Age of Consent Page 13

  Marina, Helen could tell, was far more interested in the concept of temporary than in any aspect of whether Helen was enjoying herself or not. But whatever the woman’s next comment might have been, it was forestalled by the arrival of their waiter inquiring if they were ready for coffee and/or liqueurs.

  And though Marina might have, and should have, taken this hint as an excuse to remove herself, she didn’t. Nor did Helen expect she would have.

  Maybe I should leave, Helen thought to herself. Certainly I’m not much more than a fifth wheel here, despite the fact it was supposed to be my celebration.

  And for a moment, she thought seriously about doing just that. It would require no more than a pleaded headache, or tiredness. If nothing else, Dane would insist on driving her home, which would have the effect of breaking up this impossible little scenario.

  But ... why bother? It would only have the effect of creating a scene, however minor. And of embarrassing Dane, which she didn’t want to do.

  Helen was still pondering the situation when she realised that Marina was, rather belatedly, making the appropriate noises to indicate she knew she might be intruding, suggesting she really ought to leave them to their celebration.

  To Helen’s trained ear, it was inconceivably two-faced; Marina was obviously making the gesture in the hope and belief that Dane would invite her to stay. Which, Helen thought, he certainly would.

  Only ... he didn’t! Unbelievably, he was agreeing with Marina, politely to be sure, but in such a way that she couldn’t possibly pretend not to get his point. She didn’t even try, but the look she shot at Helen was sulphurous in the extreme.

  ‘Ah well, perhaps I’ll see you next week?’ she said in parting, the implication plain enough. She wanted to see Dane, but without Helen around to cramp her style. Not that I’ve even tried, Helen thought, unsure if she’d even want to, and equally sure that she did.

  ‘Not next week, unless you’re planning to be in Melbourne,’ was the astonishing reply. Dane was going to Melbourne? And he hadn’t so much as mentioned it, probably because of the assignation he was now so subtly arranging, Helen thought, and felt her heart shudder at the mental image of Dane and Marina snuggled down together in some classy Melbourne hotel.

  And that’s exactly what’ll be happening, she thought, noticing that Marina neither confirmed nor denied any acceptance of the offer. Instead, the brunette merely smiled sweetly and made her farewells, giving the waiter a second chance to renew his offer.

  Dane, suddenly effusive now that Marina had departed, insisted on coffee and the best available brandy. Helen would have been happier to have just gone home, despite the fact she could never think of Dane’s house as home — not under these circumstances. Then she reconsidered; he had, after all, dismissed Marina when he didn’t have to. So ... she would sit and make small talk if that’s what he wished. She’d be doing so anyway; whether here or at the house couldn’t make much difference.

  ‘You didn’t mention Melbourne before,’ she began, and almost bit her tongue at the prying sound of what she’d said.

  He grinned, and there was something wolfish, almost conspiratorial about the way he revealed white, even teeth, the way the laugh lines round his eyes twitched.

  ‘Probably because I’d only just that moment thought it up,’ he said. ‘Although I have to go in any event, so next week’s as good a time as any.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that it would be easier all round, with me here to look after the animals,’ Helen replied. ‘And in another couple of weeks, well, with any luck I’ll either be gone to a new job or right on the verge of going.’

  ‘You don’t have to make it sound as if I’m driving you away,’ Dane said. ‘This was your own idea, remember. Not mine. Far as I’m concerned, you can stay as long as you like.’

  Helen smiled, hoping the smile covered the hurt inside at what she must reply. ‘I ... I don’t somehow think it would work out too well if I did. It’s fairly obvious that sooner or later I’d be just getting in the way.’

  ‘That, my dear, is your opinion. And you’re entitled to it no matter how ridiculous it is,’ was the enigmatic reply. ‘Especially if you’re referring to our most recent interruption, although I can hardly expect you to think otherwise.’

  ‘No,’ Helen replied. ‘I don’t really think you should.’

  Whereupon they both lapsed into silence, sipping at their coffee and brandy and gazing out at the slowly-revolving view. Helen knew that she was more retreating into herself than actually seeing what her eyes looked at, but she couldn’t be at all certain whether Dane was lost in thoughts of his own or just determined not to continue a conversation that could only lead to dispute.

