Trouble in Nirvana (11 page)

Primrose’s mouth dropped open and a warm pink tinged her cheeks. He caught her eyes and held. Mike interrupted. “Tom’s the local expert on new agricultural methods. He’s improved my crop yield over the last couple of seasons.” He frowned. “And if that German bastard would see some sense we’d all be better off.”

“Kurt?” Still holding Tom’s gaze.

Tom nodded. He shifted in his chair, broke the contact because this subject was close to his heart and he wanted her to understand. “He farts about with his organic style methods, refusing to intervene on disease control saying it’s unnatural, and all he does is attract every pest known to man. His version of organic is do bugger all. Then he complains when the professional fruit growers in the area dob him in to the authorities. Blames me because I’m closest.”

“Doesn’t he bother you?”

“Nah. He gives me a laugh sometimes. Apart from the farming menace aspect. But we’ve got it under control, now.” He looked at her pointedly. “I don’t have anything to do with him. And I don’t have to live with him.”

“If you can get him to leave, Rosie, you’ll be the local hero,” Mike exclaimed.

“Evening, folks. Who’s having what?” Maureen appeared with their meals.

“Thanks.” Primrose inspected her roast lamb, peas, carrots, and baked potatoes.

Tom smiled. “Nothing like a good old-fashioned roast. My Mum’s are the best, though.”

“Where are your parents, Tom?” No tension, no flirting. Just plain interest.

“Cowra. I grew up on a farm. Not big enough to support more than one family, though. Dad still works it.” He shook pepper over his spuds.

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“One brother still at home helping Dad. Two sisters. Both married.”

Primrose nodded and continued to eat in silence. Tom came from a happy family, she could tell just by the way his face changed and softened when he thought of them. They’d given him a solid base to build his life on. She and Danny had grown up with sand slipping and sliding under their childish feet, never sure where home would be from one week to the next, never sure whether their father would be there and if he was what state he’d be in or who would be the target of his rage.

“So quiet,” murmured Tom under cover of Mike requesting chutney from Maureen.

Startled, Primrose swallowed the mouthful she was chewing. “I’m concentrating on my food. It’s delicious.”

Tom nodded but the expression on his face implied he didn’t accept her glib excuse. His grey eyes watched and assessed. She shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t want to be serious tonight. He’d accepted her apology, surprised her by listening to her gripe, and even more by flirting earlier, and it was fun. So was Mike’s attention although his big bear-like build wasn’t nearly as sexy as Tom’s lithe muscular frame.

“How’s your curry, Mike?”

“Tasty but not as hot as the ones I had in Thailand. Reckon you could strip paint with them.” With that he proceeded to tell them all about his two week Thai holiday, which effectively prevented Tom probing any further into her mental state. Tonight she wanted to forget the crappy childhood, the crappy fiancé, her crappy life and the mess she’d made at the commune. She wanted to drink wine, flirt with Mike and Tom and have a good time. Tomorrow could take care of itself. Same for yesterday and all the yesterdays before it.

****

Their table picked up two extra contestants in the form of Mike’s brother and sister-in-law but even with the boosted brain power the Meat Tray prize went to another loudly cheering team.

“Miserable effort,” cried Mike as everyone pushed chairs back and prepared to leave. “Remind me to get a better team next time. I’m off home.” He yawned. “Early start in the morning. Make sure you come to visit, Rosie.”

“Will do.” Primrose gave him a salute followed by a kiss on the cheek.

He grinned and went off with his relatives.

“Home time?” asked Tom.

Primrose wrinkled her nose. The lumpy mattress wasn’t calling yet. It was only just after eleven but the crowd had thinned. “Is there anything else to do?”

“Not unless you want another drink.”

“No, thanks.” Primrose picked up her bag. “Guess that’s it then.”

“Are you all right to drive?” Tom followed as she walked across the near empty room, his voice anxious. He held the door for her and she stepped out into the oppressive warmth of the still night. Headlights splashed across her body as cars turned for home, doors slammed, and voices called final goodnights. Tom’s white ute was across the street. Her Golf was around the corner opposite the little town park.

“Sure. But I feel like some fresh air.”

“Like some company?”

