Under the Southern Cross

by Claire McNab

  I started when Lee spoke close beside me, her words echoing my thoughts. 'This is such an ancient continent."

  Vince overheard her. "The oldest in the world," he said proudly. "We've got rocks in the Outback scientists can date to three thousand million years."

  Otto, whose passion was for information, wanted to know more details. Mr. Moto had lost interest as there was nothing to videotape. Hilary smiled winningly as she said, "Lunch, Vince? I'm starving."

  The meal was a success, with fresh seafood served simply, to enhance its flavor, but I did not taste what I ate. Vince was to drive us back to the helicopter so we could fly down the spectacular coastline between Port Douglas and Cairns. Fatigue had almost swamped me, and I sat mute in the middle of the back seat, with Otto's bulk on one side and Mr. Moto and his ubiquitous video camera on the other. Hilary and Lee were deep in conversation and I felt a twinge of... jealousy? I closed my eyes, deciding I was too tired to think straight...

  I could almost smile — straight wasn't what I was thinking at all.

  The eggbeater chatter of the helicopter was an irritation, and I barely glanced at the magnificent beaches — secluded stretches of sand lapped by a jewel sea, fringed with palms — that ran in a continuous stream beneath us. I wished that Vince had come too. He would know every headland, every beach, plus some unique point or story for each.

  But perhaps we'd all had a surfeit of beauty. Mr. Moto had stopped videotaping, Otto gazed mutely out the window, Hilary covered a yawn with a graceful hand. Lee was sitting beside the pilot, but, for once, she had no questions. I examined her incisive features in profile. She looked strong, determined, implacable. I was sure she'd keep her word. She'd act as though there had been no kiss, no indiscretion on my part. But would she forget it? I couldn't.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I went to bed tired and melancholy. I awoke refreshed and melancholy. As I stretched and yawned, wisps of dreams floated in my mind, twisting and dissolving in the light. Had I dreamed of Lee? I had a memory of her low chuckle fading as the clock radio came alive with a blare of music.

  Leaping out of bed was the last thing I wanted to do. I killed the radio, then burrowed back into the sheets and hid my face in the pillow. Half-dozing, my traitorous imagination filled me with sweet erotic sensations. Kissing Lee again — the texture of her mouth, the pressure of her body against mine making me gasp...

  I sat up.

  This is bloody hopeless. I'm infatuated with a woman who would laugh if she knew what I was feeling. I've got to preserve some dignity, not to mention preserving my career...

  Remembering that an early staff meeting was scheduled, I got out of bed in a mini-rage. I encouraged my anger — it was a means of countering the desire that disturbed and confused me because it wasn't just a physical imperative, and I was absolutely determined to ignore any deeper dimension. I'd been well-taught not to hope for too much because disappointment was all the keener, then.

  Have some pride, Alex. She can't reject you if you stay aloof.

  I could lecture myself as much as I liked. My imagination escaped my will and skittered away to build enticing images. Lee was a lesbian. She loved women. She showed she enjoyed my company. She'd opened her mouth and kissed me, really kissed me. And if I'd stayed, not run away, what would have happened?

  I headed for the bathroom. "Cold shower," I prescribed aloud, savage with myself. A kiss was just a kiss. Making love was several magnitudes greater than a casual embrace. Lee was a professional... for God's sake, I was a professional. And Sharon had said Lee didn't mix business with pleasure. There was no reason for me to suppose she'd break her rules for Alex Findlay.

  I could even manage a rueful smile. Pity... but there it is.

  Today was vital to the success of the convention. Our home-grown Aussie tour operators would exhibit their wares to the hard-eyed evaluation of international wholesalers as well as small niche companies who dealt in specialist group tours. This was the day when package deals were constructed, contracts drafted, tourism potential realized.