  Even after they’d left the casino and begun the drive home, he seemed inordinately withdrawn, although she had to admit that her own silence didn’t help much. The trip home seemed endless, with the big car speeding silently through the night with both driver and passenger locked into a conspiracy of silence.

  It wasn’t until they’d been greeted by a wriggling Labrador and had entered the kitchen that Dane finally spoke up, and his first comments set the tone of the conversation in a way Helen would have rather avoided ... permanently.

  ‘I’m really sorry about Marina’s unexpected arrival tonight,’ he said without preamble. ‘Although frankly I can’t understand why you insist upon being so damned jealous of her.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, because I’m not at all jealous of her,’ Helen lied, hiding the lie in a savage smile. ‘Well, perhaps that’s not quite true. I certainly envy her that gorgeous hair.’

  Infuriatingly, he only shrugged. ‘You could get the same out of a bottle if you wanted it that badly,’ Dane replied. ‘Although I rather doubt if it would really suit you.’

  ‘It wouldn’t, and especially not out of a bottle,’ Helen affirmed. ‘Which Marina’s isn’t, as I’m sure you’re quite well aware.’ And she could have flinched at the pain that shot through her just at the thought of how he might ensure whether Marina was indeed a natural glossy brunette.

  And Dane laughed, which was even more infuriating than his shrug. ‘Is this the lady that just assured me a moment ago she wasn’t jealous? She ought to envy you that ability to spread bulldust under any and all conditions,’ he said. ‘Although why you bother to try it on me, I’ll never know. I’d have thought you’d have learned by now that it’s a waste of time lying to me, because it never works.’

  Oh, yes it does, Helen thought. And then, for just one truly frightening moment, wondered. What if it didn’t? What if he really did know her thoughts, really did know her feelings? Then she shut her mind to that possibility, because it would make even one more night under his roof totally unbearable.

  ‘I’d have thought you’d know by now that I seldom bother lying, and certainly never about important things,’ she finally replied evasively.

  ‘Oh, but of course. Why should I ever think of suggesting otherwise?’ he remarked sarcastically, then paused as he shrugged off his dinner jacket and removed his tie. ‘What about a night-cap?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Helen replied without any genuine enthusiasm. Marina’s interruption had put a distinct damper on her enthusiasm and Dane’s silent drive home hadn’t helped. She also thought she might have drunk too much wine, although at this particular moment she didn’t feel as if she’d had a drop.

  Dane poured their drinks, then excused herself for a few minutes and disappeared into his office. When he returned, two pieces of paper in hand, he handed them over with a slightly exaggerated flourish.

  ‘What’s this?’ Helen asked, staring down at the two cheques in her hand.

  ‘Housekeeping money for while I’m in Melbourne, and your wages, which I seem to have forgotten about until now.’ Nothing in his tone allowed for the sizes of the two cheques, especially the one marked wages, and Helen looked back at him in astonishment.

  ‘But ... but ...’ She could go no further because it all made no sense a
t all. She hadn’t earned nearly this amount as a jillaroo, much less as a houseguest, and she was already trying to find the words to say so when he interrupted.

  ‘Well, dinner’s in there too. You didn’t really think I’d actually let you pay for it, did you? Hell, you’ve worked too hard for that money to fritter it away on food.’

  ‘But I won the money to pay for dinner,’ cried Helen, now quite confused by the situation, ‘And besides, I did pay for it, and that’s just as we agreed.’

  ‘Just as you agreed. I was only having you on, really. I’d intended to take care of it all along. Especially since the uhm ... tête-à-tête we’d planned didn’t exactly come off, eh? It would hardly be fair to expect you to be stuck with the bill for such a damnably interrupted fiasco.’

  Helen reeled with astonishment at the apparent vehemence of his words. Surely he didn’t feel as she did about Marina’s gate-crash? He couldn’t possibly, she thought; he was only being nice, trying to ease her all- too-obvious feelings.

