Bridge to Nowhere

by Yvonne Whittal

  She had very little leisure time during the ensuing weeks, and, with Dorothy's assistance, she had completed the laborious task of listing every item in the shop. New stock had been ordered and had arrived in time for the Easter holidays, but the shelves and glass counters had also been replenished with wood-sculpted ornaments, clay pots and colourful beadwork with a distinctive African flavour. The latter had been supplied by the very artistic team of local native men and women who, with Megan's encouragement, had long ago found a lucrative outlet for their work through her curio shop.

  The first batch of safari outfits bearing Megan's designer label, MEGS, had arrived, and she had received notification that a second batch was on its way. The arrangements for the fashion show had also gone ahead smoothly, and the bungalows in the camp were filling up rapidly with visitors.

  Megan caught only brief glimpses of Chad McAdam during those busy weeks before Easter, and when she did happen to bump into him, his manner had been cold and distant. On several occasions she had had to accept messages from farmers in the district requiring Chad's services as a vet, but, to her relief, he was in demand to such an extent that he had seldom been in his office when she had gone there to leave the messages on his desk.

  She had decided sensibly that it would be safer to stay out of Chad's way, and pressure of work had made it possible for her to accomplish this, but that did not stop her thinking and wondering about him.

  'He's a bit too abrupt and aloof for everyone's liking, but no one can deny that he's a damn good vet,' Jack had expressed his opinion one evening when he had dropped in to have a cup of coffee with Megan in her bungalow, and Megan had seen no reason to contradict that statement.

  She was aware of the fact that Chad worked long, hard hours during the day, but she did not mention this to Jack Harriman, and neither did she mention that Chad seldom extinguished the lights in his bungalow before midnight. It would not do to give the impression that she was interested in the comings and goings of the veterinary surgeon, but, to be honest with herself, she was. She could not help it. The man intrigued her, and, despite her efforts to the contrary, she had caught herself on several occasions listening for his step, or searching the grounds in the hope of catching a glimpse of him.

  She was kept busy in her shop until long after eight the Wednesday evening before Alexa Bradstone was expected to arrive at Izilwane with her models. This was an important occasion for Megan, and she had spent the hours carefully selecting the garments and the accessories which were to be modelled at the fashion show. She was thrusting a pile of letters and invoices into a folder when she turned to see Chad McAdam dwarfing the entrance to the small room which she used as an office, shrinking it to cupboard size, and her heart leapt nervously in her breast as she stared at his tall, khaki-clad frame.

  'You don't usually work this late, do you, Megan?'

  He took a pace into the office, adding claustrophobia to the many thoughts and feelings surging through her, and it felt as if an eternity passed before she managed to regain her composure sufficiently to answer him.

  'No, I don't usually work this late, but there's still so much to do, and I want to be ready tomorrow when Alexa arrives with her models.' He was standing close enough for her to catch the faint but pleasing scent of his masculine cologne, and a strange weakness assailed her limbs. 'Was there something you wanted?' she asked, wishing he would state his business and go.

  His appraising glance shifted from her lime-green blouse down to the tailored white slacks hugging the gentle curve of her hips and thighs, then he smiled twistedly. 'I was passing when I saw that the lights were still on, and I wondered if the shop was being burgled.'

  Megan knew she would be a fool to believe him. There was something about him that made her feel edgy, but she could not decide what it was.

  'I doubt that a burglar would have switched on the lights to advertise his presence, do you?' she mocked him, and his eyes observed her with a strange intensity as she turned from him to pick up her keys and the folder she had stuffed so full of papers.

  'Are you locking up for the night?'

  'Yes.'

  She had answered him with an abruptness which had stemmed from her intense awareness of him as a virile, sensually attractive man. She wished he would leave, but he stood aside for her to precede him out of the office, and he lingered until she had switched off the lights and locked up the shop.

  'I'll walk with you,' he announced unexpectedly when they left the building and stepped out into the cool night air to walk along the path leading towards their bungalows.

