like something Dr Seuss would have drawn. A few sheep were scattered in the fields. And then they got there—to Hanmer Springs, an Alpine spa town in the heart of a geo-thermal area. He slowed down as they drove through the main street of the village.
‘Look, swimsuit shop on the right,’ he pointed out. ‘Leopard print number in the window gets my vote.’
Oh, please.
‘Superette on the left for toothpaste and other essentials.’ He pointed with his hand. ‘Bakery for the best pies in the country.’
She chuckled. ‘Everything one could possibly need.’
‘That’s right. Now I’m going back to Waipara for some meetings.’ Halfway up the hill he pulled up in front of a house. ‘You’re staying here.’
She got out of the car. He was leaving her? She walked up the path slowly, not caring enough to appreciate the pretty wooden chalet he’d just unlocked. When was she getting the ‘dirt’ in the weekend? Inside he’d opened the big suitcase. Carefully packed inside was all her gear—all her tools, all her unfinished work. She stared at it, then at him.
‘I’m not letting you throw away this opportunity, Sophy,’ he said softly, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘Not even for hot sex with me.’
‘Lorenzo—’
‘Give me your phone.’ He held out his hand.
She pulled it from her purse and gave it to him.
He switched it off and put it in his pocket. ‘You have no excuses now. You have to finish them.’ His expression softened. ‘I’ve booked you into the spa at four p.m. for a massage and whatever other treatments you feel like.’
‘Really?’ Her spirits lifted a fraction.
‘Uh-huh.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘But you have to do nothing, and I mean nothing, but work until then—deal?’
‘Okay.’
‘And you’ll have to walk down to the spa because I’m taking the car.’
‘That’s okay.’ She nodded again. ‘Thanks.’
But she was disappointed. She ached for him. And he’d played on that—used it to set her up. She’d cleared her weekend to be with him, but now she had nothing to do but finish her pieces for the show.
She supposed she’d thank him one day.
He kissed her, drew away way too soon. But at least he groaned as he did. He put his hands behind his back. ‘Nothing but work. Nothing.’
She managed a laugh and watched him go. As he got to the car she couldn’t stop herself calling after him through the open door. ‘You’ll be back later?’
‘Count on it.’
She turned back inside and looked at her stuff. She had all afternoon. All day Saturday and Sunday too. With no phone, no outside contact—no one calling. Suddenly she felt it—liberation. And she did as he’d bid. It only took twenty minutes to set herself up and then she worked. In the silence, alone, she got into the zone. Her enthusiasm for it returned, as did her confidence. She studied her options, assessing the work she had completed and her pages of notes for other styles. She deliberated carefully before making a decision. She wanted her work to be the-matically linked, but for each piece to stand uniquely, to showcase a broad range.
There was a harsh ringing. She literally jumped three feet in the air. Spun round, looking for the source of the noise. It was the landline of the holiday home. ‘Hello?’
‘You need to go now or you’ll miss your appointment.’
‘Oh.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Is it that time already?’
He chuckled. ‘You’ve been hard at it, haven’t you?’
She leaned against the bench and let the smile out. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She meant it this time.
It was a ten minute walk down the hill to the thermal pool complex, but she jogged it in five—so she had time to pick up a swimsuit from the store first. She walked straight past the leopard print but stopped at the rack of crimson costumes. There was a two piece the exact shade of part of the graffiti piece on Lorenzo’s fence. She grabbed the one in her size—hoped the cut would be okay. She paid and ran—not wanting to be late.
She went for the full facial, full massage option. An hour and a half of pure bliss. At the end she couldn’t have peeled herself off the table if she’d tried. The beautician left her to relax. Her private room had its own small pool of thermally heated, mineral-laden, olive-green water for her to melt into at her leisure. When she regained some kind of muscle control, that was.
She was almost asleep, lying on her tummy, when she heard him.
‘Are you ready for your massage, ma’am?’
She smiled. She recognised the thread in that voice. ‘I’ve already had my massage, thanks.’
‘This one is a little special.’
She felt his hands circling over her back.
‘Crimson,’ he muttered. ‘Good choice.’
She didn’t roll over—for one thing she couldn’t, for another she didn’t want him to see how slight the triangles covering her breasts were. Not yet anyway—she was still getting used to them herself.
But he couldn’t have been that into the bikini because in less than a minute he was pushing the briefs down. He lifted her foot, then the other to get the garment off—and when he placed each foot back he spread them a little further apart. Slid his hands hard up her calves, up the backs of her thighs…
She bit her lip, anticipation flooding her. ‘Lorenzo, there are people everywhere.’
‘I locked the door.’ His ‘massage’ took an incredibly intimate turn.
‘They’ll hear us,’ she said breathlessly.
‘No, they’ll hear you.’ He laughed and bent to nip her butt while his thumbs stroked into the space between. ‘Of course,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘you don’t have to come. Women don’t have to orgasm every time, do they? You can still enjoy sex regardless, right? It won’t bother me.’
‘How magnanimous of you.’ She clutched the towel beneath her and tilted up to give him better access. It was one hell of a massage.
He murmured, mouth moist on her skin as he manipulated her—faster, deeper. ‘Think of it as a challenge. I dare you not to come.’
She rocked, pushing harder onto him, her voice leaping three octaves. ‘I can’t not!’
He whipped his hands away and flipped her over. He was already naked, and in a moment was above her. He held her face hard between his hands, kissing her savagely while he surged into her. Her scream came out in another way—her fingernails raking down his back. He arched harder, his thrusts even more powerful.
It made it even better.
‘Does anyone know about the show?’
They were in the water, cheeks flushed from the heat, bodies floating.
‘Only Rosanna,’ Sophy answered lazily. ‘She got me the chance. One of her flirts sponsors the film festival.’
‘And no one else?’
‘No.’
‘Sophy.’
‘What?’ She gazed at him candidly. ‘It’s not like you’re an open book, Lorenzo. You keep everything from everybody.’
He frowned. ‘Only the bad stuff.’
What, his whole life was bad? She just didn’t believe that.
‘Why don’t you want to tell