Two Against the Odds Page 6

  “So, you’re okay with just a fling?” he asked, not wanting any recriminations when it came time for him to leave.

  “Absolutely. We’re going to have a few days of the best sex of our lives.”

  A guy couldn’t say no to that.

  She leaned up to kiss him, easing off the couch. “No, you stay there.” Lifting her arms, she pulled her halter top over her head.

  Rafe groaned. Yoga kept her firm and toned; forgetting to eat must help keep her slim. She slipped off her panties, leaving her skirt on. Then she climbed onto his lap, facing him. Pushing her hands into his hair, she gently pulled him toward her bare breasts.

  He sucked one tight pink nipple into his mouth. He loved how confident she was, how she knew exactly what she wanted and just went for it. He loved how she made him feel like a stud.

  Lexie let her head fall back with a small moan. His groin tightened, throbbed. He eased down his zipper to relieve the pressure against his erection. Then he turned back to her breasts.

  He skimmed his hands down her body and up under her skirt, molding her thighs and bare buttocks. He slipped his fingers between her legs into heat and wetness. His erection surged. She rose onto her knees so he could get rid of his pants and underwear. He was so hard he hurt. A glimpse of her bare thighs beneath her skirt was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. When he thought he couldn’t stand it another second, she slid onto him, tight and hot.

  Sweet relief. And then she was riding him, her breasts moving before his glazed eyes. He sucked her nipple hard, gripped her hips and pushed. Heard her cry.

  And cried out himself.

  RAFE GAZED into Lexie’s soft blue eyes and felt foolishly proud that he’d been able to give her so much pleasure. He was pretty sure he’d satisfied her.

  It had taken four times. She was awesome.

  He pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “What can I get you? A drink of water? I’ve got cookies in my briefcase.”

  She laughed at that and he felt like an idiot for sounding so young.

  “Thanks but I’m not hungry.” Drowsily she stroked a fingertip around his bristled chin.

  Her jaw and neck were chafed red from his beard. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  Eyes closed, she smiled dreamily. “I might not be able to walk for a week.”

  Rafe felt himself blush and was grateful for the low light of the bedside lamp. But she seemed to be dozing off anyway. He lay back down and pulled her in close to his side and went to sleep breathing in the scent of sex, warm skin and Lexie’s hair.

  LEXIE WAS DREAMING about spirals. There was the skeleton clock, with its spiral spring that expanded and contracted with every tick of the cogged wheel. Then there was the spiral at the heart of a seashell. And a double spiral of…something. Then she was dreaming about the clock again. The elegant brass whorls of the casing, the wheels connected to wheels, all turning, turning, hands moving, tick, a heartbeat, a baby’s heartbeat, tick, Sienna in her blue robe not Venus but the Madonna, double helix, DNA….

  The clock chimed with a preternatural volume, like a giant gong struck inside her head. Lexie swam up through the layers of her dream. She opened her eyes and sat up in bed, tingling all over.

  In the darkness, cogs and wheels still moved before her eyes. Spirals turned with the illusion of upward movement.

  Biological clocks.

  Not her. Sienna.

  No, that would be too obvious as an element in her painting. There was something else in the dream. The spiral spring at the heart of the clock. The seashell. And that other spiral, the double spiral. What had that reminded her of? An illustration from the old biology text book she found somewhere and kept as a reference.

  And then it clicked.

  DNA, the double helix. Two strands of genetic material, joined by molecules of…something. She couldn’t remember the details, if she’d ever learned them. But she could find out. It all fit. Sienna, the mother, creating life. Sienna, the doctor, saving life. Science and Nature, hand in hand.

  “That’s it. I’ve got it,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. It was crystal clear now that she’d thought of it. She would paint DNA molecules in the background, so faint they would be unobtrusive, a subliminal suggestion that would imprint on the viewer’s brain.

  Quietly she pushed back the covers and got out of bed, shivering a little at leaving the warmth of Rafe’s body. Seeing his dark head on the pillow made her smile at the memory of their lovemaking.

