The Seduction of Suzanne (2 page)

“Why?” he asked, all boyish innocence.

“Because I’m reading.”

“No you’re not.”

“I
was
reading!” she said with less restraint, her voice climbing.

“No you weren’t. You were listening as my friends and I talked. I thought it very ill mannered, and I’ve come to give you a piece of my mind.” He shook his head in solemn reproof but his eyes twinkled delightfully at this arrant piece of nonsense. “Luckily I realised in time that I’d much rather be in your good books,” and he glanced mischievously at the book in her lap, inviting her to laugh with him. 

“Fine,” she said evenly, not even cracking a smile. “If you won’t go, I will.” She was eager to get away, uncaring that he’d chased her into retreating from her comfortable spot.

Besides, it was better that she got out of the sun
now anyway, having already had a full day of it.

Slipping her book quickly into her tote bag, which she slung across one shoulder, she gathered up the edges of her sarong and stood.

He came to his feet beside her.

“Maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” he said. “I’m Justin Walker, and you are . . .?”

She put her shoulders back, and looked regally down her nose at him.

“The Queen of Sheba,” she said, deadpan, and turning on her heel, she walked away.

“Ah, I should have known, your majesty,” he called after her, the laughter back in his voice.

Pausing for a moment to look over her shoulder, she was in time to see him give her a grandiose bow, and then straighten to stand with his feet widespread, making her think with unexpected whimsy of a flamboyant buccaneer, with the sea in his heart and sky in his eyes.

As he stood there on the sand dune in the blaze of the sun, she suddenly felt wistfully that it might be nice to be someone else for a little while. Someone who would be delighted to have a handsome man approach her with a light dalliance in mind.

But a wave of revulsion rose in her at the thought.

No, never again.

She pushed her halting feet into motion, almost tripping with the slide of sand underneath her, but catching herself in time and ploughing on,
shoulders hunched under the weight of dark memories.

Back to her car and she opened the driver’s door, tossed everything across the seat to the passenger side and threw herself in. Her key in the ignition brought the dusty, battered
ute roaring to life and she backed out swiftly and was gone, fleeing more than an importunate stranger on a beach.

Chapter Two

Suzanne woke early the next morning from dreams that were a strange jumble of sand and sea, and tall men who all wore the same perfect features. Features which should have already begun to fade after such a brief encounter, she thought, rolling her eyes at her perverse sleep-wandering mind.

“Or more likely my libido,” she mumbled to herself.

I had very good reasons for stonewalling him, she thought. She rolled lithely out of bed and jogged down the sundrenched hallway into the kitchen to fix herself some muesli for breakfast, scooping her hair into its usual ponytail as she went.

He’s here for the surfing season. He’ll be gone soon, back to the US. I refuse to be involved in a dead-end fling. No matter how appealing he may be.

She carefully put just enough water into the kettle to make a single mug of tea, and mentally shied away from the memory of those gentle fingers on her cheek.

“Well-practiced charm,” she scoffed aloud, and then felt sheepish to be talking to herself. The curse of those who live alone.

Setting dried red clover and dandelion root to steep in the hot water, she experienced a sudden, deep pang of loss. Only a year ago she wouldn’t have been alone. Her father would be here with her, making her herbal teas, pottering around the house in his industrious fashion so she had to keep dragging him away from the chores she made her responsibility once his heart began to fail.

Peter Turlin had raised her virtually single-handedly from the age of ten.

At twenty-one she had only just completed her teaching diploma when her father suffered a massive heart attack. It left him ill and too weak to work. She came back to the island to take care of him and be his companion.

When one of the three teachers at the small school on the island quit a few months later she applied and easily got the job. The locals were delighted to have one of their own educating their children. It  meant she could work until three each afternoon, and then come home and spend the rest of the day with her father; talking, playing cards, or just quietly marking school work as he read.

A year later he died in his sleep from a second heart attack, before the transplant he’d been waiting for could take place. He was only fifty-two. She mourned him deeply, feeling as if a piece of herself had been taken away. Yet after almost a year the pain had eased, softened. She could walk through the house without listening for his gentle voice, could pass the shelf in the general store and not tear up at the sight of his favourite chocolate biscuits. The space on the bathroom shelf where his toothbrush used to be no longer held that deeper meaning.

Suzanne
realised that she was staring blankly at the bowl she had mechanically emptied, chewing and swallowing on auto pilot. Completely away with the fairies, she thought ruefully, running her fingers through her thick ponytail until they were stopped by a large tangle. She put her bowl in the sink, poured her herbal tea into a mug and took it back to her bedroom to get ready for the day.

Moments later she ran back for the phone singing out from the bench. It was Anita, her voice crackling with the energy
Suzanne had missed in the past few months.

“Hiya sweetpea. Listen, you home at the mo? I’ve got a whole bunch of herb seedlings I don’t need, and rather than dump them I thought you maybe could use them.”

“Sure, that sounds great. I was just going to suggest the cafe for lunch but you won’t want to leave those sitting in the car.”

“How about I drop them off and pick you up? If we make it eleven we’ll beat the rush.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

Suzanne
rang off with a smile of pure pleasure. It was so good to have Anita back on the island. She’d been gone since June, following her latest boyfriend. But that had come to an end. Lunch was sure to be full of all the gory details.

The café was crowded and bustling as usual in summer. Suzanne ordered a quiche and Anita chose nachos and a slice of rhubarb cake. Suzanne teased her about the cake and Anita laughed good-naturedly.

“I’ve got to build up my stamina again if I’m going hunting beach bunnies. Mark may have been a mistake, but not in bed. I barely even escaped to eat. I’m wasted away to practically nothing.”

