The Seduction of Suzanne Page 14

  When the last suds were gone he set her on the bathmat and soaped himself more briskly while she watched. It was such a private thing, witnessing a man’s ritual of cleanliness as he matter-of-factly handled those parts of himself that still felt mysterious and taboo to Suzanne. Not that she hadn’t done a fair amount of handling them herself in the past days. Taboo or not, he had certainly encouraged her to become as familiar as she liked.

  “So I guess that’s the first time you’ve had sex straight after an argument,” he stated.

  “Yes.” She hesitated, unsure whether to explain further. He hadn’t pried into her past relationships, and she certainly hadn’t asked about his. But it felt okay to share a little.

  So she explained about her abortive connection with Gavin. As she spoke he turned off the shower and stepped out onto the mat, pulling a towel off the rail to wrap around her, and getting a second one for himself. She gathered the folds in her hands but didn’t dry herself, concentrating on telling the bare bones of the sad little story.

  It took little more than a minute.

  Hearing herself speak of it so calmly felt very peculiar. Something had happened over the past days, weeks. Some immense shift inside her. There was still the echo of pain, but faint and far off. She felt. . .healed. Yes, healed. Like she could finally put the whole event into its proper place: the past.

  She had thought that thought before, but this time it was more than wishful thinking. What had made the difference? Was it all about Justin being a man she could trust? That didn’t seem quite right. Oh, that was certainly part of it but somehow not the entire story.

  She went to him and wrapped her arms around him, so glad this man, this particular strong, wise man was here in this particular room with her. She surprised him but his arms opened in welcome for her. Though he probably thought she was seeking comfort for the pain of her memories. He dropped a kiss on her wet head, squeezing her gently and rubbing his hand up and down her spine.

  “You never saw him again after that night?” he clarified, lifting a corner of her towel to soak up the water beaded on her face. His eyes were narrowed and a muscle flexed in his jaw. The towel was bunched in his clenched fist but his tone stayed cool and even.

  “I didn’t go out much for a while after that, and he left a few days later so no, I didn’t see him.”

  “And you didn’t chew him out, then or later.”

  She had never confronted Gavin, either in the moment or after it. She had never stood up for herself and told him how awful he was to treat her as he had.

  “It didn’t occur to me. I felt sick and ashamed, not angry. It took me a long time to feel angry.”

  “Interesting. It only took you seconds to get in touch with your anger today,” he said, picking her up and carrying her to her bedroom, where she saw he had remade the bed with the rescued bedclothes.

  He was right. That had not occurred to her.

  In Justin she had found a new target, and this time she took verbal and physical power into her hands and defeated her enemy. This time she was strong and fierce, indomitable. This time she protected herself and said: ‘Never again.’ And this time her attacker apologised and promised: ‘Never again.’

  And she believed it. She believed him.

  “I suppose that’s true. Maybe I felt safer with you,” she said, as he put her down in the centre of the bed and lay down full length next to her.

  His eyes warmed at the compliment, but he shook his head in disagreement. “I think you’re a stronger woman today than you were at seventeen. You have good boundaries in place, and you’re ready and willing to defend them. That’s something very few teenagers can say. But if Gavin,” she heard a faint sneer as he said the name, “took photos of this Suzanne,” he tapped her nose meaningfully, “he would live to regret it.”

  She thought about that for a moment, imagined screaming abuse at Gavin as she had at Justin, hounding him, shoving him over and sending him running away with his tail between his legs. Justin was absolutely right. That was exactly what she would do, if it happened to her today. She wasn’t a doormat. She was a force to be reckoned with. She had the power and the will to defend herself from exploitation. The knowledge was liberating.

  “I also want to say I’m sorry for touching those old wounds. I can understand why you reacted as you did.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  She finished the explanation she had started: about her lack of experience with make-up sex, or indeed any sort of sex, following the misjudgement she had made as a teenager. It was still odd to share this, to be vulnerable with someone. Had it been so long since she opened up to another person? Perhaps it had. Too long.

  He listened without judgment, and when she had trailed to a halt he laid a gentle kiss on each of her cheekbones and said:

  “I think it’s extraordinary someone as passionate as you managed to keep yourself pent up for so long. If you feel the need to make up for lost time then I’m willing to place myself at your service.”

  “Oh, really?” she laughed as he tried to look angelic, then shrieked as he rolled her over for a moment’s tussle in revenge, before starting to kiss her softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist, held him tight as he made tender love to her, taking a long, luxurious time. She soaked in the sensation, in his quiet words of praise, feeling for the first time that she had lowered her walls against him and let him inside.

  As they lay together afterwards, spooned, her head on his bicep, his hand on her ribs against her breasts, she had just started thinking about the food he had brought when he said, “I think you should come back to the States with me. We could have an exhibition of your paintings. I have a connection with a rather good gallery. You could sell enough to fund you. Would you like that?”

