Two Against the Odds (5 page)

“All right, Murphy. Let's go for a walk.”

Hearing the magic word, Murphy sprang to his feet, ears pricked. He ran and picked up his lead where it was lying by the sliding glass doors. Rafe
attached it to the dog's collar and put on his running shoes.

The evening was still warm. The setting sun gave the sky a ruddy glow as he walked the few blocks toward the bay where low, windswept tea trees grew on the cliff top. A flock of rainbow lorikeets flitted past, swooping into the gum trees. Murphy trotted at Rafe's side, making brief detours to sniff bushes, car wheels and mailboxes.

Rafe emerged onto Cliff Road and the whole of the molten bay lay before him. The sun was a crimson ball melting into the horizon and gold light glinted off the towers of Melbourne far across the water.

He didn't see her at first, he was so caught up in the sunset. Then a movement in his peripheral vision made him glance to the right. Lexie stood thirty feet away toward the cul-de-sac end of the street. She was leaning against the guardrail, her full cotton skirt fluttering in the slight breeze. The warm glow of the sun illuminated her delicate features. Tendrils of blond hair clung to her cheeks.

Slowly he walked toward her, pulling on Murphy's lead.

“Hey,” she said softly, staring out at the bay. “Don't take your eyes off the sun or you'll miss the moment when it sinks below the horizon.”

Rafe dutifully watched as the swollen red sun sank into the bay with astonishing speed, leaving a reddish-gold glow around the horizon.

“Do you come here to watch the sunset often?” he asked, then winced. “That sounded like a bad pickup line.”

“Quite often. Especially when the moon is full. Come on. The best is still to come.” Lexie took his hand, tugging him and Murphy down the road.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You'll see.”

It was electrifying to walk with her cool fingers wrapped in his. This touch was deliberate. And so very wrong. Which only made it all the more exciting.

They walked past big expensive homes on the right and the bay on their left to the lookout at the end of the street. Behind them was the afterglow of the sunset. In front of them, a harvest moon was rising out of the water. It cast a glittering path to the sandy beach and the colorful beach huts. Between the sunset and the moonrise the entire sky, the houses perched among the tea trees on the cliff, and the cove, pulsed with light.

On the water, a lone kayaker stroked his way home to the sailing club.

“I wonder if that's Jack,” Lexie said, leaning on the railing. “It is!” She waved and after a second the kayaker lifted a dripping paddle in salute. She turned to Rafe, her face alight. “My brother.”

She stood so close in the small viewing platform
that every breath he took was filled with her scent. “I thought we'd agreed not to see each other.”

She went very still. “We're just watching the sunset, Rafe.”

Rafe watched as Jack beached his kayak and hoisted it over his head. He made his way up the sand to the parking lot at the sailing club. By the time he strapped it to his truck and drove away, the moon had risen above the cliff, smaller now and turning silver.

And then the sunset was just a memory.

Rafe touched Lexie's hair, feeling the silky texture of the long strands sifting through his fingers. “No one can know.”

Her eyes had deepened to the same color as the sky, lit by moonlight. “No one,” she repeated.

Rafe cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Her skin beneath his palms was chill, her lips warm. His heart racing, he slipped his arm around her waist. “My room is just up the road.”

R
AFE LED
the way along the flagstone path that cut around the back of the two-story brick house. Murphy trotted ahead to wait at the wrought iron gate into the small private courtyard and the separate entrance where Rafe was able to come and go without disturbing the occupants at the house.

“This place used to belong to my ninth grade English teacher, Mrs. Bailey,” Lexie murmured.

Rafe opened the gate and reached in his pocket for keys. “Myrna Bailey? Tall, iron-gray hair, sergeant- major type?”

“Yes! She must be a hundred years old by now.”

“One hundred and ten.” Rafe opened the sliding door. “She makes the best blueberry muffins I've ever tasted.”

He flicked on a light.

“Murphy, lie down.” Obediently, the dog lay on the mat at the door and rested his muzzle on his paws.

Lexie started to unbutton Rafe's shirt. “Am I going too fast?”

“No, but…” He kissed her forehead. “I can make tea if you'd like to talk for a bit.” He sat on the love
seat and pulled her down beside him. “This isn't just sex,” he said earnestly. “I really like you.”

“It's sweet that you think I need reassurance,” Lexie said. “I like you, too. But this
is
just sex. Let's not kid ourselves. Besides conflict of interest, you're…well…you're too young for me.”

“So, you're okay with just a fling?” he asked, not wanting any recriminations when it came time for him to leave.

“Absolutely. We're going to have a few days of the best sex of our lives.”

A guy couldn't say no to that.

She leaned up to kiss him, easing off the couch. “No, you stay there.” Lifting her arms, she pulled her halter top over her head.

Rafe groaned. Yoga kept her firm and toned; forgetting to eat must help keep her slim. She slipped off her panties, leaving her skirt on. Then she climbed onto his lap, facing him. Pushing her hands into his hair, she gently pulled him toward her bare breasts.

