Accidentally Expecting! (7 page)

He was nowhere to be seen.

Oh, great!

‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, appearing with cans of liquid. ‘I’ve been stocking up on something to drink. We can keep these in the hut until we’re ready.’

‘Do I look all right?’ she asked edgily.

‘Very nice,’ he said in a courteous voice that made her want to thump him.

But his smile as he studied her told another story, so she forgave him.

While she waited for him to emerge, she let her eyes drift over the other men on the beach. Sandor had once told her that there were few men who appeared at an advantage in bathing trunks. He’d spoken with self-conscious grandeur, from the lofty heights of physical perfection.

But when Dante appeared she forgot everything else. He didn’t show off; he didn’t need to. His tall, lean figure was muscular without being obvious, and he seemed to have the tensile strength of whipcord.

Ferne’s brief contacts with his body had hinted at power, not flaunted but always in reserve. Now she saw the reality and it pleased her, especially the long legs that moved with a masculine grace that hinted at his ability as a dancer.

For a moment she was back in his arms as they danced across the floor, feet between feet, spinning and twirling with never an inch out of place, because his control had been perfect. Watching him now, his body almost naked, she felt again the excitement of that night begin in the pit of her stomach and stream out to her fingertips.

‘Shall we go in?’ he asked, reaching out.

She took his hand and together they ran down the beach, splashing into the surf. She yelled aloud with ecstasy as the water laved her, and joined him in a race out to the horizon.

‘Careful,’ he said. ‘Don’t go too deep.’

But she was beyond caring. The feel of the water was so good that she wanted more and more.

‘Yee-haa!’
she cried up to the sky.

He laughed and plunged after her, keeping close, ready for the moment when she pulled up, treading water and puffing.

‘All right now?’ he called. ‘Got it out of your system?’

‘No way. Here goes!’

Kicking hard, she projected herself up as high as she could go, then dropped down deep into the water, down, down, until at last she kicked to start rising again.

But she was deeper than she’d guessed, and she didn’t seem to be climbing fast enough. She became alarmed as her breath began to run out.

Suddenly there was an arm around her waist and she was being yanked up to the surface fast, until mercifully her head broke free and she could breathe again.

‘All right, you’re safe,’ came Dante’s voice. ‘What were you thinking of, you crazy woman?’

‘I don’t know—I just wanted to—Oh, goodness!’

‘Steady. Relax. I’ve got you.’

He trod water while keeping her well above the surface, holding her tight against him, his hands almost meeting about her waist.

‘All right?’ he said, looking up.

‘Yes, I—I’m fine.’

It was hard to sound composed when the sensation of her bare skin against his was so disturbing. Her thighs were against his chest, his mouth was just below her breasts, and the waves were moving them about so that their contact constantly shifted; with every new touch the tremors went through her.

‘I’m going to let you down,’ he said. ‘You can’t touch the ground, but don’t worry. Just hold onto me. Down—easy.’

She knew he meant only to be gentle and reassuring by lowering her slowly, but the feeling of her flesh gliding against his was just what she didn’t need right now, she thought frantically. Control.
Control.

‘Ouch!’ he said.

‘What?’

‘You’re hurting me, digging your nails into my shoulders.’

‘Sorry!’ she said wildly. ‘Sorry—sorry.’

‘OK, I believe you. Let’s get back to shore. Can you swim, or will you hold onto me?’

‘I can manage fine,’ she lied.

They made it back to the shore without incident, and she set her feet down on the sand with relief.

‘All right?’ Dante asked.

‘Yes, thank you. You can let me go now.’

‘I’ll just support you until we reach the lounger. You had quite a shock.’

Her legs felt weak, but that was natural after her alarm. It surely couldn’t have anything to do with her burning consciousness of his left hand about her waist while his right hand clasped hers?

What happened next was really annoying. By sheer ill-luck an unevenness in the sand made her stumble so that Dante had to tighten his grip to stop her falling.

‘Let’s do it the easy way,’ he said, lifting her high into his arms and carrying her the rest of the distance.

This was even worse. Now she had no choice but to put her arms about his neck, which positioned her mouth close to his and her breasts against his chest, something a sensible woman would have avoided at all costs.

At last he eased her down onto the lounger and dropped on one knee beside her.

‘You gave me a fright,’ he said. ‘Vanishing below the water for so long. I thought you’d gone for good.’

‘Nonsense,’ she said, trying to laugh it off. ‘I’d have been bound to float up eventually.’

‘Yes, but it might have been too late.’

‘Then it’s lucky for me that you were there. You do the “rescuing damsels in distress” thing really well.’

‘It’s my speciality,’ he said lightly. ‘And, just to show you how good at it I am, let me dry you off.’