  Megan resigned herself to the inevitable, but his silent presence beside her in the moonlight unnerved her, and her heart skipped a frightened beat as he accompanied her all the way to her bungalow. They ascended the shallow steps on to the small stoep at the entrance, and she unlocked the door, her hand fumbling when she switched on the inside lights before turning to face him.

  'Goodnight, Dr McAdam,' she said warily, and her wariness intensified when he observed her with a gleam of mockery in his eyes.

  'I was hoping you'd be neighbourly and invite me in for a cup of coffee.'

  Megan gestured with the brown folder she had been holding up against her breasts like a shield. 'I still have a lot of paperwork to get through this evening, and I—'

  'Don't make excuses, Megan,' he cut in accusingly, his hand gripping her arm and sending a thousand little shock waves darting through her as he propelled her inside and closed the door.

  Megan was unaccustomed to being treated in this manner, and she shifted the bulky folder on to her hip to wrench her arm free of his disturbing clasp. 'Well, really!' she began indignantly. 'You have no right to—'

  'It isn't going to work, you know,' he interrupted her once again, his deep, velvety voice touching her and confusing her.

  'What are you talking about? What isn't going to work?'

  Chad's narrowed gaze rested for a moment on the glossy, honey-gold hair curling softly about her delicate features, then it shifted lower to linger where the thrust of her breasts was clearly visible beneath the silk of her blouse. Megan felt a rush of blood surging into that part of her anatomy, and her cheeks were flaming when he raised his sensuous glance to that tiny pulse beating erratically at the base of her throat.

  'There's no sense in denying that we've both been doing our best to avoid each other these past weeks,' he explained his confusing statement. 'There's an awareness between us which I'm sure you find as unacceptable as I do, but by avoiding each other we've simply intensified it.'

  Megan's breath seemed to lock in her throat. It was true! In her efforts to avoid Chad she had succeeded only in making herself more aware of him, but there was no joy in the knowledge that he felt the same about her. He had confessed that the only use he had for a woman was in his bed, and she had no intention of becoming involved with someone like Chad McAdam who would use her solely as an instrument with which to satisfy his physical urges.

  'You're mistaken,' she contradicted him coldly, turning away from his disturbing nearness to deposit the bulky folder on the small writing desk beneath the window where the curtain billowed gently in the breeze.

  'Am I, Megan?' he mocked her, foiling her attempt to put a safe distance between them by coming up behind her, and the warmth of his hands on her shoulders sent unfamiliar but receptive tremors racing across her nerve-ends. 'Something flared between us the first time we saw each other at Revil Bradstone's house party. I ignored it, but the reason for my abominable behaviour when I arrived here at Izilwane to find you in my kitchen was that I was shattered to discover that the feeling was still there.'

  Megan could echo almost everything he was saying, but she dared not let him know it. 'Dr McAdam, you don't—'

  'Chad,' he corrected, his breath stirring the hair against her temple and sending delicious little tremors racing along her spine. 'Call me Chad.'

  'Chad,' she murmured obligingly, her body stiffening beneath those st
rong fingers moving against her shoulders in a deliberate caress which was beginning to affect more than her pulse rate. 'You're imagining things,' she added in a voice that was husky and unfamiliar to her own ears.

  'I don't believe I am.' There was mockery in his soft, throaty laughter when he spun her round to face him, and her heart fluttered like a wild bird trapped in a cage as she met his probing, stabbing glance. 'Can you look at me, Megan, and tell me honestly that you don't feel anything?'

  It was not in Megan's nature to lie. She had always told the truth no matter what the consequences, but she did not relish the outcome in a situation such as this. It was true that Chad had captured her interest long ago with no more than a brief glance across a crowded terrace, and it was also true that, since his arrival at Izilwane, he had awakened her to the most disturbing feelings, but her logical mind warned that it would be fatal to admit it.