He sucked one tight pink nipple into his mouth. He loved how confident she was, how she knew exactly what she wanted and just went for it. He loved how she made him feel like a stud.

Lexie let her head fall back with a small moan. His groin tightened, throbbed. He eased down his zipper to relieve the pressure against his erection. Then he turned back to her breasts.

He skimmed his hands down her body and up
under her skirt, molding her thighs and bare buttocks. He slipped his fingers between her legs into heat and wetness. His erection surged. She rose onto her knees so he could get rid of his pants and underwear. He was so hard he hurt. A glimpse of her bare thighs beneath her skirt was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. When he thought he couldn't stand it another second, she slid onto him, tight and hot.

Sweet relief. And then she was riding him, her breasts moving before his glazed eyes. He sucked her nipple hard, gripped her hips and pushed. Heard her cry.

And cried out himself.

 

R
AFE GAZED
into Lexie's soft blue eyes and felt foolishly proud that he'd been able to give her so much pleasure. He was pretty sure he'd satisfied her.

It had taken four times. She was awesome.

He pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “What can I get you? A drink of water? I've got cookies in my briefcase.”

She laughed at that and he felt like an idiot for sounding so young.

“Thanks but I'm not hungry.” Drowsily she stroked a fingertip around his bristled chin.

Her jaw and neck were chafed red from his beard. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Eyes closed, she smiled dreamily. “I might not be able to walk for a week.”

Rafe felt himself blush and was grateful for the low light of the bedside lamp. But she seemed to be dozing off anyway. He lay back down and pulled her in close to his side and went to sleep breathing in the scent of sex, warm skin and Lexie's hair.

 

L
EXIE WAS DREAMING
about spirals. There was the skeleton clock, with its spiral spring that expanded and contracted with every tick of the cogged wheel. Then there was the spiral at the heart of a seashell. And a double spiral of…something. Then she was dreaming about the clock again. The elegant brass whorls of the casing, the wheels connected to wheels, all turning, turning, hands moving, tick, a heartbeat, a baby's heartbeat, tick, Sienna in her blue robe not Venus but the Madonna, double helix, DNA….

The clock chimed with a preternatural volume, like a giant gong struck inside her head. Lexie swam up through the layers of her dream. She opened her eyes and sat up in bed, tingling all over.

In the darkness, cogs and wheels still moved before her eyes. Spirals turned with the illusion of upward movement.

Biological clocks.

Not her. Sienna.

No, that would be too obvious as an element in her painting. There was something else in the dream. The spiral spring at the heart of the clock. The seashell. And that other spiral, the double spiral. What had
that reminded her of? An illustration from the old biology text book she found somewhere and kept as a reference.

And then it clicked.

DNA, the double helix. Two strands of genetic material, joined by molecules of…something. She couldn't remember the details, if she'd ever learned them. But she could find out. It all fit. Sienna, the mother, creating life. Sienna, the doctor, saving life. Science and Nature, hand in hand.

“That's it. I've got it,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. It was crystal clear now that she'd thought of it. She would paint DNA molecules in the background, so faint they would be unobtrusive, a subliminal suggestion that would imprint on the viewer's brain.

Quietly she pushed back the covers and got out of bed, shivering a little at leaving the warmth of Rafe's body. Seeing his dark head on the pillow made her smile at the memory of their lovemaking.

Four times. It was true what they said about young men.

But she couldn't stay. She had work to do.

They'd fallen asleep with the lamp on so it was easy to find her top and skirt and silently pull them on. Where were her panties? She finally found them beneath the table.

Murphy heard her and got up, stiff legged, to see
what she was doing. She patted his wiry fur and he lay down.

Rafe stirred in his sleep. Lexie held her breath. Her idea was loosely held. If she had to speak the fragile images dancing in her head might dissolve.

He settled again. She found a piece of paper and scribbled a note, which she left on the table, weighed down by her house key. Quietly she tiptoed over to turn out the light. Then she opened the sliding door an inch at a time until there was enough room for her to squeeze through.

The full moon was high overhead, illuminating the houses and gardens. Lexie walked swiftly down the middle of the empty street, listening to the sounds of the night. The bats flitted across the sky, a possum scurried along the telephone wires. She loved being out so early when everyone else was dead to the world.

Ten minutes later she let herself into her house with the spare key she kept hidden under a rock in the garden. Still charged, she showered, changed and went out back, across the lawn in her flip-flops. The grass brushed her bare ankles, prickly on her skin and damp with dew. The door to her studio stuck until she lifted it and shoved with her shoulder.

Humming, she assembled her paints and brushes, got a fresh canvas down from the shelf and found a clean palette and smock. Artificial light wasn't the best so she couldn't do more than block in the picture,
but she was familar with the colors she needed and her fingers were itching to make a start. Squeezing a large blob of Cadmium Yellow onto the palette, she began.

 

R
AFE STIRRED
, eyes closed, unwilling to wake from the best sleep he'd had in ages. A grin spread across his face. He'd had no idea older women could be so hot.

Thinking about Lexie was making him hard. Eyes still closed, he reached for her.

