Impossible Liaison Page 11

  For some while they worked in silent harmony before Connor began suggesting how she should plant out the bed they’d been working on and what should be going into it. Swallowing her unwarranted rising irritation, Zoe took a steadying breath, and explained her plan, pointing out his ideas were in complete variance to hers.

  “Look.” She finally snapped when he continued arguing. “This is my garden. If you want to garden, go and dig up that bit beside the shed and plant whatever you like.”

  She might have burst out laughing at the shock on his face if she hadn’t been so annoyed.

  “I know you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.” Zoe stood, clapping her hands together to dislodge some of the dusty dirt.

  “It’s not going to work. Not today. The day is far too beautiful to waste arguing with you. Just take yourself and your pretty little gloves over there and make your own garden patch.”

  Stretching her back, Zoe straightened.

  Connor’s gaze dropped to her breasts. His dark smoldering look sent a shiver of awareness right down to her toes.

  “What’s wrong with my gloves?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all.” She dragged her gaze away from his and reached for some fertilizer.

  “Come on, get it out. I know you’re just dying to say something.” He stepped closer, goading her.

  “They’re poncy,” she barked back. “They make you look like some prize ponce.”

  “Is that right?”

  She could feel his minty breath on her face.

  “Yeah, it is,” she countered desperately, her mouth off and running. “Especially with those stupid clothes you’re wearing. Anyone would think you’re afraid of the sun. Most blokes gardening on a day like this would be in a pair of shorts and nothing else.”

  She smirked and changed the tone of her voice. “But not Doctor Connor Matthews, he might get a little dirty.”

  She knelt down to continue her gardening, not seeing the teasing twinkle in his eyes killed or the pained expression settle on his face. She was aware of the gloves being thrown down beside her and his striding toward the house.

  Sinking back onto her haunches, Zoe tried not to feel guilty. He’d asked what I thought, so I told him. What’s wrong with that? She chewed her lip, for some reason she didn’t feel the buzz she’d have expected at bettering him.

  Almost half her flower seedlings were planted when Connor returned to the garden. Zoe smothered a giggle as he stalked past her into the shed, his top bare and his trousers now minus any legs.

  He belligerently caught her eye for a second as he carried a spade from the shed and began digging up the small patch she’d indicated earlier. About to call out her approval for his change of dress, Zoe stopped herself just in time.

  He was close enough for Zoe to see a mass of scars across his back and shoulders.

  Shamed heat rose into her cheeks as her eyes bulged. Even her ears burned. She clamped down on her lip to stop her gasp, but he’d heard. The knotted movement along his jaw line told her so.

  She couldn’t pull her shocked gaze away from his injuries. The clothing she’d ribbed him about had been a cloak to hide behind. Why couldn’t I have kept my big fat mouth shut? She wished she could flee, but she couldn’t escape this situation.

  Sinking her hands into the soil she clenched them tight. Her shoulders slumped, her chin colliding with her chest. She’d never felt so embarrassed and ashamed in her life. Somehow I have to make this right.

  She’d witnessed the humiliation on his face. Humiliation she had forced on him. So much for scoring points. Unintentionally, she’d attacked way below the belt.

  His skin was deathly white and she’d bet her life he had no sunscreen on. He can’t stay out here like that. He’ll be burnt in minutes.

  Sneaking a look out of the corner of her eye, he showed no sign of stopping the task of loosening the soil. Haphazardly shoving the rest of her plants into the ground, Zoe sucked in a shaky breath, rose, dusted off her hands, and wandered back to the house.

  Once inside she dashed into Connor’s room, her eyes stinging a little at the sight of the scissors and the mutilated material that used to be his trouser legs. She threw his shirt over her shoulder and exited through the front door, picking up two pottles of vegetable plants she had maturing on the front verandah.

  Will he accept an olive branch? She peeked around the corner, but then stayed out of sight until he’d finished digging before marching around the side of the house.

