Home to Eden (14 page)

“Ah, that feels good,” he said when he reached her, throwing back his dark head and smoothing his wet hair off his forehead. Droplets of water glistened on his skin. In the dazzling sunlight it bore a dark golden luster, his beard a faint outline. The thick black lashes fringing his eyes were long enough for any woman to envy.

I want you for my lover,
she thought.
I want you badly.
However carefully one prepared to protect oneself in a relationship, there was always someone who broke through the barriers. That was the dangerous thing about overwhelming attraction. Not with anyone else had she laid herself so candidly open. Yet how did a single kiss give him possession? Whatever the answer, she felt anxious about her ability to withstand him, even when she had the constant reminder of her own mother's fate. In her mind since the tender age of twelve, adult passion had been linked to disastrous consequences. She realized that was an extreme view, but sadly it had become deeply ingrained.

As for Drake? He was looking utterly carefree, rev
eling in the uncomplicated pleasure of swimming in crystal-clear water, cooling his sun-drenched skin. As she treaded water, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off him, her mind conjuring up countless occasions like this in the distant happy past.

Then, as if by mutual consent, they started swimming together, not a race, but a slow languorous progress down the deep lagoon with its galleries of riverine trees—the twisted trunks of the river red gums streaked and mottled with yellow, gray and white, the native cypress pines, the salmon gums with their tall umbrellas of dark green glossy leaves. Pushing their way between these trees was a variety of acacia, shock-headed with yellow blossom, the stunted inland mallees, their branches and leaves dusted with silver. Small aromatic shrubs abounded, some hung with inviting cherry-red berries Nicole knew were hallucinogenic. It was a lovely oasis in the middle of the desert's aridity, a green corridor that cut through the fiery-red terrain.

Again by mutual consent they veered away from the deep center of the pool with all its glittering incandescence toward the shelter of a leafy arbor. One of a series along the curving watercourse, it was deeply shaded by the branches of the overhanging gums, the leaves hanging in long pendant crescents. Their reflections lay upon the dark emerald waters, smooth as glass, gradually breaking up under their advance, little wavelets radiating out. Masses of sun-dappled water reeds and wild purple lilies, perfect gems of the wilderness, thickly screened the white sandy banks. Their sweet pungent fragrance released on the hot air suggested a combination of gardenia and passion fruit.

The peace and beauty of the billabong was remarkable. The small chirruping sounds from the birds in the trees only served to enhance the extraordinary peace and quiet.

For a little while Nicole stayed beneath the water that bobbed at her chin. If she stood up, the surface of the water would barely skim her breasts.

“You look so young,” he said in a voice that was unnervingly tender. Her long hair had worked its way out of its thick braid and now floated around her like a mermaid's. The beautiful rich auburn was sleek and dark with water, but nothing could subdue the highlights that glinted in the chinks of sunlight.

He stood up, the water lapping at his waist, his eyes never leaving her. He held out his hand to her.

“Drake, I don't know…” To take his hand was the forerunner to giving herself completely. Giving herself to wild splendor. She saw this in his eyes.

“Don't be afraid,” he said. “I'm the same guy you knew as a child.” He pulled her from the water, watching it stream off her, revealing the perfection of her shoulders and breasts, the luminous quality of her flesh.

“What are we doing?” Desire was beating at her like wings, yet her voice was melancholy, as though she expected psychic injury.

“What comes naturally, I guess. Like the song says, it had to be you, Nic, even if I don't know what goes on inside your head.” He reached out to cup her face between his hands, holding it still while he studied her familiar features. They'd always seemed stronger to him than her mother's. “You fight it from long habit, yet I've never met a woman so in need of love.”

There was painful truth in that, yet she answered defiantly as pride welled in her. “Surely you don't think I can't get it, do you?”

“I'm absolutely certain you can. You could have as many lovers as you like. But you need real love. Up until now, it seems you've just had sex.”

“Which for the most part I found considerably overrated. What about you with your vast experience?” She shook his hands free. “Karen looked very tearful last night when we came back.”

“She was hurt. I'm sorry about that, but I didn't invite her. I like Karen. She's a friend. She was never a casual one-night stand, but there's been no fervent avowal of love or even passion. Just a man and a woman treating one another with affection.”

“You'd better tell her that,” she advised.

“Forget Karen,” he said, drawing her closer. “Forget your defenses.”

“I need them to protect me,” she said in a light brittle voice. “This could be a maneuver of yours, Drake. A way of gaining control.”

