by Margaret Way
“Possibly because you’ve never had to spend time in a kitchen,” he suggested dryly.
“Well, there’s that,” she admitted. “You did this all yourself?”
“No professional chef hiding behind the scenes,” he said. “My primary mode of action is learning how to do things. I’m no different from anyone else. I love food. Asian food in particular. The way it’s presented so beautifully. Just because I’m on my own, it doesn’t mean I’ll settle for fast food. I don’t.”
The freshly shucked oysters were superb, served with a spicy Asian version of the classic basil pesto. Clio could taste the chilli and the coriander. She took a small helping of the Vietnamese chicken and prawn salad sprinkled with ground roasted peanuts. Delicious! The same could be said of the salt and pepper baby squid with green papaya. A melt-in-the-mouth barramundi parcel with a ginger and spring-onion sauce arranged on bok choy and she thought she had never tasted a better meal. Both of them had been using chopsticks, Josh with more expertise, but she wasn’t far behind.
Afterwards she wanted to help him clear the table, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “Can I at least peer into the kitchen?” she asked.
“You can. I make a habit of cleaning up as I go so you won’t find a mess.”
She made a sound of amusement. “You don’t really need a wife, Josh.”
He turned back to face her. He was wearing a bluegrey linen shirt that showed off the fine set of his shoulders, dark jeans, a silver-buckled belt slung around his narrow waist. “Remaining a bachelor may have saved me a great deal of trouble.” He smiled.
She tilted her head to one side. “You’re saying women are trouble?”
“I’m saying a woman can bring heaven or hell. There’s an old saying that happiness is part angel and part debt collector.”
For a moment she felt saddened. “We love for good or ill, Josh. We can’t take out insurance. Losing my mother robbed my father of all capacity for happiness. He’s as connected to her now as he was then.”
“Obviously he feels very deeply. Your mother’s death was a tragedy. Some people can’t move on quickly, even though everyone around them wants them to make haste. He should never have married Keeley.”
“No,” she said quietly.
They were inside the kitchen with its beautiful timber cabinetry, black granite benchtops, with light bouncing off the stainless-steel appliances, everything with sleek lines. As he’d said, absolutely no mess.
“You don’t have to tell me, but I have an idea Keeley pulled the pregnancy trick?” Josh put the last of the platters into the dishwasher. “Your father, an honourable man, would have made the instant decision to marry her.”
Depressingly true. “All in the past, Josh.”
“So we’ll let it slide. Have you ever seen a clip of Bobby Kennedy’s address to a very dangerous crowd in Indianapolis after the assassination of Martin Luther King?’
Tears sprang to her eyes. “As a matter of fact, several times. The wisdom of the greats can calm the souls of the most violent and uneducated of men. You’re referring to the lines he quoted from Aeschylus?”
Josh nodded, unsurprised by her knowledge. “He who learns must suffer, and, even in our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.” Kennedy had suffered the loss of his brother. Everyone knew that. You could say that by the grace of God Kennedy brought that entire crowd under control quoting from a Greek dramatist who’d died some 500 years before Christ.
She felt intensely moved. “Have you learned through suffering, Josh?” she asked very gently.
There was a faint tremor in his hand. He was right to worship Clio. “I’ve still got a way to go,” he said, more brusquely than he intended. “I learned through books.”
“Words are the physicians of the mind diseased. Aeschylus again.”
He nodded, enjoying their rapport. “I read a lot of him. Leo let me take anything I wanted from his library. Maybe your father can dive into it as well. He might learn happiness hasn’t deserted him. There are still wonderful things to fill his life. He has you. He should be looking forward to grandchildren.”
“You mean I should be spending more time looking for a husband?” She stared into his beautiful eyes, received an enigmatic smile in return.
He recognized with searing clarity his own hopes, dreams. Dreams of Clio. “God knows, you don’t have to go looking.” His tone was tense. “You want children, don’t you, Clio?” His eyes traced the lovely sweet curves of her mouth.