  “Oh good, you’ve finished.” Avoiding his gaze she casually threw the shirt at him before continuing, “I have lettuce, and I have lettuce.” She indicated the two punnets. “Which one do you want to plant?”

  “I guess I’ll take the lettuce,” he muttered.

  Zoe kept her head down, an enormous wave of relief flooding over her as he’d at least shouldered on the shirt, even if he made no attempt to do up the buttons.

  “I hoped you’d say that.” Zoe knelt down, cursing that she’d glanced at him, seen other scars on his stomach, and hoping she hadn’t shown any sign of revulsion. What had happened?

  A hundred different things to say rolled around inside Zoe’s head, but she kept quiet. She remembered only too well having people try to dig around inside your head. Every time she’d gone back from a foster home, she’d been subjected to questions and interrogations. She wouldn’t do that to anyone.

  The planting was completed in silence. Even while the tools were returned to the shed neither of them spoke. The mood was a little strained, but oddly companionable as well.

  “The tide’s in, I’m going for a swim.” Zoe unlatched the back gate leading onto the pathway down to the beach. “You coming?”

  As she expected, Connor shook his head.

  “Ah, stop being a wuss. I’m going in like this.” She headed off, hoping he’d follow her. “Come on, last one in gets to cook tea.”

  She was hurrying through the hot loose sand at the edge of the beach when she sensed his presence. Certain she could have beaten him into the water, she slowed her pace and watched him crash into the waves. It’s worth having to do tea to get him to thaw out a bit more.

  After they’d cooled off in the shallows for a little while, Zoe set out a challenge. “Race you to the diving pontoon.” The second the words left her mouth, Zoe knew she’d made another gaffe.

  His face blanched as he stood in the waist-high water, his shirt clinging to his body.

  “I think I’ll head back now.”

  “Don’t be such a pain. It’s no fun swimming alone.” She dared to splash him in the face, hoping he’d loosen up. “So you can’t swim. So what?” she challenged. “That doesn’t need to mean you can’t enjoy cooling off on a hot summer’s day, does it?”

  Watching him sinking back down until the water covered his shoulders, Zoe let out a sigh of relief.

  “Isn’t it a bit dangerous not being able to swim? Surely rash shirts were around when you were young.” She assumed his scars were childhood ones.

  “I’m not that old.”

  Zoe grinned at the mock outrage in his voice as she floated closer, hoping he wouldn’t clam up. Floating on her back she followed a wispy cloud moving languidly across the sky as she waited, hoping.

  “I guess you could say I’m water-wise. I just can’t swim properly.”

  She pretended not to notice his face redden.

  “Not with any real style.”

  “Poof, what’s style matter? As long as you’re not going to drown, who cares about any style?”

  He clearly disagreed with her broader inference.

  She took a deep breath and an amazing risk. “Are these,” she flicked a hand at his scars, “what’s made you into such an obnoxious pain in the butt?”

  “What?” His mouth dropped open at her audacity.

  “Well, you are. Most of the time.” The words had somehow popped out. She could have worded her query a little more kindly, but it was too late to take them back.
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  “When did you last lighten up, have some fun?” Zoe dared to splash him again. “Come on, when?” She danced around him, threatening to splash him some more. “I’d hate to work with you. Do you snap and glower at all your patients?”

  Splash.

  “Stop it,” he demanded, his fists planting on his hips. “You’re acting like a silly child.” He checked both ways along the beach.

  “So? When did you last act like a child? Did you ever? Maybe that’s what’s wrong with you; you don’t know how to enjoy the simple things. Like playing in the sea.”

  Splash.

  “Don’t do that again,” he warned.

  “Why not?” Her voice was light and bubbly. “You won’t do anything. You’re too staid. You act like you’re a hundred years old.”

  He moved so fast she wasn’t even aware of him grabbing her. He picked her up and threw her into an oncoming wave.

  She surfaced laughing and spluttering, surprised to see a look of concern cross his face before he quickly hid it.