  Four times. It was true what they said about young men.

  But she couldn’t stay. She had work to do.

  They’d fallen asleep with the lamp on so it was easy to find her top and skirt and silently pull them on. Where were her panties? She finally found them beneath the table.

  Murphy heard her and got up, stiff legged, to see what she was doing. She patted his wiry fur and he lay down.

  Rafe stirred in his sleep. Lexie held her breath. Her idea was loosely held. If she had to speak the fragile images dancing in her head might dissolve.

  He settled again. She found a piece of paper and scribbled a note, which she left on the table, weighed down by her house key. Quietly she tiptoed over to turn out the light. Then she opened the sliding door an inch at a time until there was enough room for her to squeeze through.

  The full moon was high overhead, illuminating the houses and gardens. Lexie walked swiftly down the middle of the empty street, listening to the sounds of the night. The bats flitted across the sky, a possum scurried along the telephone wires. She loved being out so early when everyone else was dead to the world.

  Ten minutes later she let herself into her house with the spare key she kept hidden under a rock in the garden. Still charged, she showered, changed and went out back, across the lawn in her flip-flops. The grass brushed her bare ankles, prickly on her skin and damp with dew. The door to her studio stuck until she lifted it and shoved with her shoulder.

  Humming, she assembled her paints and brushes, got a fresh canvas down from the shelf and found a clean palette and smock. Artificial light wasn’t the best so she couldn’t do more than block in the picture, but she was familar with the colors she needed and her fingers were itching to make a start. Squeezing a large blob of Cadmium Yellow onto the palette, she began.

  RAFE STIRRED, eyes closed, unwilling to wake from the best sleep he’d had in ages. A grin spread across his face. He’d had no idea older women could be so hot.

  Thinking about Lexie was making him hard. Eyes still closed, he reached for her.

  His hand encountered only empty sheets. He opened his eyes. The pillow that bore the indentation of her head and a stray blond hair were evidence he hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

  Rafe propped himself on one elbow. Maybe she was in the bathroom? But no, the door was open. Everything was quiet. He could even see into the small private courtyard because he’d forgotten to pull the drapes. Empty.

  She was gone.

  Pushing aside a flicker of disappointment, he threw back the covers, got up and let Murphy out. Then he walked to the bathroom and set the shower on scalding. Soaping himself beneath the streaming water, he hoped he could rely on her to be discreet about the sex. He had a whole lot more to lose than she did.

  LEXIE WORKED until six in the morning, slept for a couple of hours then was awake again by eight. She pottered around the kitchen, putting on the kettle, popping a slice of wholemeal bread in the toaster. Surely Sienna would be up by now. She gave her a call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Sienna.” Without further preamble Lexie asked, “What are those things that the double helix of DNA is made of? The genetic building blocks or something.” She spooned vanilla yogurt into a bowl.

  “Lexie?” Sienna said. In the background Lexie heard cutlery clinking, water running. “DNA…let’s see. You’re probably thinking of nucleotides. Each consists of a sugar, a phosphate group and a nitrogen base—either a purine or a pyri
midine.”

  “Whoa. I don’t need the biochemistry of it, just the structure. What do they look like at a molecular level?” One-handed, she rinsed strawberries under the tap.

  “Let me think… Sugars form a hexagon of carbon atoms. The phosphate group would be kind of a diagonal cross and the nitrogen bases join in the middle like the rungs of a ladder. Does that make any sense?”

  “Sort of.” Lexie turned the tap off. “I’d better look it up on the internet. Thanks!”

  “Why are you interested in this?” Sienna asked.

  “It’s for your portrait. I don’t want to say too much. It might not work out in the end.” Hearing a knock, she said, “Someone’s at the door, Sienna. I’ll talk to you later.”

  She dried her hands and hurried out, surprised to see Hetty on the doorstep. “Where were you? Didn’t you come back last night?”

  “No, I was trying to make up with your father. And before you ask, no, we didn’t resolve anything.” Hetty moved past Lexie in a swish of wide black pants and a soft gray wrap top. She tilted her head. “How come you didn’t know I wasn’t here last night. Where were you?”