  The purpose of the early staff meeting was to pump us up to maximum efficiency and enthusiasm. We were all required to dress in white, our identification badges prominently displayed. We all had specific jobs, and mine was "enabler/facilitator" — Sir Frederick had lately taken to employing jargon plucked from psychology and management theory — my function being to make sure that negotiations between ground operators and wholesalers went smoothly and that all details were taken care of as unobtrusively and efficiently as possible. My special responsibilities were Lee Paynter and Otto Schmidt, although all A.P.P. employees were expected to assist in the selling of Australian tourism in general.

  I was almost late for the meeting. Fortunately Sharon's red hair stood out like a beacon, so I weaved my way through the crowd to grab her arm. She was returning to Sydney the next day, and I wanted her advice before she left. "Can I have a quick word with you afterwards? It's important."

  She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Steve again?"

  "No, worse luck. I know how to handle him."

  "Sir Frederick, then."

  "You've noticed?"

  Sharon gave a sympathetic smile. "That, and a little vicious gossip from Jackie Luff. I was going to tell you about it after the meeting. She's spreading the word that you're sleeping your way to the top."

  "Oh, great!"

  Sir Frederick tapped the lectern for attention. Jackie Luff, playing loyal lieutenant, glared for silence. I glared back at her. "I don't need this on top of everything else," I said to Sharon. "I'm going to sort her out."

  She grinned widely. "Can I watch? Jackie's had it coming for a long time."

  Sir Frederick rapped the lectern with obvious impatience. Silence fell, he let it stretch for a moment, then began. "I hardly need to say how important today is, for now we reap the rewards for all our work over the past months..."

  Keeping an attentive expression on my face, I tuned out his clipped British voice and tried to evaluate what I was feeling. It often helps me get a clear picture if I select words to describe my reactions to a situation. Sitting in the meeting, my unfocused gaze fixed on Sir Frederick's dapper figure, I came up with jangled, uptight, combative and, sneaking in under my guard, infatuated. I smiled wryly. Lee Paynter's power to disturb my equanimity was extraordinary.

  The meeting ended and Sharon and I walked out into the sunlight. Steve came up to us, handsome in crisp white and wearing a triumphant smile. I reflected that he always looked smug, as though he'd recently checked in a mirror and been well pleased with what he saw.

  "Was I right, or was I right?" he said to me, with a covert gesture towards Sir Frederick.

  I had a satisfying mental picture of jabbing two fingers into his eyes as I said cheerfully, "Hope you're not relying on Jackie for your information. She's got the wrong end of the stick."

  As I spoke, Sir Frederick's personal assistant emerged from the meeting room. I left Sharon and Steve and stood in front of her. "Jackie, I want to speak with you. Now. And in private."

  She tried to step around me. "I'm too busy —"

  "Right now, Jackie. It won't take long."

  I had my fury well leashed, but some of it colored my voice. Jackie, red-faced, acquiesced. We went back into the empty meeting room and I closed the door behind us. I didn't raise my voice; my mother had taught me well how effective a soft, biting tone can be. "I've been told that you're spreading rumors about me and Sir Frederick."

  Jackie wouldn't look at me directly. She shrugged, pouted, said resentfully, "Don't know what you mean."

  "I understand you've told several people I have a sexual relationship with Sir Frederick."

  She blinked at my bluntness. "Who told you that?"

  I wasn't going to be sidetracked into who said what to whom. "Do you really want to bring other people into this? It's ugly enough as it is, but if necessary, I'm prepared to go right to the top. My reputation's important to me, both professionally
and personally, and there's no truth whatsoever in this gossip."

  She glowered at me. "You don't care that he's lonely. It's just a chance for you to get on, to take advantage. Sir Frederick's lost his wife and his family's grown up, so he's an easy mark, isn't he?"

  Exasperated, I said, "That's ridiculous. You have no right to spread a story you know is untrue. And you'll bear the consequences."

  Silence. Jackie shifted uneasily. My mention of going right to the top was an unambiguous threat, and she knew the outcome would be damaging. Finally she said, "So what do you want me to do about it?"

  "You're going to stop repeating this story right now. You're going to deny it's true if anyone mentions it to you again." My anger began to bubble over. I spoke with greater vehemence. "Basically, Jackie, you're going to shut up!"