  'You're the best-looking man I've ever seen.' Her voice was admirably calm in the face of her own vulnerability as she confessed to a harmless truth in preparation for the abominable lie which necessity dictated would have to follow, but she dared not look into his eyes while she did so, and she concentrated instead on the strong line of his square jaw. 'You have good features—features I would like to sketch some day, but that's all it is, and I apologise if I've made you believe differently.'

  His grip tightened on her slim shoulders, his fingers biting painfully into the tender flesh he had caressed only moments earlier. 'Why don't you want to admit the truth?'

  'This is a ridiculous conversation!' she protested, fear making her resort to anger as her only defence. She avoided his rapier-sharp eyes, and brushed off his hands to back a pace away from him. 'I have a mound of paperwork to wade through this evening, and I don't wish to appear rude, but I'd appreciate it if you would leave now.'

  'I'll go, Megan,' he assured her harshly, his fingers snaking about her arm when she would have turned away from him, 'but there's one question I would like to ask. Is Jack Harriman your lover?'

  She drew an angry, indignant breath. 'That's none of your business!'

  'I'm making it my business! Is he your lover?'

  'No, he is not!'

  'Then what's preventing you from admitting the truth?'

  'Nothing and no one is preventing me from doing anything!' she argued fiercely. 'You have no right to question me like this, and I insist that we discontinue this conversation!'

  'You're right! There's been too much talk and too little action!'

  Anger glittered in the eyes blazing down into hers, but the warning in their depths escaped Megan while she tried to cope with her rising panic, and she was totally unprepared when Chad jerked her up against him. He held her with her arms pinned helplessly at her sides, and the shock of finding herself caught up against his hard chest and muscled thighs seemed to electrify every nerve and sinew in her body. Her lips parted on a cry of protest, and he chose that moment to claim her soft, untutored mouth with an intimacy that made the blood flow at a hot, dizzying pace through her veins.

  Megan was aware of her breasts hurting against the hard wall of his chest, and the tautness of his muscled thighs against her own. She wanted to voice her displeasure at this physical assault, but the firm, sensual pressure of Chad's mouth on hers stifled the sound in her throat, and then, to her dismay, a clamouring response rose from somewhere deep within her. It took control of her actions, robbing her of the ability to think rationally, and, her latent senses delighting in the hard warmth of his male body against her own, she relaxed in his arms and slid her hands up between them until her fingers met at the nape of his neck and lost themselves in the springy softness of his dark hair.

  What am I doing? she asked herself in a brief moment of sanity, but Chad's tongue invaded her mouth, probing gently, and she promptly forgot to question the logic of her actions as she surrendered herself to a barrage of new sensations.

  Chad's hands were roaming her body, their heat through the thin barrier of her clothes exciting her beyond measure, and she was unaware that he had unbuttoned her blouse until she felt the front catch of her lacy bra give way beneath his fingers, but she was somehow powerless to prevent those strong, sensitive hands from cupping her breasts. No man had ever been allowed to come close enough to touch her like this, and Chad's probing, caressing fingers against her taut nipples awakened a longing so intense that she trembled violently with the force of it.

  'You might as well admit it, Megan,' he murmured against her mouth before he trailed a path of fiery kisses along the sensitive cord of her throat and across one creamy, exposed shoulder. 'What we feel for each other is more than just a casual interest.'

  His words penetrated her drugged mind, alerting her to the chilling reality of what he had accomplished, and she came to her senses with a sickening start.

  'No!' she cried out hoarsely, pushing herself away from him in dismay and dragging the front panels of her blouse together to cover her nakedness as she stood swaying in the aftermath of her plunge from that dizzy, ecstatic height into the stark pit of sanity. 'No, you're wrong!'

  'Your lips may deny it, but your body can't lie, Megan,' he contradicted her with a derisive smile.

  Her heart was having difficulty resuming its normal pace, and her breathing felt restricted, but along with her sanity came the humiliating knowledge that, while proving her a liar most effectively, Chad had succeeded in remaining emotionally unaffected by what had occurred between them.