“Oh, for God's sake!” His voice was terse. “You sound neurotic.”

“Perhaps I am. I seem to have been suffering emotionally all my life. My mother was wrenched from me in the most horrific circumstances. No child should be separated from its mother. And never like that.”

Something had to be done and now, he decided. He folded her into his arms with utter thoroughness, the sound of lapping water all around them, warm little perfumed breezes, dazzling light. “Losing her has dictated your entire history,” he said, smoothing her long hair. “Just be quiet now.”

They stood in an embrace for long moments in that enchanted place, then irresistibly his mouth began to move. It trailed down over her temples and cheeks, skirting her mouth to find the arc of her throat. This woman haunted his heart. She was so unlike anyone else.

Nicole stood motionless, head turning this way and that to accommodate his kisses, her eyes closed. For all her genuine anxieties, her habit of suppression, once she was in his arms, her body, not her mind, articulated her needs. Romantic love was a profound kind of magic. It was able to dissolve conflict at a touch.

He seemed to be breathing in the scent of her like much-needed oxygen. He teased her, his mouth stopping just a shiver from hers so that in the end, ravished by sensation, she was driven to set her mouth on his.

“Stop being so cruel,” she said against his teeth.

He laughed and kissed her more deeply. “Is this really you, Nic?” he drew back to ask. “I thought you said you wanted me to leave you alone.”

She kissed him feverishly. “I accept that you won't.”

His hands moved with a kind of reverence to her breasts, the Lycra of her bra top slick and wet. Her little gasps came into his mouth as he undid the clasp, sliding the straps from her shoulders. Feeling startlingly exposed, she tried to snatch the top back, but with one expert throw he hooked it onto a low branch. “Your breasts are exquisite. I want to feel their weight.” He began to fondle them, molding his hands to the creamy, dusky-tipped globes.

Her knees dissolved. The pleasure was too intense.
She arched backward as the sweet pleasure grew. They went under. Even there he embraced her, the cold water turning steamy. They surfaced, him holding her above him while she leaned into yet another voluptuous kiss that took them back under the shimmering surface. She was tired of grief. So tired. This was rapture. Her hands began to move over him, deriving knife-keen satisfaction from the slow exploration of his body. He was so familiar, yet so achingly unfamiliar. She felt his powerful arousal, knowing her yearning matched his own.

Emboldened, she locked her legs around him as their bodies strained together, her naked breasts cool and sleek against his chest.

Drake, in the grip of sexual desperation, hauled her with him into the shallows, shaking back his hair so the water flew in a diamond spray. “I can't take any more of this, Nic,” he muttered, barely recognizing his own voice. “I want you too much. Do you want me?”

“You know I do,” she cried. “I wonder why you even ask.”

She might have been weightless he lifted her so easily, finding a path through the lilies and the soaring reeds to the white sand. “Are you protected?” he asked urgently, kneeling to face her as she lay on the sand.

Her heart stumbled, nearly stopped. “The truth?”

“Of course the truth.” His handsome features were hawkish with tension.

“It's a safe time for me, but one never knows.”

“Then I'll just have to marry you.” He stared directly into her eyes.

“I'd make a bad wife.”

“I'd prefer you to a good one.” His hand moved from the perfect dimple of her navel down to her pubic mound and her secret crease, her most intimate flesh. He lowered himself over her, bending his dark head, kissing her through the slick Lycra so her thighs involuntarily widened and her legs parted. She gave a curious little cry that resonated like a bird's in that quiet scented grove.

Pure sensation. Her body seemed to be subtly levitating, rising to him as though it desired his touch above all else.

“My Nicole,” he whispered, touching his mouth to her lips.

“A prize?” Some contrary imp showed itself.

“Of course.” She picked up the faintest lick of triumph in his voice.

“I can't control my body, I'm afraid.” Not with her flesh melting like wax.

His hand began a sensuous circling of her nipples. “You're like me. Both of us have become accustomed to standing at a distance from our emotions.”

“It doesn't appear to be working today.”

“Are you sorry?”

“No.”

He cupped one lustrous breast, with its tightly puckered nipple. “I can feel your heart pumping madly under my palm.”

Her body was rippling now to his every stroke. “This could be a very reckless thing we're doing.”

“When it's been unspoken between us for years?” He turned to kissing her as though he would never
stop, kissing her until she was breathless and her blood was suffused with heat.

She twined her legs around his, her slender arms endeavoring to hold him fast. “I want you inside me. Now.” She was carried away by sensations so powerful they hurt.

