by Susan Napier
'Why not? I'm a very good swimmer.' His response to the challenge was reflexive, and it encouraged her to goad further.
'Sure. In a nice, antiseptic pool heated to blood temperature. Out in the open you have to be a bit tough. You're out of your element here, David.' In more ways than one.
She swept past him, ignoring his 'We'll see about that!' and an hour later was savouring the sweet taste of revenge when she was drawn out of her office by a commotion in the foyer.
'You must be crazy, man!' Miles was booming at a rigid and distinctly blue-tinted David. 'That lake's pretty cold in summer, let alone in winter! Nobody's that masochistic!'
David unlocked his teeth as he saw Clare, and stuttered with icy triumph, 'Clare is… she told me… next bay.'
'Clare?' Miles did a double-take at her guilty blush.
David saw it, too. 'S… she was there, this morning.' He shuddered. His jeans and sweater offered no warmth to his bloodless skin.
'But not in the lake, old man! Didn't she tell you about the pool?' Miles's voice shivered at the joke. 'At the far end, in that rocky section of bank, there's a thermal spring that feeds into the lake. There's a hot pool and a warm patch of lake shallows. Hey, Davey, you've got some guts!' Miles slapped him gleefully on the back. 'Come into the bar and sit by the fire. I'll get you a couple of dozen whiskies to warm up. Did I tell you that I once spent a few weeks down in Antarctica? They said it was summer, but…' His voice faded as he towed a tottering David towards the reviving heat. The murderous expression frozen on to the violinist's blue-lipped face made Clare giggle nervously. He heard, his stiff-legged gait faltering momentarily, and Clare suddenly felt a heady excitement at the knowledge that this time she had made a fool of him.
Her excitement fizzled when he made no attempt to confront her. David in a rage was at least preferable to no David at all. But for the rest of the day he stayed in his room. Making international phone calls and arguing about something with Efrem, a very subdued Tamara said, when she insisted on accompanying Clare to her 'jazzercise' class, after convincing her that she was suffering no ill-effects from her self-inflicted adventure.
Tamara didn't say anything else about her father, and Clare tactfully avoiding any probing, but when David didn't join them for dinner she couldn't resist asking whether they had talked.
Tamara nodded, tearing herself away from the charm of Tim's sneaking admiration for her daring. Tim had lived near the bush long enough to have an immense respect for its dangers and, disregarding the foolish way she had got lost, he now looked at Tamara with a certain envy. She might be a bit silly, but she was brave, too.
'For ages. All night, really. I guess we haven't done that for a long time, not without getting mad at each other and ending up shouting. We're too alike in temperament, Dad says, that's why we tend to fight. We're natural fighters, it helps burn up our excess energy. It's when we hold things in that everything gets twisted and distorted and misunderstood. We're going to talk lots more from now on. Dad says he can see his phone bills going through the roof, but we've gotta keep the lines of communication open, wherever we are.'
'Didn't he want any dinner?' Clare asked tentatively. Hardly any sleep after hours of worry, and then to be tricked into an icy bath! If he was ill, it would be her fault.
'I think Shari was bringing him something. He was still on the phone when I left. Efrem had a cancellation or something, and there's a chance that Dad could go to Russia. If he does, he said I could go too, even if it's term time, 'cause I shouldn't have to wait as long as he did to visit the place where most of my ancestors lived.'
Russia! A whole world away. But then, David was that anyway. Clare could no more prevent herself visiting his room later than she could prevent herself loving him. She had to know that he was really all right.
The excuse seemed a trifle thin when the door opened to her knock and Shari stood there with a tray of dirty dishes. Clare felt herself blush and Shari grinned.
'He's not here.'
'Oh.' Or was he just avoiding her?
'He's been rushed off to hospital with triple-pneumonia.'
It was such a vivid pronouncement of her exaggerated fears that Clare missed the significance of Shari's dancing eyes. 'What?'
'Hey, Clare, I was only kidding,' said Shari hastily. 'He's fine, he just went off for a swim.'
'A swim?'
