Moonflower (16 page)

So she
unpacked the vehicle, sorted out everything they’d need for this
afternoon’s drill, then went to her desk just off the storeroom and
made a few calls. Almost an hour later, she made her way to the
main house. It was never a good thing to keep Reuben waiting, but
she’d needed the time to steel herself against the encounter. She
was ready now.

The study
door was open, Reuben behind his desk. He remained seated, although
he wanted to get up and go to her, his body compelling him to do
so. ‘How are you, Sophie?’

‘
I’m fine thanks. How are you?’

He
nodded, indicated a chair in front of his desk. Sophie made no move
to sit. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘
How have
you
been?’

‘
Busy. I’ve plotted flora and fauna and soil quality across
almost seventy percent of the farm. I can show you the grid if
you’d like.’

Reuben
was silent for moment. ‘I meant how have you been?’

He saw
her chest move beneath the khaki shirt; she took a deep breath.
‘I’ve been fine, Reuben. Thank you.’

He
frowned, stood up, went to her. She stepped back. Put a chair
between them.

Reuben
had never been rejected by a woman. Of course Sophie wanted him, he
told himself. Was this some sort of childish fit of pique because
he’d gone away?

‘
Those children in the hut—you’ve started a school
programme.’

‘
Yes.’

‘
Your brief is to conserve what’s already on this farm and
replenish what is missing. I hadn’t thought that included
schoolchildren. Need I remind you that the first consignment of
animals is due in this week?’

Sophie’s
chin came up; her copper ponytail swished behind her and caught the
light. A cat’s tail. He knew he had her riled and that thrilled
him, got his blood pumping. He would not tolerate cold, polite
indifference.

‘
I appreciate your interest,’ she said politely, ‘but I’ve
carefully planned out my time and everything’s in place for the
animals’ arrival.’

Still
cold, and so controlled.

Just
weeks ago he’d had this woman in his arms. Felt her yielding
beneath him. Clinging to him, whispering her desire for him in that
deep husky voice, while he burned up inside her.

‘
That isn’t the point.’ He stepped closer to her. She watched
him warily. ‘As a professional, if you had not thought it necessary
to ask permission, you should have at least informed your employer
of your intention to begin an extramural activity that appears
nowhere in your job description.’

Sophie’s eyes blazed at him. She stepped closer and his heart
bumped and jolted in his chest. ‘You’ve obviously forgotten that
we
did
talk about
it. That first day at the hikers’ cottage.’

Reuben
watched her blush, despite her anger, at the mention of the cottage
and the memory of them pressed together beneath the fallen wall
hanging, then their explosive lovemaking the next time he’d taken
her there. He hadn’t forgotten a moment of it; could still see her
unbuttoning his jeans, pushing her hand past the waistband, lower
until she’d felt the tip of him against her fingertips.

Perspiration broke out on Reuben’s forehead. He took a step
towards her. They were almost touching now, chest-to-chest. Hers
rising and falling, the cold exterior gone. He ached for her. Had
to touch—

‘
Sophie?’

They
stepped apart at the sound of Sara’s voice in the passage
outside.

Sophie
moved quickly to the study door, poked her head out. ‘I’m here,
Sara.’

‘
Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. There’s a young man
here to see you.’

Sophie
moved out into the passage. Reuben walked to the
doorway.

‘
Alan!’ she exclaimed as a tall young man, dressed in khakis,
appeared. His dark, curly hair was tousled and he had bulging
pockets everywhere. Sophie flung herself into his arms, hugged him
tightly. Reuben felt a constriction in his throat.

‘
I heard they’d let you loose out here,’ he said, stepping away
from her. ‘You look fantastic, Sophie-girl.’

‘
You too, darling boy,’ she said, kissing him lightly on both
cheeks.

Sophie-girl?
Reuben felt like
throttling the guy. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, behind them. ‘I don’t
mean to interrupt, but—’

Sophie
spun around, stiffly made the introductions. ‘Reuben, this is a
close friend, Alan Jeffries. We worked together on the African Wild
Dog Project. Alan, this is Reuben Manning, the owner of Labour’s
End.’

Alan
stepped forward and the men shook hands. ‘Sophie’s told me about
your long-term plans for the farm,’ Alan said. ‘I think what you’re
doing here is fantastic.’

Reuben
disliked Alan for no rational reason. He seemed like a perfectly
nice guy. ‘Thank you, Alan,’ he said, being sure to keep his voice
polite. ‘I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, but Sophie and I were in
the middle of something.’

‘
Go to the kitchen and wait for me,’ Sophie said, rubbing his
arm affectionately. ‘I won’t be long. It’s to the end of the
passage, first right, down to the end, then last door on the
left.’

‘
See you in a mo,’ Alan said. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr
Manning.’

‘
What is he doing here?’ Reuben asked, when Alan had
disappeared and the study door was once again closed. He quickly
held up a hand. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, of course; this being
my farm and all.’

‘
He’s a friend and colleague,’ Sophie said, tilting her
delicate chin at him so the light caught the sweep of her cheekbone
and sprinkled it with gold dust. ‘We went through a lot together on
the African Wild Dog Project. Those kinds of challenges make for
close friends.’ Sophie was obviously intent on getting a dig in.
‘Very different to the corporate world I’d imagine, which seems far
more dog-eat-dog than in the African bush.’

‘
Whoa,’ Reuben said, holding his hands up in a don’t-shoot
gesture. ‘Just asked a simple question.’

‘
Did you, Reuben?’ Sophie’s eyes flashed at him, but Reuben
chose not to take the bait.

‘
Why didn’t you discuss the school programme with me
first?’

‘
You were away.’

‘
Yes, Sophie,’ Reuben said testily. ‘But I was also a phone
call or an e-mail away.’

