Cyclone Season Read online

  ‘I certainly would not have,’ Holly snapped. ‘And what’s more, if you were on hand when I cleared Customs you’d know very well that I had to spend nearly twenty minutes trying to sort out the mess you created by changing my schedule around. Then, I was going to phone her — and not collect either — but ...’

  ‘But it was more important to make sure you were totally up to date on the latest, uhm, seduction techniques?’ His laugh was bitter, icy, and cruel.

  Pride combined with her anger, then, flaring into white-hot rage that wasn’t the slightest bit mollified by the fact he was probably quite justified in thinking what he did. Holly’s hand lashed out like a striking cat-claw, only be caught by a faster, stronger hand that clamped round her wrist like a steel manacle.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, and there was threat in his voice. And warning. And though Holly fought his grip, it was a fruitless, demeaning exercise.

  ‘Let me go!’ she spat, grey eyes narrowing in anger that had lost its white fury but was still bitter.

  ‘Only when you promise to behave,’ he shrugged, but an instant later released her wrist without waiting for any verbal promise.

  Trembling still in her anger, Holly rubbed at her wrist before plunging it into her handbag, scrabbling furiously through her wallet until she’d selected the entirety of her Australian currency.

  "There, damn it,’ she cried, flinging the sheaf of bills at Wade and heedless that they fanned into a shower that had no impact upon reaching him. ‘If it’s money you’re worried about, then that settles it. Now I’m either going to phone Aunt Jessica from here, or I’m damned well going somewhere where I can phone her. Is that understood?’

  ‘Interesting, anyway,’ he shrugged, making no attempt to pick up the money. ‘But then you are supposed to be something of an actress, aren’t you? Which of your performances is this particular scenario from?’

  ‘It’s from the scenario that includes goodbye!’ Holly said in a voice so calm she could scarce believe it was her own. Her body was less calm; as she knelt to pick up the scattered money, her fingers trembled and her balance seemed strangely precarious. But eventually she managed it, and rose shakily to her feet.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Bannister, that your eavesdropping has led you to such a total misunderstanding,’ she whispered, keeping her voice as calm as her ragged breathing would allow. ‘I can understand why you think as you do, but I’m equally sure that given any sort of fair opportunity, I could explain things. Obviously, however, that won’t be possible, so I think it’s best that we part company here and now.’

  ‘Ah? With you going where?’ His own voice was fearfully, maddeningly calm and he showed none of the trauma that now threatened to rip Holly apart. She hated confrontation of any kind; this man seemed to thrive on it.

  ‘Anywhere,’ Holly replied shakily, ‘that I can be treated like a normal human being, that I can be allowed to show normal consideration by telephoning my aunt, and that I don’t have to endure your arrogant, sneering attitudes.’

  ‘You can telephone your aunt after dinner, after we’ve talked,’ he replied quietly. ‘Now, you’re tired and you’re starting to get cranky.’ And now his tones were those normally reserved for recalcitrant five-year-olds. ‘So why don’t you go have a nap and then we’ll have dinner and perhaps you’ll feel better.’

  ‘I will not feel better and I will not have a nap!’ Holly snapped, horrified inside to hear herself speaking exactly as the child he’d been speaking to. She could feel the tears welling up to her wide grey eyes, and she squinched them shut to hold back the final, devastating sign of her defeat.

  ‘Well you won’t do much else. The door’s locked and I’ve got the key; the phone’s locked up and I’ve got that key too,’ he replied, infuriating. ‘So why don’t you just try doing what you’re asked, for once?’

  It was the final straw. From somewhere inside came a final vestige of angry strength, desperate strength; unthinkingly Holly flung herself at him, reacting only to her anger and to his bitter condescension.

  The impact of Holly’s assault forced Wade back in the wide lounge chair, but even as her fingers scrabbled across his broad chest, his arms were closing around her, confining her with maddening ease.

  She butted with her head, trying to strike him, then clawed with her fingers, her legs kicking, her entire body involved in the assault. To no avail. He held her as easily as if she’d been a child, oblivious to her cries of frustration and rage.