  “Ah, he’s a man of action after all.” She watched him with her head tilted to one side before she dove under the water and tackled his unsuspecting legs from under him.

  “Now didn’t that feel good?” She laughed as he resurfaced, wiping a hand across his dripping face. Something in his expression had her spinning around and taking off in the opposite direction, shrieking with laughter as he gained on her.

  “You little witch.” He was laughing, actually laughing.

  Zoe watched him as they played, splashed, and dunked each other, thrilled to see another side of him. She forgot who he was, how he’d been trying to oust her from Bess’s home, his continuous little snide references to her bludging. Forgot he was her cousin and out of bounds. She just savored the company of a handsome man enjoying being with her.

  Exactly when the game became serious, Zoe didn’t know. The laughter disappeared as they stood, face to face, toe to toe in waist-deep water.

  She’d experienced his whipcord strength as he’d grasped her and thrown her about, but this was different. His stillness and the smoldering look in his eyes as they clung to hers sent a shudder through her he couldn’t help but feel.

  His hands softened on her shoulders and began caressing her arms. Warm breath touched her face as he leaned closer, drugging her into a mindless euphoria. A soft moan escaped as an incoming wave drove them closer, only their clothing now separating them. The soft whisper of his lips against the side of her mouth was not enough, and Zoe turned her head until her lips became glued to his.

  She quivered at the tenderness he displayed before her opening lips allowed his tongue access into her mouth. Conscious thought disappeared as the evidence of his response pressed hard against her stomach. Overcome by her eager response to the hunger of his kiss, Zoe’s fingers tightened their hold on his shoulders, wanting more, needing more.

  Moaning as he dragged his lips away, she shivered as they blazed a trail across her cheek and down her neck, the rasp of his whiskers intensifying the sensation. His hold on her tightened, his fingers digging into her buttocks, pressing their hips closer…

  His recapturing of her lips, with a savage intensity, sent a rush of giddy awareness into the pit of her stomach as Zoe surrendered herself to the moment.

  Just for a moment. Then reality hit.

  A knot rose in her throat. An acrid taste of bile clamored to escape.

  Oh my god. This was her cousin. She was out in broad daylight pashing with her cousin.

  Her moan turned to a groan of despair as she dragged her lips away.

  He smiled down at her, not understanding, misconstruing her withdrawal. “You’re right.” One hand stayed on her breast rubbing the hard nipple between his fingers. “We’re getting a little heavy for a public beach. Let’s go.”

  How could he understand? She couldn’t expect him to; after all, she hadn’t told him.

  “No.” She dragged herself away from him. “No, Connor, this is wrong. We mustn’t.”

  “Don’t be silly, we’re two consenting adults—”

  “You don’t understand.” Zoe wrung her hands in front of her, avoiding his grasp.

  “You don’t need to worry about the possibility of pregnancy.”

  Surprise made Zoe stare at him, opened-mouthed. “What?” she asked incredulously. Intimacy with him was something she’d never consider. Must never consider.

  “You won’t get pregnant. I’ve had a vasectomy.”

  “A vase—” Shock robbed her of words.

  He nodded with a wry smile. “So if that’s what’s worrying—”

  “No. That’s not what’s worrying me,” Zoe snapped. How did they progress to such an impossible conversation?

  “I’m sorry, but I…I’m not interested,” she stammered. “This isn’t going any further.”

  “Oh, come on.” He reached for her again, a smile still on his face.

  “No. We can’t, it’s wrong. Bess—your—”

  “Don’t worry about Bess. She’d be delighted if—”

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Zoe almost screamed. “She’d be horrified.”

  She took a deep breath and regained some control of herself. “This is stupid. It should never have happened. I can’t…there’s something you need to know, to understand…”

  Her heart sank as Connor’s hands dropped away and his face changed. His dark eyes grew hard and resentful. A stony mask of loathing settled over his face.

