Authors: Rosalind James
“We’ve both grown up since then, I guess,” she said. “One
way or another.” She struggled to zip her anorak as the wind picked up,
shivered a bit.
“Too cold?” he asked, taking her hand and threading his
fingers through hers. “Want to go back?”
“No,” she said, loving the feeling of her hand in his. Something
so simple, but it felt so good. Warm, and strong, and comforting. “Our beach
experiences this time around have been a bit different, haven’t they?”
“You’re right. Heaps more clothes on.” He smiled down at
her, his cheeks wind-reddened under the All Blacks beanie. “Not quite as easy,
is it? In any sense.”
“No. But still good,” she assured him. “Do you still
remember?” she went on hesitatingly. “What it was like?”
“I don’t think I’ve forgotten a single minute. How about
you?”
“Me neither. But I haven’t had as much to compare it with.
And I suspect you have, haven’t you?”
“D’you really want to know?” he asked, serious now.
“No,” she decided. “Probably not.”
“Good. Because I don’t want to tell you. It’s enough to say
that, yeh, I remember. Because it was the best.”
The clouds that had been threatening since they’d started
walking suddenly decided to make good on their promise, the first drops of rain
spattering them, hitting the ground hard and creating pockmarks in the sand.
“Beach walk’s over,” Nic decided, pulling her around again.
“Back to the car.”
They began making their way back across the broad expanse of
sand, hurrying now. The drops increased, and then the cloud was directly
overhead, and the rain was pelting, and they were running, gasping with the
cold and wet, laughing, Nic matching his pace to her slower one. They found the
track to the carpark, made their way up over the sloping approach, heads bent
against the driving rain. Nic had his keys out, was pressing the remote. He
pulled her door open, helped her out of her anorak before he ran around to the
driver’s side and jumped into the ute himself.
“Bloody hell,” he swore, pulling off his own anorak, then turning
the key in the ignition and shifting the heat to full. “I’m freezing. Whose
idea was it to take a romantic walk on the beach?”
“Yours,” she said, a bubble of laughter escaping her. Then
they were both laughing as she reached over to pull off his beanie, soaking wet
now. He grabbed her hand, pulled her against him, and kissed her, his mouth still
curved in a smile. And suddenly they weren’t laughing anymore. His hands were
under her sweater, and she was pulling up his hoodie and the T-shirt beneath in
her turn as they continued to kiss, lips and tongues exploring.
He sat back at last. “Back seat,” he got out. “Come on.
Quick as you can.” He opened his door, dove into the back and pulled her
between the seats to join him.
“What if somebody comes, though?” Emma moaned as he yanked
her sweater over her head, reached for the clasp of her bra. “They’ll see.”
“Nobody here to see. And the windows are steamed up anyway,”
he pointed out practically, turning his attention to her sodden jeans. “Geez,
these are tight,” he complained. “Hard as hell to pull down. And get those
boots off, or we’ll be stuck, good and proper.”
She reached down to pull off her gumboots and socks as he
did the same, then wriggled out of the jeans with his help. “You saying I
should change my wardrobe?” she asked, helping him get rid of his shirt and
hoodie in her turn. “You don’t like my tight jeans, or how I look in them?”
“You know I do.” He was unfastening his ankle brace, divesting
himself of his track pants with her eager help. Their sodden clothes lay in a
heap on the floor, the car was steamy and warm, and they were kissing again,
their hands moving over each other.
“Lie down here.” He was pulling her towards him, pushing her
down on the seat.
“There’s not enough room,” she protested.
“Shift round.” He pulled one of her legs into the gap between
the front seats, shoved the other one up over the top of the rear seat. “Like
this. Stay there.”
She saw him grabbing for his pants again, searching the
pockets, pulling out the condom. Suddenly realized how she must look, how
exposed she was. She wriggled to pull her legs down, to sit up again.
“No,” he told her sharply, pushing her down again, shoving
her leg back up. Then amended his tone. “Please. Stay there. Like that.”
“But I look . . .” she said in embarrassment.
“You look,” he said, finally reaching to kiss her, to touch
her, “like every man’s dream. Open. Ready. Waiting for me.”
