddenly clutched him in panic and refused to look any more.
This time when he kissed her he was more gentle at first, beginning with comfort rather than passion. But when they emerged at the other side of the valley she was satisfactorily breathless, and not from fear.
Cade paid off the taxi driver at her hotel and waited in the lobby while she changed. Then they went to his hotel and up to his suite while he showered and changed for the dinner they planned to have in the downstairs restaurant.
Coming out of the bedroom, he asked, 'Will you check this tie for me, Carissa?'
'It looks fine.' Her voice came from the couch, and he walked over to her, thinking they could have a meal sent up, but she caught his hand and pulled herself up by it, turning towards the door. He pulled her back into his arms for a long and expert kiss, and murmured
against her ear, as his hand found her rapid heartbeat, `Darling, are you staying with me?'
For a moment she didn't answer, and he moved his lips persuasively against her earlobe. 'Darling?'
She whispered, 'I brought my toothbrush. There's a large handbag on the couch beside me.'
Triumphantly, he kissed her again, smothering a slight sense of surprise. She was wearing something smooth and silky that left her shoulders and back bare, and rustled gently when she moved.
'I like this dress,' he said, his fingers tracing her shoulder blades, then moving to her waist.
'I thought you would.' Then she stirred in his arms. Her voice sounding a little shaky, she said, 'Cade, you promised me dinner, remember?'
She had a healthy appetite, and they lingered over their meal. Then they danced a little, closely, then he swept her back up to his suite and into his arms as soon as they closed the door, because she was stiffening up again. He could feel it in the arm pressed against his side, but he was damned if she was going to change her mind now.
It wasn't long before she was as warmly pliant against hjhi as he could have wished, her breath coming quickly and her cheeks warm between his hands as he explored her soft, parted mouth.
He turned her into the room, towards the couch, and groped on it for her bag. Handing it to her, he said, 'There's a robe on the bathroom door, if you want one.'
'I brought one,' she said shakily.
He hoped it didn't have buttons. He hated it when a woman came to bed all fastened up as though she had no intention of sharing it with 'a man.'
It did have buttons, but she had left them undone and just fastened it with a belt tied in a bow. He was briefly amused that she had bothered. It was lacy and
light, and slid silently to the floor when he took it off and pushed her gently on to the bed.
She was very responsive, very undemanding, and folowed his lead completely, except for one moment when she gave a tiny shudder of withdrawal. He stopped and said, 'What is it?'
'It's all right,' she whispered. It's all right, truly,' and guided his hand back to where it had been.
He waited until he knew she was ready for him, so that her sudden rigid resistance took him completely by surprise, annoying him to ruthlessness. By the time he realised the reason for it, it was far too late. By then e was beyond thought, only feeling ...
He lay back beside her, and it was one of the bad times, when he wished like hell that he could see. His voice was harsh as he said,' 'Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?'
She didn't answer him, her breathing soft and so even he was sure she was consciously keeping it so. At least she wasn't crying.
A thought struck him like a blow over his heart, and he sat up and turned on her, groping until he found her shoulders, wanting to shake her. 'How old are y
ou he said roughly.
`Twenty ! ' she said, sounding frightened. But this time he wasn't fooled. He shook her, then, fiercely, and repeated his question.
She sobbed just once and said in a defeated whisper, 'Seventeen.'
His fingers tightened on her soft flesh, because he knew that if his hands were free he would hit her, and e hated himself enough without that.
She said, 'Please! You're hurting.'
He let her fall back against the pillow. 'God!' he said. 'You bloody little fool! '
He fumbled for his robe and the dark glasses and put them on. He' had a long cold shower while his
jumbled emotions sorted themselves into a cold hard fury.
When he went back into the bedroom she seemed to have fallen asleep. Probably cried herself into it, he thought, without pity. He put on some clothes and returning to the other room, felt in a drawer for some cigarettes, finding something else as well. 'Something with emeralds,' he had said to Jack. 'But not flashy.' It felt like just what he had ordered. And he would have something more to say to Jack in the morning. Why hadn't he said
He tried the clasp until he had mastered it, then dropped the box back in the drawer and put the bracelet in his pocket. He ran his fingers over the top of the desk until he located an ashtray, then took it to the couch and lit a cigarette.
There were six butts in the ashtray when he heard movement from the bedroom, and Carissa's voice said uncertainly, 'Cade?'
He got up and went in, and when his foot kicked against her robe on the floor he picked it up and tossed it to her. 'Here,' he said. 'Get up.'
He heard the bed move as she obeyed him.
,'Can I use the bathroom?' she said.
'Be my guest,' he said sardonically.
She didn't move, and after a moment or two she said, 'It's dark. I can't see.'
Exasperated, he said, 'Come here,' and when she came close to him he took her arm and guided her to the bathroom, hearing the click of the switch as she turned on the light. Then he switched on the light in the main room and waited for her.