“You’re looking for someone new already?” Suzanne cocked a curious eyebrow at her friend.

“The best way to get over one man is to get under another one. It won’t be long and they’ll all have gone home. We must make the most of every opportunity life hands us.” She folded her hands together piously and blinked at
Suzanne with mock innocence.

“Yeah, whatever,”
Suzanne sniggered her appreciation.

“Speaking of opportunities, phwoar! Check out this guy. They don’t come much hotter than that!”

“Who? Where?” she craned her head obligingly towards the entrance.

“You missed him, he’s behind you. Now look over at the counter. Check out that ass. Wait a second. He’ll turn around once he’s ordered.”

Looking at the broad shoulders and blonde hair of the large man, Suzanne began to get a sinking feeling she recognized him, even before he turned. She angled herself away from the counter, picking up her handbag and rummaging around in it as a cover to keep her head down.

“Look, look, you’ll miss him.”

“He’s just another tourist. Who cares?”

“Damn he’s fine. He’s looking over here right now. Ooo, he’s looking at us. He’s looking at you. Sue, he’s looking right at you and he’s coming this way. Sue!”

“What an absolute pleasure to see you again, your majesty,” said that smooth American voice. She looked up at him through her lashes and saw he was grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. He made their small table seem tiny as he towered over it.

She didn’t know what to say. So she said nothing, with as much dignity as she could muster. If anything, his grin broadened before he switched the warm glow of his attention to Anita.

“Hi. I’m Justin. And you are…?”

“Anita.” She held out her hand, and he took it and shook it without hesitation. “Do join us.”

“I’d love to, he replied shamelessly, collecting a chair from a nearby table with a single casual hand. He set it down back-to-front, laying his corded forearms along the top of the ladderback in a move that brought his impressive shoulder muscles to the attention of any interested onlooker. Suzanne wondered cynically if it was a calculated tactic.

She glared meaningfully at Anita, who shrugged and mimed touching her forefinger to her tongue and then to her shoulder in a gesture she liked to
use. Suzanne could almost hear the hissing sound she usually made to accompany the move, to indicate something was red hot. Suzanne rolled her eyes, not particularly caring if he picked up this non-verbal byplay.

“So you two know each other?” Anita jumped right in.

“We met just yesterday. But we definitely shared a moment,” he waggled his eyebrows comically. Obviously he sensed an ally in Anita. Correctly, it turned out.

“That’s great.
Suzanne could use a little playtime. She works much too hard. You’re just visiting, right?” When he nodded, she carried on: “Then she could take you out and about to see the sights. What a lovely idea! I can’t think of a better person for the job. Grew up here, knows everyone, everything there is to see. You’ll be in good hands.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m keen. I really haven’t seen anything other than the beach so far.” He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly, taking hold of the top rung of the ladderback and leaning back in a classic rower’s pull, the picture of ease in his board shorts and ragged T-shirt. All he needed now was cheap rubber jandals to complete the picture of the down-at-the-heels local surfie.

Hinemoa – the curvy and serene waitress – chose that moment to interrupt them with the quiche and nachos. She smiled on them benevolently then glided on, big hips swaying. A savoury, cheesy aroma drifted up from the two plates. Suzanne inhaled deeply in anticipation, and took her time unfolding the napkin wrapped around her cutlery and smoothing the fragile paper over her knees.

“I think I’ll have to pass on that. But do have a great time
.” Dismissal was clear in her tone.

His grin re-emerged
. “That’s just too bad. But I’m going to be on the Barrier for awhile. Months. I’ll certainly be seeing you around. So you can let me know if you change your mind.”

“Lovely,” she said through gritted teeth. “Will do.”

He got up and sauntered off to an outside table, the only one free in the café, to all appearances quite pleased with himself.

The moment he was out of earshot, Anita said: “Good God! How could you possibly turn him down? What were you thinking?”

“He’s not that irresistible.”

“Yahuh, yes he is.”

“Well if you like him so much, you go on over there and offer to be his tourguide. He’s too much like Gavin for my taste.”

“Don’t think I wouldn’t. If he had looked at me for one second the way he just looked at you for two minutes, I’d be all over him like white on rice. And what do you mean he’s like Gavin? Who’s Gavin?”

Suzanne laid down her fork and started to twirl the straw in her drinking glass, her eyes on the table. “Gavin’s that guy from Napier who was here the summer at the end of Year 12,” she said quietly, not looking up. After a moment she relaxed her tight mouth and deliberately took a sip from the bottle beaded with water, rolling the apple and guava juice around on her tongue before letting it slide down her throat.

“Oh. Yeah, I remember him I guess.” Anita gave the matter some thought, playing with her artfully dyed blonde hair. “I wouldn’t have said he looks like Justin here though. Didn’t he have black hair?”

“Both good-looking, both confident and smooth, both just visiting for a couple of months. I think they’ve got a lot in common.”

Anita looked at
Suzanne with dawning consternation. “Suzanne, that guy was an arsehole. And maybe we didn’t pick up on it till it was too late, but I think we’d see him coming a mile away, now. I mean, you wouldn’t make the same mistake these days, would you?”

Suzanne
bit her lip.

Stupid to drink too much. Stupid to trust a guy just because he looked beautiful and his admiration made her feel good. Stupid to take chances.

She had never been so stupid again. Ever.

The memories were enough to make her sick to her stomach. She pushed away the last few bites of her quiche, saying: “No, I think you only make that sort of mistake once. Once is enough. Quite enough.”