Zambezi Seduction (17 page)

“Chad . . .”
Words caught in her throat. Her eyes became moist, blurring her vision.

He rocked her gently from side to side as if comforting a frightened child.

“I owe you so much,” she managed.

“You owe me nothing.
We get out of life what we put into it. You put in plenty.”

His lips found hers. She responded positively. To her, it was a final reaffirm
ation of the bond that had carried them through the rough and the smooth. Now they could part on good terms.

Then
, without warning, Chad’s behaviour changed. His tongue sought access, invading her mouth by force. He groaned and his hands wandered. One encircled her breast and she felt the pressure of his arousal. Her legs grew weak and a flood of desire threatened to engulf her.

It was their last night by the Zambezi all over again.

No . . . no . . . no . . . She managed to keep her mind clear. She felt like an exhausted swimmer battling a tidal race. It was madness. She had often thought of the farewell, and this wasn’t in the script.

They had agreed there would be no more. She had to stop it, otherwise her word counted for nothing. Was
that
how she wanted to be remembered?

Kerry arched her back and struggled to free herself. His arms and hungry mouth released her reluctantly. He towered over her, eyes filled with wild desire. She had already felt proof of his body
’s need of her.

“You broke your promise
,” she accused. Oh, why had it come to this? The last thing she wanted was her holiday to end in a squabble.

He shook his head angrily. “I’
m a man – not a child you can boss around. It was unplanned; it just happened.”

His hurt look softened and a wicked smile played around the corners of his mouth.

“Too bad we’re not travelling together. We could join the Mile High Club tonight. Perhaps you already have – you’ve certainly had the opportunity.”

With his words, the heat of desire within her was replaced by the heat of anger. She loathed being talked of in such a way, even if it was partly in fun. She guessed it was his parting shot – his way of getting back at her for ending their affair.

Nothing was to be gained at this late hour by attempting to score cheap points. If he had any feelings for her, he would let it rest.

Silence reigned. It seemed that he had reached the same conclusion.

After subjecting him to a long withering look, Kerry asked, “Can we go now, please?” She kept her voice even, so it reflected none of the confusion of hurt, sadness, eroticism, swirling memories . . . and the sudden chill of loneliness flooding through her.

TWENTY – ONE

On her first stopover in South Africa following her return to work, Kerry contacted nobody. She was reluctant to involve herself with Chad and his friends, fearing that the earlier intimacy and acceptance of her as an outsider would be gone. She remained in her hotel room – although she was far from idle. With her notes scattered about her she wrote the opening pages of her novel.

The
next visit followed a similar pattern to the first, despite her vow during the drive from airport to hotel to contact him. Chad was constantly in her thoughts. She had visions of him working on the leopard paintings in his small studio. How was he eating? Who was he seeing? Did he ever think of her? These and a dozen other questions repeated over and over in her mind. She remembered their lovemaking in the moonlit room by the beautiful river. So real were the memories, inevitably her body would respond – leaving her unsettled, trying to block the more sensual thoughts from her mind.

By now she knew finally and irrevocably that she loved him. Every day she berated herself for being so defiant and cool towards him at the end of the holiday.
They hadn’t spoken on the way to the airport. After finding her a baggage trolley, he had pecked her on the cheek and beaten a hasty retreat. The old Chad Lindsay independent streak showing itself again.

Ring me, he had said. You know where I am. That was something, of course. But it placed the onus on her to make the next move. Was it arrogance, or just how Chad did things? Anyone else and she wouldn
’t have entertained the idea, for she held to the old-fashioned notion that it was up to the man to lead and make clear his intentions and up to the woman to accept him or not.

Chad Lindsay, though, lived by
his own code. Quite possibly he’d never had to learn the conventional approach to courtship. A man of his dashing appearance and sex appeal would, as often as not, be the pursued rather than the hunter. Hence his flippant remark: “You know where I am.”

She loved him – yet something
in her mind-set prevented her from making the call. Only once – when they were in bed together – had he said he cared for her. Any woman who believed everything a man told her in bed was a fool, and Kerry didn’t believe herself a fool.

She remained cooped up in her hotel room, her mind slipping back and forth between the world she was creating on paper and the real world – Chad’s world, which began a few paces away outside her door. The worst part
was knowing he was so close. Every time footsteps or a phone sounded, her heart skipped a beat. The disappointment hurt like a knife in her side – but still she could not bring herself to make that call. The man wasn’t living in the wilds of the Kalahari. He had a car and a telephone. He could find
her
, if he really wanted.