His hand encountered only empty sheets. He opened his eyes. The pillow that bore the indentation of her head and a stray blond hair were evidence he hadn't imagined the whole thing.

Rafe propped himself on one elbow. Maybe she was in the bathroom? But no, the door was open. Everything was quiet. He could even see into the small private courtyard because he'd forgotten to pull the drapes. Empty.

She was gone.

Pushing aside a flicker of disappointment, he threw back the covers, got up and let Murphy out. Then he walked to the bathroom and set the shower on scalding. Soaping himself beneath the streaming water, he hoped he could rely on her to be discreet about the sex. He had a whole lot more to lose than she did.

 

L
EXIE WORKED
until six in the morning, slept for a couple of hours then was awake again by eight. She pottered around the kitchen, putting on the kettle, popping a slice of wholemeal bread in the toaster. Surely Sienna would be up by now. She gave her a call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sienna.” Without further preamble Lexie asked, “What are those things that the double helix of DNA is made of? The genetic building blocks or something.” She spooned vanilla yogurt into a bowl.

“Lexie?” Sienna said. In the background Lexie heard cutlery clinking, water running. “DNA…let's see. You're probably thinking of nucleotides. Each consists of a sugar, a phosphate group and a nitrogen base—either a purine or a pyrimidine.”

“Whoa. I don't need the biochemistry of it, just the structure. What do they look like at a molecular level?” One-handed, she rinsed strawberries under the tap.

“Let me think… Sugars form a hexagon of carbon atoms. The phosphate group would be kind of a diagonal cross and the nitrogen bases join in the middle like the rungs of a ladder. Does that make any sense?”

“Sort of.” Lexie turned the tap off. “I'd better look it up on the internet. Thanks!”

“Why are you interested in this?” Sienna asked.

“It's for your portrait. I don't want to say too much. It might not work out in the end.” Hearing a knock, she said, “Someone's at the door, Sienna. I'll talk to you later.”

She dried her hands and hurried out, surprised to see Hetty on the doorstep. “Where were you? Didn't you come back last night?”

“No, I was trying to make up with your father. And before you ask, no, we didn't resolve anything.” Hetty moved past Lexie in a swish of wide black pants and a soft gray wrap top. She tilted her head. “How come you didn't know I wasn't here last night. Where were you?”

“Um…working on Sienna's portrait,” Lexie evaded.

“You're unblocked!” Hetty gave her a quick hug. “At least something's going right.”

She glanced around the messy kitchen and clucked her tongue. Taking the colander out of the sink, she started stacking Lexie's dirty dishes in it, squirting liquid soap, running hot water.

“Don't do my washing up,” Lexie said. “I'll get to it.”

“You'll forget now that you're painting again.” Hetty reached for the dishcloth. “How are you getting along with Rafe? It can't be easy having a stranger in the house all day long.”

“As a matter of fact, we're getting along rather well.”

Hetty glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

“He's amazing in bed.” The words just popped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She clapped her hand over her lips. “But don't say anything. No one's supposed to know.”

“Who would I tell?” Hetty turned around, her hands dripping soap. “But are you sure that's wise? He's so young.”

“Is he ever!” Lexie's smile grew smug as she held up a hand showing four fingers.

Hetty's eyes widened, her mouth dropped.

“Hello?” Rafe called from the front door. “May I come in?”

“Shh. Don't let on I said anything,” Lexie whispered. Raising her voice, she called out, “We're in the kitchen.”

Hetty spun back to the sink. With a lot of splashing and running of water she soaped a plate.

Rafe paused in the doorway. “Good morning.”

His hair was slightly damp and as he glanced at her his face colored. Lexie spared a brief regret for not staying till morning just so they could have showered together.

“Hey, Rafe. Sleep well?” With her mother's back turned she sauntered over and leaned up to kiss him on his reddening cheek.

“Where did you disappear to last night?” he murmured.

“I had a brainwave. But I can't talk about it, not until it's on the canvas.” Squeezing his hand, she slipped out the back door.

 

R
AFE FOLLOWED
her progress to her studio through the window over the sink. His hand tightened on his briefcase handle. She was supposed to be discreet and here she'd just kissed him in front of her mother. Sure, Hetty's back was to them but still.

“I should just go speak with her a moment,” Rafe said to Hetty as he edged toward the door. “Um, about her taxes.”

“You don't have to be coy around me.”

Something in her voice stopped him dead. “What did she tell you?”

“That you two were getting along well.” Hetty put the dishcloth down and dried her hands. “Sit down,” she said, nodding to a chair at the kitchen table. “I need to talk to you. I've been doing what you suggested but it's not working.”

Oh, no, not again. Rafe cast another glance out the window but Lexie had gone inside the studio. He pulled up a bentwood chair and lowered himself into it, setting his briefcase on the floor. “Be patient with your husband. It's only been twenty-four hours.”

“Steve's a stubborn man. It could be months before he breaks down and admits he still loves me. I need something that works faster. Something to get him interested in me sexually again.”