Claire McNab - Kookaburra Gambit

She was on fire, her skin hot against mine, her need so ferocious that I despaired I could ever meet it. And then I caught her passion like a sweet contagion, and surged to match it. "Ariana!"

"Don't say a word."

We were fused together, our passion molten as the sun. With wild joy I felt her body respond beneath my hands, my mouth. She arched, quivering, on the brink, then plunged into a release that wrenched a long cry from her.

I held her tightly, willing her to say my name, but she turned in my arms and drove every thought from my head except for the raw, insatiable need to have her touch me anywhere, everywhere.

In the early morning light, I lay beside Ariana gazing into her unguarded face, gentled by sleep. I'd never made love before like this, been so totally consumed by another person. I'd believed I knew what love was. I'd been wrong.

It sounded so trite when put it in words, but I did love Ariana completely-body, mind, and spirit. And I feared I could never risk telling her that I did.

When she opened her eyes, it was the unruffled, detached Ariana back in control. She said, "Good morning," as though we'd just met in the hallway of the offices, then swung herself out of bed in one graceful movement. She put on a silk dressing gown-not black, for a change, but a pale green-and went into the bathroom. She put her head out to tell me there was a guest bathroom, and where I would find a towel.

I got up, collected my clothes, and went to have a quick shower. I realized with a shock that I didn't want to face her this morning. She'd see in my eyes what I felt about her. And she'd be detached but kind. How I'd hate that.

Examining myself in the bathroom mirror, I found I looked reassuringly normal. I tried a smile. Not a success. This was going to be hard.

When I opened the bathroom door, Gussie came in, wagging her tail, and I gave her a hug. Then I straightened my shoulders and went into the kitchen, where I could hear Ariana moving about.

"Scrambled eggs?" she said over her shoulder.

"That would be great."

"Help yourself to coffee."

"Thank you."

Ah, we were so formal today. A finger of fire touched me as an image from last night flickered in my mind.

How should I play this? Not needy. That would drive Ariana away completely. Brittle sophistication wasn't me. Safest to imagine it was the same as a night with Chantelle, a lovely romp in the sheets, with no significant emotional entanglements. A subject for banter, not serious feelings.

She served the eggs, buttered the toast, and sat opposite me in the breakfast booth. We ate in silence for a few moments, then she put down her fork and for the first time this morning looked directly at me.

"Kylie, last night… It was a mistake."

"You're sorry it happened?"

The faintest of smiles touched her lips. "I'd be lying if I said I was sorry. Last night I needed someone."

"That's such a cliché."

Ariana blinked at me. "What?"

"Next you'll be saying it was the alcohol."

She sat back and regarded me with a quizzical expression.

I said, "Then I'll say to you, 'Are you playing hard to get?' and you'll say to me…" I gestured for her to fill in the words.

"I'm impossible to get."

"Excellent," I said. "You understand the cliché game very well."

I took a sour pleasure in the fact I'd disconcerted her. A feather of anger brushed me. Was Ariana expecting I'd behave like some young teenager caught up in the exciting rush of a first sexual infatuation? But then I realized I wasn't being fair. I'd asked myself in, and she'd accepted. There'd been no stipulation that she fall in love.

I looked up to find her watching me. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

Sliding out of the booth, I said, "I'm thinking I must be going. I've got a busy day ahead."

Ariana followed me to the door, a slight, puzzled frown on her face. "It was a lovely night, thank you," I said. "See you tomorrow."

She stood at the door and watched me drive away. As soon as I found a safe spot I pulled over to find a handkerchief to mop my eyes and blow my nose. My eyes kept filling with tears all the way home.

Once there, I hugged Julia Roberts, dashed cold water in my face, and called my aunt. "Aunt Millie, we're going for a drive to Santa Barbara. I'll pick you up in half an hour. And if you're not too sick of shopping, we can stop at the outlet stores."

"You're on!" said my aunt.

I didn't want to be first into Ariana's office for the scheduled Monday morning meeting. I couldn't think it would be anything but awkward for us to face each other without the buffer of other people being present.

When I finally went in, everyone but Ariana was chomping on doughnuts. "There's a chocolate one left, your favorite," Lonnie said to me. "Grab it fast before anyone else gets it."

It was totally ridiculous that his consideration over a stupid doughnut had tightened my throat. I snarled silently at myself, Get a grip, Kylie.

Sitting down next to Bob, I said brightly to him, "How's it going?"

He gave me an odd look. "OK, I suppose."

"If we can start," said Ariana, "I had a very interesting call early this morning from an investigative reporter at the L.A. Times. It seems the newspaper has kept under wraps the fact they're investigating the Church of Possibilities and, more specifically, Brother Owen. A series exposing the church is scheduled to run next month."

"How did he get to you?" Bob asked.

"When the reporter realized we were out there asking questions too, he wanted to know what we'd discovered. I said it was a Kendall & Creeling client involved and therefore confidential. I'll contact Nanette Poynter later to see if she's willing to cooperate with the Times. It's likely she will."

We discussed the impact this would have on my case. I didn't say much, just listened. Harriet had harsh words about the contract Alf and Chicka had signed with Lamb White.

"To sum up," Harriet said, "the terms of the contract are unconscionable. The morals clause will be triggered by anything Lamb White finds felonious or immoral. That covers a lot of ground. And perhaps even worse, as you suspected, Kylie, the Hartnidge brothers have inadvertently licensed Lamb White to hold the rights to all Oz Mob characters. That means, even if the Hartnidges aren't involved, the characters they've created can be used in any Lamb White movie or television production."

"So what would happen to the present Oz Mob movie," I asked, "if Alf and Chicka were arrested for opal smuggling?"

"All the rights would stay with Lamb White. They'd take over the project and freeze the brothers out."

"Crikey," I said, "can they really do that?"

"I imagine the Hartnidges can challenge this original contract on the grounds that it is unconscionable and unreasonable," Ariana said.

"If they don't pull off this movie, Alf and Chicka are close to broke," said Lonnie. He shook his head. "You've never seen such a financial mess. There's no way they'd be able to field a pack of top-flight lawyers, and that's what you'd need to take on Lamb White and the church."

"What about playing a waiting game?" said Bob. "We can hope the L.A. Times expose will bring down the whole Church of Possibilities organization. Lamb White would fall too."

Harriet didn't agree with waiting. "It could be years. Brother Owen will fight with every resource he's got. In the meantime, the Hartnidge twins lose everything."

"A sting," I said. Everyone looked at me. "Let's set Lamb White up. Let them be caught with the opals and charged with smuggling. Alf and Chicka claim to know nothing about it, playing naive little Aussies who are victims of big business."