by Joan Kilby
“She left with Rick—” Sally clapped a hand to her mouth. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
Rick. Suddenly he recalled Maeve’s saying there were things he didn’t know about Ida. “If you see her, tell her—” His mouth set in a grim line. “Never mind. I’ll tell her myself.”
He drove over to her house, but her car wasn’t in the carport and no one answered the door. He went around the back, found a plastic bucket by the outside water tap and filled it half-full. He stuck the flowers in the bucket and parked them in the shade next to the front door. Then he got back in the Merc and cruised down the sunlit street, his fingers pressed to his aching forehead.
When had Rick gotten back into town? And why hadn’t Ida mentioned it? What was happening to their friendship? A month ago she would never have betrayed him like this.
At home, Will popped a couple of headache tablets and trudged upstairs to change into his swimsuit. Maybe a cooling swim would clear his head. What the hell was going on with Ida and Rick? A crazy notion ran through his head—they’d eloped to San Diego…. Unguarded, his heart leaped at the thought of freedom. And Maeve.
But according to Ida, Rick didn’t want to marry, wasn’t ready for children. One thing he’d learned about Ida in the past month—she wanted security. She might not balk at a little fun on the side, but—That was it: she was picking up where she’d left off with Rick, just while he was in town.
Upstairs was unbearably hot and stuffy. He stripped off his shirt and pants, and opened the window. On the far side of the bay, the sun had begun its descent into the heat haze that stretched upward from the horizon. Port Phillip Bay shone like molten pewter.
Below in the garden, Maeve lay sleeping by the pool.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE FAINT ONSHORE BREEZE caressed his bare shoulders through the open window. Despite the acrimony of their last meeting, he felt a shiver of anticipation.
Why hadn’t he seen her ute? What was she doing here?
Answers were not to be found in his bedroom. He grabbed a towel from the linen closet, hesitated, then took out another. He’d prepared a romantic dinner for two. Ida was off somewhere with Rick. Why not share with Maeve? If she would stay.
His head still throbbed with pain, but now he didn’t mind quite as much. He pulled shorts on over his bathing suit, threw on a T-shirt and went out through the sliding doors and across the patio. On silent feet he padded down to the pool. Maeve slept as one enchanted.
Dropping to a crouch beside the lounge chair, he took the opportunity to gaze at her without fear of censure or inhibition. Tendrils of damp hair clung to her temples where they’d escaped from her braid. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her tanned skin glowing with perspiration. He ached to slide his hand down her bare midriff to her taut abdomen.
“Maeve,” he whispered, not sure how long he could restrain himself from touching her. But not for anything would he frighten her.
She shifted in her sleep, stretching one arm over her head. The movement lifted her breasts in the black crop top with a soft jiggle that made his groin tighten.
“Maeve, wake up.”
Wake her with a kiss, a small voice murmured in his mind.
Her bare feet were tender, vulnerable; her toenails painted a deep pearlized pink.
She was soundly asleep, her eyelids moving rapidly. What did she dream of? He scarcely dared hope she dreamed of him. If she woke up and saw him so close she would probably hit him.
Wake her with a kiss. The thought pounded in his right temple with the insistence of a jackhammer. Slowly he lowered his face to hers. Felt the soft warmth of her breath on his lips—
Her eyes snapped open.
“Will!” She struggled to a sitting position, glancing at the sky. “What time is it? Have you been watching me?”
“I was trying to wake you up,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“The Selenicereus is going to bloom tonight.” She rose from the lounge chair and moved around the pool to the rockery. Holding one massive, near-to-bursting bud in her palm, she said, “Come dark, the blossoms will begin to open. I didn’t want you to miss it. Forget the footy game.” She added, her voice strained, “Ida would enjoy this so much more.”
“We’re not going to the footy game.” A shooting pain tunneled through his frontal lobe. He winced and pressed the heel of his hand against his skull.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, gently letting the Selenicereus bud fall back.
