A Wild Affair

by Charlotte Lamb

  He sat obediently, like a child, and then collapsed, his head back against the couch, his eyes closing. Quincy stared at him, frowning. His lids were dark and shadowed, bruised with tiredness, beneath his eyes the blue stain of sleepless nights emphasising the taut stretch of his skin.

  'I had to come,' he said in a hazy voice which drifted from his barely parted lips like mist.

  She almost wondered if she had imagined it, so faint was the remark, and waited a moment for him to add something, but he seemed asleep, his long body heavily relaxed. Slowly she went out to the tiny kitchen adjoining the room and looked at the assembled food. There was rice and some cold chicken, a tiny tin of prawns, some eggs. Quincy hesitated, then got out a saucepan and began to cook a reduced version of paella. While it was cooking she slipped back to look at Joe. He hadn't moved, his breathing deep and slow. Was he asleep? she wondered, and tiptoed out again, but, as she did, he stirred and his eyes opened.

  Quincy halted, looking into them, and Joe smiled at her, a curiously tender, almost relieved smile.

  'I was taking a nap,' he said. 'Having a dream. I dreamt I was here with you. God, Quincy, I'm so tired.'

  'Yes,' she said gently. 'Are you hungry? I'm cooking some paella for you. Do you like paella?'

  Humour sparked in his eyes. 'You ask me that? If my mother could hear you!' His voice was still flat and tired, but warmth and rest were just beginning to ease the constriction of his face.

  'I'm afraid it won't be anything like any paella you ever ate,' Quincy said, smiling. 'I'm having to improvise.'

  'I shan't be over-critical,' he promised, and she went out to see how the food was coming along. By the time she was ready to serve it Joe had been there for nearly half an hour. She went back and found he had shed his sheepskin and was stretched out, the electric fire close to his feet, staring intently at the glowing bars. He looked up as she entered the room and smiled.

  'Feeling better?' she asked, seeing that he looked far more relaxed, and he nodded. 'Your paella is ready,' Quincy told him.

  'Are you having some?' he asked. 'I don't want to eat alone.'

  So they ate the food together with a bottle of Lilli's cheap red wine to accompany it. Joe talked in fits and starts, saying whatever came into his mind. Quincy said very little, but she listened.

  'It gets to the stage when I haven't any more to give,' said Joe. 'You keep giving out night after night until your head feels as if it's blowing off and you have to get away.'

  Quincy refilled his glass and he drank some more wine, eyes half closed. 'You only have so much energy,' he said.

  He told her obliquely about the tour, leaving her with the impression that he barely knew what he was saying. His mind was wandering, awash with confused memories he had not yet sorted out into any sort of sense. 'They grab at you from all sides, hands dragging at you. I sometimes wonder what it is they want, what they're hoping you'll give them. If it went on too long you'd get frightened—so much need, so much emotion, and there isn't enough in any one person to satisfy them.'

  He had stopped eating and she began to collect up the plates. 'Leave them,' said Joe, frowning like a fretful child. Quincy sat down again and asked: 'Coffee?'

  'Yes,' he said, and got up, too, and went back to the couch. She watched him stretch out, then softly cleared the little table and went to make the coffee. He had his eyes shut again when she came back with the tray. She would have quietly crept out once more if he hadn't opened his eyes and looked at her again.

  That smile was back. 'I always feel you there,' he said. 'Isn't that odd? You're so quiet, but I can feel you if you're in the same room.' He shut his eyes again in that abrupt way and Quincy put down the tray and sat on the couch to pour the coffee. She had the feeling Joe was still not quite aware of what he was saying or doing. His mind was totally blown, he was in a state of nervous collapse after the tension of the concerts.

  Turning to see if he was awake enough to drink his coffee, she found him watching her with half-raised lids, the gleaming jet of his eyes showing through his lashes.

  He lazily put out a hand and pulled her down towards him. Quincy let herself curl against his body, her mouth dry as Joe tipped up her chin and began to kiss her softly.

  She did not feel she was in any danger from Joe tonight—he was far too tired. That was why he was here, why he had come to her—he was in desperate need of a female presence which would comfort, not demand, which would give, not take.