  “Oh, I understand. You like it rough and dirty.”

  Zoe gasped.

  “You think nothing of having that filthy Rangi wrapping his arms around you, and yet I’m not good enough. I suppose John comes from the dregs of society, too? What do they do to turn you on, Zoe? Forget to wash?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sickened that, for a moment, I actually wanted you.”

  Zoe shuddered, as his gaze flicked up and down, his disgust at her and himself, so obvious.

  “You’re wrong, Connor. So wrong,” she whispered brokenly. Whether he heard her or not as he turned and stormed out of the water, she had no idea.

  He never looked back as he marched across the beach to the track.

  She sank down, ignoring the splashing waves, her watery eyes following his figure until he disappeared from sight.

  Angry he should jump to conclusions about her relationships with other men, Zoe cursed not explaining about John at least.

  She’d got a perverse thrill knowing Connor was stewing about her spending nights with John, thinking she wasn’t a suitable companion for his grandmother. Rangi was another thing though. She couldn’t tell anyone about Rangi. No matter what Connor thought, she’d never risk betraying Rangi.

  She swore and swore again, knowing her insisted silence about her relationship to Bess, and therefore Connor, had also backfired.

  She owed Connor the truth, and she had to tell him immediately. She didn’t want him thinking badly of her, imagining she had been leading him on, only to chop him off at the knees.

  What if he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say? What if he refuses to believe me? She streaked across the sand. I’ll make him listen, she vowed.

  She could prove her relationship to her father quickly enough; he’d have to accept that. And he’d realize the emotions they’d tapped today must be forgotten. He’d understand then why she’d had to push him away.

  Exhilaration had Zoe tearing up the track and through the garden. She knew how she’d explain, how she’d made him see her side of things.

  But yelling his name as she entered the house, was only greeted by silence. She slammed open his bedroom door, certain he would be inside, but the room was empty. She checked the lounge, the bathroom, the kitchen, with rising dismay.

  All empty.

  Rushing outside she stopped short. His car was gone. He’d left.

  You idiot, she cursed, her eyes seeking guidance from the heavens. I can explain. Why didn’t you hang around long enough to li
sten?

  The glass in the back door protested as she slammed it shut. She’d ring his mobile. Bess had his number in her book. Tell him to come back. She paused, the phone in her hand. Ask him to please come back.

  Smashing the phone back on its hook, Zoe swore. She didn’t believe for a moment his phone was switched off. He’d just refused to answer it. She wasn’t giving up. She’d text him. At least he’d know she was trying to sort this out.

  ****

  Connor sat on the plane cursing himself for being all sorts of a fool. I should know better. Captivated enough by Zoe’s antics to think she might welcome his advances, he’d seen the horror in her eyes, felt her distasteful shudder as her fingers encountered the worst of his disfigurements, the porridge burn on his shoulder.

  His nails dug into his palms to numb a pain so acute it clamored inside his head. For the millionth time he cursed the man who’d left him with as many scars on the inside as he’d put on his young boy’s body.

  A couple of days with Warren and Maria might ease some of the anguish. They were sure to be busy at this time of year. Perhaps he could get himself involved in something to take his mind off the shallow little bitch who’d woven him into such tight knots he wasn’t sure he could ever undo them.

  Showing up without warning would surprise them. He’d have to be careful or they’d be digging to find out what had precipitated his sudden decision to visit them when he and Bess were already scheduled to be arriving next weekend.

  But he could rely on them to leave him to his own misery if he protested enough that that was what he wanted. Drumming his fingers on his knee he knew what he really wanted—never to see Zoe again.

  His hand rubbed across the splitting pain in his forehead. If he could obliterate her from his mind he might be able to forget her horrified look when she’d seen the state of his body.

  He’d make sure her trip to Wellington next week was the last he’d see of her. On Monday he’d shift from Gran’s house and grab a hotel room near the hospital. He’d offer to be on standby for any shifts they might need covering.