“Just a headache. Maeve, about what happened at the party—”
“It’s okay,” she said.
“No, really. I’m sorry. I hope you know I have the greatest respect for you—” He broke off as another shaft of pain struck.
“I can make you a herbal pack that will help.”
“I’ve taken a painkiller with codeine. It should kick in any minute.”
“Okay,” she said dubiously, and stepped back. “I’d better go and let you rest before you meet Ida.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’m glad you decided against the footy match for her birthday. What did you plan, instead?”
“A barbecue seafood dinner here in front of the sunset.”
“Very nice,” Maeve said. “The Selenicereus will be a bonus.”
“That’s what I had planned,” he added. “Ida can’t make it— Ow.” He grabbed his head with both hands.
“Come, sit down.” She took his arm and pulled him toward the lounge chair.
“I’m fine. Honest,” he protested, but he let her push him gently into the chair and swing his feet up.
She moved behind him and began gently to massage his temples. “How does this feel?”
Like heaven. “Good.” He tried to twist around to see her. “Did you get my note?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “Of course I forgive you. We were all a little overwrought that day.”
Thank God. Will’s tension eased a fraction.
“What happened to Ida tonight?” Maeve asked. “Is she okay?”
“Apparently so,” he said dryly. “She went out with Rick.”
Her hands stilled on his head. “So she finally told you he was in town. Are they getting back together?”
“She didn’t say,” he said with bitter bluntness. “In fact, I didn’t even know he was in Melbourne until her secretary let it slip. I gather you’ve been kept informed.”
Maeve came around and sat on the edge of the lounge chair, facing him. “She told me about him the day of your engagement party. I didn’t think it was my place to tell you. Look, I know you have your heart set on being a father to her baby, but shouldn’t you encourage her to tell Rick the baby is his?”
“I have. She swears he’s not interested.” Will lay back on the lounge chair, shutting his eyes with a sigh.
“I’m going to pick some of the lavender and valerian I planted today and make an infusion for your head,” she said, rising. “Then I’ll go and let you rest.”
“Don’t leave, Maeve.” He reached for her hand. “Stay and see the Queen of the Night in all her glory.”
Her smile reached her eyes. “I’d love that.”
“Have dinner with me, too.” When she frowned, he added, “It would be a pity to waste those tiger prawns.”
“Mmm. Tiger prawns.” She glanced down at herself. “I’m still in my work clothes.”
“You look beautiful in anything.” The coming of the full moon must be making him a little crazy. Nothing in his life had ever seemed as urgent as having Maeve spend this evening with him.
“You must be feeling down about Ida.” Her voice was low and rich with sympathy. “Maybe you love her more than you realize.”
“I don’t love her, not in the way you mean. But I am worried about her. I’m afraid Rick will break her heart again. First thing tomorrow I’m going to track him down and demand to know his intentions.”
Maeve’s warm chuckle fell softly on his ears. “That would sound pretty strange coming from
the fiancé.”
His smile was brief. “It would, wouldn’t it.”
“I’m going to make you that infusion now,” she said. “While you recover from your headache, I’ll run home and change.”
Will shut his eyes and must have dozed. A short time later Maeve was pressing a cool, musky-smelling cloth to his forehead and a cup of warm liquid into his hand.
“Drink up.”
“What is it?” He started to take a sip.
“Lavender tea.”
He choked it down only because she’d made it. “Hurry back.”
She smiled into his eyes, and then her long cool fingers stroked his eyelids shut. “Sleep if you can.”
AS MAEVE SPED through the evening, she prayed there were no speed cameras on the Nepean Highway tonight, because she’d get a ticket for sure. She didn’t know what the night would bring, and for once she wasn’t stopping to analyze the possibilities. Don’t think, just act.
Art wasn’t home when she arrived. He was probably at the pub with his mates from work, she decided as she stepped under the shower. Good. She didn’t want to have to explain why she was spending that evening with Will.