  Her lips parted, a curious trembling beginning deep inside her, her hand lifting to his windswept black hair, stroking it back from his face, her fingers combing through it and shaping the modelling of his skull beneath. Joe murmured huskily, his hand at her waist, and slid sideways, drawing her with him so that they lay on the couch entwined, their bodies warm and close. His kiss deepened without force, the movements of his mouth hungry, as though her warmth flowed into him and renewed him, her life force recharging his.

  Her arm around his neck, her thighs tangled with his, she felt his heart beating slowly and heavily against her own, but there was still no threat in their embrace.

  Even while he kissed her and his hand moved softly over her he seemed on the verge of sleep, the gentle movements of their mouths soothing him, his body entirely relaxed.

  She was so much at ease that her body jerked with shock as Joe's fingers moved inside her robe to rind the warm, naked flesh beneath.

  'No!' she broke out with a gasp, but his mouth silenced the little cry, gently caressing her lips to prevent them from denying him that access to her. She put a hand up to his shoulder to thrust him away, and he caught it and twined his fingers with hers, clasping her hand against his softly breathing chest.

  Quincy felt the languid exploration of his other hand with an explosive awareness, her nerves on fire throughout her whole body, her nipples hardening as his fingertips brushed over them, her white flesh swelling as his palm cupped it and made her skin ache with the heated blood beneath.

  He would not release her mouth, coaxing her lips, playing with them, his tongue tip flicking softly and making her tremble, faint moans of pleasure breathed into his mouth. She had forgotten everything but the intense sensuality of his lovemaking, led blindfold, step by step, into a trap she had not suspected, her caution abandoned in what she imagined to be his extreme exhaustion. He had deftly undone his own shirt while he held her hand against him, and laid her fingers on his warm, bare chest before curving his free hand around the back of her head, his fingers gripping her hair, holding her captive while he kissed her with a growing passion.

  'I need you,' he breathed huskily, and a pulse beat like a cruel drum deep inside her, the aroused ache of desire taking her over and holding her helpless in his arms.

  'I can't,' she whispered, trying to break free, raising herself desperately.

  'Quincy,' he muttered, his eyes open now, staring up at her flushed, disturbed face.

  'Don't!' She hardly knew what she was begging him not to do—he was using no force now, he was only gazing at her with dark eyes filled with a need echoed inside herself, his whole face taut with the same desire which was throbbing inside her.

  He had undone her belt and the white towelling robe had fallen open, leaving her naked body visible. Joe's gaze travelled slowly, hungrily, over the smooth curve of it from breast to waist, from slim rounded hips to the pale thighs, and Quincy's face burned under the impact of that desiring stare, feeling his eyes imprinted on her naked skin like fiery branding marks.

  'If you wanted a woman, why didn't you take one of those who throw themselves at you?' she burst out hoarsely. 'I'm not on offer!'

  She scrambled up and Joe made no attempt to detain her, letting her go, his hand limply falling back.

  She turned and stood with her back to him. 'You'd better go,' she muttered.

  She heard the slow, stiff movement as he forced himself to get up. He did not go, however. He stood there, giving a heavy sigh.

  'I'm sorry, Quincy
. I had no right…'

  'No, you hadn't!' she interrupted angrily.

  'I didn't come here with that in mind,' he said wearily. 'That wasn't my intention. I just didn't think at all. I needed some safe place to be, some comfort. I miss my family when I'm on tour. I was driven by instinct, I was acting blind. I'm sorry.'

  She was silent, then, her belt tied tightly again, her head bent, the light soft curls tumbled forward, leaving her nape bare.

  'What have you done to your beautiful hair?' Joe asked, as if he had just noticed the change in her appearance. 'Why have you cut it off? It was lovely just the way it was.'

  'Carmen took me to a beauty parlour,' Quincy started, and heard him swear softly.

  'Why did you let her change you?' he almost accused.

  'It seemed to be part of the deal,' Quincy explained. 'You're all set on your own way, you never ask, just try to make everyone give in to you.'

  He gave a wrenched, angry sigh. 'I'm sorry.'

  'Stop saying that, you don't mean it!'