  The silence stretched out as Suzanne’s heart started to pound, the blood rushing in her ears. He said it so easily, yet he spoke of an upheaval greater than anything she had ever contemplated in her life. Leave the country for the first time. Sell her work for the first time. Depend on it for a living for the first time. Travel with a man – one who was not her father – for the first time.

  Her mind flicked from one idea to the next so fast she could not register how she felt about it all. Frightened? Excited? Delighted? She thought she might be hyperventilating.

  “I’ve been thinking about it for a little while now. You wouldn’t be leaving forever,” he continued when the silence had stretched unbearably long. “Neither would you be by yourself. You’d be with me. That’s what has stopped you going in the past, isn’t it? It’s certainly easier to travel as part of a couple than as a single woman alone. I know my way around, so you’d be completely safe. We could travel a bit. I don’t have anywhere I need to be. I wouldn’t mind seeing Europe again, or wherever else you’d like to go. As long as I have an internet connection that’s all I need to do what I do. I’d be happy to help.” He spoke in an easy, reasonable tone of voice.

  “But why would you want to do that?” she said, seizing on the most bewildering part of his suggestion.

  “There are people who deserve to do well in the world. And you’re one of them. You’re good people, Suzanne. And you should be out there, thriving in whatever way you want. But you’re not. You’re cooped up and caged in, for all you love this place and the people here. I can understand that love and attachment, and I’m not trying to say that it’s wrong. But you could feature on an international stage with your painting. I know you want that, even if you refuse to acknowledge it. I hate to see a person restricted like you restrict yourself.

  “And as for me, I’ve been on my own for a long time now. I have friends all over the world, but wherever I go I leave them behind. Anything is better shared, when you’ve found someone you like. It heightens and enriches experience. I’d forgotten how much, until these past couple of weeks we’ve been hanging out. I’d like to have someone with me. And,” his v
oice lowered to that sexy purr of his and his hand moved to deftly cup and stroke one of her breasts, “we are so damn good together in bed.”

  “You like me, you desire me, and for that I should pack away my life and follow you off to the ends of the Earth,” she said incredulously, her voice rising with every word. “For Heaven’s sake, I’ve known you less than a month!”

  “You wouldn’t be following, necessarily. I’m happy to go wherever you want. I have no particular agenda. As for the time which we’ve known each other, that’s simply irrelevant.”

  “You’re not talking about a little trip. This could be months. Longer. I don’t have the money for that. And to be going away on a trip like that with you is, well, complicated!”

  “Complicated how?”

  “Just complicated! It’s not a matter of trusting you-”

  “Well as I said, we have lust and liking as well as trust.”

  She glared at the wall, found that dissatisfying, and wriggled around in his arms until she was facing him and putting her glare where it belonged. How could he be so obstinately obtuse!

  “Can you really not see how impossible this all is?” she demanded, frustrated and entreating.

  “It’s not at all impossible. We’re two people who enjoy being together, you’d get that travel you’ve been craving, you could study here and there, sell your art. It’d be fun. Where’s the complication in that?”

  Love! she wanted to shout at him. Even as she thought it, she was startled by the intensity of her wish that he would say it himself, that he would tell her that he loved her.

  How irrational! She had never sought his love, never expected it. In fact she had spent the past weeks trying to avoid thinking about love at all.

  But, oh God, how could she stay with him, be with him and not fall desperately in love. It was just . . . impossible.

  “Money!” she said a little desperately. “I haven’t got enough to spend months travelling, or to study.”

  “No savings at all?” he asked.

  “Well, some. But you’re talking about tens of thousands. I certainly don’t have that!”

  “If you’ve got something to start you off with, you’ll be fine. You just have to get overseas and have a couple of exhibitions of your work. I have the contacts. There’s no need to worry about that side of things. I can even lend you some cash in the meantime, which you can pay back to me once you’ve had a few sales. I’ve got enough put aside for that.”

  There was a moment of silence as Suzanne stared at him, unseeing, her mind churning. It was such an incredible prospect! Incredible and terrifying! How could she take the risks? She could end up in another country, penniless, a failure and far from her friends and resources. To put her work up for public examination and critique . . . it was a fright-ening prospect. So close to her soul and so private, if it were rejected she would be shattered.

  But perhaps worse was the risk of going with Justin. Of daring to hope that he might grow to care for her. To . . . love her. Because she realised in a flash of pure terror she longed for him to love her. To want her with him always.

  So it was not just her talent as an artist that she would be laying on the line. It was her heart too.

  He derailed her train of thought by cupping her chin in his large hand, tilting her face up to meet his and placing his lips on hers.

  He kissed her with a fiery passion so strong, that it was as if the calmly cajoling man of moments before had never been. His mouth held both persuasion and possession, and Suzanne melted back into her pillow. His fingers slid down to circle her neck, covering her tumultuous pulse.

  He lifted his face from hers a little, remaining close enough that his breath stroked her lips as he said: “We both know how much you want to go. But left to yourself you’ll never leave your nice, comfortable, safe shell, and venture out to do the things you dream of. Instead you’ll stay tied to this beautiful island, dozing your life away.”

