by Kris Pearson
He edged the cargo door closed again, leaving just enough gap to hear the sounds of the night. To ensure that his house would be safe.
And his unexpected new woman even safer.
CHAPTER 7 – CHINA FOR MILES
Anna woke to the sound of the sea and the shrill cries of squabbling seagulls. She stretched in the big bed, feeling wonderful, and just a little sore. When she opened her eyes, the bright morning light dazzled her so completely that she closed them again, savouring each ache and twinge in her grateful body. She and Jason had used each other hard, taking and giving with equal fervour… enjoying every kiss and caress, every hungry moment of possession, surrender, and bliss.
Just for a while anyway, she’d found the oblivion she’d yearned for. Enough distraction that she could ignore the guilt of allowing her baby to be given away. Even fourteen years later she feverishly kept track of the age he’d be now, imagined what he’d look like, and prayed his adoptive parents treasured him.
Surely he was a boy? She’d been given no proof even of that. Her efficient mother and domineering Aunt Davina had spirited her off to ‘a student exchange opportunity’ in Auckland before her pregnancy had become obvious, determined her education would continue by correspondence in an exclusive hostel run by one of Davina’s retired school-teacher friends. They promised everything would soon be like it was ‘before’.
Contact from her friends had dwindled, and her old life slid away. The baby had been induced on a convenient day, and by the time a sedated Anna demanded to see it, she’d been assured its ‘new mother and father’ had taken it home, that they loved it, and that this was for the best.
It had sounded fine in theory beforehand, but with her hormones running rampant and her breasts aching with milk, she’d finally recognised the enormity of their theft - and her sin. There was no way to undo the situation. Her lawyer father had made sure of that.
She’d travelled home, slightly plump, right in time for a Christmas holiday in Scarlet Bay as though nothing had happened. And started at a new school immediately afterward. She’d been counselled and expected to cope, and put up a good pretence of doing so. Try as she might she had only the vaguest memories of the faces of the older boys who’d undoubtedly added something to her cola at the after-tennis party. Her parents had forbidden her to stay for it, and she’d convinced herself she deserved the torment in return for disobeying them.
But on this fine, bright morning, and with memories of the night before still strong in her mind, the pain had ebbed away a little. Thank God for Jason Jones. She extended her arms sideways in another long, luxurious stretch until her shoulders threatened to pop. It had never been like that before. Had he felt the same heat, or was she fooling herself?
Would there really be any more between them? Could there be? Her father was now a judge. Other family members and friends were lawyers, pilots, doctors, entrepreneurs, owners of profitable companies; university educated in almost every case. Well travelled, well heeled, and well out of his league.
But she had several more days before anyone else was due to arrive at the old cottage. What harm would it do to see him again and grab a bit more of that wonderful oblivion?
She tossed back the bedcovers and caught a faint waft of him in the fabric. It had been far too late to bother changing the sheets the night before, and by then she really liked the scent of his skin anyway. Had made a joke of licking his chest, and nibbling up his neck while she surreptitiously inhaled. Before he’d dashed upstairs to shower, he’d smelled of sawdust and the sea, barbecue smoke and hard work.
When he’d returned, he was all clean cotton, shampoo, soap and … sex? Something that drew her closer anyway. Maybe a woman really could detect the pheromones of a man she found attractive? The one sneaky kiss when he’d immobilised her by handing her the two glasses of wine to hold had made her want a lot more than a swift sample. She’d settled down by the low window, comfortable with her decision. And found it quite endearing that he’d bothered to pull on a T-shirt instead of presuming she was there to get instantly naked.
But… commando under his jeans, so definitely hopeful.
Anna swung her feet out of the comfortable bed and set them on the cool timber floor, blinking again at the bright light spilling through the faded curtains. Then she stood and padded to the bathroom before returning to nestle into the pillows again, intending to stay only a few minutes so she’d have time to shower and dress before any of the men arrived for their seven o’clock start. She stretched and closed her eyes, feeling much better than she had in ages, grateful her uninhibited night had helped her wind down.
