by Maggie Brown
“You’re not upset? The terms of employment didn’t state you had to be with me all the time. They were written by my mother, not me.”
“Gee. It’s really going to be a trial hanging out with you.”
Eleanor reached over and touched the back of her hand. “You’re a fun person, Ms. Ryan.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Ms. Godwin. I found a cupboard full of games in the back room, and the pool is calling out to us to use it.” She gave a snicker. “I’m going to whip your arse in Scrabble.”
“Huh…you wish. Now bring out those tartines. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
As she crunched the toasted bread, Eleanor glanced occasionally at Sophie, frankly intrigued. Why was this sweet woman still unattached? Surely, someone with her sultry good looks, cooking skills, and pleasant nature, should have been snaffled up long ago. Were all the men around her blind? She noticed Sophie glanced at her with equal curiosity, and stroked the back of her hand where she had touched it. Eleanor couldn’t help visualizing the finger not just on her feet, but also on the more intimate parts of her body. When she realized she was softly humming, she rose quickly from the table. “I’ll put the plates in the dishwasher and you set up the Scrabble board.”
* * *
“I don’t believe this,” snapped Eleanor, not far off a third straight loss. “Where on earth do you find some of these words? What the hell is a zampone?”
“A stuffed pig’s trotter sausage. And on a triple word too,” replied Sophie smugly.
“Huh! What are you? A walking encyclopaedia?”
“Prodigious vocabulary. It comes in handy with the job.”
“To be a housekeeper?”
Sophie’s eyes widened into the proverbial “rabbit caught in a spotlight.” She ducked her head and muttered. “Um…I…I didn’t mean that.”
“What? You’re not a housekeeper? You could have fooled me.”
“I…I write novels too. Secretly.”
Eleanor stared at her. “Really? What kind of books?”
“Err…romances.”
“Wow! What’s your pseudonym?”
“If I tell you, then my cover is blown.”
Eleanor looked at her with real interest. This made Sophie infinitely more appealing. “Upmarket or Mills and Boon?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Or maybe bodice rippers?”
“No more questions. My books are not up for discussion.”
“Okay, but don’t expect me to leave it alone. I love a good mystery.” Eleanor glanced at her watch. “Lunchtime, so what about after we eat we have a swim.”
“Don’t you want to look around the island?”
“Tomorrow will do. I’d better not push things too much. This is my first full day on my feet. There are lots of DVDs in the cupboard under the TV, so we can have a movie afternoon.”
“Are there any of yours?”
“If there are, we won’t be watching them. Now how about you make one of your fantastic sandwiches, and a cappuccino from that fancy coffee machine and I’ll pack away the Scrabble.”
After the box was tucked away in the drawer, Eleanor lay back in the recliner chair on the terrace. She smiled at the sound of singing drifting through the open window. Whatever attributes Sophie possessed, holding a tune wasn’t one of them. Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”, was being butchered in the kitchen. As she listened, it dawned on her that for the first time in very long time she was truly happy. Here, away from the pressures of work and city living, and back in Australia, the world seemed so much simpler.
And Sophie had become an integral part of that contentment. The next weeks promised to be fun. Eleanor chewed at her lip. When was the last time she had let her hair down and really enjoyed herself? She couldn’t remember. Life in the Hollywood fast lane seemed to be rounds of obligatory parties and living in trailers on location.
Her sex life wasn’t to be envied either. No one had ever matched up to Maria. Theirs had been a brief, forbidden love, but the feelings had clung to her heart like glue. Perhaps if their romance had been able to proceed past that first rush of intense passion, the story would have been different. But that month of fiery happiness had remained burning bright for years, and all else faded in comparison.
Eventually though, time dimmed the memories. But when she was finally ready to embrace love again, no one came close to engaging her heart. And the dating pool seemed to have shrunk. Coupled with the fact she was still in the closet, she had become too famous for many eligible women to consider approachable. Men didn’t seem to care—she was constantly hit upon at every public engagement.
At the scrape of a chair, Eleanor swung around. “That looks good. Now while we eat, tell me about your family.”
