Irresistible Attraction

by Alison Kelly

  ‘Bart, don’t be silly. They could be anywhere. You could drive till dawn and not find them.’

  She felt his muscles tighten and saw his lips thin, his face contorted in a mixture of anger, frustration and paternal love.

  ‘So what the hell should I do, uh? You tell me!’

  ‘Just wait. She’ll come home.’

  ‘When? It’s already well after two——’

  ‘Bart! Alessandra!’ Marilyn’s voice reached them from the house. ‘She’s here.’

  Alessandra wished Marilyn had been a little more subtle in delivering the news, which sent Bart sprinting across to the house. God only knew what he was likely to do. Hiking her sarong up around her thighs, Alessandra ran after him as best she could. Even before she reached the house she could hear Bart yelling.

  ‘Where in God’s name have you been? Answer me, dammit! Where have you been?’

  Lisa was standing in front of the refrigerator looking tired, frightened and, Alessandra thought, a tad tipsy.

  ‘I asked you a question, Lisa! Answer me!’

  Marilyn hovered by the sink, looking as if she wanted to intervene, but fearful of doing so.

  ‘Bart, ease off,’ Alessandra said. The fury in his face when he swung towards her made her swallow hard. God, if he had that effect on her, she could well imagine how terrified his behaviour was making poor Lisa feel. ‘Let’s everyone calm down——’

  ‘Stay out of this, Alessandra,’ he warned. ‘She’s my daughter——’

  ‘So quit yelling at her and give her a chance to open her mouth!’

  ‘Why don’t I make some coffee——?’

  ‘Stuff the coffee, Marilyn! I want answers, not coffee. Now, Lisa, where the hell were you and what were you doing?’

  Alessandra met the younger girl’s eyes and silently implored her to answer her father, but Lisa lowered her gaze and began fiddling with her signet ring.

  ‘Well?’ Bart prompted in a softer voice which sounded even more threatening than his roaring.

  ‘I was with Todd.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘We went for a drive.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Just…around.’

  ‘In other words you were necking?’ Bart’s inquisition again met with silence and Lisa refused to meet the eyes of anyone in the room.

  ‘Look at me when I’m speaking to you, young lady.’

  Lisa obliged, but the look she gave him was insolent and defiant.

  ‘It’s none of your business what I was doing!’

  In slow motion Alessandra saw Bart’s right hand jerk in reaction to the statement.

  ‘Bart, no!’ Her words were a strangled plea as for one horrible moment she thought Bart was going to slap the girl; instead he muttered an unintelligible curse and turned away.

  ‘Don’t worry, Dad, I won’t embarrass you by getting pregnant!’

  ‘Lisa!’ Marilyn sent the girl a killing look, but Bart said nothing as he pushed past Alessandra in his haste to leave the room. Alessandra couldn’t recall ever having seen anyone look so broken-hearted, yet Lisa wanted to kick him while he was down.

  ‘Still,’ she shouted, ‘that’d be a good way of avoiding going to college!’

  ‘Shut up, Lisa!’ her aunt demanded.

  There had been so much pain and despair on Bart’s face that Alessandra was torn between running after him and holding him until she had absorbed it all, and the urge to pound the teenager to within an inch of her life for her cruelty.

  ‘You can be a fair dinkum bitch, Lisa! You know that? You talk to her, Marilyn; I’m not sure I can keep my hands off her.’

  She knocked gently on the office door.

  ‘Bart, it’s me.’

  ‘Go to bed, Alessandra.’

  Ignoring the weary instruction, she entered the room and closed the door. He sat behind the desk with his feet propped against the filing-cabinet.

  ‘Another one who can’t do as she’s told,’ he said. ‘You want to go for jugular and finish the job off for her?’

  ‘Bart, she’s a kid. Kids do and say things without thinking when they’re scared.’

  ‘Not long ago you were telling me she wasn’t a kid any more. Can’t you make up your mind or are you just determined to cover her ass regardless of what she does?’ His tone was vicious.

  ‘That’s not——’

  ‘Not what, Alessandra? Fair? True?’

