With the Headmaster's Approval (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Nicole was ready by a quarter past seven having tried on and discarded several outfits, eventually choosing a blue silk dress that followed the curves of her body. When she heard his knock on the front door she grinned and waited until her mother answered it and called her down.

He was wearing
a black leather jacket, air force blue shirt, dark blue silk tie, dark grey slacks and a boyish grin. She’d never seen him looking so handsome.

He
handed her a bunch of flowers. “Thanks,” she said, kissing him on the cheek before handing them to Polly to put in a vase. The Jeep was parked in the driveway and he opened the door and helped her in and then went round to the driver’s side.

“Where are we going – the sailing club?”

“No.”

No. He wouldn’t take her there for dinner,
she thought. There was a certain name she’d heard coupled with his, and a dart of jealousy stabbed her.

“Then where are we going?”

“Somewhere discreet.”

“Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

“Yes.”

He turned right when they
reached the main road and then left onto the motorway, so they weren’t going into town. They drove in silence while she kept glancing at him. He had that lopsided grin that he used when he was teasing her.

They
passed fields and farmland for about twenty miles and then he turned right into a country lane and after going a few more miles turned left at a sign for the
Lakeside Country Club.

“Are we going to the Country Club?” It was an exclusive and expensive establishment. Her father sometimes played golf there when invited by one of his cronies.

“That’s what the sign says.”

“I didn’t know you were a member.”

“I’m not, really.”

“
Then how are you going to get in?”

“Watch.”
He drove up to the gated entrance and pulled up next to the gatehouse. A uniformed man stepped out and came towards the driver’s door. Adam buzzed the window down.

“Good evening, Sir. Are you a member or a visitor?”
asked the guard. Adam took out his wallet and showed the man a card, which he inspected carefully before using a remote to open the ornate iron gates. “Thank you. Enjoy your evening, Sir,” he said as the gates swung slowly open and Adam drove through.

“What did you show him?
”

He
had a conspiratorial grin. “Certain clubs have reciprocal arrangements with similar clubs in other parts of the world,” he explained. “My grandfather – my mother’s father, made sure my name was down for an exclusive club in Texas. He expected me to go into the family ranching business and was keen on what he called ‘networking’. Sometimes it comes in useful.”

“Y
ou mean when you want to impress your date?”

“Are you impressed?”

“Very,” she said, laughing. “So you’ve been here before.”

“Only once.”

“When?”

“During the week. I wanted to check it out and make sure they served vegetarian.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try
to.”

The long winding
driveway was bordered by flowerbeds blooming with yellow daffodils flanked by tall bushes. When they turned the final curve it revealed a large red-brick two-storey building covered with ivy that had once been a family home. Behind it she saw a lake, and beyond that the golf course.

Adam drove up
to the entrance and stopped under a wide portico. She waited while he got out and opened her door. Taking her hand he led her up curved steps to a tiled outer entrance with carriage lamps mounted each side. In the middle were two heavy glass doors. He swung one open and they stepped into the hushed and thickly carpeted interior. On the right was a reception desk and opposite were easy chairs and a low table scattered with expensive magazines. “Wait here while I park the car,” he said.

The receptionist was busy on the telephone, but she smiled a greeting. Nicole
took in the heavy wood panelling and ornate ceiling and wondered at the family who had once called this their home. There must have been many alterations over the years as there were discreet signs directing members to the spa, indoor pool, tennis courts and gym. There was also a sign above the reception desk listing the names of the various dining rooms and their locations. She wondered which one Adam had chosen. She could hear music coming faintly from one of the rooms. At the end of the carpeted corridor a waiter walked purposely, but unhurriedly, past with a tray of drinks.

The door
swung open and Adam strode in. He went over to the receptionist, who Nicole noticed gave him a much wider smile than she had received. “I booked a table for two in the Mere Room,” he said.

“Mr Wild?”

“That’s right.”

“Your table is ready, Sir. Would you
care to have drinks in the bar first?”

“No, thank you. We’ll go straight in.”

“Certainly, Sir. If you take the stairs and turn left it’s the room on the end overlooking the lake.”

“Thank you.”

