Merle roused around one in the morning, saw the blue screen of the TV, and used the remote to turn it off. Then she curled around him, his arm settling on her waist even though he was asleep, and she lay there for ages until her eyelids descended again.
It was half past five when Neon finally woke properly, an hour before his alarm was due to go off. Merle was still asleep, and he lay there for a while, studying her, wondering whether he should leave her, as she looked so comfortable. Eventually, however, like a small boy faced with an open box of sweets, he couldn’t resist starting to touch her, placing kisses on her cheeks, tracing light fingers over her skin.
She roused and looked up at him, smiling, her blue eyes hazy with sleep. “Morena.”
“Morena, sweetheart.”
She blinked sleep away, then looked at the clock. “Do you have to get up?”
“Not yet. Go back to sleep if you want.”
She started to smile. “I can’t while you’re doing that.” His fingers were circling her breasts.
“Turn over. Then I won’t be tempted.”
She did so, her lips curling, closing her eyes and sighing as he continued to trace his fingers across her back, following the line of her waist, skimming her hips, brushing up her spine. He caressed her for ages, drawing korus and other patterns across her skin, joining up her moles, telling her they made a picture of Winston Churchill, which made her laugh.
Then he started writing his name with his finger, over and over, all down her back, on her arms, her hips.
“Are you worried I’m going to call out the wrong name or something?”
He didn’t laugh. “I’m branding you.”
“Like a cow?”
“I’m making sure you never forget me. This will always be here, like a tattoo.”
She caught her breath. His fingers laced the letters of his name in thick capitals, then in handwriting, then in copperplate with loops and swirls, then in French, with the accent on the e. His fingers felt hot, almost as if he had been speaking the truth and he really was searing the letters into her skin. Unbidden, tears came into her eyes. She bit her lip, making sure they didn’t form. She didn’t want to give him a reason to be impatient or irritated as he had been with Ella at the end.
He turned her onto her back and looked at her searchingly. She forced her lips into a smile, reached up and brushed the hair from his forehead. “I won’t forget you, Napoleon Carter.”
He didn’t even comment on her use of his full name. “I’ll make sure you don’t.” His hand brushed her body, starting to caress her. “Every time you make love to another guy, I want you to think of me.”
He lowered his lips to kiss her. She accepted it, fighting the urge to push him away. It was such a cruel, arrogant thing to say, particularly because she knew it was now extremely unlikely she’d ever be able to sleep with another man. This was it. When she returned to England, she would throw herself into her work, into looking after her mother, and she would never date again. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone else touching her. At that moment, she loved him desperately, had fallen deeply in love with him, like Ella and probably all the women before her.
She wanted to hate him for his words, and yet she couldn’t blame him because it was exactly how she felt too. Some part of her hoped when she was gone, he would ache with longing for her and be unable to sleep with anyone else. Somehow, though, she knew it wouldn’t be the same for him. There would be other women—soon, knowing his sex drive—and, one day, eventually, he would forget her. He would assume it couldn’t have been as good as he imagined. He would get married and have children, and she would be a distant memory, a nostalgic reminiscence at Christmastime. He might swim in the pool or watch The West Wing, think briefly of her and smile.
She bit her lip hard as he started kissing her body, tracing his tongue down her skin. She mustn’t think about anything other than this moment, this second. She had to live in the present and make the most of being there with him. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t promised her anything. She’d known what he was like when she first slept with him. Bree had told her before she even met him, “His middle name’s ‘Feral’.”
His words just now had been of the moment, a passionate statement, like telling someone you love them when you’re drunk. He didn’t mean it. He was trying to let her know he was enjoying the time they were having.
So, she let him make love to her slowly, very slowly. He spent ages covering her with kisses, licking every inch of her skin, tasting her, touching her, as if he wanted to commit every little freckle, every hair to memory. He made her turn over so he could do the same to her back, tracing kisses along her legs, then up, before turning her onto her back again and eventually moving up to her face, taking a long time to kiss her properly, deep, languorous kisses, brushing her tongue with his, until she was sighing, her body desperate for him.
Eventually he gave in and lay on top of her, nudging her legs apart to slide into her. He moved gently, pausing in between each thrust to kiss her, demanding she keep her eyes open, as if he also wanted to brand himself on the back of her retinas, forcing her to see him when she shut her eyes, like looking into a camera flash.
As she came, she thought she saw a glimmer of moisture in his eyes, but then he smiled and it was gone. As he joined in with his own climax, she clutched hold of him, knowing it would be the last time, feeling the knowledge deep inside her, almost unbearable, wishing she could freeze time and make the moment last forever.
Chapter Fourteen
Afterward, it was time for him to get ready for work. He showered, then she went into the bathroom while he got dressed. When she came out, he was standing by the window, staring out at the heavy tropical rain that had started to fall, pooling on the deck. She studied him for a moment without moving. He’d pulled on jeans but had yet to don a T-shirt, and her gaze lingered on his muscles and the beautiful curling tattoo, and she smiled as she thought about how she’d traced it with her tongue.