  'Why would I say it if I didn't?' he asked in that low, weary voice. She felt him right behind her and before she could stiffen and move away he had brushed his lips lightly over her exposed nape. 'I am sorry, Quincy, believe it or not as you choose,' he said, then walked away towards the door.

  Quincy watched the slow tired movements of his body. He had his sheepskin jacket over his arm and she sensed that his muscles were only just obeying him. Now that the fevered need inside him had stopped driving him, he was back in his state of blind exhaustion.

  'You'd better stay the night,' she said almost crossly, and he stopped and looked round at her, surprise in his face.

  'You can sleep on the couch,' she said. 'I'll get you some blankets.'

  'Sure?' Joe asked, but he was already retracing his steps.

  'Yes, I'll catch Lilli before she comes in here—you'll be able to sleep undisturbed.'

  He sank down on the couch, lying full length, his eyes closing, the lashes sinking on to his strong brown cheeks. By the time Quincy got back with two spare blankets, he was asleep, his head turned sideways against a cushion, his arm flung up to guard his eyes from the light. Quincy stood looking down at him, a queer little pain inside her chest, a jab of tenderness for him that hurt. Gently she covered him with the blankets and he stirred briefly, mumbling, without opening his eyes.

  She walked to the door and switched off the light, then went out, shutting the door behind her. She was going into the bedroom when Lilli let herself in at the front door and halted, surprise in her face.

  'Still up? I expected you to be in bed by now. Quin, I'm sorry about tonight, honestly. Rehearsals just went on and on, I thought I'd never get away. Mark wouldn't give up until he had something approaching what he wanted.'

  'It doesn't matter,' Quincy assured her, and, as her sister went to walk past, stepped into her path, shaking her head. 'Don't go into the sitting-room, Joe Aldonez is asleep on our couch.'

  Lilli stared at her with disbelief, her eyes rounding. 'What did you say?'

  'Joe Aldonez is asleep on our couch,' said Quincy, knowing she had flushed.

  'That was what I thought you said,' Lilli told her, taking her arm and pulling her into the bedroom. She shut the door and turned to stare at Quincy. 'Am I going to get an explanation, or do I just guess?' she asked, and there was something strange in her face.

  Quincy stared, baffled, for a second, then hot colour rushed up her face. 'You don't think… well… Lilli!'

  'Coherent, aren't you?' said Lilli, starting to laugh and relaxing a little at the stammered words. 'So you and Mr Aldonez haven't been making whoopee on my couch?'

  'No!' Quincy snapped angrily, refusing to remember the hectic lovemaking which had begun and would probably have gone on until now if she hadn't pulled herself together.

  'Then what's he doing here?'

  'He was so tired,' Quincy explained. 'His tour was exhausting and he walked out on the final party. I think he came here because they wouldn't think of looking for him here…'

  'They?' asked Lilli, looking puzzled.

  Quincy shrugged. 'The people who run his life— men like Billy Griffith, his manager. From what Joe said to me he rarely has any time to himself, he works far too hard. Suddenly he was sick of it all, and he bolted.'

  Lilli studied her curiously. 'To you,' she said in a very soft, thoughtful voice.

  'What?' Quincy tried to look blank and baffled, but her lips curved in a little smile. Joe had come to find her and she couldn't help feeling a stab of pleasure in the thought.

  Her sister was watching her. 'What's going on between you two?' she asked. 'Joe Aldonez is a top star, he must be worth millions. Why should he come to you to find a bolthole? I thought you barely knew him, have you been holding out on me, Quincy?'

  'Of course not!' denied Quincy, but her eyes did not quite meet her sister's.

  'Life's full of surprises,' Lilli murmured. 'I thought I knew you right through to your backbone, but it just shows—you should never take anyone at face value.'

  'I don't know what you're talking about,' Quincy said crossly. 'Have you eaten, or would you like me to get you some supper?'

  'Mark took us out,' said Lilli, her face changing. 'He bought us a late supper at a fish restaurant near the river.' Laughter filled her eyes. 'He was brave enough to have lobster—I hope he doesn't have trouble getting to sleep.'

  'What did you have?' Quincy asked.

  'I played safe and had cold salmon with salad,' Lilli told her. 'I need my beauty sleep.' She yawned, her face tired. 'Which reminds me, I must get to bed, I'm whacked.'