  Again she tried to speak, but he cut her short.

  ‘I’ll tell you what it’s not! It’s not your business! Your lifestyle hardly qualifies you to tell me how I should or shouldn’t raise my daughter. And I’ll thank you to butt out of my personal life and keep your opinions to yourself!’

  He’s hurt, she told herself. Like Lisa, he didn’t really mean what he was saying.

  ‘Bar——’

  ‘Is that understood? Butt out!’

  For the second time that night she felt the threat of tears, but it wasn’t because the harshness of his words had hit their mark. It was because of the look of confusion and desolation in his eyes. Being in love stunk! It made a woman want to throw her arms around a man even as he was doing his damnedest to tap dance all over her heart. She should be angry. She wanted to be angry with him, dammit! What had happened to the Alessandra who only weeks ago could have cut a man to pieces with her sharp tongue? It would serve him right if she were to pack her bags and leave right now. It would teach him a lesson. But it would also be the perfect example of a woman cutting out her heart to salve her pride.

  ‘Alessandra, just get the hell outta here.’

  ‘Sure. But just for the record, I didn’t come in here to have a go at you. I only wanted to help.’ She shrugged and went to the door, adding just as she was about to leave, ‘Perhaps you need to listen to Lisa, not a ghost.’

  She closed the door and ignored Bart’s question from the other side.

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

  It was Saturday and by right her turn to take the weekend shift, but it was obviously going to be a tradition that no one on Rough Rivers worked the day after a big party. Thank God for tradition, Alessandra thought as she ran once more into the bathroom. How could she have a hangover? She’d only drunk a couple of glasses of champagne. But what else could be causing this dreadful sickness? It must, she decided grimly, have been those couple of mouthfuls of Bart’s beer she’d had while singing to stop her throat from drying. Who would have thought that that tiny mixture of the grape and the grain could have such diabolical results? Never again, she muttered, as her stomach finally settled down enough for her to start dressing.

  She also vowed never to sing again. The ludicrousness of the idea brought a weak smile to her face; nine years ago she’d thought such a promise would prove something. Last night had signified the final break with her past. It had shown her that just because Jenni was dead it didn’t mean she had to give up the thing they’d enjoyed most together. It suddenly struck her that Jenni would have told her she was ‘nutso’ to go cold turkey on her love of music out of some misguided sense of loyalty.

  It was ironic that after years of imagining herself to be totally free the meaning of true emotional liberation should dawn on her while she was heaving her heart out. Jenni would have seen the humour in the situation too.

  Alessandra realised that instead of treasuring all the fond memories of a wonderful friendship she’d shelved them and allowed the sad ones to direct her life. After nearly a decade of simply living for the moment and racing aimlessly all over the planet, she acknowledged a need to take root and accept the past. All it had taken was the hot summer sun and a stubborn, displaced Texas cowboy with a sexy smile, a body to match and an appalling taste in music! The thought of Bart prompted recollection of the previous night’s drama. She sighed at the prospect of what might lie ahead, trying to ignore her unsettled stomach.

  It was mid-morning by the time she reached the kitchen, and even the extra make-up she’d applied
couldn’t conceal her delicate condition.

  ‘What would you say to bacon and eggs?’ Marilyn asked over the top of her cup.

  ‘Something very obscene.’

  ‘Coffee’s hot.’

  ‘I think tea is more my line this morning. Anyone else up?’

  ‘Bart’s gone off somewhere and Lisa is upstairs packing.’

  ‘Packing?’ Surely he hadn’t! ‘You can’t mean he’s kicked her out?’

  ‘Relax. I suggested it would do them both some good if they had some time apart,’ Marilyn said. ‘Lisa is coming to the Great Barrier Reef with me for a holiday.’

  Alessandra considered the news.

  ‘How’d you get Bart to agree?’

  ‘It wasn’t easy, but at times my brother’s common sense triumphs over his need to be in control of every situation.’ Marilyn placed her cup aside and clasped her hands on the table. ‘As a matter of fact this is the first time I can recall seeing my brother completely in a quandary as to what to do about something.’