  I didn't want to let her save face. I didn't want to end our conversation with any hint of reconciliation. As she opened the door I said, "And don't do it again."

  It was a victory of sorts. Sharon would hose down any murmurings on the grapevine and the gossip, unless repeated, would grow cold quickly and be displaced by the latest hot rumor, so I didn't see the need to personally contradict what Jackie had said. Time would take care of that for me.

  But what if the rumor had linked me with Lee? What if Jackie had been spreading gossip that I was a lesbian? I couldn't cope with that... not now — not ever.

  By evening, Sir Frederick had pronounced the day a resounding success. It had passed quickly for me as I shuttled between Otto and Lee, although both of them had done their homework, knew what they wanted and therefore only needed me to locate specific people and accomplish introductions.

  Many of the delegates would be leaving Tern Island the next day, some going on to destinations within Australia accompanied by A.P.P. personnel, others to return home. For this reason the evening dinner was an official farewell, although a low-key one. I dressed with special care in high waisted silk pants and matching full-sleeved top of a golden amber shade which emphasized the darkness of my hair and eyes.

  I was seated at the official table and I found myself watching for Lee. She walked in with Hilary, who was wearing an outrageously low-cut outfit in shocking pink that, of course, looked wonderful on her. Lee, in contrast, wore a light blue dress of a color so pale it was almost white. She also had on the silver mesh bracelet of the first night. She smiled at me as she took her seat.

  After dinner, Sir Frederick's speech was graceful and brief, and then he asked a small group of us to join him for coffee in his cabin. He led the way with Mr. Wen from Korea, Sir Frederick taking large strides that forced the much shorter man to almost trot to keep up. I walked in companionable silence with Tony and Sharon through the provocative caress of the warm heavy-scented air. Behind us Hilary Ferguson was laughing with Lee over some story. Unwillingly I considered how much time they seemed to now spend together...

  More opulently furnished than the cabanas, the cabins were designed for entertaining. Sir Frederick's luxurious accommodation was hidden behind screens of judiciously positioned flowering bushes, to give the impression that the cabin was situated in its own lush garden, far from any other building. The main room had deep lounges, a thick white carpet and French windows opening onto a stone patio. A waiter stood ready to serve us coffee and a selection of tiny cakes while Sir Frederick bonhomied around the room with a tray of liqueurs. I accepted a black coffee. Having had wine with dinner, I was wary of combining proximity to Lee with more alcohol.

  I circled the room, chatting for a few moments to each person, spending more time with Otto, who gallantly declared he was heartbroken to be leaving me. I didn't speak to Lee. Eventually I ran into Tony, who was taking a similar circular route, but in the opposite direction. "We've done our duty," he said. "Let's find somewhere to relax."

  Tony sank down beside me on an ample russet couch. "I like substantial furniture, Alex. It matches my substantial self." There was a burst of laughter from the other side of the room where Hilary, obviously in a sparkling mood, was entertaining Lee and Steve, although it seemed obvious to me that she was concentrating on Lee. The laughter made Tony smile too. He looked approvingly at Hilary, saying, "She's quite beautiful, isn't she?"

  His tone was appreciative, but there was no sexual connotation at all. Not for the first time, I wondered about Tony. He'd been married and had children, but his divorce had gone through years ago and his kids were almost grown up.

  He nudged me gently. "Take a look at Steve over there." The conversation between Lee and Hilary was an animated one, and Steve's obvious attempts to take over were being thwarted. Tony said with marked irony, "Could Steve be getting the cold shoulder? Surely no one would deny him the center of attention?"

  "It seems that way," I said lightly. Deliberately turning my attention to Tony, I tried to ignore the two women, but I felt a stab of... what? Resentment? Jealousy?

  It helped me when Sir Frederick pulled up a chair and joined us. He was delighted with the achievements of the day and wanted our perceptions of its success, so I could concentrate on answering his questions and giving my evaluations. And tonight his attitude towards me was his customary business-like formality. It was tempting to think he'd heard the rumor Jackie had been circulating and had decided to retreat.