“Yours?” Primrose smiled, standing close, looking up into cool grey eyes, head tilted. Had she wanted him to be the one? Had she come into town tonight hoping he’d be here? Somewhere deep inside the answer was yes. She’d known as soon as she turned and saw him watching her from his corner table. Known he wanted her. And vice versa.

“I can catch Mike if you’d prefer.”

She shook her head slowly, holding his eyes with hers, then turned and headed for the corner with a deliberate sway in the hips. If she wasn’t very much mistaken Tom had lust in his eye and what better way to lose herself tonight?

He caught up in a couple of swift strides and took her hand when they turned into the side street where the light didn’t reach. She stumbled slightly in her heels in the sudden darkness and his arm slipped around her waist to support her. Strong. Comforting. She leaned into his body and slid her arm around him as they walked on. He smelled nice. Soap and freshly laundered shirt mixed with his own scent and a slight tang of beer. Trees rustled softly overhead. They passed the last of the three houses in the street, cocooned in the warm night air. A dog barked somewhere. A million stars spangled the black velvet sky. Their steps sounded loud on the tarmac and then the road turned to gravel. Tom stopped.

“Bit rough here for you. You wear such silly shoes.”

Her eyes had adjusted to the soft summer night so when she glanced up she could see his face illuminated by the half moon, looking down at her. All sharp planes and angles, deep shadows and silvery skin. Inches away.

“Do I?”

He turned her in his arms and his fingers stroked her cheek and gently traced her mouth, cupped her chin. Without a word he bent his head and kissed her softly.

Primrose held her breath. Not what she expected. A kiss so light and sweet from a man like Tom. A man who observed her with reserve and a measure of cynical humour despite his obvious desire for her as a female. Not what she’d expected at all, especially tonight when she’d deliberately dressed to attract, to party. When she wanted to forget.

“Tom,” she murmured into his lips. He drew away.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She grasped his face between her hands and stood on tiptoe to press her mouth on his. He responded instantly, pulling her hard against his body, all soft sweetness lost in a torrent of passion and hot skin.

Primrose closed her eyes and flew with him. This was what she craved—oblivion, sensory delight to the point of overload, a blotting out of the mess of her life. His hands roamed her body and one found its way to her breasts. She moaned into his mouth at the caress. Then he was speaking, murmuring words she didn’t understand, couldn’t decipher through the haze of lust. He dragged his mouth away from hers.

“Not here.” His voice was hoarse with craving.

“Home?”

He kissed her again, fiercely, and groaned with frustration. “Do you want to?” he muttered in between more demanding, devouring kisses.

“Yes.”

One word was all he needed to hear. He took her hand and they ran, giggling, for the main street. Primrose paused as they passed her car. Some sense filtered through the rush of hormones and supercharged blood.

“I’ll take mine.” No telling what gossip would arise if she left her car and went home with Tom in his. Not that she cared right at this moment. But he might.

Tom pulled her into his arms. “My place. Promise? My Rose.” His eyes locked with hers then he dived in for another soul searing kiss. Primrose clung to him. She could barely stand up for desire. Tom released her abruptly. “Get in.”

Primrose unlocked the car with shaking fingers and collapsed into the driver’s seat. He waited while she started the engine then strode toward his ute. The car was stifling and she lowered the window for cool night air to fan her face. The imprint of Tom was on her body, on her lips, the taste of him in her mouth. She stared at his receding figure—tall, slim hipped. Breathed hard. Wanted him with every fibre.

“Ten minutes,” he threw over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

Primrose drove carefully in the dark. The way was still unfamiliar but the twin red taillights of Tom’s ute reassured her through the twists of the mountain road. He slowed for the turn into their road. A few minutes later he swung left through his gate. Primrose braked, hesitated. Was this wise? Here was the point of no return. She could easily continue to the commune.

And do what? Lie in her lumpy, hot, single bed, remembering how it felt to be in Tom’s arms? Reliving his kisses. Impotently reliving the passion. Frustrated. Filled with regret.

She swung onto the driveway.

A light shone from the front window of the house, throwing a shaft of yellow across the verandah, dimly illuminating the yard. Tom walked straight toward her as she parked. She got out with a pounding heart and weak legs. Had
he
had second thoughts? His expression was impossible to read in the darkness.

“I thought you might change your mind.”

“So did I.” A mere whisper.