  ‘I constantly threw my parents into that state…’ Alessandra admitted.

  ‘Then perhaps Bart should talk to your parents. And not about the universal tribulations of raising a teenage daughter.’

  Alessandra met her friend’s telling look.

  ‘I’m the least of his worries at the moment, Marilyn,’ she said. ‘And if you’re about to suggest I transform myself into the epitome of the perfect little housewife while Lisa’s away, forget it. I know you only wanted to help with the idea of me showing Bart that I wasn’t all rough edges and no shine, but the thing is, Marilyn…I am. And I’m not going to pretend to be otherwise. Heck, I wouldn’t fool anyone after last night!’

  Marilyn gave a rueful smile. ‘Yes, you weren’t exactly Miss Decorum.’

  ‘Marilyn, I didn’t come within a bull’s roar of being the type of woman Bart admires. But you know what? I was more me than I’ve been in a long, long time, and you can’t imagine how good that feels this morning.’

  It was stinking hot and sweat was gluing his shirt to his body, but, despite his discomfort, mentally Bart wasn’t ready to seek the relief of the air-conditioning back at the house. He continued to ride without any purpose save the need to be alone.

  When he’d agreed to Marilyn’s proposal to take Lisa to the Great Barrier Reef, he’d told himself that in the circumstances it was the best thing for Lisa. Now, surrounded by peace and nature, he knew his motives had also hinged on selfishness and helplessness. He felt helpless to deal with his relationship with Lisa at the moment. In effect he’d mentally thrown up his hands and given in, wanting to be free of at least one of his problems, and in hindsight he felt guilty that he’d all but filed his daughter into the ‘too hard basket’, as Alessandra would have said. Alessandra. His loins tensed at the thought of her.

  He doubted that any man had ever wanted a woman the way he wanted Alessandra. Unless, of course, the woman in question had been Alessandra. Once more the thought of her with other lovers burned him with jealousy. He wanted her for himself alone and he wanted them to have time alone. It was a selfish sentiment and it had contributed to his decision to allow Lisa to go to the Reef.

  Even now he couldn’t say whether he had let Lisa go because as a good parent he knew they needed time to think things through, or because he was a bad parent who’d grabbed at the opportunity of being alone in the house with a woman his body needed more than air.

  From the kitchen window Alessandra saw him approaching the house, and typically her heart increased its pace as her love of him pedalled it harder. He’d been gone all day, not even returning to say goodbye to Lisa and Marilyn. She’d wanted to have a go at him about that, but Marilyn had warned her against doing so.

  ‘Let him handle things his way,’ she’d said. ‘You’ll find more pleasure in giving him advice, when he asks for it.’

  ‘Has Bart Cameron ever asked for advice in his whole life?’ Alessandra doubted it.

  ‘No. But I guarantee you’ll be the first one he will ask,’ Marilyn had said confidently.

  As his footsteps sounded on the porch, Alessandra put two steaks on to a hot skillet and went back to tossing the salad.

  ‘How long before dinner?’

  She turned to see him take a beer from the refrigerator, and her action prompted him to reach back and take one out for her.

  ‘The steaks are on.’

  ‘Have I time for a quick shower?’

  ‘You have time for either a beer or a shower, but not both. Unless of course you drink that while you’re under the shower,’ she replied, moving to turn the steak. Looking back at him, she laughed at the indecision on his face and turned down the heat under the pan.

  ‘Oh! Just hurry up!’ she told him and smiled. ‘And if yours is burnt don’t even think about whingeing.’

  ‘You’re an angel.’ Bart grinned, already on his way to get cleaned up.

  ‘Right, that’s how come I keep tripping over my halo.’

  His laughter carrying from the stairs warmed her and she dared to hope that later it might be his body.

  Dinner wasn’t the strained affair Alessandra expected, but it was awkward. The stress of last night was still tangible, but taking second place to a sexual tension heavy enough to cause choking. Although Bart had told her to stay out of his personal life they both knew that that, given the absence of a third party, was going to be nigh on impossible and totally frustrating!