*
She groaned as a big hand closed over her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. Then she jolted wide awake.
“Ten o’clock, Frosty. Time for breakfast.” Jason towered above her, one corner of his mouth quirking in a barely suppressed grin. “Looks like I wore you out?”
She blinked at him, then scooted up into a sitting position. “What? Of course not. Don’t be so ridiculous.”
“Wore you out,” he repeated, an expression of pure satisfaction on his face. His eyes roved over her tangled hair and exposed shoulders before he pulled the cover down far enough to establish she wore no nightwear. Anna made a grab for the fabric but he was much faster. “Look at you,” he whispered, holding her captive by pinning her arms aside. He bent and pressed a kiss on each breast as she tried to dislodge him.
“Get away,” she insisted, struggling against his superior strength and getting nowhere.
“Yeah, right,” he said. “Like I’m going to ignore such a great opportunity.”
But he let go of her arms and pulled the covers up for her as she sat there spluttering objections. He looked totally amused and unconcerned.
Anna knew she must be blushing as red as the pohutukawa trees. Did he really think he had permission to burst into her room and treat her like that?
Not a problem at all, her tingling nipples assured her.
Hell no, let’s have more, her throbbing clit agreed.
As soon as you like, her thumping pulse confirmed.
His grin grew wider. “Barbie’s hot. Sausages are on. Just checking to see if you’ll be joining us today?”
She tried very hard to regain her dignity. “I need to shower first.”
“Go for it,” he said, straightening. “Want your back scrubbed?”
“Well that’d really give the game away,” she scoffed. “You can’t leave your men alone and then amble out smelling like girly body wash ages later.” She glared at him, but his smile didn’t fade.
“I had a good time last night,” he said, turning away. “Best time in quite a while. I’m up for more if you are? I’ll save you a sausage.”
And he strode off whistling, leaving Anna speechless, and wondering why she was only the best time ‘in quite a while’, and who the best time ever had been.
When her annoyance had cooled, she slid from the bed, and, mindful of masculine eyes, pulled her robe on before padding down the long hallway to the bathroom. She surveyed the shabby room while she brushed her teeth and secured her hair in a topknot. No treasures worth salvaging here, that was for sure. Well, the old first aid box that had patched up generations of the Wynn family, but nothing else. The three chipped china fish blowing bubbles up the wall could definitely go.
The new house would be heaven by comparison. Ensuite bathrooms instead of this elderly shared one, and the very basic effort in the rear porch. Room for a dozen people to stay without tripping over each other. Stylish new co-ordinated furnishings instead of the fusty old hand-me-downs that appeared whenever family members wanted to rid themselves of surplus items.
Anna sighed as she unbelted her robe. Another job for her - photographing and cataloguing anything still halfway decent or approaching antique status. One of the younger cousins could take over the online selling for fun and pocket money. Probably Uncle J’s youngest, Beau. At thirteen the boy was already a mini-en
trepreneur.
She turned on the water in the old shower box and waited until it ran hot. The cries of seagulls and the deep throbbing note of a passing Harley drifted through the open window. Hanging her robe on one of the brass hooks on the wall, she stepped under the flow, twitching the crackling plastic curtain across the opening, and looking forward to smooth-swinging glass doors in the future.
She’d barely lathered up before the curtain was pushed aside again.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, trying to cover herself with the most inadequate washcloth.
Jason stood there, brandishing a sizzling sausage on her old friend the tarnished fork.
His grin was unrepentant and his inspection was thorough. “You need to eat, Frosty. Can’t have you fading away.”
Anna made a grab for the curtain, and dropped the washcloth as a result.
“That’s more like it,” he said, one big hand clamping the curtain aside, dark brown eyes caressing every wet inch of her.
“You heard the water turn on,” she accused, giving up any attempt at modesty. After all, he’d already seen everything she had to offer.