'A devil for punishment, huh?' Shari's grin reappeared. Clare had the feeling that she was going to get more ribbing from the episode than ever David would. Talk about the biter bit! 'No, he said he wanted to try out the pool. Actually, he said that parts of him still weren't properly thawed yet.' She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 'I wonder which parts he was talking about. Want me to keep an eye on Tim for you?'
'He's showing Tamara a new game on the computer,' murmured Clare before pulling herself together. 'Why would I want you to keep an eye on him?'
'No reason,' said Shari innocently, hitching up the tray as she closed the door behind her. 'I just thought you might like a bit of free time…'
Clare was appalled to think she was so transparent. 'Shari—'
'He did say to tell you if you asked where he was, so maybe he's sort of expecting you. That was a pretty rotten thing you did. He is a guest, you know...' She trailed off in a giggle. 'If he put the hard word on Miles, who knows, you could get fired for insubordination.'
'David wouldn't be that petty,' said Clare stoutly.
'No, I suppose he is rather a great guy,' Shari agreed.
'Shari!'
'Clare!' Shari imitated her exasperation. 'What I Want to know is… what did he do that made you want to cool him off?'
Clare blushed again and Shari laughed. 'You do what you want to do, Clare…I'll keep an eye on Tim anyway. And just in case, I'll post an out-of-bounds sign on the track…'
'What took you so long?'
A few minutes later Clare was staring down at the man drifting lazily towards her across the semi-circular pool which was almost entirely enclosed by the rocky shoreline, spilling out through a narrow channel into the lake proper. The water was wreathed in steam and the moonlight filtered through it to cast a ghostly glow on the pale figure in the water. Was he wearing anything? Clare couldn't see, and from the mocking smile on his face David had detected her flush even in the dark moon-shadows cast by the trees overhanging the track.
There was mockery also in the drawling voice, and Clare toyed with the idea of acting surprised, of pretending she was just out for a stroll. But her towel gave her away.
What am I doing here? she asked herself in momentary panic. If I'm not back in half an hour Shari will know… and by osmosis all the rest of them will know... Know what? That she was chasing David? So what? He was very chaseable! And very sure of himself, too, by the look of him. Goodness knew why he had manoeuvred her into this situation, but Clare was determined that he was going to get more than he'd bargained for. This morning had given her a taste of freedom… the pleasure of acting unpredictably, on impulse, and to hell with responsibility and common sense. Whatever else she couldn't have… she could have this. Clare took a deep breath and began to unbutton her thick, hand-knitted jacket.
'I couldn't decide whether I wanted to come or not,' she said truthfully. 'I thought it might be a trick.'
He was at the side of the pool now, not far from her booted feet, leaning against the side with his chin on steamy folded arms.
'You thought I might be lurking in the bush somewhere, ready to leap out and push you in the lake?' he asked, midnight eyes watching the progress of her fumbling fingers. I'm going to watch you undress for me, was their silent message, and Clare knew that he was deliberately trying to make her feel self-conscious and embarrassed.
'The thought did cross my mind,' she admitted.
'My methods are much more subtle.' The sensuous half-smile confirmed her theory. Clare hoped he couldn't see how her hands shook as she folded the jacket neatly and placed it at a safe distance fr
om the pool. 'You're not going to apologise, are you?' he realised as she ignored his provocation and took off her boots.
'No. It serves you right for being so juvenile. Trying to impress me with your prowess, like a teenager flexing his muscles! Or was it the fact that you can't bear the thought of anyone being better than you at anything?' She began on her blouse.
'You were the one who started it, suggesting I was some puny city boy,' he pointed out, slicking his hair back, spraying cool droplets of water from his arm over her bare feet in the process. 'After I'd come to apologise for what I said yesterday! I was... angry, confused… It shook me, Tamara turning to you instead of me and you accepting her with open arms… and heart. You've never been so generous with me.' As if he'd been jealous of both of them.
'You ask a great deal more than Tamara does,' Clare prevaricated, Reluctantly unfastening the last button, her courage beginning to waver.