Nicole slipped her arm possessively through his and smiled at the receptionist as they made their way to the stairs.

The Mere Room had a live jazz
quartet comprising piano, drums, saxophone and double bass, and there was an intimate dance floor. Most of the tables were occupied and the maitre d’ showed them to a reserved table by the window and then handed them both a menu and Adam a wine list. The music was loud enough to dance to, but soft enough for normal dinner conversation.  It was growing dusk, but floodlights lit up the lake and surrounding shore and there were coloured lights in the trees giving everything a festive air.

“Okay.  Now I’m really impressed,” said Nicole.

He s
miled and opened the wine list. “Do you have a preference?” he asked.

“Whatever you choose will be fine with me. But you don’t usually drink wine.”

“Only on special occasions,” he said with a knowing smile.

The waitress came to take their order and, unlike most diners who point to
an item on the menu and barely look at the waitress, Adam gave her his full attention and enquired about the various dishes and asked her for vegetarian suggestions, listening attentively and then deferring to Nicole.  They chose an appetiser of apple
ravioli
filled with camembert, accompanied by a salad with walnut oil. For the main course Nicole chose semolina gnocchi, pan-fried wild mushrooms and cooked tomato concassée, while Adam chose saffron poached halibut fillet and baby vegetables. When the smiling waitress left with their order Nicole knew they would get good service. Adam always had that effect on women.

She remembered when Michelle had
sent him to pick her up from school. He was supposed to wait for her at the bus stop and drive her the mile home, but he’d driven all the way to the school and was waiting outside. She hadn’t expected him. The girls were streaming out of the gates and she was busy talking to Caroline and hadn’t at first seen him. It was only when she noticed the girls staring that she saw him and her heart thudded.

He was leaning nonchalantly on the car, arms folded, one foot casually crossed over the other
, and with that amused grin that told her he’d been secretly watching her chattering to her friends. He was wearing a blue denim shirt with the cuffs rolled back that showed off his tanned arms. A tooled leather belt with a metal buckle was looped through faded Levi’s that fitted snugly on his hips and down his long legs to cover his cowboy boots. He looked like he’d stepped out of a movie and she was aware that all the girls were staring, whispering, wondering who he was. And then she heard Ann Halliwell beside her making crude remarks to her giggling friends about what she’d like him to do to her. Ann Halliwell, who’d told her that she’d never get a boyfriend because she was too tall. “No boy will want a girlfriend who’s taller than him,” she’d sneered. Beanpole Nicole, they’d called her. She’d believed it because she was already a head taller than most of the boys of her age and it made her feel gangly. But she’d show Ann Halliwell.

She sprinted up to Adam and flung her arms around his neck. Startled at the exuberant greeting he bent and pecked her on the cheek. She wasn’t too tall for Adam. She hardly reached his shoulder. She wanted to stay in his arms, but was aware that he was looking at her quizzically and she dropped her hands.

“Hi, sis. I didn’t think you’d be that glad to see me. Is the bus ride that dreadful?” 

“Not always,” she said
, smiling up at him. She introduced him to Caroline and asked if they could drop her off at her home as it would be on the way. He opened the passenger door with a chauffeur-like flourish and she waited while Caroline climbed in the back before she settled in the passenger seat. Only then did she take the opportunity to look at the jaw-dropping expressions on the faces of the other girls. As they drove off it was a moment of triumph that she’d never forget.

When they dropped Caroline off her mother was
weeding in the garden. She looked up in surprise with a trowel in her hand when the car drew up. Caroline started to scramble out of the car, but Adam told her to wait. He opened the door for her and then escorted her to her front gate and her open-mouthed mother. For that whole weekend the girls had thought Adam was her boyfriend. Until Monday morning, when they’d learned the truth.

She was smiling at the memory.

He placed his hand over hers. “What are you grinning at?”

She reminded him of the incident, which he barely remembered.
“I had no idea that agreeing to give my kid sister a lift home from school would have such a resounding effect.”

He
let go of her hand and she realised with a shock of disappointment that she’d said the wrong thing. She’d reminded him that she was his ‘kid sister’. She’d ruined the mood.