“Do you?”
He was in no hurry to answer. “Sometimes I think I’d make a good father. But being a parent is an enormous responsibility. I couldn’t live with falling down on the job.” Abruptly he changed the subject. “Let’s go back into the living room, shall we?” She was standing so close to him the smallest movement would be his undoing. What was so easy with another woman was difficult with Clio. The long years of conditioning had a lingering effect. He was determined he was going to do this evening by the book, even though his willpower, so dramatically forged, had never seemed so frail.
She’s irresistible. She takes your breath away.
It was bliss to be alone with her. Nothing had ever felt like this. He thought he could move the earth for her. At the same time he was very much aware of the position Clio was in. She loved her father. Her father was his declared enemy. It could tear Clio apart to be forced to make a choice between them. For all the years they had known one another, they had only just arrived on this new footing. He would be wise to remember it.
Take it slowly.
His newly found material success would count for nothing with the Templetons. He would never fit Templeton requirements—lack of background, lack of family. What was known was his unmarried mother’s drug-related death. Clio’s family would not be comfortable with that. He didn’t care a jot about them. Clio was his only concern. It almost made him want to go in search of the man who was his father.
They settled in the living room, their conversation moving at a leisurely, enjoyable pace over a range of topics. Their views were pretty much the same, even on the political situation. On the surface they couldn’t have appeared more relaxed or comfortable with each other, but underneath ran a powerful current of sexual excitement that was hell bent on pulling them under. Josh’s arms ached to pull her to him but he braced himself against the driving hunger to know her body.
Finally, when his inner conflicts drew to the force of a giant crashing wave, he straightened up, speaking in a tone that belied his true feelings. “Just tell me when you want me to call the limo.”
Clio too sat straight from where she had been comfortably settled on the sofa. “Why, is time up?” Her voice matched his in casualness yet she was losing the struggle to hold her own strong emotions at bay.
“Who knows when a king tide will sweep in?” Josh said enigmatically. All he could see was her beautiful face, her beautiful body. He wanted her so badly the very air was being forced out of his lungs.
She stared back at him, absorbing his comment. “It’s important for you not to get dragged under, Josh?”
He had never felt so utterly exposed. “It’s you I’m thinking about.”
“You put such pressure on yourself, Josh.” Her voice was unsteady with emotion. “You can never forget yourself completely. I understand where all your control is coming from. But why can’t you follow your heart, Josh?”
“Don’t tempt me, Clio.” His strong hands clenched. “The realistic likelihood is it could all go wrong.”
She didn’t answer, which could have been an answer in itself.
“Then there’s the possibility I could go way past what you want, Clio.”
She had long been exposed to his powerfully erotic presence, yet she said, “You won’t know until you try.” With his eyes on her, her whole body was aquiver, surging towards him. Had she known some of the things Josh had
suffered she would have been horrified, but as it was she needed him so badly her sense of frustration overrode all caution.
“Give it a little longer, Clio.” His gleaming blond head was momentarily bowed.
He seemed to be in pain, but Clio couldn’t right herself. “Hasn’t it been years?” she cried. The enormous pleasure of the evening abruptly was turning to misery. “Is Leo still manipulating us from the grave?”
“Don’t worry, Leo can’t come back,” he said grimly.
“How many women have slept here, Josh?” she asked abruptly, pride bringing her swiftly to her feet.
He looked directly up at her, seeing his own frustration naked in her beautiful face. “I don’t invite women here, Clio.”
“So it’s their places, then?”
His wide shoulders hunched. “Stop it, Clio. I’ve had my share of affairs, but none that really mattered.”
“Why confine yourself to one woman?” Her dark eyes flashed fire.
Josh released a harsh breath. “There’s always been that part of me that is yours, Clio.”
Despite such a momentous admission, he started to move away from her. Angered beyond belief, Clio went after him. “Josh, stand still.”