“Yup. Timed my entry with care, and it was worth the effort.” He held the sausage toward her, being careful to keep it out of the falling water. “Bite. Build your strength up, because I have plans for tonight.”
She bent and retrieved the washcloth before biting, and raised an eyebrow in enquiry. “Plans like what?” she mumbled around her delicious mouthful.
“More of the same if I’m lucky.” The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was trying not to laugh. Anna’s gaze registered amusement and appreciation in his expression.
He twirled the fork slowly in his fingers as she chewed. “You said you sang? In a choir or something? I get together with a group of mates sometimes and jam a bit. Join us tonight?”
Anna swallowed. Not quite what she’d been expecting, but it might be bearable. Might even be enjoyable. And she was definitely up for ‘more of the same’. She squeezed out some body wash and deliberately ran the washcloth over her breasts, enjoying his eyes following her hand, to and fro, to and fro, as though he was watching a game of tennis.
“Sausage?” she reminded, enjoying his slight guilty jump as he refocussed.
He drew a deep breath and repositioned the fork so she could take another mouthful, then said, “You’d better grab this or I really will be here too long and leave the house smelling of girly body wash.” He took a deep sniff of the warm air, and leaned into the shower box so he was close enough to drop a kiss on her shoulder.
She gulped the bite down. “And we don’t want that.”
“I’d get ‘big bad wolf’ digs all day.” He gave a rueful grin, swiping at his hair where the spray had caught it. “And your father might shoot me if he hears what we got up to.”
Anna tucked her tongue into her cheek. “Only with his spear-gun.”
“Ouch. Flapping like a tuna.” He handed the fork over and let the old waterproof curtain crackle back into place.
“Thank you,” she said through it. “For the sausage and the singing. Sounds good.”
“Come out and get some sunshine,” he yelled as he walked away.
She looked down at her sudsy legs. Yes, pale. Could definitely do with more tan.
Jason’s golden skin had snared her gaze the moment they’d met, never mind she was acutely annoyed with him; furious after overhearing his disparaging comment about her, and finding he’d unlocked the house so his men could use this very room. In fact she found everything about him attractive now she’d had the chance to inspect him in detail and get to know him better.
She wanted more of him for the short time they had. And it seemed she’d get her wish, even though she’d have to share him with his friends first.
She adjusted the heat of the water and rinsed herself off before putting on her white bikini and plenty of sunblock. She had no intention of appearing like that in front of the men, so she pulled on her denim skirt and an old pink polo shirt of her mother’s - the only thing she could find in the wardrobe with a collar high enough to hide the love bites on her neck.
Hopefully the surf carnival people hadn’t taken over the whole beach. Now booming announcements and bursts of music shattered the peace of normally tranquil Scarlet Bay.
Dying for coffee, and even thirstier after the salty sausage, she stepped into her rubber flip-flops and headed to the kitchen, gulping a glass of water while she made toast and waited for the electric kettle to boil.
The men were no longer at the barbecue. ‘Brunch’ was over, and she heard Brett’s noisy driver still fixing planks on the deck, and sporadic hammering.
The builders had returned to the other house, too; she wondered how she’d slept through the noise. As she listened, the high-pitched whine of some machine she hadn’t heard the day before was suddenly drowned by the roar of a hard-revving truck engine.
Shouts of alarm rang out, and she easily heard Jason’s frantic voice. There was a rumble, a shudder as the ground surely moved, and then the kitchen reverberated with an almighty crash as something huge hit the side wall. Her slice of just-buttered toast flew into the air as she screamed and lurched away. Fate made her step on it, skid, and land hard on her butt as cupboard doors swung open and piles of cups and plates skated out, crashing onto the old linoleum-covered floor and exploding apart all over her.
Anna slapped her hands over her eyes as tiny shards of china pinged into her arms and legs, and cups bounced up and hit her. The sharp sound of cracking timber joined the frenzied shouts and vehicle noise. The instant the china stopped falling she scrambled up and bolted outside - into a cloud of choking dust, and Jason’s arms.
