Anne Mather - Melting Fire

Olivia waited only long enough to ensure he would have reached his bedroom, before following him up the stairs. She had heard Jess giving little wuffs of pleasure, and guessed the wolfhound had accompanied him. She was intensely loyal, and Richard had had her for a great number of years, which accounted for her lack of energy on days like this, Olivia supposed dryly.

In her room, she quickly found the brown bikini she had bought in Paris. Edged with gold beading and fringed below the bra, it accentuated the honey-gold of her skin, and she was pleased with the faintly reddish glow she found on her arms and legs. She would soon tan in this weather, she thought, but never as strongly as Richard. His skin was much darker than hers, matching the ebony dullness of his hair.

A towelling smock provided an adequate cover for the walk from bedroom to pool, but as she passed Richard’s room he emerged wearing only the frayed denim shorts he used to swim in. He raised mocking eyebrows at her modest appearance, and she dug him in the ribs playfully, before darting away down the stairs with him chasing her. Even Jess joined in the excitement, barking more noisily than before, and following them out to the patio.

Olivia tore round the pool, half afraid Richard would throw her in, smock and all, but he halted at the opposite side, allowing her to stand panting, facing him across the tinted water.

‘I can wait,’ he averred threateningly, and she gurgled with laughter as she pulled off the smock to expose her shapely body.

If, after what had occurred earlier, she had expected Richard to gaze at her, entranced, she was very much mistaken. Before she had dropped her smock on to the ground, he had dived cleanly into the water, the spreading ripples of his entry disturbing the calm water. He emerged just below where she was standing, his hand reaching for her ankle, and she skipped away from him just in time.

‘Come on,’ he said, treading water, ‘what’re you afraid of? Getting wet?

Olivia stepped to the rim and dipped her toe tentatively. ‘It’s freezing,’ she protested, hanging back, and again he swam to just beneath her.

‘Give me your hand,’ he suggested, stretching out his towards her, but she knew better than to trust him.

‘Go away and I’ll get in,’ she promised, and with a shrug, he did a backward somersault and swam obediently across the pool.

He came up, pushing back his hair from his eyes, and she watched him warily. When he grinned, the lines that bracketed his mouth were erased, and she thought how good it was to be seeing his harsh features again. He was not handsome, she conceded, not like Jules, who was the idol of hundreds of French teenagers, but there was something about his heavy-lidded eyes and strong cheekbones, his nose which had been broken once in an amateur boxing tournament, that she could see now was equally attractive. Certainly, she knew, there had been women in his life, and beautiful women at that, women sometimes whose husbands had been unaware of their wives’ penchant for the sexy chairman of the Jenner corporation. But until now, Olivia had not really assessed him in that way, and it was disconcerting to realise that she did not like the sensation. He was her stepbrother, not someone she was attracted to, and she wished she could forget the way he had kissed her and resume their old relationship.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he demanded now, growing impatient with the delay, and hurriedly she sat down on the side of the pool and dipped her legs into the water. She was hardly thinking about what she was doing, and a gulp of dismay escaped her as he swam strongly back to her and caught her ankles, jerking her into the water.

She floundered and came up choking, spitting her words at him. ‘You—you rotten pig!’ she gasped, threshing about wildly. ‘Oh, it’s icy. I’m chilled to the bone!’

‘Then get moving,’ he advised evenly, from the middle of the pool. ‘Come on—I’ll race you from end to end. You can swim to the side, and I’ll stay here so that you’ve got half a length start on me.’

‘Big deal!’ she muttered sulkily, twisting her hair into a coil at her nape. ‘I suppose you think you’ll win.’

He laughed. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, and her pursed lips accepted the challenge.

In the event, she beat him, but not convincingly. She suspected he had slowed his pace to suit her rather laborious crawl, and it was a hollow victory. Nevertheless, it did warm her up, and they swam and played in the water for another half hour before Richard said he had had enough.

Afterwards they lay on adjacent loungers, and Olivia talked more fully about her work at the Academy. Her aptitude for languages pleased him, and he spent some time speaking to her in both French and German, assessing her ability in both. She was at ease with him again, and half tempted to tell him about Jules, and her decision to get a job, but she was loath to disrupt the harmony of the moment.

The morning was soon over, and it seemed no time before Bella appeared to announce that lunch was ready when they were. Olivia’s flesh was feeling quite prickly by that time, the sun having dried the pool water on her, and without lotion to soothe it, her skin was burning. While Richard got to his feet to greet his old nursemaid, Olivia rescued her smock, and was quite glad of the protection it afforded.

Lunch was a cold meal, and while Richard went to change, Olivia took a quick shower before applying some cream to her overheated arms and legs. She came down to the dining room feeling rather like a tomato oiled ready for frying, and resented the amused stare Richard subjected her to. He was annoyingly cool, black jeans clinging to his lean hips, a black sweat shirt accentuating his tan.

‘You’ve overdone it,’ he remarked impatiently, surveying the rosy picture she made with critical eyes. ‘Why on earth didn’t you ask me to rub some cream into your arms? You’re going to find it pretty painful at bedtime.’

‘Thank you, Dr Jenner!’ Olivia retorted sarcastically, ‘I am aware of the discomfort, you know. But as I’m the one who is suffering, I see no reason for you to get upset.’

‘Now, Olivia …’ Bella was already seated at the table beside an enormous platter of salad and dressing, colour-fully adorned with red and green peppers. Bella usually ate with the family, except when there were guests, and Alex Bishop was standing waiting for Olivia to sit down, a look of sympathy on his face. ‘Richard’s only concerned about you, you know. Now, do sit down so that the men can join us.’

The dining room was cool. Bella had slatted the blinds, and as it was at the side of the house, the sun had not yet entered the room with any strength. Pale green walls added to the illusion of coolness, and the long polished table was very attractive with its slatted cane place mats, and wooden-handled knives and forks.

There was melon to begin with, juicy-sweet and sprinkled with ginger, and then Bella’s special salad, together with a cold meat pie, spiced with herbs and decorated with parsley. There were crisps, and potato sticks, and a variety of vegetables served in different sauces, with a delicious fruit salad to finish. They had wine with the meal, and for the first time Olivia was able to appreciate it, thanks to the course she had taken in wine appreciation during her stay at St Helena’s. It was a white wine, light and only slightly sweetened, but heady after the morning in the sun.

‘Did you give Mr Raynor his jam?’ Olivia asked, as she forked melon into her mouth, and Bella turned her attention from asking Richard what flight he had taken and what time he had got back to say:

‘Yes, and delighted he was with it.’ She tilted her head reprovingly. ‘Mrs Morrison asked how you were, and wondered why you hadn’t gone with me, but I explained that you were too tired after your journey.’