‘
I don’t know what your life is like in England. I thought
you’d be too busy to get involved with something as trivial as a
school programme out here.’

‘
I
am
involved.’ He stepped away from her and went back to his
desk.

‘
I’ll keep that in mind,’ Sophie said. ‘Can I go
now?’

‘
I’m not a bloody headmaster,’ he snapped. He knew she was
champing at the bit to go after Alan.

‘
I’m trying to be civilised, Reuben.’

‘
Well, don’t. It doesn’t suit you.’

Sophie’s
gasp was barely audible and she stared at him with huge green eyes.
Reuben felt disgusted with himself and looked away. ‘Just go,’ he
told her, but he called her name as she got to the door.

She
turned to look at him, eyes still troubled.

Reuben
sighed. ‘Apart from not informing me, the school programme’s a good
initiative.’

Sophie
stared at him for a moment, then nodded and left the
room.

It was
wonderful to see Alan again. In no time at all he’d lifted Sophie’s
spirits with his down-to-earth personality and wacky sense of
humour. They drove around the farm and caught up on the gossip
doing the rounds in conservation circles. He laughed until the
tears ran down his cheeks when she told him about her encounters
with their resident thieving baboon.

Sophie
wanted to hold onto Alan. He was not only a welcome distraction,
but he reminded her of who she was when she was carefree and
focussed on the work she loved to do. A familiar face, a friend and
ally. But, too soon, he had to leave.

Rather
than be alone with her thoughts, Sophie ate the evening meal at the
house. She thought she should have gone back to the cottage. She
felt jumpy, on edge, thinking of Reuben eating his dinner in
another part of the house.

Her
thoughts plagued her, even though she was surrounded by the happy
banter of the other staff. She needed to clear her head, so she
went for a walk in the garden. She hoped Mr Solomon would pop up
from behind a bush with some words of wisdom for her.

She made
her way down the path, but he made no appearance and he was not to
be found behind any of the rose bushes in the garden.

Sophie
entered the small apple orchard where the formal garden ended. It
was a beautiful night, the air soft and warm. ‘Mr Solomon?’ she
called.

It had
been a scorcher of a day and she had no desire to go back to the
cottage that would still be a little stuffy despite the ceiling
fan. After the shower she’d taken earlier, she’d put on a thin
white sleeveless shirt and the only casual skirt she owned: a red
wrap-around that reached almost to her ankles. It was wonderfully
cool and Sophie wished she could wear this sort of attire more
often.

It was
cool in the orchard and the air smelled of sunshine, wood and
apples. Through the trees the moon was as full as a bowl of
cream.

‘
Mr Solomon; you in here?’

‘
Sophie?’

She
jumped several centimetres into the air and spun to face the voice
that certainly did not belong to the gardener.

‘
Reuben?’

The dark
figure moved towards her. ‘Why are you looking for Mr Solomon at
this time of day?’

‘
We sometimes have a chat. What are you doing here?’ she asked,
trying hard not to sound breathless.

He looked
up at the sky. ‘It’s one of my favourite places on the farm. But at
night; like this, when the moon’s up.’

His hair
was touched with silvery light. His eyes dark as the lake when he
looked back at her. ‘Where’s your friend?’ he asked.

‘
What?’

‘
Your friend, Alan.’

‘
It was a brief visit; he had to leave.’

He came
towards her, his movements unhurried. Every hair stood up on her
body, even though he’d stopped a metre away from her. She did not
look at his face; she found it so hard to resist reacting to the
intensity of his eyes. She stared at his chest as it rose and fell.
He stood with his feet apart, arms at his sides.

‘
I thought he might spend the night.’

‘
We’re friends, that’s all,’ Sophie said, standing her ground
as he stepped up to her. She did not move a muscle even though her
heart beat wildly like a buck caught in darkness thick enough to
mask the approach of a predator.

‘
Hmm,’ he said, placing a hand on the tree trunk beside her
head. ‘And what in Sophie Kyle’s book constitutes a
friend?’

Sophie
pressed her body and palms to the bark behind her, needing it
desperately for support. ‘You know the answer to that,’ she said,
looking away from him towards the dark tree shapes around
them.

He
brought his lips to her cheek, so close she could feel his breath
against her skin as he spoke. ‘Few weeks ago I thought I knew the
answer to that question, now I’m not so sure. So you tell me,
Sophie. Explain it to me.’

He
smelled faintly of expensive brandy. Sophie breathed him in and her
head felt light as a dandelion wheel. Her knees dipped a little.
Reuben caught her round the waist; palms against her
hips.

‘
I could say the same about you,’ she managed in a breathless
voice.

Reuben
placed a finger beneath her chin. Tilted her face up to him, but
she kept her eyes cast down.

‘
Hmm,’ he said. ‘You have to look at me, Sophie.’

She
couldn’t or she’d be lost again. She shook her head.

His
fingertips brushed her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut. He
touched her lips.

‘
Look at me, Sophie!’

It was a
command and, helpless to resist him, she obeyed.

His eyes
were on her lips, following the path his finger travelled. She
opened her mouth, her tongue grazing his fingertips. His eyes flew
to hers. She looked up at him; a full, open stare, and let
everything she felt for him pour from her eyes.

‘
Yes, Sophie,’ he breathed, and there was triumph and longing
in those words. ‘My wild and beautiful Sophie.’

He said
her name as if the uttering of it gave him immense pleasure. She
reached up and touched his face. ‘And you are no less beautiful to
me, Reuben.’

He let
out a deep breath, as if he’d been holding it all in. His lips
brushed softly against hers, then he took her lower lip between
his, running his tongue side to side, and Sophie melted into his
arms, unable to control the force of her longing for
him.