He tossed the towel around her shoulders and began to dab.

‘I can manage, thank you,’ she said in a strained voice.

‘All right. Do it properly, and I’ll get you something to drink.’

He poured her some wine in a plastic container.

‘Sorry it’s a bit basic, but the wine is good,’ he said.

She drank it thankfully, wishing he’d move away and not kneel there, so kind, so sweetly concerned, so nearly naked.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I feel better now. You don’t need to hover over me.’

‘Am I being too protective? I can’t help it. I keep thinking what it would have been like without you, and I don’t like that thought at all.’

‘Really?’ she asked quietly.

‘Of course. How could I manage without your brilliant pictures?’

‘My pictures?’

‘You really enhance my work in a way that nobody else has managed to do. We make a great team, don’t you think?’

‘Fantastic,’ she agreed dismally.

‘So I’ll just keep on watching out for you.’

Her head shot up. ‘What—what did you say?’

‘I said I’m watching out for you. You obviously need someone being protective. Hey, careful. You’ve spilled wine all down yourself.’

She seized the towel out of his hands and dabbed at her bare torso. Her head was in a whirl, and her senses were in an even worse whirl.

‘Did you say you’re keeping a protective eye on me?’ she said.

‘I think I need to, don’t you? And it’s what friends do, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes, of course they do,’ she babbled.

‘It’s time you had a rest.’

‘Yes,’ she said with relief. ‘I think that’s what I’ll do.’

S
HE
was glad to escape by stretching out and closing her eyes. His words had unnerved her, reminding her that it was she who was supposed to be watching out for him.

She dozed for a while and awoke to find herself alone. Dante was further down the beach, kicking a rubber ball around with some boys. For a while she watched him through half-closed eyes, unwillingly admiring the lines of his body, the athletically graceful way he moved.

She was no green girl; Sandor hadn’t been her first lover. At twenty-eight, she knew her own body well, knew how it could be most totally satisfied, knew exactly what it wanted.

But that could be a problem when it couldn’t have what it wanted.

It would have been easier to observe Dante leaping about the beach if she didn’t have to listen to the voice inside whispering how well he would move in bed, how subtle and knowing his caresses would be.

How fine would his tall body feel held close against her own long body? When she saw him give a mighty kick, she thought of his legs between hers. When he reached for the ball at an impossible angle, she could almost feel his hands against
her skin, exploring her tentatively, waiting for her with endless patience, knowing exactly how to…

She sat up, trembling and annoyed with herself. What was the matter with her?

‘Just friendly’. That was the matter.

When Dante returned, he found her fully dressed.

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ she said fretfully. ‘I think I’ll go into town.’

‘Great idea,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you the shops, then we’ll go to dinner.’

She ground her nails into her palm. Why couldn’t he at least show some ill temper, like any other man, thus giving her the chance to feel annoyed with him?

But the wretch wouldn’t even oblige her in that.

Because he wasn’t like any other man.

At least she’d made him put his clothes on.

They spent the rest of the day sedately, buying the odd garment, and also buying computer software. In one shop she discovered a superb programme that she hadn’t expected to be available for another month, and snapped it up. Over dinner, she enthused about it to Dante, who listened with genuine interest. It was the high point of the day.

On reflection, she thought that said it all.

Afterwards he saw her to her door but made no attempt to come in.

‘Goodnight,’ he said. ‘Sleep well.’

She went in, restraining herself with difficulty from slamming the door.

Furiously she thought of the signals he’d sent out that day, signals that had said clearly that he wanted her and was controlling it with difficulty. But the signals had changed. Now he might have been made of ice, and it was obvious why.

He was scheming. He wanted her to be the one to weaken. If either of them was overcome with desire, it must be her. In his dreams, she succumbed to uncontrollable lust, reaching out to entice him.

Hell would freeze over first!

Next day they promised themselves a lazy time in the sun.

‘I could happily stay here for ever,’ Dante said, stretching out luxuriously. ‘Who cares about work?’

It was at that exact moment that a voice nearby called, ‘
Ciao
, Dante!’

He started up, looked around, then yelled,
‘Gino!’

Ferne saw a man in his fifties, dressed in shirt and shorts, advancing on them with a look of delight on his broad face.

‘Is that…?’

‘Gino Tirelli,’ Dante said, jumping up.

When the two men had clapped each other on the shoulder, Dante introduced Ferne.

‘Always I am pleased to meet English people,’ Gino declared. ‘At this very moment, my house is full of important English people.’

‘So that’s why you asked me to delay my arrival,’ Dante said. ‘Who’ve you got there? Members of the government?’