***

By the time of her third stopover in the city since her trip with Chad, the events of the holiday seemed in the distant past. Nevertheless she found it impossible to shut the South African out of her thoughts. She congratulated herself on the good judgement she had shown in ending the sexual dimension after one night. It had not been an easy decision, but with his subsequent behaviour confirming her worst fears, she was convinced it was the right one.

She wavered over whether to phone Anna
Grobler or Camilla Olsen. She felt no particular bond to either woman – yet she had enjoyed warm moments with each. She might not see Chad again, but that was no reason to shut their mutual friends out of her life. Anna was too close to Chad. And there would be a fair chance of an argument given the Afrikaner girl’s crazy notion that Chad was in love with her, Kerry.

That left Camilla. Kerry phoned her from the hotel after breakfast. The Dane sounded delighted to hear from her. After establishing how long Kerry would be in town, she insisted they meet for lunch that same day.

“Oh, wait . . .” she stalled. “I’d forgotten . . . I’m expecting a plumber today or tomorrow. I’ll phone him, find out when he’s coming and call you back in ten minutes.”

True to her word, Camilla phoned exactly ten minutes later.

“Fixed up,” she said happily. “He’s coming tomorrow. So today I’m free. Pick you up outside your hotel at 12.30?”

“Looking forward to it.”
Hearing the Dane’s voice
had
given Kerry a lift.

Camilla Olsen arrived in a cream VW Golf, her head half-hidden behind a huge pair of dark shades. Kerry jumped into the car and they exchanged air-kisses and began talking at once.

Camilla proved to be a competent driver and soon they were on the northbound lane of the M1 motorway.

“Thought you’d like to get well aw
ay from the city,” Camilla said. “See some trees, breathe clean air.”

Kerry suspected the move was for the Dane’s own peace of mind.
Leave the traffic and crime – the muggings, robberies, rapes and car-jackings for which Johannesburg had become notorious in recent years. Once they left the motorway, it wasn’t long before Camilla stopped the car outside a French restaurant within sight of the Sandton Centre – one of the northern suburbs’ best-known landmarks. Hereabouts was a world of leafy avenues, health clubs, hair and beauty salons, shopping malls and supermarkets – all geared up for Christmas.

Kerry watched a hoopoe flit over the road and into a garden awash with sunlit colour. The gardens and verges were now a lush green. Summer – a new wet season – was well underway.

They were shown to a back table. The temperature-controlled room was pleasantly cool. They ordered gin and tonics, lots of ice and sliced lemon. The restaurant filled and the waiter came early to take their order. Neither felt like a starter. They each plumped for a seafood salad – crabmeat with Kerry’s, while Camilla went for a side plate of giant Mozambican prawns cooked in garlic butter.

“One thing shared by the British and Danes is a taste for the sea and its riches,” Camilla said, laughing gaily. She really did appear pleased to see Kerry again.

“Do you miss the sea?”

“I do – so much
. In Denmark it is always there, like the sun and moon. Here one must travel nearly four hundred miles to find it.”

Kerry was only half listening. She found it extremely odd that Camilla had not once mentioned Chad Lindsay – not on the phone, in the car, or here as they enjoyed their drinks. Had their roles been reversed, Kerry would have brought his name up straight away. It was all the more peculiar given the Danish blonde’s behaviour at Victoria Falls. There her inquiring mind and eagle eye had focused assiduously on Kerry’s relationship with the artist. Were they now engaged in
a bizarre game to see who could last longest without saying his name? What seemed much more likely was that Camilla had no need to ask because she’d had contact with Chad since their return from Zimbabwe.

Mindful that Camilla had to drive her back to the hotel, Kerry was reluctant to suggest that they order wine. However, so keen was she to loosen the Dane’s tongue, when the wine waiter appeared
she suggested a half-bottle. They agreed on a Cape Chardonnay.

Kerry found that she had lost her appetite. She picked at her food, although its presentation and taste were excellent. She could not relax.
She watched the other woman shell each prawn and dip her hands in the fingerbowl afterwards. She and Camilla should be friends: they shared many interests and clearly liked one another. But Kerry was so aware of the unspoken name, she felt an underlying tension between them – as if they were strangers meeting for the first time.

Camilla
ate greedily. Kerry pushed her half-eaten meal to one side. Camilla gave her a speculative look, picked up her fork and made a spearing motion towards Kerry’s plate.