After the
y’d eaten the first course he led her on to the dance floor slipping his arm around her waist and holding her close. She put her hand on his shoulder and the soft buttery leather of his jacket felt sensual to her touch. He was smiling down at her as they moved in a slow shuffle between the other dancers and she felt safe and protected in his arms. She remembered the last time she had danced with him. She’d been Michelle’s bridesmaid and he’d been obliged to dance with her, laughing and teasing as he swept her round the dance floor.  But this time it was different. She was no longer an awkward teenager, she was about to become his lover.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

It was
after midnight when they drove the Jeep into the garage. There was a chill in the April air and Adam shrugged out of his jacket and slipped it round Nicole’s shoulders. The red silk lining was warm against her bare skin. It smelled of Adam and she drew it closer to her. She saw that the lights were still on in the house. Her mother must have left them on for her in case she changed her mind.

He unlocked the cottage door and switched on the dimmer light.
When the door clicked shut behind them she was overcome by nerves. What if she disappointed him?

Loosening his tie he went across to the window.  “I think I’d better close the drapes.”

He took the jacket from her shoulders and hung it over a chair. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

“No thanks.” The two small glasses of wine had relaxed her, but not enough that she felt tipsy
.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

“Come here,” he said softly, beckoning her to
him.

She
moved towards him, anxious but excited. Was this how Michelle had felt on the first night of their honeymoon? But she knew this was entirely different. He’d been in love with Michelle, and Michelle had known it was the beginning of the rest of their lives together. But this could be the one and only time Adam made love to her. But would it be love? All she was sure of was that he loved her like a sister – and now it would be a sister with benefits. Was she being unfair to him by pressurising him into doing something he was uncertain about? Would he feel wracked with guilt that he was betraying Michelle? But she knew there must have been other women in the past five years and that dart of jealousy returned.

Trustingly, she went to him. “You’re trembling,” he said, closing his arms round her.

“It must be the chilly air,” she said. 

He crooked his finger under her chin and
tilted her face to his. “Is that all it is? Nicole, are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Yes. Please.”

He took her hand and led her through to the bedroom. He slept with the windows open so he could hear the sound of the waves and a slight breeze ruffled the curtains.

“I’d better close these drapes, too,” he said, grinning.  She saw him stoop and pick something off the floor. It was a downy white feather. She met his eyes and
wondered if he was thinking the same thing - was it a sign from Michelle? She took it from him and placed it on the bedside table. The picture of Michelle and the children was no longer there. She looked round and saw that it was now on the dresser, and with a start she realised that his wedding ring was beside it. He must have taken it off earlier. Was it symbolic of a new beginning? A wave of tenderness washed over her.

The bed was turned back and
she saw he’d bought new bed linen. A blue and white striped duvet cover and pillows, and crisp white sheets, and he’d swapped the bright white reading bulb for one that gave a soft pink glow that spilled over the bed. He’d done it all for her.

Romper’s basket was missing.
“Where’s Romper?”

“Polly decided it was her turn to have Romper,” he said with a boyish grin.

She sat on the bed looking up at him expectantly, but he drew her gently to her feet. Taking her head in his hands he looked deep into her eyes and kissed her with a tender controlled passion. As she slipped her arms round his neck she felt his hands deftly and unhurriedly lowering the zip on her dress. It slithered to the floor and lay in a silken pool at her feet. She saw the delight and desire on his face when he realised she wasn’t wearing a bra.

He kissed her breasts
with a soft teasing pressure that sent shivers of desire through her. Pulling off his tie he began unbuttoning his shirt, but she stayed his hand. “No. Let me,” she whispered, slowly undoing the rest of the buttons. Easing the shirt down from his shoulders she pressed her lips lightly against his chest while her hands found his belt buckle.  He pushed off his shoes as she gradually lowered the zip of his trousers. They fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. There were few men who could look sexy in underwear, but his charcoal stretch boxers worn low on his hips moulded to his strong firm body showing it off to perfection. “Did you really model for an underwear ad?” she said.

He laughed. “Once
, in my youth. It was a favour for a photographer girlfriend who was desperate after being let down by a model.”