Then she thought about the fact that she had merely minutes left with him. Four whole days and nights they’d shared, and now they were over. For a moment, she was tempted to ask whether he’d like to meet up after he finished work the next day—the night before she flew back. But they’d agreed on the timeline—he’d mentioned the four days right from the beginning, and she didn’t want to plead for extra time.
He turned and looked over at her, but she didn’t say anything. Her throat tightened, but she was determined not to make a fuss. She made herself think of Ella, of the look on his face when he’d spoken to her on the phone that day, impatient, irritated. She didn’t want him to look like that because of her.
She smiled, and he smiled back, well mannered as strangers. She slipped on her skirt and top as he found a shirt, and went back into the bathroom to gather her few items, bringing them out and stuffing them in her bag. She brushed her hair rapidly and caught it up with a clip. Her heart was pounding, and she felt suddenly sick.
He cleared his throat. “Do you want a cup of something before you go?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She couldn’t have forced any food or drink past her lips.
“Okay.” He pulled on socks and shoes. She finished packing her bag. They completed the tasks in silence.
When they were both ready, he locked the doors to the decking. Then it was time to go.
Merle’s stomach churned, but she kept the emotion from her face. She would not let him see her cry. She would not be one of the women he talked about to his mates, who always asked too much of him, who weren’t happy with just sex. She wanted him to have fond memories of her. To think of her, maybe every little while, with a smile.
She walked out to the car, leaving him to lock the front door, and climbed in, her heart pounding. He joined her and started the car, heading it up the drive, past the orange trees. She had to use all her inner strength not to turn around and look longingly back at the house, at the beautiful pool she would neve
r see again.
They drove in silence to Bree’s house and pulled into the drive. He put the car into park but left the engine running. She got the message. He didn’t want to wait and draw out the goodbye.
She turned to face him, her heart thumping. She made herself smile, her eyes warm. “Have a good day.”
He nodded. His fingers tapped on the wheel. “You too.”
She bit her lip. Wasn’t he going to say anything? “We had a good time, didn’t we?”
For the first time he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yes. We did.”
“Thank you for a great four days, Neon. I’ve had such fun.”
“Me too.”
“Thanks for letting me stay at your house. Although I guess it was like showing a captured spy the plans for an invasion, knowing they’re going to be shot the next day.”
He started laughing. “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”
She grinned. That was how she wanted to remember him, laughing, a teasing light in his eyes. She bent forward and kissed him quickly, lingering ever so slightly, then pulled back and got out of the car. There was nothing more to be said. She ran over to the house and let herself in, not looking back.
Inside, she leaned against the door, waiting. For a moment, there was no sound. Then she heard the engine rev and the scrunch of tyres on gravel. The car went down the drive, and she heard it disappear up the main road.
Footsteps came along the hall and Bree appeared, rubbing her eyes. “Oh hi! You’re early!” She stopped, looking at Merle’s face. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” said Merle. Then she pressed a hand to her mouth and burst into tears.
Bree led her to the kitchen table and made her a cup of tea, then sat beside her and handed her tissues as she made Merle tell her what had happened.
“I should have known it was a bad idea, you staying there.” She sighed as Merle wiped away the tears, only to have more take their place.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Merle sniffed. “I only had myself to blame. I shouldn’t have stayed, but I couldn’t say no. We had such a good time, I thought…”
“What?”
“I thought he… I don’t know.”
“Loved you?”
“Maybe.” She wiped her face again and tried to smile. “Stupid, eh? I’ve only known him for a week.”
Bree studied her. “I think he does love you, in his own, crazy, anti-commitment way. It certainly showed in his eyes the other day at the restaurant. But Merle, even if he does, did you think he’d say it? He knows you’re going away. He knows your life is in England, that you would never leave Mum. I mean, it was never going to work, was it?”
“I know, I know…” Merle put her face in her hands and drew a long, shaky sigh. “God, I’m so stupid…”
“You’re not stupid, you’re in love.”
Merle looked up. Jake had appeared, hands in his pockets.
Merle blinked at her. “In love?”
“Well, duh.” Bree rolled her eyes. “Did you tell him you loved him?”
“No. I wouldn’t have done that. I saw how he was when he was on the phone to Ella. He hated it. I wasn’t going to do that to him.”
Bree glanced at Jake, who turned and walked out of the room. She sighed, frowning. “What a bloody, complicated mess. I’m to blame for introducing you in the first place and putting that stupid idea in your head about sleeping with someone. I never thought it would lead to this.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m sorry to turn up on your doorstep like this. But I will get over him. It was a shock this morning, it was horrible leaving him, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”
Merle spent the morning curled up on the sofa, watching TV, her gaze drifting to the rain outside. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Neon was doing. Was he out on a call or sitting in the station, doing paperwork? Was he thinking of her at all?
She didn’t want any lunch. Bree fussed around her, bringing her drinks. When Jake went into town, Bree decided to stay behind. Merle didn’t object. She didn’t want to be alone.
When Jake came back, Merle heard him discussing something in the kitchen with Bree. She sat up. Bree was watching her, brow furrowed. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Bree smiled.
