The Seduction of Suzanne

by Amelia Hart

  Before long Nina joined them. For almost an hour the three couples chatted companionably, and Suzanne was again glad that she had been made so welcome by Justin’s friends, though a complete stranger.

  She silently dwelt on Nina and Justin’s mysterious behaviour. He was hiding something, and she felt tense about it. What had she only just been telling herself about Justin being a man she could trust? Was she to be proved wrong so quickly?

  Yet whatever it was, Nina knew and had expected she did too, so it couldn’t be anything really heinous. She was keeping a few secrets of her own. Respecting his was probably the mature thing to do. She nibbled thoughtfully on her lip, then made the firm decision to do an internet search on him as soon as she got home. Ultimately she was sure she could trust him. Or hoped she could. But only a fool would ignore the tool of technology for ensuring peace of mind.

  He would tell her whatever it was in his own good time, if it were important. But in the meantime maybe she could find enough to be reassuring.

  Finally the gathering broke up, with Megan, Travis, Andrew and Nina all declaring their intention to go to the beach. They invited Justin and Suzanne to come, but Justin refused.

  “We have arrangements to make, don’t we Suzanne?” he said.

  “Absolutely,” she replied brightly.

  So they left the others lounging about and trying to summon the willpower to get off the couch.

  As Justin pressed the button on his car key to unlock her door, she said: “I suppose the next job is to get in touch with Marie.”

  “Marie?” he asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “I hope she’ll take over my class when I go.”

  As he drove away from Medlands she leaned back in her seat at an angle so she could watch him without being too obvious about it. Looking at his profile, it felt unreal she should be planning to go overseas with this man in four days. Even when his attention was on the task of driving, she could feel the pull of the attraction he held for her as an almost physical force.

  She wondered if it could be his overwhelming beauty which drew her so strongly. It wouldn’t be surprising if she was simply overwhelmingly lustful for him, she thought. After all, she had never encountered a better candidate for inspiring infatuation than Justin.

  Yet the reality was she had never found anyone who satisfied her soul the way he did. Being with him was like finding a part of herself that had always been missing. So much so, it was sometimes difficult to believe he didn’t feel the same way. But surely if he did, there would be no reason not to share his feelings with her. Frowning slightly, she gnawed on her lip.

  He chose that moment to glance at her. Seeing her face, he broke into a grin.

  “What is it?” he asked, laughter underneath his voice. “Why are you glaring at me? What terrible thing have I done?”

  “Nothing too bad. I was just thinking how gorgeous you are,” she said lightly.

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really?” he said. Then his grin returned, wider than ever. “Just how gorgeous am I?”

  “Words can’t describe,” she replied in the same tone, with an exaggerated leer.

  He laughed outright.

  “Always glad to have an appreciative audience.”

  Her smile faded as it suddenly occurred to her that in their future together, she might not be the only member of an appreciative female audience. The stab of jealousy at that idea was unexpected and acute. How long would his desire for her last, when there was nothing more behind it than friendship? Her scowl returned. If he had any idea of playing the field while she was around, he had another thought coming. Any woman who saw Justin as fair game while he was with Suzanne, was going to get a nasty shock.

  Mine, she thought possessively, surprising herself with this hidden streak of ferocity. She, who had always been easy-going, and apparently lacking the stereotypical, passionate artistic nature, had no difficulty feeling an intensity of emotion when it came to this man.

  Her jumbled thoughts were too uncomfortable to dwell upon. She looked blindly out of the window and tried to shut them off.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Organising almost everything took only a couple of hours on the internet and her phone. It was disturbing how easy it was to slough off a lifestyle and start another so radically different. It made her realise she had imposed a whole set of boundaries on herself where none actually existed outside of her head.

  She might have stayed inside them for years more if she had never met Justin.

  She spent twenty minutes ringing all the members of the school board and letting them know she wouldn’t be coming back. She recommended Marie strongly, and hoped she wasn’t burning bridges in a way she would later regret.

  Her next task was a rushed application for a passport. She had not ever left the country before, so she didn’t have one. The forms were hurriedly downloaded, completed and sent off with photos.

  Perhaps the most difficult phone call that Suzanne had to make was to her mother. Their stilted relationship always left her floundering to find some point of connection. Yet Catherine Turlin had been surprisingly warm about her only child taking off around the world.

  Briefly she thought how typical it was that Catherine had no questions about Justin’s character. It was years since she surrendered her role as Suzanne’s protector and confidant. It would probably never occur to her that she might need to check her daughter was making a wise choice. This once, her disinterest was welcome. Suzanne was glad she didn’t have to discuss her decision with a more perceptive parent.

  When all that was finished, she tip-toed down the hall to check Justin was fully occupied. He was sitting at the kitchen table doing something on his tablet. She scooted back to the computer, shutting the door to the room as she went.