  When they were both in bed with the light out, Quincy lay awake listening to her sister's quiet breathing, wondering how she was going to face Joe in the morning. How would he look at her, remembering tonight?

  She slept so deeply that it wasn't until Lilli shook her hard that her eyes fluttered open and, dazedly, she stared up at her sister.

  'Hallo, sleeping beauty, for a minute I thought I was going to have to drop a bomb to wake you up—I've been trying to get through to you for about five minutes.' Lilli gestured to a cup of tea on the bedside table. 'I made some tea. Now I've got to rush—we've got an early call for rehearsals this morning.'

  Quincy sat up, yawning, for a few seconds forgetting all that had happened last night. As she reached for the cup, memory returned in a violent flood and she halted, her lips parted on a gasp. 'Joe!' she muttered, and her sister gave her a quizzical look.

  'He'd gone when I got up,' she said. 'A very polite guest, I may say—he'd folded his blankets and left the room spotlessly tidy. When you see him, tell him he'; welcome to use my couch any time he needs it.'

  Quincy slackened, a faint painful disappointment in her veins as she forced a smile. 'Oh, I see,' she said. He might have stayed long enough to say goodbye, she thought.

  Lilli threw her another quick, amused glance, then said very softly: 'He left this for you.' Walking to the door, she tossed an envelope on to the bed. 'Bye, darling,' she said, as she went out, and Quincy heard her laughing to herself.

  The envelope lay on the end of the bed. Quincy looked at it, trembling, then scrambled down the bed to get it and climbed back inside the sheets, sitting up with the envelope in her hand, staring at her own name written on the front of it, in a strong, bold hand.

  Joe's handwriting conjured him up in front of her, the flowing lines of it black and powerful, full of certainty and assurance.

  She tore it open and read the few words scribbled on to a sheet of writing paper inside. 'Thank you for last night.'

  A warm blush crawled up her face from her neck. Anyone reading that might get a very false impression from the words. She was glad he had sealed it down— Lilli would certainly have misunderstood.

  She drank her tea and got up, took a quick bath and got dressed in a pair of white jeans, slipping a thin blue woollen sweater over the top of her head. Inside the folds she didn't, at first, hear the
doorbell, but as she pulled the sweater down the insistent noise startled her and she ran to open the door.

  'Hallo, Quincy.'

  She couldn't believe her eyes for a long moment, staring at Brendan in astonishment, then she demanded: 'What are you doing here?'

  'I decided to take a few days off,' he said, but he was rather uneasy, his face betraying uncertainty. 'Can I come in?' he asked, and Quincy automatically stepped back to let him walk past her.

  She followed him into the sitting-room and watched him glancing around. He looked different in London. At home he normally wore shabby, untidy working clothes—tweed jackets and old sweaters, grey cords and heavy boots. Today he was wearing a suit, and she rarely remembered seeing Brendan in a suit. It was far from being elegant or expensive—the dark material had been carefully pressed, though, and his blue-striped shirt looked new.

  Suspiciously, Quincy asked: 'Now tell me the truth—why have you come?'

  Brendan was not used to evading the truth. He couldn't meet her eyes. 'Why shouldn't I come to London once in a blue moon?'

  'It seems a strange coincidence,' Quincy accused. 'Did my parents suggest you came?'

  'Good lord, no!' Brendan denied, and this time he did look at her, his face surprised. 'They don't even know,' he added, and she believed him.

  Quincy hesitated, frowning. She was very fond of Brendan, but she prickled with resentment at the idea that he had followed her to London in order to keep an eye on her. 'If you've come with some idea of protecting me from big bad wolves, you can take the first train home, Brendan,' she said crossly. 'I'm in no danger from anyone.'

  'Aren't you?' Brendan asked rather gloomily. 'I suspect you wouldn't even know if you were—you're not used to dealing with men like Aldonez, Quincy, he's far too sophisticated for you, and he'd be ruthless to get his own way.'

  A flicker of doubt showed in her face. She was about to deny what Brendan had said, angrily throw it back at him, but then she remembered the smooth way Joe had gradually seduced her into those meltingly sweet kisses, his approach so slow and gentle she had felt quite safe with him until she realised how far they had gone.