The desperation in her voice, her trembling state, pushed his desire for her deliriously, dangerously high. For one long exquisite moment he pressed against her swollen mound, letting her feel his powerful erection, then in one swift movement he stripped the bottom half of her bikini down her legs, and she helped by kicking it away.

“You're beautiful, so beautiful!” He levered himself over her, the muscles of his shoulders bunched.

“So are you.” Her hands, evoking exquisite pleasure, gently worked the velvety shaft of his engorged penis, guiding him to her entrance.

It flowered open to him, filling him with a tremendous rush. The driving power of a passion such as he had never known. He bore down slowly, in perfect control, going deeper, deeper, feeling her multiple contractions as she gripped him. One part of him hungered for her so badly he could have plunged into her there and then and erupted, but he wanted to imprint this experience not only on her body but on her soul. He wanted, needed, to take his lovemaking to its intense trembling peak. It required discipline, control. He wasn't going to rob her of a single moment of this heart-stopping coming together.

He let the sweet pressure grow…ripple after ripple…wave upon wave, and on to the gathering climax.

She would remember him. Only him. It was that simple.

H
ER OLD FRIEND
Shelley Logan was waiting for her when Nicole arrived in Koomera Crossing. Joel had ferried her in by helicopter, saying it was no bother. He had errands to run around town. They arranged to meet up again in two hours for the return trip to Eden. That would give Nicole ample time to have coffee and a long chat with Shelley and say hello to various people in town.

Eden and Kooltar were the farthest flung of all the stations, but the advent of helicopters had made covering the distance into the town quick and easy, a far cry from the long haul overland.

Shelley was already seated in the coffee shop looking out the window when Nicole arrived. The instant Shelley spotted her friend, she stood up, her face breaking into the sweetest of smiles. The two young women embraced warmly.

“How wonderful to see you again!” Shelley said excitedly, once more resuming her seat on the banquette with Nicole sitting opposite her. “You're more beautiful than ever!”

“I couldn't possibly look more radiant than you.” Nicole studied her friend's expressive face and lovely hair. “Let's have a look at that rock,” she said admiringly, indicating Shelley's engagement ring.

Shelley presented her left hand for Nicole's inspection. “An emerald to match your eyes,” Nicole said. “It's absolutely beautiful, Shelley, and it suits you so well. How is Brock these days?”

“Working very hard,” Shelley said proudly, looking relaxed and confident. “He inherited Mulgaree from his grandfather, did you know?”

“My aunt told me. I'm so glad for you, Shelley. You deserve every happiness. Your mother and father, your sister, Amanda, how are they?”

“Far more settled, though my parents aren't entirely over their depression. I suppose they never will be, but they're delighted I'm marrying Brock. You're invited to the wedding, of course. I have an invitation for you right here.” She turned to rummage in her shoulder bag.

“Nothing would keep me away. I'll have to get an outfit organized.”

“A gorgeous outfit is imperative.” Shelley laughed. “Here it is.” She passed the invitation to Nicole, who took it out of its embossed envelope to read it. “I found an old photograph of the two of us I thought you might like to see.”

“Show me!” Nicole held out her hand. “Oh, would you look at us!” The colored photograph showed two little girls arm in arm. They were wearing some sort of fancy dress with feathers in their hair. Both were smiling at the camera, Shelley about six, looking like a mischievous elf, Nicole a couple of years older, taller, auburn hair cascading around her shoulders and down her back, her head resting sideways on the top of Shelley's short bubble of red-gold curls.

“We were playing dress-up,” Nicole said. “I re
member it well. We cut up a feather boa Gran gave us.” Quietly she added, “Us before disaster struck.”

Shelley nodded. “A few weeks later Sean drowned.”

“Your darling brother. The pain never goes away, does it?” Nicole reached out to squeeze her friend's hand.

“I've come to the conclusion it never will. I'm sure the same goes for you. But I've found the man of my dreams. Brock is my miracle. How about you? Anything to relate?”

Nicole felt herself flush. “I'm enmeshed in something that could be very risky,” she confided. “I'll let you know how it turns out.”

“It sounds exciting,” Shelley said.

“It is.” Conscious of the heat in her cheeks, Nicole paused to slip her invitation into her handbag. “Could I possibly keep the photograph? I love it.”

“It's for you,” Shelley said. “By the way, I'm getting in early with the news. Brock has asked Drake McClelland to be his best man. Brock thinks the world of him. How does that sit with you, given the shift in relationships?”