Sophie placed the plate of sandwiches and coffee mugs on the occasional table between them and sank down into the other chair. “Okay. I’ve three brothers and a sister. My father is an Australian-born accountant of Irish descent, and my mother is an Italian housewife.”
“So your brown eyes and olive skin come from your Mediterranean heritage.”
“Yep. Have you seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding?”
“Yes. It was very funny.”
“Well, ours are Italian not Greek. They’re loveable, annoying busybodies and very family-oriented. Mum is one of eight, which means at a family do the house is packed. Standing room only. Everyone has to bring a dish to feed us all.”
“Lucky you. I’m an only child.”
Sophie whistled. “That makes my mouth water.”
“No it shouldn’t,” retorted Eleanor and added wistfully, “I wanted desperately to have a sister. It was a lonely childhood, so I compensated by play-acting with my dolls. I got very good at it, hence my career path. Now tell me about your younger years.”
“Having so many cousins and siblings, I learnt to stand up for myself. Mind you, I had no option with the nickname Chubby Cheeks. Mum and Dad let us get away with murder, but Aunt Angie didn’t. She’s mum’s eldest sister, and runs the show. Think Don Corleone. She’s old-fashioned and strict as they come. Woe betide any of us who stray from the path of righteousness.”
“Then I hope for your sake she didn’t see the infamous picture on Facebook?”
“She didn’t, thank God. I rang my sister and she would have mentioned it. Luckily, no one had any idea that the day before I left I got my hair cut short.”
“You wore your hair longer?”
“Down past my shoulders.”
“Was it was wild and curly?”
“Yes. A nightmare to keep tidy.”
Eleanor suddenly understood more about her mother’s choice. Sophie resembled Maria now in a fashion, but with such long hair, they would be dead ringers. “I like your new hairstyle. It’s very chic,” she said, and meant it. Somehow, and she didn’t stop to analyse why, it was important that Sophie was her own personality and not an extension of Maria’s identity.
“Thanks. My friend Brie said I had to jazz myself up.”
Eleanor toyed with the handle of the cup. “Does your aunt give your boyfriends a hard time?”
Sophie’s eyes flew wide as if she’d been pinched. “I’ve…I’ve never brought anyone home.”
“Oh!” said Eleanor, taken aback. She looked at her, intrigued. “Why not? You’re a terrific catch.”
When red flushed across Sophie’s cheeks, Eleanor grasped her arm quickly. “I’m sorry. That was so rude of me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Hell, I’m not embarrassed, I’m flattered. Nobody’s ever said anything so nice to me.”
“It’s true, so you better believe it,” said Eleanor, and released her arm reluctantly. “But I’m curious about Aunt Angie. If you brought a man home, would she put him through the third degree?”
“Is the Pope Catholic? She’d chew him up without a qualm.”
Out of the blue, Eleanor felt a surge of protectiveness. “I think your aunt needs someone to put her in her place.” From Sophie’s sce
ptical look, Eleanor guessed this would be a difficult, if not an impossible feat. She didn’t offer another comment, instead climbed to her feet. She took Sophie’s hand and pulled her up. “Let’s go swimming. You can give me the next chapter of your family saga later on.”
They made their way into the house to change, their fingers still linked together until they reached the staircase. As Sophie made her way to her unit, Eleanor paused on the steps to watch her disappear through the door. She slowly relaxed, not trying to analyse why her heart had skipped a beat when Sophie announced she had never brought anyone home. Some things were better left alone.
Chapter Ten
The new yellow bikini Brie had insisted she buy left little to the imagination. Sophie adjusted it self-consciously, wishing she were more like Keira Knightly than Dolly Parton. But no amount of pulling and pushing changed anything. Her boobs still bulged and her bum cheeks still poked out below the scanty bottom.
Her cousin, Jolene, always said no matter how much you exercise, when you first put on a bikini, you’re like, “Oh fuck. Where’re my boxers.”