“But you didn’t.” He slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. Her pulse leapt. “You can still leave.” But his mouth found hers and she couldn’t have left if she’d tried.

He took her hand and led her unprotesting inside the house. His bedroom. Tom released his hold to flick on a bedside lamp and suddenly she was blinking in the soft light. He gazed at her with eyes dark with desire.

“You’re so beautiful, so sexy. Beautiful Rose.” He held her face between his palms and touched her lips with light nibbling kisses until she whimpered in frustration. She wanted more, wanted his kiss deep with passion, wanted his body slamming hard against hers.

Her hands found his shirt and tugged it loose from his pants. She yanked the buttons undone and dragged the garment off still tasting his lips, pressing harder to hold him to her. The kisses slowed to one long, slow exploration of her mouth which weakened her legs so much his arms moved to hold her upright. His attention switched to her throat and neck but his skin was hers to enjoy. So firm and hard, strong from physical labour, exciting. She nuzzled with her mouth, tasted his neck, his throat, his chest with the covering of fine dark hair while her fingers found the buttons to his pants, and then the evidence of his desire.

Tom kicked free of the jeans. His hands dragged her face to his again, his mouth sought hers, devoured and plunged then traced a molten path to her breasts. He eased the thin straps of her dress aside, his fingertips leaving a trail of sparks on her bare shoulders. The fabric slipped away to the floor, revealing her body naked in the dim light. “Mmm,” he growled deep in his throat as his fingers slid to the black panties and pulled them down her legs.

He lifted her against his body, hard and unyielding the way she’d craved, and tumbled her onto the bed where her limbs entwined with his, his lips on hers, hands setting her on fire. Only sensation mattered. No thinking, only now, her yearning body joining with his, forging together toward the same destination, toward oblivion. Time lost meaning, place ceased to exist. He paused briefly, frustratingly, as he fumbled for a condom then he was with her again, sailing and soaring, surfing the crashing waves of passion. Together.

****

Primrose came awake curled against a solid wall of hot flesh. Tom. She remembered in short, sharp flashes. How she’d wanted to attract, intended to seduce. Succeeded. And all without a moment’s hesitation. Apart from one fleeting, negligible pause at his gate. He’d been as eager as she. No need to feel guilty. No need for regret.

But she had to leave before he woke.

Soft rumbling indicated the depths of his sleep. She eased herself to a cooler patch of sheet. Heat radiated from his bare skin. Her own body was hot and sticky with perspiration. A sheet lay half off the bed, covering her legs.

Her throat rasped with thirst. She sat up carefully, so as not to disturb him. A glimmer of pale light came through the curtains. Her eyes gradually accustomed themselves and she slipped her legs from under the sheet and slid out of the bed. Something tangled in her foot. Familiar fabric beneath her groping fingers. Her dress. She snatched it up and felt about with her hand. A shoe and further on its pair. Panties? No idea where they were. Hadn’t worn a bra, a fact which had fascinated and enticed him all evening, he said, in the midst of the passion.

She crept from the room guided by the paler rectangle indicating the door. What time? No idea. No sound from the bedroom. No time for a drink of water. Go home. She dragged her dress over her head and carrying her shoes, scurried for the front door.

On the verandah Primrose dragged in a deep breath of cool, dewy morning air. A faint line of light showed on the horizon. Must be about four. She’d left her bag and keys in the car. Perfectly safe out here. Plus the fact no thoughts beyond Tom entered her head as soon as he walked toward her.

He’d be upset when he woke and found her gone. But she couldn’t stay. There’d be nothing to say. He already thought she was a misfit here so this wouldn’t disillusion him in that respect. Even as she thought it she knew it wasn’t fair but she really couldn’t face him this morning. She’d had an itch, he’d scratched it and vice versa. Magnificently well. But that was it. Done. If he thought there was more—tough. There was no more. She knew what men and relationships were like.

She held her breath as the engine burst into life and held it until she was over the rise and out of sight of the house. Then she exhaled noisily. Her body smelled—heat, sex, and Tom. Reminding her of last night’s craziness, the irresistible urge to drown herself in a man’s arms. She needed a hot shower and sleep. Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator and the car leapt forward. He’d be very upset. Under the cynical exterior lay a sensitive, caring man. But he was a man and men liked sex without strings. Tom wasn’t ready for another partner. He should be pleased.