She moaned as he moved over her. “I shouldn’t let you do
this,” she got out. “Oh, no.” The leather was cold under her bare skin, her
legs were splayed uncomfortably, and her arms were fluttering, trying to find
something to hold onto, reaching behind her for the door handle, hanging on.
And none of it mattered. Every bit of her was focused on where he was touching
her, how hard he was driving her.
“Come on,” he was telling her. “Give me some of that. Give
me what I want. You know it’s mine.” He was touching her, kissing her in
exactly the right places, in exactly the right ways, and she was going up fast,
forgetting where she was, her awkward, exposed position. Up, and up higher,
hearing him urging her, until she reached the top and went over with a broken
cry. Before she was done, he was finally, blessedly, inside her, and her arms
were around his back, finding the purchase they needed.
It was hot, and hard, and fast. And when it was over, and
she was in his lap, his hand stroking her hair, she let her breath out in a
long, audible sigh. “Wow. That wasn’t at all what I was expecting, this
morning. Funny how you just happened to have a condom with you, wasn’t it?”
“Mmm. Lucky,” he agreed.
“That has to be the most . . . adolescent thing I’ve ever
done,” she mused. “If I ever
had
had sex in the back of a car, I can’t
imagine it would have been that good. Because you always make sure I get there
first. Even in the back of a Toyota, in the rain.”
“That’s because I’m a gentleman,” he told her with his lazy
grin. “Ladies first, that’s my motto.”
“Is
that
what you are? Who knew?”
“Oi,” he protested, dipping his head to nuzzle the side of
her neck, making her shiver. “Are you complaining?”
“No,” she sighed, her arms tightening around him. “No
complaints here. Not from me.”
Getting dressed again was a cold, clammy business,
accompanied by a fair amount of swearing on his part, and giggling on hers.
“Now I know why I got the Land Cruiser instead of the RAV4,” he told her,
wrestling his way back into his sodden pants and pulling on his boots. “That
was a tight enough fit as it was. I would’ve strained something.”
“You should just be smaller,” she told him saucily, working
on her own socks and boots. “I fit fine.”
“D’you want me to be smaller, then?” he grinned at her.
“Well, no,” she said, considering. “On second thought, I
think you should stay big. If we’re talking about what I like.”
Back at the bach again, they endured a clucking lecture
from Mrs. Jones. “What an idea,” she scolded Nic. “Taking this poor girl out in
the rain, getting her so cold and wet. Go on, pop yourselves into the bath and
into some dry things before you catch your death. Meantime, I’ll make a pot of
tea.”
“Did you have a nice walk, Mum?” Zack asked when they were
warm and dry again. Mrs. Jones had come through with cocoa and cinnamon toast as
well before she’d left, and Emma smiled at the brown mustaches, accented by
sprinklings of cinnamon sugar, that both boys were sporting.
“We had a very nice walk,” she assured her son. “The nicest
walk ever.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Emma sighed as she packed up the
contents of the fridge the next morning. “This was really good. The best
holiday I’ve had in years. Maybe seven years,” she decided with a laughing
glance at Nic.
“It
was
pretty good, at that,” he agreed with a warm
smile. “This ready?” he asked, indicating the chilly bin she’d just filled. He
hefted it at her nod, then set it down again as a thought struck him. “How
about extending it a bit? D’you think you could get that neighbor of yours to mind
Zack tomorrow night, so I could take you to dinner? I don’t think I’ve ever
seen you dressed up to go out, you know. I always like how you look,” he went
on hurriedly. “But I’d like to see some high heels again. Think there’s a
chance of that?”
“Let me ring Lucy first,” Emma decided. “She may be able to
take Zack, since she’s on holiday too. I hate to ask Lois again so soon.”
“OK.”
As he continued to look at her expectantly, she faltered.
“What? You want me to ring her right now?”
“Now’s good. Because I want my date.”
She went into her bedroom for her mobile, came out again a
few minutes later. “She says she can take him overnight, actually,” she said,
trying to sound casual.
What Lucy had said, in fact, was a lot more than that.
“You’ve just been on holiday,” she had complained. “Why do you need another
night out?”
“Because,” Emma said, her color rising as if her sister
could see her, “Nic wants to go out to dinner.”
“Oh.
Oh.
What happened?” Lucy demanded. “Did you . .
.”
“Yeah,” Emma said, laughing. “I did.