  “Um…working on Sienna’s portrait,” Lexie evaded.

  “You’re unblocked!” Hetty gave her a quick hug. “At least something’s going right.”

  She glanced around the messy kitchen and clucked her tongue. Taking the colander out of the sink, she started stacking Lexie’s dirty dishes in it, squirting liquid soap, running hot water.

  “Don’t do my washing up,” Lexie said. “I’ll get to it.”

  “You’ll forget now that you’re painting again.” Hetty reached for the dishcloth. “How are you getting along with Rafe? It can’t be easy having a stranger in the house all day long.”

  “As a matter of fact, we’re getting along rather well.”

  Hetty glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s amazing in bed.” The words just popped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She clapped her hand over her lips. “But don’t say anything. No one’s supposed to know.”

  “Who would I tell?” Hetty turned around, her hands dripping soap. “But are you sure that’s wise? He’s so young.”

  “Is he ever!” Lexie’s smile grew smug as she held up a hand showing four fingers.

  Hetty’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped.

  “Hello?” Rafe called from the front door. “May I come in?”

  “Shh. Don’t let on I said anything,” Lexie whispered. Raising her voice, she called out, “We’re in the kitchen.”

  Hetty spun back to the sink. With a lot of splashing and running of water she soaped a plate.

  Rafe paused in the doorway. “Good morning.”

  His hair was slightly damp and as he glanced at her his face colored. Lexie spared a brief regret for not staying till morning just so they could have showered together.

  “Hey, Rafe. Sleep well?” With her mother’s back turned she sauntered over and leaned up to kiss him on his reddening cheek.

  “Where did you disappear to last night?” he murmured.

  “I had a brainwave. But I can’t talk about it, not until it’s on the canvas.” Squeezing his hand, she slipped out the back door.

  RAFE FOLLOWED her progress to her studio through the window over the sink. His hand tightened on his briefcase handle. She was supposed to be discreet and here she’d just kissed him in front of her mother. Sure, Hetty’s back was to them but still.

  “I should just go speak with her a moment,” Rafe said to Hetty as he edged toward the door. “Um, about her taxes.”

  “You don’t have to be coy around me.”

  Something in her voice stopped him dead. “What did she tell you?”

  “That you two were getting along well.” Hetty put the dishcloth down and dried her hands. “Sit down,” she said, nodding to a chair at the kitchen table. “I need to talk to you. I’ve been doing what you suggested but it’s not working.”

  Oh, no, not again. Rafe cast another glance out the window but Lexie had gone inside the studio. He pulled up a bentwood chair and lowered himself into it, setting his briefcase on the floor. “Be patient with your husband. It’s only been twenty-four hours.”

  “Steve’s a stubborn man. It could be months before he breaks down and admits he still loves me. I need something that works faster. Something to get him interested in me sexually again.”

  Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the dampness at his hairline. “I’m not a marriage counselor. I have no expertise in this area.”

  “But you understand people.”

  “Do I? I don’t understand Lexie.”

  “No one understands Lexie, least of all Lexie.” Hetty waved that away with a flap of the tea towel. “What you said the other day resonated with me. You see, I’ve figured out the subtext of Steve’s anger toward me. While I was away in Queensland he got sick and had to go into the hospital. Then Smedley ran away and got poisoned by eating fox bait. Steve blames me for Smedley almost dying, but I think he’s really blaming me for his getting sick. He interpreted my trip as saying I didn’t care if he lived or died. But of course he can’t say that so he rants and raves about Smedley.”

  Rafe didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “Who’s Smedley?”

  “Steve’s Jack Russell terrier.”

  “Cute dogs.” Rafe nodded sagely. “Make friends with Smedley, that’s my advice. Go for walks with him and Steve. Show Steve you love him and his dog.”

  Hetty sat back, the tea towel twisted in her hands. “How is that going to get us making love again?”