'Mmm.' David's mind wasn't really on the conversation. He was wondering what kind of suit she was wearing. A one-piece, no doubt, as modest as they come. 'Whatever you said to her must have been effective, because she actually deigned to make a deal. Did she tell you?' Clare shook her head. 'She won't go back to the school that suspended her, she'll go to a day school in Auckland and board at the music school. If—if she makes an honest attempt to work and sort out her options for next year—and I don't mean she has to get great marks, just a good character, I'm not asking for miracles, after all—then she can come on tour in the holidays, and to Russia, if that comes off. She wasn't ecstatic, but then neither was I, so we've settled for an armed truce… Where in the hell is your suit?' He jerked upright with the hoarse cry.
'I didn't bring one,' said Clare calmly as she shrugged off her blouse, revealing the camisole beneath. She wasn't wearing a bra, and the cold air instantly made it obvious. She reached for the zip on her slacks.
'You mean you swim here in the nude?' David pushed away from the edge to stand, hands on hips beneath the water which lapped against the thick spread of hair on his chest. He looked quaintly disapproving.
'Not usually.'
'Did you think that was why I asked you out here, to go skinny-dipping?' he demanded, not liking the way the tables had been turned.
Clare pulled off her slacks and imitated his stance. In skimpy lace panties and camisole, it was dramatically effective. 'Didn't you?'
'No, dammit, I didn't,' said David raggedly. 'The joke's gone far enough, Clare. Put on your suit before someone comes.'
'I told you, I didn't bring one. And nobody's going to come.' She toyed nervously with the lace edging at the bottom of the camisole. David's stunned eyes were riveted by the motion.
'How do you know?'
'Because I told them not to.'
'You told—' Black eyes shot with silver moonlight whipped up to hers. His were wary, baffled and… hungry. He swore. 'I didn't get you down here to seduce you, Clare. I just wanted to… to… all right, to pay you back a little. But also to settle unfinished business between us.'
'You mean you are wearing something?' Business? Clare didn't want to be serious; she wanted action, not talk!
'Yes! Dammit, Clare, this relationship is not going anywhere until—' His stern command was cut off by a winded sigh. Clare had taken a deep breath and peeled off the camisole. The briefs-followed, and for a moment she stood gilded in the moonlight before she gracefully slid into the water. David stood, eyes closed, head thrown back, body stiff with outrage and arousal as Clare moved closer and waited until he opened his eyes again.
Steam had already dewed her face, and the moonlight tracking across the lake into the little pool mocked him with its glimmering caress of the ripe breasts just below the waterline.
'Clare, I don't know what you think you're doing—'
'You don't know? Poor David. Shall I show you?' Her hand briefly rested on the taut muscle bunched at the juncture of neck and shoulder before sliding down under the steamy surface. The hairy roughness then smoothness of his stomach was exciting, but when her fingers skimmed the edge of his trunks there was a churning of the water as he grabbed her wrist in iron fingers.
'OK, Clare, I admit that I thought we might indulge in a little light lovemaking, but we're not giddy teenagers unable to control our desire—'
'Speak for yourself…' Thwarted of her need to touch him with her hands, she stepped closer, her thigh brushing lightly against his, her full breasts nudging his chest. The clenched tension in his body was a seduction in itself. She looked up into his smouldering eyes and smiled. Was that steam or sweat on his brow? She reached up with her other hand to touch and taste. The moisture was salty. She sucked it from her finger, and he groaned and caught that hand too.
'Clare, we agreed to take the time—'
'You agreed. You made that decision on your own without consulting me. Well, now I've made mine.'
He misunderstood her. 'Good. Tell me what it is, and then I can stop acting noble. It's crippling me.' In answer to the silky caress of her thigh, his body arched involuntarily into hers, a hiss of agony escaping his clenched teeth.