  Held her, manoeuvred her gradually until she was sprawled half across his lap. One arm was pinioned between her body and his. He held the other arm imprisoned with one hand, and when his voice reached her, it seemed rather more incredulous than just angry. ‘What in blazes do you think you’re doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, God, but I hate you,’ Holly spat, writhing in another futile gesture to free herself, oblivious to the fact that her every movement pushed her skirt higher on her thighs, brought her entire body somehow closer to him.

  ‘And so you should,’ he muttered softly, almost endearingly. ‘So you should.’ His lips as he spoke were brushing against the softness of her hair, the arm around her somehow took on an element not of imprisonment, but of intimacy.

  Startled by her instinctive and unexpected response to the caress, she could only stare at him wide-eyed as his lips swooped to claim her mouth, his pale eyes locking her glance with hypnotic effectiveness as their mouths met.

  Holly struggled, but now the fight was more with herself than with Wade Bannister. Never had she been so totally, so suddenly aroused. Her entire body seemed to mould itself to his, ignoring the commands of her mind. His lips were first harsh, then soft, searching, devouring, demanding from her a response that she couldn’t accept, yet couldn’t ignore.

  His arm around her shoulders supported her, but his hand, in cupping the nape of her neck, sent shivers of ecstasy down her spine. Her own hand, lifted to strike at him, to claw her way free, instead circled his neck, her fingers exploring in the thickness of his hair, her wrist alive to the play of his muscles against her pulse.

  When his free hand touched her throat it was bliss, when his fingers roamed down the hollows of her shoulder to the soft roundness of her breast, she found herself breathless with the wonder of his touch. And when it moved still lower, exploring expertly the curves of knee and thigh, she couldn’t keep herself from twisting passionately to ease its passage beneath her clothing. It was as if their bodies were fused by some magical electrical charge. All the curves fitted, all the contours were complementary.

  And all the fight was gone from Holly. She could no longer deny the impossible demands of her body, the screams of protest from her conscious mind. All she wanted was more of this man’s lovemaking.

  His fingers were instruments of tortuous pleasure, playing upon her nerve endings with practised skill until her entire body cried out for more. Her body, but not her mind. In a final burst of logic, of sanity, she tore her lips from his, crying out.

  ‘No ... oh please, no. No more.’

  Whereupon he thrust her from him, eyes burning with glacial fire as he stared down at her. ‘Yes,’ he said abruptly. ‘I suppose this isn’t really the proper way to discipline you, is it?’

  Her ears heard him, her mind caught the message with bitter clarity, but even after she’d fled the room in ignominious flight, her body still cried out for him over the sound of her bedroom door slamming behind her and the wailing of her tears as she flung herself on to the bed and collapsed.

  But when he knocked softly at her door an hour — or was it many hours? — later. Holly had no difficulty in meeting his eyes with a gaze of her own that was appropriately cold.

  Bastard! Her mind screamed the accusation silently, her heart denied it and yet raged with abused feelings at the same time. And on the surface she was chillingly polite, totally in control now despite the seething turmoil inside.

  ‘We should go down for dinner soon,’ he said gently, making no refe
rence to the earlier episode. ‘If I give you half an hour will it be enough?’

  ‘I’m ready now,’ she replied steadily. She wasn’t; she looked awful and felt worse, but damned if she’d trouble to make herself beautiful for this arrogant so-and-so.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ he replied with a trace of embarrassment. ‘But I’m going to have a shower and change, and I’d suggest you do the same, because you certainly don’t look your best, and if you don’t mind me saying so, you smell like the inside of an airplane.’

  And to Holly’s astonishment he grinned boyishly after making the statement, the smile lighting up his eyes and face with a gentleness that demolished her own anger.

  She looked down at her crumpled travelling clothes, now the worse for having been slept in, and shook her head. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she admitted, knowing that her own pride, her own sense of self-worth, wouldn’t allow her to be seen in public looking like this.