  Rafe dropped his head in one hand and covered his face. “I’m sorry, Hetty, I haven’t got a clue. If you want tax advice, I’m your man. If you want tips on the best bait for snapper or ling cod, call on me. But marriage advice? Uh-uh.”

  “Lexie said you were amazing in bed.”

  Rafe choked and went into a coughing fit. He staggered to his feet and over to the sink. Hetty got there first and ran him a glass of water.

  “Here, drink that,” she said.

  Rafe sipped some down. When he was sure he was breathing normally, he said, “She told you that?”

  “Oh, dear, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But now that I have,” she went on quickly, “what do you suggest I do to turn Steve on?”

  Rafe took the tea towel from her and used it to mop his forehead. “Please, there must be someone else you can ask.”

  “I can’t go to my son or my other daughter’s fiancé. That would be embarrassing for them at family dinners.”

  “You think?” Rafe murmured faintly.

  “I’m asking because you’re a man—and virile according to Lexie—and a stranger. Although I do feel oddly comfortable with you. Perhaps we knew each other in a previous life.”

  “Okay, well…” He racked his brain trying to think of what to say, then remembered Lexie telling him, “I want to go to bed with you.” That had done it for him. “Be direct with Steve. Maybe he’s not sure you want him. Tell him flat out. You might be surprised at his reaction.”

  “Isn’t that a lot of pressure to put on a man?” Hetty asked dubiously.

  “Not if he’s at all interested. And for a man that basically means if he has a pulse.” Then doubt assailed him. What did he know about sexual relationships in long-term marriages? He wasn’t even sure if his parents had sex anymore. “Maybe you could have some Viagra on hand.”

  “If I did that he might think I’m saying he’s got erectile dysfunction.” Hetty frowned. “What about sexy lingerie? Do you think that would work?”

  Rafe couldn’t help picturing Lexie in skimpy lace and satin. “It would for me. Not you, of course. I mean, not that you’re not—” He broke off, sweating.

  “I know what you mean, dear, don’t worry. Let me see if I’ve got all this,” Hetty said, counting off on her fingers. “Suck up to the dog, don’t beat around the bush and channel my inner courte
san.”

  Rafe blew out a gusty breath. “That about sums it up.”

  “What do you think about pole dancing? Sex toys?”

  “I think you’ve got enough going on.” Rafe picked up his briefcase and started to back out of the room. “I’d better get to work on the audit.”

  “I thought you wanted to talk to Lexie?”

  “Er, that can wait. I don’t want to disturb her if she’s painting.”

  “Well, I’m going to disturb her,” Hetty announced, rising, too. “She can spare an hour to go shopping with me.” She put down her tea towel and walked out the back door to the studio.

  Rafe sat at the dining room table and unpacked his briefcase. He was up to his elbows in receipts and trying without much success not to think about Lexie’s mother pole dancing in a corset and garters when Lexie came breezing into the living room with her purse slung over her shoulder.

  “What did you and Mum talk about?” Lexie asked. “She’s champing at the bit to get down to some specialty shop in Frankston and she swears she can’t go without me.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Rafe said. “But listen here, you can’t go telling her about us. You can’t tell anyone.”

  “Sorry, it just slipped out this morning. She sort of guessed. But don’t worry. Hetty won’t tell anyone else, definitely not your boss.” Lexie waggled her fingers. “I’ll see you later.”

  Lexie and Hetty left. And finally, without distractions, he began to get somewhere. The pile of envelopes he’d gone through was now greater than the pile yet to be explored. Opening a new one was like unearthing the records of some ancient civilization. He could deduce a lot about Lexie’s life by the way she spent her money. Paints, restaurants, books, music, admission to art galleries, vet bills, professional dues—

  Rafe heard the front door creak open. Lexie must have forgotten something. But the click of high heels didn’t sound like her. She’d gone out in flat sandals.

  He glanced up.

  The attractive woman standing before him had bouncy brown chin-length hair and was carefully made up. Her royal-blue suit fit like a glove. She seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Didn’t anyone knock and wait to be invited in around here?