No truer word spoken, Sophie thought as she critically assessed her body in the long mirror in the bathroom. Strangely enough though, the more she looked, the more the low-rise bikini didn’t look half-bad. No fat rolls in sight and her stomach was flat. Running up and down the stairs to nurse Eleanor had done wonders. After a last fleeting glance, she fetched a beach towel from the cupboard and headed out the back.
Eleanor was standing by the pool, dressed in a one-piece swimsuit that looked spectacular. The front dipped low between her breasts, the sides were high and it was backless to the waist. Sophie couldn’t stop gawking. Hot damn! It was a seriously sexy outfit.
As Eleanor’s eyes roved over the bikini, they flared briefly with emotion. “Nice,” she murmured.
“Come on…last one in is a rotten egg,” yelled Sophie with a running dive.
When she surfaced, Eleanor, treading water, looked at her with a crooked grin. “You’re cute. I haven’t heard that expression since I was a child.”
“Being in a big family makes you juvenile. You should hear how we go on at Christmas.”
“I can’t imagine,” said Eleanor wistfully. “Now I’m going to veg out for a while under the waterfall. It looks so relaxing.”
Sophie watched her swim away with sure steady strokes, as graceful as a porpoise as she sliced through the water. Wasn’t there anything the woman couldn’t do? Sophie swam to the other end of the pool, and propped her head on her arms on the side to gather her thoughts. Or at least to face the reality of what was happening. She knew she was getting out of her depth.
Nursing Eleanor had been intimate and unsettling. She had become enormously attracted to the stay (what red-blooded lesbian wouldn’t be), but it went beyond the physical. With Eleanor’s collapse and her vulnerability over the following days, Sophie had never felt so protective of anyone. If she didn’t get her head around this feeling, she’d never be able to write the article. And if she couldn’t, she’d be out on her arse with no job.
Crap!
Uneasy, she glanced over at Eleanor under the waterfall. She was the epitome of a successful woman: well-spoken, well-groomed, well-disciplined. Yet for all of that, there was warmth about her that set her apart from many celebrities. She had the common touch. Sophie groaned. Why couldn’t Eleanor at least be a bit of a bitch? It would make her task a lot easier. And because of a brain fart, Sophie had been forced to add another role to her repertoire of lies. A secret effing author and a romance one at that. At least she could have said thrillers or horror stories.
She pushed off the side and swam toward the waterfall, determined not to dwell on her predicament until she had to. As Miss Scarlet would say, “Tomorrow is another day.”
Eleanor gave a wave as she approached. “Isn’t it wonderful? It’s almost surreal. No people, no pressures…and in these lush gardens, it’s as if we’re in Eden.”
“I hope you’re not going to tempt me with an apple.”
“Oh, I think you’re the one who’s the temptress in that bikini,” said Eleanor with a throaty laugh and a wink.
Sophie blinked. Did Ms. Hot Hollywood Eleanor Godwin just flirt with her? Nah. No way. She obviously meant it was too revealing. Embarrassed, she pulled at the top. “It is a bit…um…skimpy, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be silly. I didn’t mean that. You’re lovely…I mean it’s lovely. The bikini I mean. You look nice in it.” Eleanor’s eyes fixed on the yellow top and she leaned forward with an audible swallow. “Very nice. I would…” She stopped abruptly with a quick hiss of breath. “Yes…well…let’s swim for a while.”
She powered off down the pool in a burst of spray, leaving Sophie to stare after her. After that, Eleanor became remote, still friendly, but the real warmth had disappeared. Her playfulness vanished and in its place was a cool wariness. She kept her distance each time Sophie tried to come too close. For the first time Sophie felt awkward with her, at a loss to understand what had happened. After the familiarity of the sickbed, it felt like abandonment.
When they exited the pool some time later, she turned to Eleanor, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I’ll go down to the resort and get a couple of lobsters for dinner. I won’t be long.”
“Yes, of course. Aren’t you going to…?”
Sophie missed most of the reply as she ran around the side to the garage.