We
did.”
“Oh, boy,” Lucy breathed. “Can’t say I’m entirely surprised,
but wow. Wow. OK, here’s the deal,” she decided. “I’ll take him all night.
Because you’ve been up there with
two
six-year-old boys, gettin’ busy in
a
bach?
Not exactly a honeymoon.”
“Would you really?” Emma asked gratefully. “That would be
amazing.”
“
In
return,” Lucy continued inexorably, “for you
coming over tomorrow and giving me the whole scoop.”
“Trust me,” Emma said, “you don’t want the whole scoop.” She
just wished she had
more
to keep from Lucy. She’d had more great sex in
the last few days than she’d had in the last few years. But despite her
reassurances, she could tell that Nic was still holding back a bit. An
overnight, though . . . an overnight could be just what they needed.
“OK. The expurgated version,” Lucy decided. “Seriously, Em.
Come over and talk to me. I need to make sure you’re OK. That’s my babysitting fee.”
“Overnight?” Nic said now. His eyes had that gleam in them
again. “So what you’re saying is, this is going to be a really
good
date.”
“I don’t know,” she said, tossing her hair a bit and turning
back to the fridge, then peeping back at him over her shoulder, sticking out
her bum just a little. It was so much fun to push his buttons. “I guess that
depends on you.”
He laughed. He could see exactly what she was doing, she
could tell. Oh, yeah. The overnight was going to work.
“I do like a saucy woman,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
No Emma answering Nic’s knock at the door the following
night. Instead, there stood Zack, already dressed for bed in—what else—his favorite
pajamas.
“Hi, Nic!” Zack said happily. “Mum’s not ready. She’s getting
pretty. And that always takes a
long
time.”
“Bet it does,” Nic said seriously, following Zack into the
lounge. “But you’re ready, eh.”
“Because boys go faster,” Zack explained, plopping himself
down on the coach. “I get to spend the night at Auntie Lucy’s, did you know?”
“I heard. What’ll you do over there?”
“I get to sleep in the guest room,” Zack told him. “The
bed’s really big, like Mum’s. It has heaps of pillows, too. And then, in the
morning, Auntie Lucy says we can make Mickey Mouse pancakes! With chocolate
bits in, she says.”
Emma interrupted this catalog of delights. She was still in
her dressing gown, Nic saw. And he’d been right. It
was
pink. With
flowers on.
“Sorry,” she said, looking a bit flustered, but so pretty.
Her makeup was done, he could tell, and her hair too, falling in soft ringlets
around her face. It wouldn’t be too long, then.
“It’s OK,” he told her with a smile. “Looks like it’ll be
worth the wait. I can always ring the restaurant, change our booking.”
“Five minutes,” she promised. “I just have to get dressed.”
She appeared not too much later than that. “I was right,”
Nic told her, standing to greet her with a decorous kiss on the cheek, mindful
of Zack. “Definitely worth the wait.” Her skirt was a silvery gray, a bit
clingy, a bit short. With it, she was wearing a soft, fine sweater in a deep
blue. That was clingy too, with a wide V neckline leading to a row of tiny
square buttons down the front. Buttons he knew he’d be unfastening, in a few
hours. She put a hand on his shoulder, crossed one leg over the opposite knee,
and reached down to buckle the strap on her high-heeled sandal.
“OK,” she announced, switching hands to buckle the second
shoe. “I’m ready. And wow, you look gorgeous. Guess this really
is
going
to be a date.”
He looked down at the white-on-white stripe of his dress
shirt, the black jacket, dark gray pants and black shoes. “Pretty simple for
me. Shined my shoes, gave myself a bit of a shave. That was about it.”
“Well, it worked. I’m going to have the best-looking date in
the whole place, aren’t I, Zack? Get your pack and your jacket and let’s go,
OK?” She pulled her own short wool coat from the hook and Nic took it from her,
held it for her to slide into.
“OK,” Zack said. “I put Raffo in, though. D’you think Tom
will say I’m a baby? That I have to harden up?” He glanced at Nic, then looked
away.
“Nah,” Nic answered. “Like you said, it’s just at bedtime.
Everybody needs something to cuddle with, at bedtime.” He ruffled Zack’s hair.
“Now let’s get on, or I really
will
have to ring the restaurant.”