“Why only once?
”

“She didn’t tell me until the actual shoot that I’d have to wax all the hair off my chest.”

She spread her hands over the sprinkling of fine brown hairs. “There aren’t that many.”

“Enough to be painful,” he said, hooking his thumbs in
to her panties and peeling them down her legs. She stepped out of them and stood before him naked and vulnerable. His gaze was a slow measured slide of approval. “No tan lines?” he said, a question in his voice.

“There are places in the bush that visitors don’t know about,” she said with a grin.
She felt herself being swept up in the comforting strength of his arms and placed gently on the bed. He smiled down at her with a new intensity before lying beside her.

He butterfly kissed her eyes, his touch ignited her whole body
like a match flame. He licked her ears and nipped gently at the lobes sending shudders through her body. His mouth teasingly brushed hers, first the top lip and then the bottom, nipping and drawing them between his teeth arousing her even further. Taking the feather he traced the outlines of her features, the soft downiness of it sending a sensual shiver through her. She raised her arms to embrace him, but he gently pushed her back. “Not yet. Relax and focus on your breathing,” he whispered. She lay acquiescent beside him, yielding and uninhibited, surrendering to the unrestrained pleasure.

He drew the feather tantalizingly
over her throat and down to her breasts, lingering on the nipples, describing a circular pattern with the tip of the feathers. He bent his head and covered her nipples with his mouth, sucking gently, sending tingling shivers through her, every sensation magnified; the coolness of the sheets, the sound of the waves, the soft pink glow of the light, the smell of his after-shave, and the intoxicating knowledge that it was Adam creating these sensations. She closed her eyes and allowed them to take over. The feather moved sensually over her navel and down to her inner thighs where it lingered leaving her with an aching hunger.

H
is mouth gently covered hers and this time she responded eagerly, her hands lacing through his hair, drawing him towards her. But he pulled back. “Let’s take it slowly,” he murmured.

His tongue explored the curves of her breast, the tip tracing her nipples until they stood out stiffly. His hands crept lower
; masculine hands that knew their way around a woman’s body, knew where and how to stroke and caress places she never knew existed.

She felt a strange detachment, aware only of the exquisite sensations he was
creating. His hand glided over the smooth flatness of her belly moving in slow caressing circles until it slipped between her legs. She opened them instinctively and moaned with pleasure as his finger explored and moved in a measured rhythm. When she arched her back and pushed against him he slowed. Aching for consummation she pleaded, “Adam, Adam, please don’t torture me.”

He lifted her hips and slipped a pillow beneath them. Keeping up the slow rhythm with his finger he
used his free hand to reach for a condom and tore it open with his teeth. Deftly slipping it on, he carefully lowered his body onto her. She felt the probing touch of his flesh between her legs, and gave a small start of shock at the coolness of the lubricant.  His breathing quickened as he eased himself into her body. “I’ll be as gentle as I can. It’ll only hurt for a moment,” he whispered, thrusting deep into her. When she gasped and cried out he stopped. “Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
It was an exquisite bitter-sweet pain and she clung to him.

He shifted his weight
onto his elbows, a hungry need in his face. His mouth was on hers, no longer gentle, his tongue exploring her mouth as he moved inside her, slowly at first and then more urgently.  She matched his rhythm, arching to meet him. But he was able to discipline his movements, stopping when she reached a certain peak of ecstasy, driving her crazy as she tried to contain her own restless impatience. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she cried as waves of intoxicating sensations racked her body, her hands clawing at his back. “Oh, Adam, Adam, I love you, I love you.”

She heard him whisper her name
, Nicky – but was it Micky, his pet name for Michelle?

F
inally, breathless and panting, he allowed her her release and tears squeezed from her eyes. “Stay inside me, please stay inside me,” she murmured, half plea, half wish, wanting to keep him there for always. Her years of fantasising had finally been realized and it had been a hundred times better than her imagination and she didn’t want to let go. Whatever happened in the future, she’d have this one night to remember.

He gently kissed away the tears
and nestled his head on her shoulder. They lay in a drowsy half-sleep listening to the sound of the waves washing on the shoreline until they finally fell asleep.