Nicole smiled. “Actually, I've spoken to Drake. He told me he was going to be Brock's best man. We've decided it would be a mistake to keep up the old feud. Bitterness never gets anyone anywhere. I met up with him of all places at Brisbane airport. He gave me a ride home, which was an enormous help. I was thoroughly jet-lagged. Last week he invited me over to see what he's done on Kooltar.”

“That's wonderful!” Shelley looked up as the waitress came to their table. “Here I was worried about
fireworks and you've made up. You and Drake friends again, just as you were meant to be. That makes me very happy. Brock will be, too. Now, what are you going to have?”

Nicole consulted the menu. “Vienna coffee, gourmet sandwiches, paper-thin roast beef with Roquefort and cream cheese, lots of black pepper. A sliver of orange and almond cake. How about you?” She smiled at Shelley, feeling happy they were together.

“Cappuccino, and I'll have the buffet sandwiches, too. Chicken, avocado, peppers, lots of herbs. A slice of old-fashioned lemon pie. It's always good.”

“Homemade,” the waitress piped up.

“How did you get on with Callista McClelland?” Shelley asked after the waitress had gone.

“Oh, splendidly,” Nicole offered, deadpan. “She thought it a marvelous idea we all be friends.”

“That'd be nice if it were true.”

“Not much better than usual,” Nicole confessed. “She's never liked me.”

“Gosh, is she capable of liking anyone outside her own family?” Shelley put up her hand and whispered behind it. “Between the two of us, she called Amanda a slut.”

“Good grief! What brought that on?”

“Mandy is a flirt. You know that. She wears sexy clothes and she still giggles a lot. Miss McClelland thought that all added up to slut.”

Nicole grimaced. “There is a certain prudish aspect to her. Apparently she's quite fond of Karen Stirling.”

“Not a chance!” Shelley said, shaking her head. “Though I like Karen myself. She'll have a hard time
trying to land Drake. She's been frantically in love with him for years.”

Nicole looked up to see Shelley looking closely at her. “Be that as it may, the differences between them are many,” she offered laconically. “Now, are you still keeping up your drawing?” she asked, shifting the subject away from Drake. It was all too new, too overwhelming. “You were always filling sketchbooks with wildflowers. They were beautiful, with great botanical accuracy. Do you still do that?”

Shelley sat back a little, smiling. “Not much time lately, with all the excitement of the wedding, but I'll get back to it. What about your painting? You're the one with the real gift. SoHo showings I heard. A glowing review in the
New York Times.
I want to see it. My work is just very pleasing.”

“Don't put yourself down,” Nicole advised. “I'd like to catch up with what you've done. I wouldn't have been in the fortunate position to have a showing, but for influential friends. Wonderful friends who treat me like family. There's always a market for good flower paintings, Shell. They have enormous appeal. With me my painting is therapy. Dr. Rosendahl first suggested it. He died, you know. He was killed in a hit-and-run accident in Sydney.”

“When was this?” Shelley seemed appalled by the news.

“Maybe six months ago. I fully intend to get the full story.”

“Did the police find the culprit?”

Nicole shook her head. “Another one who got away.”

Shelley's intuitive green eyes didn't move from Ni
cole's face. She reached out and touched her hand. “You never did accept your mother's death was an accident.”

“I wasn't the only one. Someone had a hand in it.”

“You can't say that with certainty. You were a frightened child. I remember how traumatized you were for years and years.”

“No one found the coroner's report satisfactory. Something very odd happened on that escarpment for them to hurtle down into Shadow Valley.”

“You're determined to find out? That's scary.” Shelley thought for a moment. “You don't think there's a connection with Dr. Rosendahl's death, do you?”

Time for Nicole seemed to slow down. “All these years later? It seems unlikely there can be, unless he uncovered some new piece of evidence.”

“Didn't Joel go to him for a time?” Shelley sent Nicole a quizzical look.

Nicole's head snapped up. “What do you mean? I was the one who had the ongoing counseling, not Joel, though there was a time Dr. Rosendahl spoke in depth to the whole family. He had to. Joel was only sixteen when it happened.”

“I don't mean then, Nic, I mean more recently. I take it you didn't know…”

“How do
you
know, more to the point?” Nicole asked, greatly surprised.