‘A film company,’ Gino said in an awed voice. ‘They’re making a film of
Antony and Cleopatra
and shooting some scenes in the ruins in my grounds. The director is staying with me, and of course the
big
star.’

‘And who is the big star?’ Ferne asked, suitably wide-eyed.

Before Gino could reply there was a squeal from behind them, and they all turned to see a young man of about thirty with curly, fair hair and a perfectly tanned body strolling
along the beach in a careless way, suggesting that he was unaware of the sensation he created.

But he was fully aware of it, as Ferne knew. Sandor Jayley always knew exactly what effect he was creating.

‘Oh no!’ she breathed.

‘What is it?’ Dante asked her in a low voice. ‘Good grief, it’s—?’

‘Tommy Wiggs.’

The young man came closer, pulling off a light shirt and tossing it to a companion, revealing a muscular body sculpted to perfection, now wearing only a minuscule pair of trunks. Regarding him grimly, Dante was forced to concede one thing: as Ferne had said, he did have magnificent thighs.

‘I’ve got to get out of here before he sees me,’ she muttered. ‘That’ll really put the cat among the pigeons.’

But it was too late. Sandor had seen his host and was starting up the beach towards him, doing a well-honed performance of
bonhomie
.

‘Gino,’ he called. Then, as he saw Ferne, his expression changed, became astonished, then delighted. ‘Ferne! My darling girl!’

Arms open wide, he raced across the sand and, before she could get her thoughts together, she found herself enfolded in a passionate embrace.

It was an act, she thought, hearing the cheers around them. For some reason he’d calculated that this would be useful to him so he was taking what he wanted, selfishly indifferent to the effect it might have on her. For she was terrified in case she reacted in the old way, the way she now hated to remember.

Nothing happened. There was no pleasure, no excitement. Nothing. She wanted to shout to the heavens with joy at being free again!

‘Tommy—’

‘Sandor,’ he muttered hastily. Then, aloud, ‘Ferne, how wonderful to see you again!’ He smiled down into her eyes, the picture of tender devotion. ‘It’s been too long,’ he said. ‘I’ve thought of you so often.’

‘I’ve thought a few things about you too,’ she informed him tartly. ‘Now, will you let me go?’

‘How can you ask me to do that when I’ve got you in my arms again? And I owe you so much.’

‘Yes, those pictures didn’t do you any harm, did they? Let me
go
!’

Reluctantly he did so, switching his attention to Gino.

‘Gino, how do you come to know this wonderful lady?’ he cried.

‘I’ve only just met her,’ Gino said. ‘I didn’t realise that you two were—are…’

‘Let’s say we’re old friends,’ Sandor said. ‘
Close
friends.’

Ferne became awkwardly aware of Dante standing there, arms folded, regarding them sardonically. After everything she’d told him about Sandor, what must he be thinking?

A little crowd was gathering around them as news went along the beach that the famous Sandor Jayley was among them. Young women sighed and regarded Ferne with envy.

‘Sandor,’ she said, backing away from him, ‘Can I introduce you to my friend, Signor Dante Rinucci?’

‘Why, sure.’ Sandor extended his hand. ‘Any friend of Ferne’s is a friend of mine.’

Dante gave him an unreadable smile.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Then we’re all friends together.’

‘Let’s all sit down.’ Sandor seated himself on her lounger and drew her down beside him.

He was in full flood now, basking in the warm glow of what
he took to be admiration, oblivious to the fact that one of his audience was embarrassed and another actively hostile.

‘Just think,’ he sighed. ‘If that house where we were going to shoot had come up to scratch, we’d never have moved to Gino’s
palazzo
and we—’ he gave Ferne a fond look ‘—would never have found each other again.’

‘There were rats,’ Gino confided. ‘They had to find somewhere else fast, and someone remembered the Palazzo Tirelli.’

‘Why don’t you join us?’ Sandor said suddenly. ‘That’s all right with you, isn’t it, Gino?’ Asking the owner’s permission was clearly an afterthought.

Far from being offended, Gino nearly swooned with delight.

‘And it will give Ferne and me the chance to rekindle our very happy acquaintance,’ Sandor added.

‘Sandor, I don’t think—’ Ferne protested quickly.

‘But we have so much to talk about. You don’t mind if I take Ferne away from you for a few days, do you?’ he asked Dante.

‘You mean Dante isn’t invited too?’ Ferne asked sharply. ‘Then I’m not coming.’

‘Oh, my dear, I’m sure your friend will understand.’

‘
He
may, I won’t,’ Ferne said firmly. ‘Dante and I are together.’

‘So loyal,’ Sandor cooed in a voice that made Ferne want to kick him in a painful place. ‘Signor Rinucci, you’re invited too, of course.’