“Jesus, Frosty!” He turned her face into his chest, clamping her hard in place there. Anna grabbed him around the waist and clutched him with both hands.
The tightness in his voice matched her hold on his body. “I was worried you were still in the bathroom.”
“It’s the kitchen,” she wailed. “Something hit the side wall.”
“Sure about that?” he yelled over the shouting and continuing vehicle noise. “You should have seen it from where I did.”
“Is she okay?” Eric asked, suddenly appearing beside them with Hoolie in tow.
Anna tried to struggle free, but Jason held her prisoner.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“You’re all bloody,” Hoolie said in an awestruck voice. “All your legs.”
At that, Jason loosened his grasp on her and bent to look. “Shit!” he yelled. “I’ll kill him.”
“Plates came down off the shelves,” Anna gasped. “A lot of them broke, and bits flew up. Nothing serious.” She inspected her arms as Jason checked out her legs.
“Hoolie,” he said, “See if you can still get into the bathroom. There’s a first-aid box.”
“Sure, Boss.”
“And be careful. Can you get some water from the kitchen, Eric?”
Anna rubbed at some of the nicks in her arms. Smears of blood appeared, but nothing too bad. She flicked a shard of china away with her fingernail.
“Your legs are worse,” Jason said. “Come and sit down.” He pulled one of the old plastic chairs away from the wall and insisted she sat. She wrinkled her nose as diesel fumes drifted past.
“I got such a fright I fell over,” she said, pleased enough to sink into the chair. Her knees had no strength any more. “I guess my legs were closer to the wall than my arms. How’s my face?” She touched it, feeling for damage.
“Beautiful,” Jason said, his features softening.
“But what the heck happened?” she demanded. “I heard a big truck, and then that massive crash.”
“Big truck dropped the shed,” Hoolie said, returning with the first-aid box. “And there’s a lotta water.”
Jason’s mouth tightened, and then he snapped, “The bloody truckie got too close to the edge and tilted so far that Dad’s site office came loose.”
<
br /> Anna slapped a hand to her throat. “And fell right over? Wasn’t it secured?”
“Swung like a pendulum. They were loading it. Dad knew the ground was unstable there. That’s where the rocks fell from a few days ago and hit your porch. Not that he was willing to help with repairs.”
“House is a real mess inside,” Eric said, returning from the kitchen with a bowl of water. “And hardly a trickle left in the pipes. Good thing you weren’t barefoot, Ms Wynn.”
“Almost,” Anna said as Jason squatted and lifted her feet into his lap. “And it’s Anna,” she added, sending him a shaky smile. Her flip-flops dangled from her toes. “Yikes, I see what you mean,” she added, inspecting her bloodied skin.
Hoolie produced his phone and photographed her legs.
“Hoolie!” she exclaimed.
He shrugged and turned the screen so she could see. “Looks cool. My mates won’t believe it unless I show them.”
“I’ll kill the water supply,” Eric said, heading for the front yard.
Jason’s hand trembled around her ankles. “Fucking idiots up there,” he said in a tone that could have sliced through metal. “They knew. Dad knew because we had words about the rocks falling and smashing your porch. And his men were listening in and trying to look as though they weren’t - while their boss and his son went for each other’s throats.” He cast a baleful glare up toward his father’s site. As the truck noise died he yelled, “You almost killed the owner’s daughter! She’s covered in blood.”
“I’m not that bad,” Anna objected.
Jason’s gaze clashed with hers. “Let them worry,” he grated. Then he softened his tone. “Are you okay, Frosty? Want me to call your dad or your uncle? Someone else?” His hands caressed the length of her legs, wiping at flakes of china, and wincing when he had to tweak a couple of small shards out. “I… we… could have lost you,” he muttered, turning to where Hoolie had set the first aid box on one of the other chairs. “Are there gloves? If not, I’d better have a decent scrub-up somehow.”