“Bree… I’m not stupid.”
Her sister sighed. Jake came over and kissed the top of Merle’s head. “The fire alarm went off while I was in town. All the engines are out and so are all the ambulances from St John’s. It must be quite a big emergency.”
Merle’s eyes met Bree’s. She swallowed. “Would he have gone out with them?”
Jake nodded. “Probably. But he’ll be fine, Merle. He plays more of an observing role now. He won’t be on the front line.”
She said nothing, lying back on the sofa, watching the rain again. It was ridiculous to be worried. He wasn’t her man. He wasn’t hers to worry about. And it was his job, for Christ’s sake. He knew what he was doing.
Three hours went by, and it was still raining. Merle read a magazine and watched a chat show, although she couldn’t have told Bree anything about either of them. Then she went into the bedroom and lay on the bed, looking out at the sodden garden, the dripping palms. She felt knotted inside, and her head was spinning. She wished she were flying back to the UK that night. Not because she wanted to leave New Zealand—she ached at the thought. And it wasn’t just because of Neon. She had grown to love the country, and it was going to be difficult to say goodbye to her sister. But she thought she had an inkling of how it might feel to be someone who was about to be beheaded at the Tower. You always hoped for a last-minute reprieve, but deep down you knew it wasn’t going to happen, and in the end, you wanted to step up to the block and feel the cold blade on your neck and know it was all over.
There was a knock at the front door. Merle stiffened and walked into the living room to hover in the doorway, meeting Jake’s eyes where he sat in the chair, reading. She heard voices, and Bree appeared with Julia close behind.
Julia stopped when she saw Merle, smiled, came over and kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, Merle.”
“Hi, Julia.”
Neon’s mother followed Bree to the sofa and sat. Merle hesitated, then perched on the arm of one of the chairs.
“I’ve heard from Neon,” said Julia. “He gave me a quick ring and I thought you might want to know what’s going on.”
Jake nodded. “I heard the sirens.”
“There’s been an accident on State Highway Ten at Bulls Gorge. A busload of tourists crashed. They think it was due to the bad weather. It veered off the road, taking a couple of cars with it and rolled, and it’s now upside down.”
“Oh no.” Both Merle and Bree covered their mouths.
“The bus was full. The driver of one of the cars is dead, and a couple of the bus passengers have died. They’ve got most of the passengers out, but there’s some problem with the last section of the bus. Something’s collapsed or been crushed, and they’re trapped. And there are children in there.”
Merle stood and walked over to the window, her arms wrapped around her body, looking out at the rain. She stayed there as the others discussed the accident, her mind whirling, thinking of Neon out there in this awful weather, trying to deal with such a horrendous event. Part of her felt a swell of pride. He would be calm and organised, and would do his utmost to get everyone out safely. Hopefully he would look after himself and not take any unnecessary risks. She turned as Julia spoke.
“Would you mind if I stayed here for a bit?” Julia said. “Pierre’s gone to Auckland and the house is so quiet!”
Bree leaned over and kissed her. “Of course not. I’ll put the kettle on.”
Merle continued to look out at the rain as she heard Bree bustling around in the kitchen. After a few minutes, she felt a presence at her side and turned to see Julia standing there, looking at her.
“Are you okay?” Julia said. “You look very pale.”
Merle nodde
d, touched Julia had asked. “I’m fine, thank you.”
Julia’s eyes were wide and brown, very like her son’s. “Did you say goodbye this morning?”
Merle nodded. Unbidden, a rush of tears came into her eyes, and she bit her lip hard, turning her head. Julia sighed, came up and put her arm around her. Merle couldn’t stop a tear falling down her cheek, and she cursed as she wiped it away. “Sorry,” she said, giving a small smile. “You must have to do this with a lot of Neon’s girls.”
Julia gave her a funny look. “Sweetheart, you’re not just one of his ‘girls’. I assumed you knew that.”
Merle frowned. “Thank you for being so sweet. But we both knew it was just a quick fling when we got together.”
Julia studied Merle, her face expressionless. “What did he say to you this morning?”
Merle blinked, wiping away another tear, annoyed with herself. “He didn’t say anything. I didn’t expect him to, Julia.”
Julia turned and looked out of the window. She gave a small, ironic laugh. “My son’s an idiot.” Her eyes came back to Merle’s, and she sighed, but she didn’t say any more.
At that moment, Bree brought over two mugs of tea, and Julia took hers and sat. Merle sipped hers, wondering what Julia had meant. She would probably never find out. She looked out at the rain. Tomorrow she would be out of here, and maybe then she could get on with her life.
Another hour and a half went by. Bree prepared some tea, and they all nibbled—apart from Jake whose appetite was almost as big as Neon’s—and tried to watch TV.
They paid more attention when the news finally came on. The accident was the third story, and there were already camera crews there. The four of them sat on the edge of their seats as they saw the scene from a helicopter, gasping at the sight of the bus crumpled at the base of the bank. The camera cut to a reporter, who stood with a firefighter on the edge of the scene.
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