  Feeling guilty and trying to work fast, she searched: ‘Justin Walker Los Angeles’. She got more than two million hits. ‘Justin Walker Los Angeles Computer Software’ got 769,000 hits. ‘“Justin Walker” Los Angeles “Computer Software”’ reduced it down to 517 hits. Many of them were LinkedIn profiles, so she spent long frustrating minutes scrolling through tiny thumbnail pictures, looking for a familiar face and annoyed by the profiles without a photo. This search was harder than she thought it would be. Perhaps she could finagle a street address out of him, or a school or college he had attended, and try again.

  Biting her lip she closed the search engine and shut down the computer. At least she hadn’t found anything bad about him. That counted for something.

  Justin used her phone to call his contact at the art gallery in LA. After all he didn’t have a phone of his own anymore. She felt very guilty about smashing his mobile. It hadn’t felt cheap, that brief second she held it before letting fly. It would take a while for either of them to afford to replace it, she imagined. They had argued briefly about if he would let her pay. She insisted. She had broken the phone. He said no, not to worry about it.

  She was certain behind his calm he must feel angry. Who wouldn’t? But he kept his cool and pretended it didn’t matter to him. She dug the pieces out of the rubbish so she could take it to a phone distributor, find out the model and replace it. He looked at the wreckage, removed the Sim card and left the rest without a second glance.

  Before making his call he shooed her out of the room, teasing her that she would cramp his style.

  “So?” she asked the moment he emerged, on tenterhooks.

  “All arranged. There’s an international firm they use to handle shipping. They’ll send someone out from Auckland to wrap things properly.”

  “Won’t that cost the earth?”

  “As I understand it, they just take the canvases off the frames and roll them up with the appropriate protection, stick them in a tube and ship them that way. No big deal. So I guess it won’t cost much at all. The sale of a single painting should easily cover it.”

  “And they’re really going to show my work? Just like that? Without even looking
at it?”

  “Just like that. Hey, you should probably go and choose which ones you’re going to send.”

  Choosing images to sell was such a difficult task. It would be most practical to pick the best of her work, the pictures which were most likely to sell. After all, she needed to begin developing a reputation as a competent artist as soon as possible if she, and probably Justin too, were going to live off the proceeds. Nonetheless it was almost impossible to be practical when these were her creations she’d never see again once they sold. She slowly unracked the paintings one by one, and propped them upright against the walls so she could look at them. Justin watched the process and helped her move the paintings.

  “I can’t make up my mind,” she said.

  “It’ll be hard watching them go this first time,” he said sympathetically. “And probably every time after that. But think just think how much pleasure you’ll be giving to the people who buy them. Maybe you won’t get to see them again, but other people will. They’ll look at them every day, and be glad that they bought a Turlin masterpiece.” He rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, and despite every emotion, she felt her familiar, unthinking response to his touch.

  “Take them all,” he said casually. “Except for your very favourites. Make up your mind when you see the gallery.”

  I can’t do that. Think of the expense of shipping them all.”

  “It’s an investment. If you have enough work to sell, the gallery will have an exhibition devoted entirely to you, which would see you properly launched. Still, it’s up to you.”

  “So many?” she exclaimed. “But I’ll never sell them.”

  “I’m fairly sure you will,”

  “If that’s really what you recommend,” she said dazedly, “then that’s what I’ll do.” Somehow this was all on a much larger scale than she had envisioned. She had vaguely imagined that she might take four or five paintings with her. He was suggesting upwards of fifty, virtually all of the work she had done since she first began painting, or at least, that which did not hang on the walls of her house.

  “I’ve got a few things to take care of, so I’ll be off. Shall I see you tomorrow, early?”

  “Yes, absolutely. We’ll go for a hike.”

  “Sounds great. Bye”

  “Bye.” He kissed her tenderly, sweetly, and she fought not to lean in and deepen the kiss as she wanted to. She needed some space to think and there was nothing like kissing Justin to completely derail her brain and leave her in a mist of lascivious daydreams for far too long.

  The days passed painfully slowly, and too quick. When she was with him she could convince herself that travelling together, exhibiting her work overseas was the best choice. But when they were apart, the doubts started to creep back again.

  Of her love for him, she was certain. Being with him was like having sunshine on her soul. It warmed her through and through. She would catch herself staring at him in a daze, basking in happiness that he was there.

  Yet underneath it was still fear. It was a new fear though. A fear that asked: ‘Will he come to love me?’ A fear he would leave, get distracted by something else and go. What tied them together? Nothing significant.

  It was painful to hope and dread, at once and together. Sometimes it hurt physically. It was a clenching in her chest, a turmoil in her gut. She wanted him so much. She was a kettle waiting to explode with the pressure, the effort of keeping her warring feelings to herself and staying a fun companion for him.

  She didn’t always manage it. Sometimes she was quiet and withdrawn, or snappish. He stayed upbeat and she scolded herself later for her lapses.

  At her worst moments she thought this was insane: to let go of peace and contentment to take these sorts of risks with her heart. She was a crazy woman. An hour later and she would remember her vow to reach out for what she most wanted in life. Remember all the reasons she made that promise.

  As often as she covered the same mental ground, that often did she return to gnaw over the problem again.