'Oh, no, no more of your sexual blackmail,' Clare told him ruthlessly. 'I'm not going to be manoeuvred to some private piece of music you have composed in your head. You may make deals with your daughter, but you don't make them with me. I've decided I want you. Here. Now. No procrastinations, no evasions. Just yes or no.' She leaned forward to take a small bite of his smooth, rigid shoulder, lowering her lids to hide the pain of her uncertainty. She had never seduced a man before, let alone an unwilling one, and she was rather shocked at her own boldness. But she loved him so much, she had to have him, quickly, before the world crashed in on them again. 'What's it going to be, David?' She licked the small indentations her teeth had made, and suddenly felt herself hauled against him, her hands forced into the small of her back.
'Yes! It has to be yes,' he whispered harshly in the steamy stillness. He pressed warningly against her hands, letting her feel the fullness she had teased into life. Released from the rigid restraints he had placed on himself, he was suddenly in full command again, no longer the victim but the victor. He saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes as she realised what she had aroused, and smiled grimly. 'If sex is all you want, I'm happy to oblige. It's a long time since I've had a woman.'
'David—' Was that all she would be, a faceless body?
'But that's not what you want either, is it, Clare? Don't worry, I'll make it good for you. And when we're finished we'll do it again and again until you realise that the act alone will never be enough…'
'David, please…' She wasn't concentrating on his quiet words, but on the way his mouth moved around them, and he saw the possessive hunger in her eyes and knew she required proof.
The sweet wildness was like nothing that Clare had ever known. There were no gentle preliminaries, just a savage consummation of days and nights of sensuous longings. If they had been on a bed, or on the green grass of the bank, Clare knew that her creamy skin would have been bruised, but the water, with its enervating heat and dragging resistance, softened the erotic clash of their bodies to a slow dance of passionate intensity. Only once did David make an effort to restrain the compulsion. Before the first thrust of his possession he hesitated.
'Is it all right?'
'Oh, David…' Her voice was a velvety murmur, lost in the realisation of a dream. 'It's very… very all right…'
After it was over, Clare knew that David was right. It wasn't enough. Even though she had been shattered by unimagined bliss, she didn't want him to leave her, and cried out at the unbearable sense of loss when he gently withdrew.
'Shhh…sweet girl.' He handled her with exquisite care. 'Come out or we'll drown… or melt… or both…' He helped her out of the pool and dried her body with the thick towel before spreading it on the grass, and lowering her on to it. Clare watched him rescue his trunks from the pool, unable to meet his eyes but fascinated by the undulations of his superbly masculine bo
dy. As he turned to join her on the towel, she drew a choked breath. He might be unselfconscious of his own nudity, but he wasn't indifferent to hers.
He lay on his side, not touching her, and waited for her to rediscover her boldness. When her eyes fluttered to his at last, he gave her a slow smile.
'And that was just the rhapsody.' When she blinked, he explained huskily, 'The enthusiastic, extravagant section of my private composition.'
'O…oh?' Clare was melting, but it had nothing to do with external skin temperature.
His eyes gleamed. 'You didn't think I only had one string to my bow, did you?' Her eyes flickered down, and he laughed in that same, slow, husky tone that was a symphony in itself. He touched her knee, very lightly, and sketched a leisurely line to her hip, tracing the vulnerable, blue-veined flesh to the pulse point at the very top of her thigh. It leapt against the sensitive tip of his finger. 'We still have the adagio…' he sipped from her parted lips '… the slow movement. And the scherzo…' his hand brushed lightly across the honeyed curls he had dried so lovingly '…so light and playful…the caprices, the variations… not to mention the encores… I never play only one. I don't believe in the old adage about leaving your audience wanting Would you like me to run through my whole repertoire, sweet?'
'We can't…' she said breathlessly, wanting it more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
'That's what I said, but you overruled me, remember? To withhold my favours was sexual blackmail. To be fair, you have to give me the opportunity to acquit myself of such a heinous crime. You must be my judge, my jury, my advocate…'
He acquitted himself very well, Clare had to admit much later. So much later, she didn't dare ask to see the waterproof watch that was David's only apparel. She didn't want to get dressed, she just wanted to lie forever in his arms, rocked to the sweet, sensual music he had created in her heart.
'It's getting late. Our reputations will be well and truly shattered.' David was the first to stir, and Clare resented it.