  Since there was only the two of them, she’d set the table in the kitchen, instead of using the dining-room as was the norm. Bart appeared to be enjoying his meal, so Alessandra could only assume that her palate was still suffering the side-effects of the previous night.

  ‘Not hungry?’

  She gave a rueful smile and pushed her plate aside, while simultaneously thinking that the man opposite her had the most incredible neck she’d ever seen. Neck? Since when had necks been a turn-on for her? Since they supported the head of the man whose smile could melt solid oak!

  ‘I think I’m still paying for mixing my drinks last night. You want some dessert?’ Bart shook his head. ‘OK, then, I’ll fix the coffee,’ she said, rising to do so.

  ‘Stay put; I’ll get it.’

  While Bart went through the mundane task of making coffee, Alessandra watched him in silence, marvelling at every simple move he made.

  Each one of them seemed in some way to stir her sexual awareness of him. The way his jeans tightened over his rear as he stood with his weight more heavily on one foot than the other, the way the muscles in his back performed a mini ballet as he lifted the coffee-jar from the top shelf or poured the coffee into the cups, and especially the way his eyes lit up when he turned suddenly and caught her watching him.

  Looking away, she struggled to gain at least a speck of control on her desire. She was still fighting a losing battle with her libido when he placed the cup of brown liquid before her.

  ‘Forgetting the unpleasant little domestic scene of this morning, I take it you enjoyed last night,’ Bart said, stirring three sugars into his cup.

  ‘Yes, if you don’t count the hours I spent rushing back and forth to the kitchen to keep the hungry horde in food.’

  ‘You sure did make an impression.’ His broad grin was the brightest she’d seen from him all evening and automatically she felt herself matching it.

  ‘Tactfully you’ve not indicated whether the impression was good or bad.’

  ‘That depends on whose point of view you want to examine.’ He leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head in a relaxed fashion. ‘Rachel seems to reckon running round bare-footed is tantamount to being naked.’ He paused pointedly and Alessandra was reminded of his question the night before about what she was wearing under the sarong.

  ‘God knows what she would’ve had to say about me if she’d seen me doing my Suzi Quatro impersonation,’ she said, moving to a less volatile subject and making Bart chuckle.

  ‘Yeah, well, t
hat was the biggest surprise of the night. How come you never said you could play and sing that well?’

  ‘It never came up in conversation.’ She shrugged.

  ‘That doesn’t explain why a woman with a voice like you’ve got is cutting cattle rather than records.’

  ‘What you mean is what’s a woman doing working as an itinerant cowhand?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t have to; it’s written all over your face.’ She pushed her chair from the table, angry that he had the audacity to sit there looking like the owner of a singledigit IQ. ‘You’re so bloo…blasted judgemental!’

  ‘I am not!’ Bart countered.

  ‘OK, so tell me you think there’s nothing wrong with my lifestyle.’

  ‘Alessandra…’

  She watched as he mentally tried to compose a response.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s not that…’

  ‘Not what, Bart? Spit it out.’

  ‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘I will!’ he said, manoeuvring her between the wall and his huge masculine bulk. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand why someone as intelligent and talented as you obviously are is so determined to do nothing worth while with their life! Why are you so hellbent on treating life as one huge joke and a perpetual holiday? I’ve seen fence posts with more ambition than you’ve got!’

  Alessandra decided to let him have it with both barrels.

  ‘Because it’s my life. And because I learnt the hard way that it’s possible to kill yourself trying to please other people!’

  ‘Don’t dramatise things——’

  ‘I’m not,’ Alessandra said calmly. ‘My best friend died of a drug overdose when we were in our first year of university, because she couldn’t happily live up to the expectations of others.’

  Shocked to silence, Bart waited as she took several deep breaths before starting to speak; even so her voice came out soft and shaky.

  ‘All Jenni wanted was to be a singer. All her parents wanted was a doctor in the family, and because Jen was an only child she was elected. For a long time she struggled to both study and scratch out the beginnings of a singing career, but in the end it was too much for her. She said she was tired of trying to keep both her folks and herself happy, so she was shelving her dream for theirs. Eight weeks later she was dead.’