When she opened her wardrobe, her long white muslin dress fell off its hanger and landed in a soft puddle at her feet. Must be a sign, she decided, and drew it over her head.
This was not a special occasion, she told herself, slipping gold hoops through her ears. He’d asked her to dinner as a friend, nothing else. He was still engaged to Ida, although Maeve no longer believed he would go through with the wedding.
She drove back down the peninsula to Sorrento, feeling as if all her Christmases had come at once. When she got back to Will’s house he was firing up the barbecue on the patio. His welcoming smile made her feel this night was special to him, too.
“How’s your headache?” she asked, a little shy, now that she was here.
He poured a glass of wine from the bottle in the cooler. “I don’t know what you put in that potion, but my headache has completely disappeared,” he said, handing her the glass.
“I’ve had a lot of practice with headaches,” she explained. “Graham used to get migraines.”
“Speaking of your ex,” Will said, his voice too casual, “when are you sailing to Fiji?”
She lifted the glass to her nose, assessing the wine’s complex bouquet. A special wine for a special occasion. Ida’s birthday, she reminded herself. Even knowing that didn’t take away from the magic of now. “I’m not going.”
Will poured himself a glass. “I thought you said he’d changed.”
She met his gaze. “Somehow, it’s not enough.”
Will touched his glass to hers. “To…?”
Fantasies? Futures? Feelings she could barely contain? Any of those, or all, seemed appropriate on this whimsical night. “To the Queen of the Night,” she suggested.
Will smiled into her eyes. “Queen of the Night.”
She savored the richly fragrant wine. “Thanks for the solar panel and thermoregulator,” she said. “Couldn’t you produce those in your factory to boost sales?”
“The solar panel is a possibility, but would require a lot more development. As for the thermo-regulator, there isn’t a big market for such specialized equipment.” He paused. “Understandably, you’re not happy about your father coming back to work for me, but I want you to know I really appreciate what he’s doing. When all this is over, I’m going to try to make it up to him.”
Maeve nodded. She didn’t want to talk about this now.
“Art proposed that the employees buy out the company to save it from going overseas,” Will added.
My idea, Maeve thought. “Is the scheme viable?”
“Possibly,” he admitted. “But if the employees bought me out, I could lose control of research and development. I would certainly lose the power to make decisions.”
“Wouldn’t that be better than seeing the factory go overseas? To me, having control over my life means having the power to choose as opposed to being acted upon by external forces.” She gave him a half smile. “Is Ida aware you’re such a control freak?”
“Yes, unfortunately for her.”
Mention of Ida brought an awkward silence. Guilt washed over Maeve. “Would she mind my being here tonight?” she said at last.
“Judging by her absence, I’d say not.” Will gazed speculatively at Maeve for a moment. Then, abruptly, he rose to his feet. “Let’s throw those prawns on the barbie.”
Maeve lit the half-dozen citronella candles set around the patio, while Will cooked. They dined al fresco, washing down succulent prawns and salad with more of Will’s delicious wine, followed by fresh strawberries and chocolate.
“You understand the way to a woman’s heart,” Maeve said, relishing a melting shard of Belgian chocolate. “Ida doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
Will leaned across the table and placed his hand over hers. “Could we not talk about Ida, just for tonight?”
At this moment, with his blue eyes gazing into hers, Maeve didn’t care if she never heard of Ida again. “Agreed.”
She turned her hand over so their palms met, then slid her hand away before his fingers could lace through hers. After so long avoiding all contact, things were happening too fast. “Let’s see if the flowers are blooming.”
They walked down to the rockery, where the setting sun burnished the rocks with a red-gold glow. Despite the late hour, the heat had not left the day. All along the slanting waist-high wall of rock and earth, the Selenicereus cactus spread its trailing vine, dotted at irregular intervals with ripe buds the size of a man’s fist.
“Look,” Maeve said, excited. The bud she’d examined earlier had unfurled, its glowing white petals surrounded by golden spikes.