He told himself to keep moving, call up the limo. “Clio, please stop this,” he said.
Only she was behind him, laying her face against his back, winding her arms around him like tendrils he never wished to escape. “What is it you fear, Josh? What is it about me?”
He, of all people, was appallingly vulnerable to this woman. “If we make love, it will change our lives, Clio,” he told her with great intensity. “It wouldn’t be any passing affair. Not for me. But you might have regrets. It could endanger your relationship with your father, the entire Templeton clan.”
“Oh, to hell with them!” she cried hotly.
“You don’t mean that.” He could feel the press of her small, perfect breasts against his back. He hungered to take the warm weight of them in his palms, catching the rose-pink nipples between thumb and finger, catching them gently with his teeth, encircling each sensitized berry with his hungry mouth. He wanted to touch her in places he had only dreamed of touching her. He wanted to make love to her so badly he was astounded he was maintaining any sort of control.
“You surely don’t wish for things to remain the way they are, Josh?” she implored. “Or is this some kind of waiting game? Kisses, no sex?”
White-hot excitement was swamping him. Didn’t she know that? He found himself nearly shouting, “Clio, let go!”
He hadn’t changed from when he’d been a boy, yelling at her to go away. In an instant she pulled away. “Take my word for it, I’ll never bother you again,” she said in a frozen voice.
“Is that a promise?” It was a comment, so extreme, so perverse it had to be a form of madness. He had spent so long obsessed about her, yet here he was holding her off. Memories of terrible loss haunted him down his days. He didn’t think he could bear having Clio then losing her should she ultimately choose family over him. Surely this was something they had to work out?
“Call the car for me, please.” Clio had her face averted. She forced herself to move towards the door.
“Clio, you’re not crying?” Josh’s handsome face contorted with pain. “Clio?” When she didn’t respond, he reached for her, taking hold of a bare shoulder.
She whirled on him, her beauty at that moment breathtakingly dramatic. “What is this, Josh? You wish me away, but maybe we can do it another time?”
He didn’t know what frightened him most, creating a space between them or hauling her into his arms. There was such a roaring in his ears. “Clio, don’t cry for me,” he begged. “Don’t ever cry for me.”
She was aware of his fierce agitation, knowing she was the cause of it. “But I love you, Josh,” she cried. “Love you. Don’t you get it? Love you until the end of time. Sounds like a song, doesn’t it? I think it is a song. I’ve loved you since I was nine years old. God, isn’t that extravagant? I’m just so sorry you don’t want to love me.” Tears were coursing down her face now.
He stared down at her, blue eyes blazing like sapphires. She loved him! That heartfelt declaration detonated deep in the core of his being. He willed himself to believe it. Clio loved him! Could it be true? “But if you were me, Clio?” he asked, nearly incoherently. “Think about it. If you were me…” He broke off as if he didn’t know what to say next.
“For God’s sake, Josh,” she cried out in intolerable frustration, “you’re a man women dream about. You make it so impossibly hard for yourself. You make it so hard for me.” She tried to pull away, only he held her powerfully in place. “If only you would speak to me, tell me about your past, your pain, all the abuses and humiliations you endured, the cause of your burning rage. Only then can I help you. It’s up to you Josh.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? Miracle cures don’t come overnight, Clio, if at all. Please don’t leave when you’re angry. I have problems, I admit.”
“If only you’d speak to me,” she implored.
“I can’t do that, Clio,” he said, looming over her. “Not yet, anyway. I have things inside me I need to resolve. The last thing I want is to sicken you with any of my disclosures. My problems are all my own. But please don’t leave like this.”
“I am leaving, you crazy, contrary man,” Clio was startled by the force of her own anger. “I want to help you. You won’t let me. Well, I’ve had it up to here!” She put up a hand to a point high above her head.