  When several others engaged Sir Frederick's attention I took the opportunity to escape. The room was full of noise — laughter, conversation, the clink of cups and glasses. As the familiar feeling of alienation swamped me, I made my way unobtrusively to the French windows and slipped outside. A few paces into the garden reduced the voices to background noise. I sat on a stone bench to let the peace of the night soak into me. The rising moon spilled black and white, crickets — no doubt of giant size — were calling and the scent of tropical flowers vitalized the light breeze.

  "May I join you?" said Lee.

  My heart leapt — not with surprise, nor joy — but with fear. It was not because I desired her with a passion whose carnal force bewildered me; I could contend with that. But what I felt for Lee... it had another dimension, a deeper, darker, more dangerous measure.

  "Alex?"

  Would her voice always be a blow to the heart?

  "Yes?"

  She stood gazing at me, frowning. "Is something the matter?"

  I looked away. "Yes..."

  Say it. For once dare to say what you think and feel.

  The moonlight poured into the garden, the crickets sang. I looked up at her. "I want to go to bed with you."

  Lee's lips began to curve in a smile. "Let's do it."

  "Just like that?"

  Her husky chuckle caught my breath. "Just like that."

  We didn't speak, didn't touch, as we walked the moonlit paths to Lee's cabana. I was disconnected, fatalistic. Whatever happened — happened. And if was a failure, if I made a total fool of myself — then that was how it had to be.

  Lee put the key in the door, opened it, gestured me inside. She looked calm, concentrated, remote.

  She's done this a thousand times before. It's no big deal for her.

  The room was dim, the only illumination a lamp beside the bed. I could hear the blood beating in my ears. Lee was standing, waiting.

  I looked into her shadowed eyes, saw her hold out her arms, walked like an automaton into her embrace.

  The heat of Lee's mouth awakened a shocking, ravenous desire. I trembled with it, moaned with it.

  I wanted to tear her clothes off, to have bare skin under my fingers, to taste her, consume her. But it was Lee who was undressing me, never ceasing to kiss me while her hands slid under my shirt, unhooked my bra, eased my clothing off until I was bare to the waist. Bending her head, her blonde hair tickling my throat, her hands cupping my breasts, she teased my swollen nipples with her tongue and teeth.

  I heard myself gasp. I had to speak. "I can't stand up any more." Was that my voice, so hoarse with passion?

  Lee murmured, "Just a little longer." Now her finge
rs were at my belt, deft, sure — and I was helping her, desperate to be fully naked. The ache between my legs had become so urgent I wanted to seize her hand and beg her to hurry, hurry.

  Wanton, it was wanton. I could hear myself panting. All my control had dissolved. "Lee, I can't wait."

  The cool touch of the sheets against my hot skin, involuntarily my hips lifting, legs parting. Lee's mouth at my breast, her cupped hand strong and sure. An ecstasy of tightness clenched within me as I arched, quivering on the edge.

  I could hear Lee's voice, softly commanding.

  "Come for me, Alex." And then I heard myself wailing as I contorted with the waves of release.

  I don't do this. Cry out like this. Feel that my bones have dissolved and my body melted...

  I was lying with my face nestled into her neck, a delicious lassitude filling me. I was conscious of her clothing, smooth and fine against my bare skin.

  "Lee?"

  She chuckled deep in her throat. "Alex?"

  "I'd like to undress you..." What a weak word... I want... desire... hunger for the touch of your skin against mine.

  She simply watched as I fumbled with the zipper, her eyes dark, her lips slightly apart, curved in a faint smile. She seemed composed, passive, but a pulse thudded in her throat. Suddenly I was desperate. I had to hold her, devour her, slake my voracious thirst for her body.

  "Help me," I said, my voice thick.

  She got off the bed, stood while I undressed her. Her lightly tanned skin was warm under my fingers as I took off the last of her clothes. I wanted her on top of me, I wanted my fingers inside her, I wanted...

  "Oh, God," I heard myself say.