“Joel let it slip talking to Brock. He wasn't confiding in Brock or anything like that. They don't have that kind of relationship. Apparently Joel got agitated about something and mentioned going to see Dr. Rosendahl. Brock's very quick. He figured out Joel meant
professionally. Afterward he told me.” Shelley's voice grew anxious. “I hope this isn't going to make a difference, Nic, but Joel hasn't been invited to the wedding. He and Brock don't get on at all. I guess that's why Brock took a stand against inviting him.”

Nicole put her hands on the table. “What did Brock say exactly?”

Shelley gave a slight shake of her head. “Only that Joel had problems and was under a lot of strain. He had been for years. Brock believes that's why Joel breaks out from time to time.”

“You mean acting up in town? Joel always did have a problem with his temper.” Nicole swept back a long curling strand of her hair.

“The only person I ever saw Joel interact with is you.” Shelley rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. “He must miss you dreadfully when you go away.”

Nicole's eyes clouded with bewilderment. “Do you know, Shelley, I've never really thought about Joel's affection for me. It was just there. You seem faintly troubled by it.'

Shelley flushed. “I have absolutely no business embarrassing you. All I'm saying is how much Joel is devoted to you.”

“Is that so unusual? We were reared together. He's my first cousin. We were inseparable.”

“Of course. He talks about you such a lot. Quite a lot.” Shelley folded her hands.

“Did you discuss that with Brock?”

“Inasmuch as both of us regard you as our friend.” Shelley's gaze was steady.

“And both of you truly dislike Joel?”

“Not me, Nikki.” Shelley caught Nicole's hand and
held it. “I don't know him well. Does anyone know Joel well? But I do accept what Brock told me.”

“You think I need a word of warning?” Nicole asked quietly.

Shelley contemplated her friend. “I can't know what's in Joel's mind, but I can say this to you. Friends are protective of one another. What are Joel's feelings for you, really? Maybe you're so close to him you don't recognize them.”

Nicole gave Shelley a look of doubt. This was so strange. First Drake, now Shelley. “You're saying that as if Joel might in some way harm me.”

“Oh, no, no! Why did I start out on this?” Shelley looked to the ceiling for an answer.

“It's perfectly obvious why. You have concerns.”

Shelley's flush deepened. “That sounds terrible. I never meant to imply—”

Nicole cut her off. “Something Brock said to you gave you a reason for speaking. I should tell you Joel brought me into town. He's taking me home.”

“Does he know you're meeting me?” Shelley raised anxious green eyes.

“Of course. He knows of our long-standing friendship. Gosh, we were kids together. He bears absolutely no ill will toward you, Shell.” As soon as she said it, Nicole realized she didn't actually know.

“I'm glad.” Shelley gave a faint shudder. “I don't want him to feel bad about not being invited to the wedding, but Brock was inflexible on that point.”

“Don't worry about it,” Nicole advised. “There is a possibility Brock got that bit about Joel seeing Dr. Rosendahl wrong. He would have had to travel to Sydney. Dr. Rosendahl found time for me, but that was
different. I was a child in deep trouble and Granddad paid for him to fly in and out of Eden. Seeing a psychiatrist wouldn't be Joel's way. In fact, given Joel's opinion of shrinks—his word—I think it highly unlikely.”

“Who knows what strains he's been under,” Shelley countered, glancing up as the waitress approached their table. “You can't ask him.”

“Why not?” Nicole was wondering in what circumstances she could.

“He'll conclude it was Brock who told you. Or more likely me.”

“And that would worry you?” Nicole studied her friend.

“Nicole, Joel may have many good points, but he does have an ungovernable temper when provoked.”

Nicole lowered her voice. “So who is he going to inflict it upon, you or me? I'm not in the least intimidated by my cousin.”

Shelley paused again, looking stressed. “I'm sorry, Nic, I wouldn't worry you for the world, but in my opinion maybe you should be.”

“You've thought this through, haven't you,” Nicole said, appraising her friend.

Shelley's gaze was steady now. “It was a pretty hard decision to come here telling you things you wouldn't want to hear—I've so been looking forward to seeing you, talking about happy things—but not telling smacks a little too much of dodging my obligation to my friend. Am I really telling you something you didn't know, Nic?” The seriousness of Shelley's expression lent her words special emphasis.

“About Joel?” Nicole gave her friend a curious little smile.

Shelley nodded.

“The answer's yes.”

 

I
T WAS A LITTLE
after two when both young women walked out into the sunlit street.

“You have to find the time to spend a day with me on Eden,” Nicole suggested. “It's been so good to see you. Thank you so much for the wedding invitation and the photograph. I'll treasure it. Say hello to Brock and your family for me.”