All of a sudden Josh was swept by unbearable tenderness. “Where?” he asked, putting up his own hand. “Your tears scald my heart, Clio. What I feel for you is a fever that never gives me peace. You say you love me. Do you realize you don’t know me? You only think you love me. This is the fear. I only have to speak and it mightn’t be so. The words would stick in my throat. You shouldn’t rush to get angry with me. Please try to understand.” He bent his head to kiss her forehead, but when she didn’t offer resistance, with a shudder his body took over from his mind. He began to trail kisses down over her face, her flushed cheeks, beneath her chin, coming back to settle compulsively on her mouth. He longed to be freed from his chains. Could Clio do it? It was a huge ask. “I’d be happy to kiss you until the end of time,” he breathed into her open mouth.
She was drenched by the now-familiar excitement. Kisses were wonderful but she wanted him to carry her to his bed.
Abruptly he threw up his blond head. “I want you to understand my need to set limits with you, Clio. Some part of me believes you may need protection from me. Leo believed it. So does your father.”
“Oh, Josh!” It was a heartfelt lament. “I trust you with my life. So Leo tried to brainwash us both?” She spoke the painful truth. “He did help you in so many ways. You’re right, he was afraid of you, just like Dad. Afraid you might steal their little girl.”
“Maybe they were right to feel afraid,” he said sombrely. “Leo, as my trustee, had access to my files. I have been violent in the past, Clio. Violence had become part of my life.”
“At the same time violence could have been your salvation. I’m certain you would have always acted in self-defence.”
“Not always, Clio,” he admitted. “It’s a horrible thing to have to submit to injustice year after year. Child psychologists who didn’t have a clue. After a while I just kept my mouth shut. No one really listened. They wrote me off.”
“But you’ve challenged the past and won, Josh,” she insisted, staring up into his face. “You must see that. Leo’s not here any more to direct our lives.”
“Clio, he wasn’t going to do that for much longer. He knew that. So what would you have me do?” he cried, clearly tormented. “Unleash my desire for you? I’m certain you’ve never had a lover who has pushed you beyond your accepted limits. You still retain your air of innocence. For all I know, you could still be a virgin. The Clio Templeton I know, is a young woman known to never take risks, or
lower her fastidious standards, yet you say you’re prepared to do both with me?”
She could see he was clearly a man at war with himself. She couldn’t force him to submit to her will. “Take me home, Josh,” she said quietly. “We’ll speak again.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
CLIO knocked on the door of her father’s large impressive office that held all the trappings of wealth and success. Huge plate-glass windows panned across a green canopy of trees to the turquoise blue of the Coral Sea. His desk, big enough for a small dinner party, was a piece of splendid craftsmanship, made of English oak with an inlaid green leather top, the perimeter tooled in gold. Inside the air-conditioned office it was blissfully cool, but outside heat bounced off the pavements. The day was overcast with a late afternoon thunderstorm predicted. They could look forward to plenty of storms from now on.
“You wanted to see me, Dad?” she asked, shutting the door carefully behind her.
Lyle extended his hand. “Sit down, Clio.”
She had never heard him speak to her in precisely that manner. Judge of the High Court. His manner was that serious. “What’s this about, Dad? If it’s the Oceania take-over—”
Her father held up his hand to interrupt. “I always knew how clever you are, Clio. We really didn’t give you a chance. I apologize for that. You’re a far better lawyer than I am. Crowley, that old windbag, wasn’t even in the same street. In so many ways I’m enormously proud of you.”
“But? There is a but, Dad?” she prompted.
“Yes, there is. You’re my daughter. My only child. I believe I have the right—”
Clio broke in, trying hard to hold onto her rising temper. “Hang on, don’t talk rights, Dad. I’m twenty-four years old. I’m handling serious legal business. I have my own life, but I’ll always listen to you as a caring parent. So what is it? If it’s about Josh Hart again, this meeting is over.” She raised her voice to press her point home.