She jammed the accelerator down, scowling as the buggy lurched forward with a shower of white pebbles. Once on the downhill road, she came to her senses and slowed down. By the time she reached the entertainment centre, her temper had cooled. Only then did she realize that she was still dressed in the bikini. She slipped around to the side door to the kitchen, and found Lisa stirring a pot on the stove. Her boss, Giovanni, was nowhere in sight.
“Hi there,” Lisa said with a smile.
Sophie felt immediately calmer. Lisa had been a tower of strength the last week. “I was wondering if you had any fresh lobsters.”
“Hang on and I’ll be with you in a sec when the sauce is finished.” After a minute, Lisa pulled the saucepan off the flame and washed the wooden spoon under the tap. “A batch of lobsters was brought in on the fishing boat this morning. You want a cup of coffee first?”
“A glass of wine sounds better today.”
“My shout then. Come on out to the bar at the pool. I have to work so I’ll only have a Coke.” She eyed Sophie’s outfit. “I see you’ve already had a swim.”
“Yes. I probably should have changed before I came.”
“Why? This is a beach resort…anything goes.”
The bar was deserted except for an elderly couple talking quietly in the corner. After they ordered their drinks, Sophie stretched out in a recliner by the pool. Gradually, the hurt of Eleanor’s rejection ebbed away. “This is great,” she murmured as she gazed over the pool fence at the rugged backdrop. Where the island rose into a peak, a granite escarpment stood like a craggy fortress at the top. The vegetation consisted mainly of native hibiscus bushes, spiky spinifex and eucalyptus trees, for Eurydice was too far south for much tropical rainforest. Light greens coloured the hill, with snatches of browns from the more hardy shrubs that grew between the rocks higher up.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else if you paid me,” said Lisa with a grin.
“Can guests stay for only one or two nights?”
“Nope. Minimum booking is a week. And there’s a waiting list. I take it from the glass of wine that Eleanor is much better today.”
“Much. She’s back to her old self.”
“That’s good news. Now she’s better, I’d love to meet her. I think she’s a fabulous actor. And one hot lady too.”
Something in the way she said the words made Sophie look at her sharply. Could Lisa be gay or bi? She hadn’t felt any vibes, but then Sophie’s gaydar usually sucked. A smidgin of jealousy prickled, which she ruefully quashed. “She’ll p
robably come to the centre tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Lisa sounded disappointed. “I’d like to meet her one-on-one. You don’t suppose I could bring some groceries to your house?”
Sophie nearly rolled her eyes. “If you come around tomorrow after breakfast, we should be there. Drop off some chocolate and fruit.”
“Great. I can’t wait. This month is going to be exciting. As well as having Eleanor Godwin here, Austen Farleigh is coming next month. Apparently, she’s working on a new album and wants to get away from the press.”
Sophie sat up straight at that news. Austen was the bad girl of the music scene: talented, volatile, beautiful, and an unabashed lesbian. She was the darling of the tabloids, her name linked to many high-profile women, straight and gay. With her moody androgynous good looks and lithe tattooed body, she was the pinup poster girl for younger lesbians. Whether her sexual prowess was exaggerated was hardly the point. Her notoriety, coupled with an extremely photogenic face and body, sent the press into a feeding frenzy.
She could imagine how jealous Brie was going to be when she heard Sophie had met her. Her visit here certainly piqued Sophie’s interest. She loved her music and wondered whether the superstar would actually sing one night. “Do you think she’ll do a performance?” she asked.
“Maybe. Deirdre can be very persuasive.”
“I hope so,” said Sophie.
“Me too. I’d better get back to work. Come with me and I’ll get you those lobsters.”
Sophie rose to her feet. The scent of roasting lamb wafted in the corridor to the kitchen. Giovanni gave her a wave as she passed the door, his ruddy face filmed with perspiration. Lisa had introduced the large Italian chef when she arrived for supplies on the third day, and they had hit it off immediately. She figured he’d fit in very well with her family.
After Lisa packed the lobsters with ice in a small esky, Sophie made her way back to the buggy. She knew she should be getting back, but a part of her rebelled. Blow! The beach was calling her name and Eleanor didn’t seem to want her company.