Will bent to smell the flower. “There’s no perfume.”
“Be patient. It comes in bursts. Another half hour and the whole rockery will be a mass of flowers.”
His hand slid around hers. “Let’s go watch the last of the sunset while we wait.”
She followed him across the springy turf. The balmy breeze sifted through her light dress, and the scents of the myriad flowers she’d planted perfumed the air. Will’s hand held hers. From the cliff edge, they gazed over the bay at the indigo sky, slashed with crimson on the horizon. Boat lights winked on the darkening water. The full moon, a massive golden orb, was rising from the sea.
Will inclined his head till his nose touched her scalp. “You’re not wearing your usual fragrance…”
She grimaced. “Sweat and dirt.”
“Sweat and dirt can be sexy.”
His low voice next to her ear was hypnotic.
“Tonight you simply smell like…clean hair.” He sounded surprised, and smelled again. “Not shampoo or hair goo or perfume. Just hair.” Bending lower, he nuzzled the curve of her neck. “And your skin smells like skin.”
“You’re tickling me.” Laughing, she put a hand on his chest, but not to stop him. “I don’t wear scented products.”
He played with a strand of her hair. “Do you believe people do things during a full moon that they wouldn’t normally do?”
In the magical golden light, he looked like some eager wild child. Her heart beat with the rhythm of a tom-tom. “What kind of things?”
“I don’t know—howling at the moon. Flinging yourself off high cliffs.”
“You’d break your neck.”
“I thought you were a romantic.” Facing her, he slid his arms around her waist and drew her to him. “Everywhere I look in this garden, I see you.”
“Silly, it’s meant to be about you.” She slipped out of his embrace and started to walk back to the pool.
“We’re two of a kind,” he said, following.
“God, I hope not.” Her laughter floated on the sultry air.
“Maeve, I’m being serious.”
And he was, for once. She stopped and, hesitantly, trailed her hand up his arm. “I know what you mean. I f
eel it, too.”
He pulled her back to him. “Show me how that kissing gate works again,” he murmured close to her lips.
“We’re a long way from the kissing gate,” she demurred.
“You’re not wrong.” He touched his lips to hers. Tenderly. Tantalizingly. “Who goes through the gate first?”
She inhaled his warm breath, mingled wine and chocolate. Wanting a taste, she ran her tongue along his lips. “I go first. You follow.”
His arms enclosed her, pressing her body against his from thighs to chest. “Enter.”
A light push of her tongue gained her access to his mouth. He captured her with a gentle sucking, drawing her deeper in an intimate caress. Maeve felt heat spill through her, felt her breasts swell like buds ready to burst. An intense wave of vanilla fragrance wafted their way.
Will broke the kiss to whisper against her lips, “I thought one was supposed to hear bells.”
Abruptly, she took a step backward, removing herself from his embrace, from his warmth. “Will, is there going to be a wedding?”
His chin sank to his chest. “I don’t know.”
“We have to talk about Ida.” She touched his arm, then quickly withdrew.
“You know what I think bothers me the most?” he said. “Ida always used to come to me when she had a problem. But ever since we got engaged, our friendship has become more and more strained. Like this thing with Rick. She couldn’t even tell me she was seeing him. It’s as if she’s afraid of how I’ll react. She never used to worry about that.”
“Will, if losing her friendship is what bothers you the most about her seeing Rick, then you should not be marrying her.”
He sighed. “She could be making love to Rick right now and it wouldn’t bother me. In fact, I’d be happy for her.”
“Is that the kind of marriage you want?”
“No, but I made a promise to my mother not to hurt Ida.”
“It seems to me Ida’s hurting you.”
“I don’t understand why she didn’t at least call,” he said. “I’m not gaining a wife—I’m losing a friend.”
“She’s avoiding a decision, afraid of losing everything.”
“Maybe,” Will conceded. “On a solicitor’s income she could easily provide for her baby, but being pregnant has changed her. Made her fiercely protective of the child.”