“May I?”

“Help yourself.”

“Ordinarily, I wouldn
’t do this,” the Dane said. “But I’m eating for two, so –”

“Two? You
’re pregnant?”

The Scandinavian blonde laughed softly.
“Confirmed last month. I wasn’t going to mention it. Still early days.”

“Oh, Camilla, how wonderful!”
Kerry knew it would be the couple’s first child. “Per is excited, I’m sure.”

“Delighted.
He wants more. This is such a fine country in which to raise kids – they are outdoors in the sun so much; they grow up healthy and strong.”

Kerry watched the Dane polish off the last of the crab salad and wash it down with a final mouthful of wine.

“It was conceived at Victoria Falls,” Camilla stated in her typically forthright manner. Looking Kerry straight in the eye, she added, “That place is conducive to lovemaking. Is there a more
beautiful
river anywhere?” She laughed again. “The night of our casino visit we engaged in a frenzied session and our legs became entangled in the mosquito net. Per made me laugh – he said that if they ever made sex an Olympic sport, we would be sure to win Gold.”

Kerry waited. After the talk of Vic Falls, now surely there would be some mention of Chad. But, no –
infuriatingly, Camilla switched to debating with herself whether to round the meal off with a coffee. She decided against; she felt fine as she was. Kerry concurred.

“Let
’s go,” Camilla commanded, glancing at her watch. She gave Kerry a curious smile. “I have something to show you.”

They split the cost of the meal, as agreed beforehand. Camilla drove in silence, heading farther away from the city. Kerry could not relax; she felt that they had unfinished business. She had no real desire to see the Olsen
’s home or Per’s factory, or wherever the heck they were going. She sat in a kind of daze, taking in little of the passing scene. Once she turned from looking out the side window and for a moment believed she was in the Fiat with Chad.

Meeting Camilla had been a mistake, Kerry realized. The high-point of their talk had been discussing the Dane
’s pregnancy – and that could have been done over the phone. Kerry’s earlier fear of being unable to recapture the warmth of their first meeting had been an accurate forecast.

At a crossroads, Camilla pulled in to the roadside. She studied a scrap of paper. It appeared to Kerry to be scribbled directions. This awakened her interest. If the other woman was unsure of the way, then they were hardly going to her home or to meet her husband.

“Almost there,” Camilla said with a forced laugh.

She had to be
aware of Kerry’s growing curiosity but made no attempt to satisfy it. She got the car going again and kept her eyes fixed on the road.

They were beyond the outermost suburb; the terrain was open
veld
with a scattering of gum trees. The land was flat, save for an occasional low rocky outcrop.

Camilla slowed the Golf and turned onto a dirt road. Both women closed their windows to keep out the dust. At the junction, a large display board advertised building plots for sale. In big letters it proclaimed the site to be the area
’s Newest, Best & Most Exclusive.

A road-grader worked ahead, noisily throwing up a cloud of dust as it scraped along the dirt road. Once they were through its dust cloud, Kerry noticed on each side plots had been marked out with rows of whitewashed rocks and coloured tape. Nowhere had building work begun.

A
kopje
, topped with great slabs of weathered rock, lay ahead. The road rose gradually to meet it. At the base of the hill the road turned at a right angle and here the blue gums stood tall and stately in the sun.

Camilla brought the car to a stop. She looked around, a nervous smile playing about he
r lips. She appeared to recognize something in their surroundings and looked relieved.

“Come,” she said, opening her door. “This is the place.”

Robot-like, Kerry followed. She had not the faintest idea what they were doing here. She should have questioned Camilla more in the car, but it was too late for that. The Dane had plainly wanted to surprise her, and Kerry had played along. Now, seeing the end result, she wondered why.

She was struck by how peaceful it was. The distant hum of the road-grader and the rasping calls of weaver birds in the gum trees were the only sounds. Her sharp eyes picked out a pair of small falcons circling the
kopje’s
summit. What had Camilla in mind? Surely not rock climbing; not in her condition. And neither woman was dressed for it.

“Camilla, what . . . ?” Kerry
’s question died in her throat.

The Dane was no longer at her side. She had slipped back to the car, from where she waved. Kerry had no time to ponder this outlandish behaviour. She sensed movement off to the side. She whirled round and her mouth hung open in shock.

Emerging from the trees was a familiar face – familiar, yet markedly changed from the time of their last meeting.