‘How kind!’ Dante said in a voice that revealed nothing. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

Ferne turned horrified eyes on him. ‘Dante, you don’t mean that?’ she muttered.

‘Of course I do. Getting really acquainted with the place may help me with the sale.’

‘How? You’ve never needed it before.’

‘Well, perhaps I have my own reasons this time,’ he said, his eyes glinting.

Sandor didn’t hear this exchange. Champagne had arrived and he turned to lift two glasses, one of which he handed to Ferne, saying, ‘It’s all settled, then. Here’s to our reunion!’

A young girl detached herself from the swooning crowd on the beach and asked him for an autograph, handing him her lipstick so that he could write his name on her back. Beaming, he obliged, then gave Ferne a questioning look.

‘No camera today? Not like you.’

‘I left it in the hotel.’

‘You? The lady who never moves without her camera? Well, well.’

His look was heavily significant, clearly meant to recall the last time she had turned her camera on him. She faced him back, her eyes full of anger.

Dante watched them and said nothing.

Having established the scene, Sandor didn’t linger over the champagne. Indicating the crowd, he said modestly, ‘You see how it is—wherever I go. I’ll leave now, and see you at the villa this evening.’

He strode away, pursued by adoring fans, plus Gino.

‘So that’s him,’ Dante said. ‘He’s exactly as you said, except worse.’

‘I don’t know what’s going on here,’ she said wildly. ‘When we last met, he couldn’t find words bad enough for me.’

‘But that was three months ago, and he did pretty well out of it. He’s a bigger star now than he was before, thanks to you. So clearly he wants to shower you with his favours. Tonight you’ll be his honoured companion.’

‘Are you trying to be funny?’ she asked stormily. ‘Do you think that’s what I
want
?’

He gave a strange smile. ‘Let’s say I’m interested to find out. I didn’t mean to offend you. Let’s get going.’

It was late afternoon when they reached the Palazzo Tirelli, a magnificent edifice. Grander still were the ruins that lay nearby, dating back nearly two-thousand years. Ferne could just make out a film crew looking them over, making notes, rehearsing shots.

Gino came to meet them and show them over the place with its long, wide corridors and stone arches. In every room he was able to describe some notable historical episode, which sounded impressive until she saw Dante shaking his head.

Their rooms turned out to be on different corridors, the only ones left, according to Gino. His manner was awkward, and Ferne guessed he was acting on instruction.

At supper she was seated next to Sandor, with Dante on the opposite side of the table several feet down. There were about fifty people at the long table, most of them film crew and actors. Everyone was dressed up to the nines, making her glad she’d chosen the softly glamorous dress of honey-coloured satin that paid tribute to her curves, yet whose neckline was high enough to be tantalising.

‘Beautiful,’ Sandor murmured. ‘But why aren’t you wearing that gold necklace I gave you? It would go perfectly with that dress.’

‘I’m afraid I’d forgotten it,’ she said.

His self-assured smile made her want to thump him. She glanced down the table to see how Dante was taking it, but he wasn’t looking at her.

He was having a good evening. Dinner jacket and bowtie suited him, as the ladies nearby made clear. Ferne would have signalled her admiration if she’d been able to catch his eye, but he seemed happy with the full-bosomed creature
who was laughing so uproariously at his jokes, that her attractions wobbled violently in a way that Ferne thought extremely inappropriate.

For a moment, she was nostalgic for Dante’s jokes; sharing laughter with a man brought a special closeness. It was something she’d never known with Sandor, and it meant that she was always on Dante’s wavelength, always inhabiting his world, even when they were bickering. In fact, the very bickering was a sign of that closeness, because they could always trust each other to understand.

As Dante had predicted, Sandor treated her as his honoured guest.

‘I owe you so much, Ferne. If it hadn’t been for what you did for me, I’d never have got the next step up.’

‘That’s not what you said at the time,’ she observed wryly.

‘I didn’t appreciate your skill in turning a difficult situation into something that would benefit me.’

She stared at him, wondering how she’d ever taken this conceited booby seriously.

‘Sandor, what are you after?’ she demanded.

He regarded her soulfully. ‘Destiny works in mysterious ways. We were fated to meet on that beach. Everyone was staggered by those pictures you took of me. Between us, we produced something of genius, and I think we could be geniuses again.’

She stared at him in outrage. ‘You want me to…?’

‘Take some more, as only you can. We’ll go out to the ruins, and you tell me exactly how you want me to pose. I’ve been working out in the gym.’

‘And I’m sure you’re as fit and perfect as ever.’

‘What did you think when you saw me today?’ he asked eagerly.

It would have been impossible to tell him the truth, which was that he had seemed ‘too much’, because her ideal was now Dante’s lithe frame.