  Her cheeks flamed, and, having witnessed her humiliation, Chad wished her an abrupt, angry goodnight before he turned on his heel and strode out of her bungalow. He did not slam the door behind him, he closed it with the same amount of control he had exercised on his emotions, but the sound of the latch clicking into place jarred her raw, quivering nerves, and she flinched visibly.

  She felt shattered, and she sat down heavily on the nearest chair as her trembling legs threatened to fold beneath her. Her throat tightened painfully and she was on the verge of tears, but with it came the crazy desire to laugh. Her emotions were bordering on hysteria, and, recognising the symptoms, she stifled the feeling forcibly to stare ashen-faced at the colourful woven rug beneath her sandalled feet. Her shame was a living, stabbing thing inside her, and she had a feeling that Chad was never going to let her forget her humiliating surrender.

  Megan awoke the following morning with a throbbing headache that drove her out of bed at dawn in search of the box of aspirins she stored away in the bathroom cupboard. She swallowed down two tablets with water, and she was leaning weakly against the hand basin when her glance focused on her image in the mirror. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with deep shadows beneath them, and her face looked pale and pinched in the dawn light which filtered in through the frosted panes of the bathroom window.

  'You look a mess, Megan Leigh O'Brien,' she told her mirror image with a grimace, and then the memory of what had occurred washed over her with all its shame and humiliation.

  It was the emotional devastation of the night before which was now so clearly etched on her face, and she pressed her fingers against her pounding temples as she turned from the mirror with an agonising groan on her lips.

  She had worked late in an attempt to shut out everything except the information in the documents she had had spread out on the desk before her, but she had not succeeded entirely. It had been after midnight before she had dragged herself off to bed, but she had lain awake in the silent darkness of her room, unable to forget what had happened, and failing dismally in her attempts to justify her own behaviour.

  Chad's kisses had been an intimate invasion, his touch a profound delight, and her denials had been swept aside ruthlessly when her emotions had flared into something which she had been incapable of controlling. That was what Chad had wanted; to prove her a liar when she had denied her awareness of him as a man, and it was partly her failure to resist him which had left her tossing restlessly in her bed and cringing inwardly at the taunting memory of her
surrender, but exhaustion had finally claimed her during those last few hours before dawn.

  Megan opened the taps in the shower and slipped the satiny straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. It slithered along her body to the tiled floor, and she left it there to step into the shower cubicle. She stood for several minutes simply enjoying the relaxing sensation of that jet of tepid water pummelling her body. It was therapeutic, and her headache eased slowly along with the aching tension in her muscles.

  She had a long, busy day ahead of her, and she had to erase thoughts of Chad McAdam from her mind if she wanted to cope with her work, she lectured herself firmly an hour later when she had breakfasted and was slipping into a blue cotton frock with shoestring shoulder-straps. Alexa Bradstone was expected to arrive at ten that morning with the models from her agency in Johannesburg, and Megan would need to summon every scrap of concentration while they carried out the final preparations for the fashion show, which had been planned for the day after Good Friday.

  She applied her make-up a little heavier than usual, but she failed in her attempt to disguise the evidence of her restless night, and the clock on her bedside cupboard warned that she no longer had time to linger over it.

  Doves were cooing high up in the mopani trees when she finally left her bungalow, and the neatly-trimmed lawns sparkled with dew in the slanted rays of the early morning sun, but Megan barely noticed. Her steps faltered momentarily when she drew near to Chad's bungalow, but she walked on again at a quickened pace. The curtains were drawn across the windows, but that did not necessarily signify that he was still there. He often rose at dawn to spend an hour or more in the laboratory, and…!

  Oh, lord! she groaned inwardly. I know too much about his habits for someone who pretended not to notice!

  It was a quarter to ten that morning when Megan heard the drone of an aircraft approaching the Izilwane landing strip. Alexa was a stickler for punctuality. She had said they would be arriving at ten and, as usual, they would be right on time. Fifteen minutes later the game park's ten-seater bus was driving up to the front entrance of the main building, and Megan was there with Bill Hadley, the entertainments manager, to welcome them.