  ‘You make it sound like your girlfriend interrupted some great seduction scene,’ she chuckled, and then chuckled again, quite unable to ignore the humour she saw in that particular scenario. Obviously Marina hadn’t thought of it that way, or the brunette’s attitude would have been even more unfriendly — if that were possible — than it had been.

  ‘Actually, I was rather saving that for when we got home,’ Dane said, stepping closer to her. Not aggressively, but there was something in his eyes that made Helen want to retreat and yet go to meet him, both at the same time.

  Totally flustered, she flung out the first words that came to mind. ‘Isn’t it customary to stage seductions without expecting the girl involved to pick up the tab?’ That much emerged unscathed, but some glint in his eye made her stammer over the rest of it: ‘I mean, even ... even paying her back later doesn’t ... doesn’t make it workable, and especially not after your girlfriend has organised such a timely interruption.’

  ‘Still on about her, are we?’ But it wasn’t a question. More like a warning; Dane’s eyes had got hard, his mouth firm around the words.

  He was close now, too close. Helen found herself retreating from the obvious anger, the stern look, the rigid muscles as he moved closer again, forcing her back and doing so deliberately.

  ‘Running again, dear Helen? You seem to be doing a lot of that, lately, I think. That, or else throwing up Marina in my face at every possible opportunity. Even when you’re denying you’re jealous. I think maybe when I get back from Melbourne we might just have a little sort of straightening-out session, see if you can’t find something of the Helen I remember.’

  ‘And just what’s that supposed to mean?’ Helen cried, using his speech to step around to one side, giving herself more room to manoeuvre.

  ‘Fairly obvious, I should think. Either you’ve changed rather dramatically since I last saw you, which seems unlikely on the face of it. Or you’ve changed rather dramatically — and damned quickly — since your arrival here. Now that,’ he grinned devilishly, ‘is far more likely. I could even speculate on why, except that it would only make you angry, and probably frustrate me worse than I am already.’

  ‘I think you’re imagining things,’ Helen replied, almost shouting at him in her desire to have this conversation stopped, and soon. It was far too close to the truth for comfort. Her mind raced, seeking something ... anything ... that she could say to diffuse the growing confrontation.

  ‘Except for one thing. I do truly think you’re frustrated,’ she snapped. ‘Which is why I wonder why you stand around arguing with me when your girlfriend is so obviously ready to cater to that particular need, among others.’ Oh, it was bitchy. And she knew it. But she didn’t care, not now.

  ‘And I do truly think that you’re just about ready to have your tidy little butt paddled,’ Dane snapped in reply, one strong hand snaking out to capture her wrist. ‘You’re getting just a bit too big for your britches, young Helen, and it’s about time you realised that if you act like a child you’ll be treated as one.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Helen flailed out at him, but with a glass in her only free hand, her first reaction was not to spill the drink all over the floor, and her attempt at defensive manoeuvres was fruitless.

  ‘Put the glass down.’ His voice was grim, forbidding. His eyes now were like two chips of ice, while her own, Helen knew, would be enormous pools of grey velvet, startled and fearful.

  ‘No! No, I won’t. And if you don’t let go, you’ll be wearing this drink,’ she cried.

  She was remembering only too well how he’d paddled her out by the woodpile, and worse, what had followed that spanking. Were similar events to begin here, now, she knew she’d have no chance of resisting, wouldn’t even want to try. And yet she’d have to, somehow.

  ‘Only if you promise to abandon this insane jealousy you keep insisting on exhibiting.’ Still the grimness in the voice, but his eyes laughed. He was enjoying this, Helen thought.

  ‘1 am not jealous. And I never was. Why the hell should I be?’ she retorted. ‘It’s nothing to me if you sleep with every brunette in Tasmania, Just so long as you leave ...’

  ‘Just so long as I leave you alone? Yes, I rather thought so,’ he interrupted, and now there was something else in the voice, something that cried out with pain, only Helen chose to interpret it as sarcasm.

  ‘Right!’ she cried, yanking free her wrist from a grip that suddenly slackened, making it easy for her to do.

  It was a short-lived, transient freedom. Dane plucked the glass from her fingers even as he released her wrist, reached out to deposit it safely on the kitchen counter, and was once again totally in control of their confrontation before Helen could step free of his approach.