  ‘Good,’ he said, voice still gentle, eyes still warm. ‘There’s a hair-dryer in your bathroom, and most anything else you might need, and there’s no real hurry. The restaurant here won’t be all that crowded midweek, and they know we’re coming.’

  For just an instant, rebellion flared. Then Holly let her common sense prevail. So what if this tall, changeable man could command changes in airline flights and restaurant bookings at will? Could command, it seemed, herself at will, also? He was Jessica’s friend and employer, and if changing for dinner brought Holly any closer to resolving the tension between them, it was a small price to pay.

  ‘Shall I need to be very dressed up?’ she asked then, knowing, somehow, that it was a silly question. For anything less, Wade Bannister wouldn’t be changing; his immaculate business suit had suffered far less than her own travel gear during their earlier tussle.

  He smiled again, and Holly found herself unable lo escape the comparison between this smiling man and the cold-eyed rake who’d so thoroughly rejected her before.

  ‘It might be nice, considering we’ll be celebrating your arrival in Australia,’ he said then. ‘I’m sure you’ll have something suitable,’

  And he turned away, still with a friendly smile that belied Holly’s immediate suspicion that he was having a go at her. She watched the door close behind him, then flung off her clothes and revelled in the steamy warmth of the shower, emerging to find a surprising stock of feminine cosmetics. all new and unopened — and the promised hair-dryer.

  Deciding what to wear, once her luxuriant mane of auburn hair was dried to a shimmering, flattering style, was both problem and no problem at all. Jessica’s written descriptions of Port Hedland hadn’t indicated much need for posh clothing, so everything Holly had brought, bar one single garment, was designed for casual leisure wear or travel. The only dress she had that would be suitable for this evening was far too provocative for the mood she found herself in just now.

  It was floor-length, exactly the soft grey of her eyes, and featured a keyhole neckline that combined modesty and sensuality with its high collar and low-cut and far too revealing keyhole for the image she wanted to project.

  Worse, because the dress required a special-fitting bra that she’d somehow forgotten to pack, she’d be forced to wear it without one. Not a pleasant prospect, she thought.

  She knew only too well that Wade Bannister would notice the lack as quickly as he’d notice the fact that the skirt was slit to mid-thigh on both sides to ease the snugness of the overall fit. He’d notice, but hopefully wouldn’t put the worst possible implication on her choice. Maybe.

  When she emerged from her room, treading lightly in the high heels the dress necessitated, Holly found herself strangely reticent about making any sort of entrance. When she peered round a corner to discover Wade Bannister, resplendent in traditional evening wear, she was torn between being glad of her limited choice of garment and being stirred by just how amazingly attractive her host was.

  The dinner jacket he wore fitted perfectly, as did everything else. Clearly he didn’t buy his dress clothes off the rack, and looking at the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips, and the length of his long, muscular legs, she could partially imagine why. But it wasn’t only size that made this man choose hand-tailored clothes, Holly knew. His car, his apartment, his very deportment indicated that he worked to have the best and chose it with an innate good taste.

  ‘I hope I’ve not been too long,’ she said, feeling the words stick in her throat as she walked uncertainly into the lounge room and saw him turn to survey her. But if she’d expected anything, it certainly wasn’t the slow smile and very definite nod of approval.

  ‘Exquisite,’ he breathed in a voice Like silk, and to her surprise stepped forward to lift her hand to his lips in a gesture so natural to him that she couldn’t even think to be fearful of it.

  ‘We’ve still time for a quick drink, if you like,’ he said then. ‘Would you like sherry, or prefer something stronger?’

  ‘Something soft would suit me best, actually,’ she replied, thrilling to his glance, his touch, and yet wishing he would be less attentive, less aware of the fact that she hadn’t worn a bra and that her long legs were displayed expertly by the gown she wore.

  He smiled, saying, ‘Whatever suits you,’ and opened an exquisite antique drinks cabinet to produce a wide array of bottles and glasses.