  The day before their departure she was like a cat on a hot tin roof. Her bag was all packed, the paintings had gone with their special courier, the house was clean and the fridge almost empty. She had arranged everything. She could leave this second. But there were still more than twelve hours to go.

  Some peaceful alone time was what she needed. Especially as Justin was busy anyway.

  Outside the warm sun was beckoning. She took the book she was reading and went to lie in the hammock which, while in the shade of the large pohutukawa tree from which it hung, was nonetheless open to the gentle touch of the early evening’s slight breezes.

  For a good ten minutes she tried to keep her attention on her novel, but in truth, she was too twitchy. Not really a frame of mind to get involved other people’s problems. There was enough going on in her own life, she decided with a resigned sigh, marking her place and reaching down to gently drop the book to the grass beneath the hammock. She folded her hands on her stomach and looked up at the blue sky, appearing in gaps through the silhouetted leaves and delicate scarlet flowers of the pohutukawa trees.

  It was days since she’d taken this sort of time to just be without doing anything. Maybe weeks, even. Her mind wanted to scurry and gnaw at her problems. She caged it, refused to listen to that worried inner dialogue.

  She breathed in deeply, calling on what she remembered of the breathing techniques from her martial arts sessions in Auckland. Down into the diaphragm, something about chi and-

  Stop thinking! Just stop. Breathe and let go.

  Slowly, subtly, a great calm descended over her. A fatalism and acceptance. Whether it was right or wrong, the outward journey would go ahead tomorrow as planned. Nothing was going to stop it. It felt quite inevitable, and Suzanne was tired of trying to swim against the tide. For better or for worse, she would go with Justin, and then set about making him love her.

  Everything was better once they were actually on the move. It was the sitting around waiting that was unendurable. But the drive to the airport at Claris, the flight to Auckland, the transfer to the 747 gave her a huge sense of adventure. Several times she took Justin’s hand, giving it an excited squeeze and grinning madly at him with glee.

  This was it! They were going!

  There were a thousand daydreams coalesced into these hours and the tension and excitement had her almost twitching out of her skin. When they checked in Justin requested window seats and she was glued to the window through take-off and their ascent. They went so much higher than the little planes she was used to, and she felt a definite pang seeing New Zealand recede, becoming faded and small like a satellite picture. But it would still be there just the same when she got back. Maybe she’d be different. Would she be a professional artist by then? Would she come back with Justin?

  Finally there was nothing to see out the window except the occasional cloud bank. Suzanne leaned back in her seat and rolled her head sideways to look at Justin. He was absorbed in reading, but as soon as she turned her attention his way he met her gaze with a smile.

  “Wow. This is just. . .wow. Do you still get excited about flying?”

  “Not so much these days. But being with you makes me remember the thrill of it. First time travelling on my own. Off on adventures.”

  They talked cosily as the seatbelt lights were switched off and a clatter of food preparation began in the nearby galley. Listening to him speak, his face animated and his hands gesturing in description, Suzanne felt immense contentment. She could listen to him forever. He was so much more interesting a person than she’d ever imagined a truly handsome man could be. She’d been so prejudiced. It made her ashamed to remember how casually she’d dismissed him when they first met.

  Imagine if he’d taken her at her word and left her alone. She would have missed out on so much.

  They talked and laughed through the serving of the meal, the clear up – Suzanne was appalled at the litter of plastic her food had generated, and earnestly st
acked everything as tidily as she could – and on through the long hours of the flight as people switched off screens and lights and pulled blankets on, reclining their seats for sleep. The cabin lights were dimmed. Window shutters pulled closed. The hostesses stopped circulating up and down the aisles. Eventually it felt like they were the only ones awake on their section of the plane. Absorbed in each other.

  “I keep thinking how weird it is to be in this plane, flying to another country,” she said in the pause as a topic of conversation lapsed. “I can’t get over this feeling it’ll all disappear any second. I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something, left it behind. I have. It’s my home. The empty house. Everything on hold.”

  He listened attentively and nodded his head in understanding, though he contradicted: “Not on hold. Your lifestyle is on hold, but you are definitely moving forward. Or sideways, on a new path.”

  She bit her lip, considering him, then asked: “When did you get so wise? When did a beach bum, a surfer, learn how to. . .to. . .” she paused, looking for words that fit, “do what you’ve done. With me I mean. When we met I had no intention whatsoever of doing any of this. Not in a million years. But here I am. And I’m feeling good about it. So how did you do it, hmmm?”

  He looked away, looked back at her, opened his mouth to take a breath, closed it again and scratched his head. “I think it was just the right time for you. You were ready, even if you didn’t think you were.” She got the distinct impression he had almost said something different, then changed his mind.

  “Maybe,” she replied, hearing her own doubts in her tone. “But I think you have quite a way with people. At getting them to do what you want. You’d be a good leader. If you ever get serious about work you should give management a try, I reckon.” People would naturally follow him. She would like to follow him. Not that he acted like her superior. He was always respectful and at times deferential. But that was part of his skill, really. He led by inspiring. Building her up and up until she felt ready to fly.