  ‘You just seem bound and determined to push me right to the limits of endurance,’ he said, voice in a soft, almost growling tone. ‘But you never want to tell me why, which is surprising. We always used to be able to communicate rather well, I thought.’

  ‘Maybe by your standards,’ Helen replied, now backed against the wall, her entire body alive to the aura of his nearness and her entire mind alert to the need to defend herself, to keep him from luring her into a betrayal of her own safety.

  ‘But not by yours? Oh, I don’t think so,’ he replied, and now his face loomed above her own, his eyes demanding her attention, his very presence authoritative, almost but not quite menacing.

  ‘Although ...’ His voice seemed softer now, perhaps because Helen was drowning in his eyes, perhaps because he was deliberately infusing some seductive magic into both voice and glance. ‘At least in the old days you’d have no trouble explaining why you feel it just so damned important to leave. Now, apart from your obvious jealousy, you don’t seem able to provide any reason at all’

  ‘That’s ... that’s ridiculous,’ she stammered in reply. And shrank away from him as far as the wall behind would allow. ‘I ... well ... surely you can’t expect me to abandon my entire career just to be around here and handy whenever you need an animal-sitter.’

  ‘Your … career?’ And somehow he injected just enough scorn into the word to get Helen’s hackles up. How dare he be so deliberately condescending, just because she’d been out of work occasionally?

  ‘Yes ... my career!’ She spat out the words, anger building now to combat the fluttering of her heart, the sheer weakness his close physical presence so easily created. It was a weakness, she knew, that must never be allowed to dominate her reactions, lest she be forever lost to her own emotions and his ability to manipulate them.

  And yet ... was he totally to blame? His offer of a place to live, a time to regroup, had undoubtedly been genuine and even unselfish. Was it his fault that she’d found herself falling in love? His fault that those feelings wouldn’t and couldn’t be returned?

  ‘Oh, please don’t misunderstand,’ she said then, capitulating in the face of quite justifiable anger on his part even though he’d shown no real sign of that anger. ‘I
know you got me here with the best of intentions, but I can’t stay indefinitely and you must realise that. It’s ... well, it’s time I moved on, got another job and started living my own life. I can’t just hang about and sponge off you.’

  ‘Sponge? Good lord, Helen, I certainly don’t think you’re sponging. You’re paying your way and more, and surely you’ve no need to feel guilty in that respect.’

  ‘It isn’t a matter of feeling guilty. It’s a matter of simple logic. I’m a journalist, not a jillaroo, not a cook, not a housekeeper. A journalist! And it’s high time I went back to being a journalist, instead of hiding out from my responsibilities and evading them.’

  Damn him, she thought, almost in tears at the frustration of having to be so evasive. But what else could she do? It would be the height of folly to admit that she couldn’t stay because she had fallen in love with him — even without the involvement of the glamorous Marina Cole.

  ‘I see.’ But he didn’t, Helen was sure. Although ... he did step back, did allow her at least a bit of breathing space, a chance to try and regain her composure.

  ‘Well, I suppose I can’t argue too much with that sort of logic,’ Dane said. ‘Provided, of course, that you’re at least going to be sensible and stick around until you’ve got a job, not go running off to subsist on the dole somewhere else in the meantime. And don’t deny that you’re just stubborn enough to do it, either.’

  Then he grinned, an unexpectedly warm and genuine grin, without the wolfish intensity he usually revealed. ‘Besides,’ he said. ‘You haven’t finished the kitchen remodelling project, and if you’re not here I won’t be able to go to Melbourne, will I?’

  ‘That’s blackmail, pure and simple,’ Helen retorted, but she couldn’t maintain her earlier anger. Of course it was blackmail, but she knew he wasn’t being totally serious. If a job offer did arrive, he’d have no complaints whatsoever about having to make other arrangements to facilitate his Melbourne visit.

  ‘Of course it’s blackmail, but I expect that kitchen plan to be finished when I get back from Melbourne, or else I won’t have a hope of getting the project completed by Christmas. And I want it done by Christmas.’