  ‘You ... uhm ... you mentioned that we had to talk,’ she began tentatively after accepting the drink he offered. But then she faltered totally as he put a finger to his lips and then, with a genuinely friendly grin. whispered, ‘Not on an empty stomach.’

  Moments later they were descending in the lift, to emerge on what Holly presumed was the public floor of the huge building, and to her surprise it was a floor fully equipped with various shops and a restaurant that even to her inexperienced eye fairly shouted its exclusivity.

  Wade took her arm as they entered the restaurant, and continued to hold it as they walked through the reception area where a tall, slender hostess escorted them to their table with a graciousness reserved for Wade alone. Holly got only the envious glance she recognised as the fate of any woman found in this man’s company.

  They dined on enormous king prawns and oysters Kilpatrick and huge, Western Australian crayfish, helping the seafood down with quantities of a wine Holly had never heard of, but which was ambrosia to her parched throat.

  And they talked, but of nothing consequential. They talked of Holly’s journey, of her life before coming to Australia, even briefly of Wade’s work and the various attractions of Perth they’d have to investigate before heading north.

  Wade was courtesy itself. He seemed to have decided that what Holly needed was relaxed conversation, and he set out to relax her and did it with style and charm.

  The food, the surroundings, lost significance. Her mind was almost totally preoccupied with the startling betrayal of her body. It was a shattering revelation to find that not only could he charm her, but that in the relaxed atmosphere he so deliberately created, her body was responding to him.

  Each movement of his hands, hands that she now knew could stir her body to sensuous delights undreamt of even in her wildest fantasies, was enough to keep her stomach aflutter. When he looked at her — and while there was no true affection in his glance there was also no hostility — she could feel her nipples hardening, her entire skin seeming to glow.

  It was insane! Nowhere in any sociology book, nor in her personal experience of the opposite sex, was there anything to have prepared her for the incredible physical attraction Wade Bannister could exert on her without even seeming to try.

  And if he did try? Holly tried not to think about that, but her efforts were futile. She could hardly think of anything else. And it was marvellous, a truly delightful evening.

  Until the coffee and liqueurs arrived, and he said, without any warning at all, ‘Now, where’s this explanation you’ve been waiting to offer me?’

  Holly was taken totally by surpri
se, exactly as she realised immediately he’d intended, but she was also rested now, and no longer quite so afraid of him, despite being so attracted. So she paused only a second before explaining to him briefly the circumstance of her meeting with Amanda, her predilection for attracting total strangers, and the ensuing conversation he’d overheard.

  Strangely enough, he listened well, not interrupting until she’d finished, and not showing by so much as a raised eyebrow whether he was believing her or not. Then he made a single, straight-to-the-heart-of-it-all comment and destroyed her every illusion that she might have convinced him.

  ‘Quote,’ he said. ‘Word for word and I’ve got a very, very good memory: She said ‘I hope you take him for a bundle,’ and you replied, ‘Oh, I will.’ Correct?’

  ‘Correct,’ Holly agreed, ‘although why you should imagine I’d see any sense in arguing with her at that point, I can’t think.’

  ‘Call it a sense of self-preservation,’ Wade replied grimly, but then softened his reply with a smile. And Holly noticed that it was a proper smile, a genuine smile. ‘But okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. It isn’t really terribly significant when you consider that I’m not looking for a wife or ... whatever ... anyway, and that we have more significant things to worry about just now.’

  ‘I don’t follow you,’ Holly said, torn between the urge to rage out at him for not accepting her story verbatim and the sense of real caution his attitude now provoked.

  ‘Well, whatever else. I think I must accept that you really do, honestly, care for your aunt,’ he said, not really making it a question, but putting sufficient inflexion into the words that Holly immediately snapped a response.

  ‘I would think that rather obvious,’ she snapped, ‘and I, at least, wouldn’t think of questioning your own concern, ignoring what you might think of me.’

  ‘I don’t know, yet, just what I think of you, except that I wasn’t lying when I said your pictures don’t do you justice,’ he replied. Not angrily, but he wasn’t soft anymore, either.