  She stared at him, mesmerised by the intensity of his blazing blue eyes, so close to her own. “There is no doubt that we’d be very, very good together,” he whispered softly. “Sometimes you have to take risks, Suzanne. Think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Tell me what you’ve decided then.”

  With that he left, not looking back to the bed where she lay, boneless and bewildered.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was a long time before Suzanne moved. For hours she remained there, running his words over and over in her head, and trying to work out her jumbled feelings.

  It was almost midnight before she admitted to herself that she felt far more for him than the crush she had initially been willing to court, more than the lust and liking of which he had spoken. Somehow he had eased past her defences and engaged her heart. That tall, intelligent, humorous and handsome man had made her fall in love.

  Damn him.

  From there it did not take long for her to realise her biggest objection to going with him was he didn’t seem to return her feelings. Or at least, she thought frowningly, getting out of bed to go and search the fridge for the food Justin had brought, not with the intensity that she felt them. She chased this notion around for a while, before deciding it was fruitless to second-guess his intentions.

  It was possible that he might fall in love with her in the future. He would certainly have a much better chance to do so if they were together. Yet if she went with him hoping that he would eventually return her feelings, and he never did, it would break her heart.

  He thought he was taking off with someone who regarded him as a friend. Someone who would be a pleasant and undemanding companion, with the added benefit that they desired each other. If he should discover her one-sided love for him . . . she cringed at the thought.

  Not that he would ever be cruel. Oh no. But he would pity her. He would probably suggest they go their separate ways, so he wouldn’t cause her any more pain. So she could get over him.

  She could bear even his pity more easily than that.

  Unrequited love, she thought gloomily, was just as miserable as everyone said it was.

  She found punnets of berries, stone fruit, sophisticated cheeses and fancy crackers, so she threw together an ad-hoc meal, figuring after a day-long fast she needed to eat something substantial.

  Tilting her head back against the sofa cushions, she slowly fed herself delectable morsels. Feeling inebriated with tiredness from the late hour and then intense emotions of the day, and just plain reckless, she decided that the real question was about risk. In essence, how much was she willing to risk on the possibility that Justin would come to return her love?

  How much?

  Everything?

  Yes.

  Everything.

  She had spent her whole life being sensible and cautious, guarding herself from the possibility of disappointment or pain. It wasn’t enough. She was hungry for more. Perhaps if Justin had never come along, something else would have jogged her out of her rut. Perhaps not. It didn’t really matter now. Either way, he would have her.

  And she would have him.

  As for the painting, as for selling enough work to fund studies at a really good art school – quite aside from the challenges of getting into one – it was surely worth a try, however impossible it seemed that she could make it happen. It hurt to dream about that. Too long spent denying her artistic self had left her stunted, accustomed to ignoring her feelings.

  So she finally asked herself the question ‘What do I really want to do as an artist?’

  And the answer simply unfolded in front of her, as if it had been waiting all this time. Justin’s suggestion was everything she’d never let herself know she’d always wanted.

  And in a blinding flash she now knew. How had she hidden this for so long?

  Her spirit leapt like it had been set free.

  Yes, she would go. She would fling herself after this chance.

  The next morning she awoke with a moan. Groggy and sandy-eyed, she had shuff
led half way to the bathroom before she remembered the events of the night before. With a start, she was fully awake, her mind jumping into gear as she ran back to her bedroom to check the time.

  Ten twenty-four! Justin said he would be back in the morning! With an exclamation she hurried to shower and dry herself in record time.

  Back in her room she flung her wardrobe doors open and stopped, stymied. What should she wear? T-shirt, shorts and hiking boots? It was what she spent most of her life wearing, indeed what she had worn for most of the time they were together. It had not seemed to put him off.

  But no, not enough somehow.

  “Aha!”

  She spotted her soft, leaf-green cotton sundress.

  “Perfect!”

  It was a moment’s work to pull the simple frock out and wriggle into it. With satisfaction she confronted herself in the mirror.

  “You big girly girl,” she accused herself, wrinkling her nose happily at her reflection.

  “Strappy sandals, strappy sandals,” she muttered, returning to the wardrobe to root around in the corners, and hoping that she hadn’t thrown them out in one of her spring cleaning blitzes. No, there was one, and here the other. Her fingers fumbled at the delicate leather straps of the flat-soled shoes.

  With a firm hand on the hairbrush she brought her straight black hair into order, clasping it loosely at the nape of her neck.

  When she had finished, she stood for a moment and simply looked at herself, feeling a tremor of uneasiness run under her cheer.

  Was she really ready for this? It was going to shake her life into pieces and reassemble it in quite a different order. The hectic flush of excitement slowly faded from her cheeks, and she gnawed at her lower lip. But no, she had made up her mind, and she wasn’t going to back down now.

  With her chin tilted at a militant angle she sailed out of her bedroom door and down the hall to the kitchen. It was only as she saw the empty deck chairs on the verandah that she realised she’d been expecting him to be waiting for her there. He wasn’t though.