Chapter Sixteen
Linc
We get back in the car and this time head toward Queenstown town center, looking for the hotel which is on the edge of the lake.
I’m buzzing, and I know Elora is too. I still can’t believe she jumped. Thrill seeking isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and even though I booked a tandem in the hope that it might encourage her to have some fun, I didn’t really think she’d do it.
But she did, and I get a lift every time I think about her in my arms, wrapped around me. Not quite putting her life in my hands, but as near as dammit.
Do you trust me?
Of course.
Her answer was immediate—she didn’t have to think about it. I’m so incredibly touched that it makes my throat tighten.
She’s quiet now, looking out of the car window at the view of the lake to our left, but her cheeks hold a flush, and there’s a small smile on her lips. She’s proud of herself, and I’m pleased I could do that for her, if nothing else.
The GPS announces our destination is ahead, and so I signal and take the next turning. I’m relieved they drive on the left in New Zealand, the same as in the UK, and that the steering wheel is on the right. I learned to drive in Germany, and have driven in France and Italy too, but I’ve been in the UK for a few years now, so I’m much more used to driving on the left.
The whole complex is built on the side of a steep hill that slopes toward the river. I guide the Lexus down a winding drive, past the hotel building, and round to the car park, which is underground. I park the car, we retrieve our cases, and then we take the elevator up to the top level.
It’s a boutique hotel formed from a collection of individual apartments rather than a block of rooms. The foyer is small and welcoming, all dark wood and gleaming metal. To the right of the reception desk, a restaurant and bar fronted by huge windows looks out over Lake Wakatipu, which gleams a dark blue in the sunlight.
We cross to the reception desk, and a smartly dressed woman smiles at us. I check us in, and she gives us a couple of keycards and the directions to our apartment.
Elora remains quiet, rather bashful at my side, and it occurs to me that it looks as if we’re a couple. Amused, I give the cases to the porter, then take Elora’s hand as we follow him out of the foyer and along an outer corridor, past a line of doors. Her fingers curl around mine, but she still doesn’t say anything.
The porter chats to us as we walk, small talk about the beautiful weather, and then he stops and touches the key card to a door, opens it, and goes in. We find ourselves in a small lobby with three doors, and again he touches the key card to one of them, opens it, and leads the way in with the cases.
Elora and I follow him, and then we stand there, open mouthed. “Oh my,” she says, and I have to agree. The room we’re in runs the width of the apartment, and the whole front wall features windows from ground to ceiling. The lake stretches out before us, with the town center to the right. On the far side, the Remarkables mountain range and ski field rises sharply, creating a sensation of being surrounded by giants glaring down at us insignificant beings.
Our gazes meet, and we laugh, then turn to investigate the room. A sofa and chairs face a wide-screen TV, and a round dining table and four chairs are placed in front of a good-sized kitchenette. The two bedrooms sit on either side of a large, pleasant bathroom.
“Thank you,” I say to the porter, handing him a tip.
“Thank you, sir, just let me know if you need anything,” he says, and leaves us to it.
Elora watches him go, then scolds me, “We don’t tip in New Zealand.”
“I know, but it felt polite.”
“Do you tip in the UK?”
“It’s complicated. They have a minimum wage, the same as in NZ, so generally if someone’s just doing their job, then no. If they go above and beyond? Sometimes.” I pick up her case. “Which bedroom would you like?”
She examines them both. They’re identical except for the bedding, one with light blue and one with light green. She chooses the light-green one, and I take her case in there for her and put it on the bed.
“Thank you.” She straightens the case. “Do you think they thought we were an item?”
“Almost certainly. Although why would we want a two-bedroomed apartment?”
“Yeah, I guess it is a bit weird.”
“It’s nobody’s business but ours,” I tell her gently. I look at my phone. “We’ve got a couple of hours. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“You want to go down to the bar? Or order something up?”
“The bar looked nice…”
I smile. “Let’s take ten and then we’ll head down.”
“Okay.”
She watches me go out of the room, and I close the door behind me.
I stand there for a moment, lips pursed. Why do I torture myself? I’m such a fucking idiot. Elora-Rose Bell is in the same apartment, in the room next door, and I can’t touch her. I mustn’t. She’s forbidden fruit, and as much as I find the thought incredibly tempting, I like her too much to make a move on her. She’s precious to me, and the absolute last thing I want to do is hurt her. So I’ll have to keep my distance and do my best to ignore the ache in my belly and lower down that isn’t going to disappear anytime soon.
Blowing out a long breath, I take my case into my room, unzip it and hang up my shirts, then flop back onto the bed.
I spend five minutes sulking. I’ll need to do a little DIY tonight or I’ll never be able to get to sleep.
Then I pull myself together and start getting ready. I expect we’ll be going from the bar to see Edmund, so I want to dress appropriately. A suit and tie will be too formal. A tee and jeans are too informal. Something in between.
I opt for chinos, a white Oxford dress shirt, no tie, and a navy jacket.
I shaved this morning, and don’t feel the need to do so again, but I splash on a little more cologne and clean my teeth. I’m just combing my hair when the bathroom door that leads to Elora’s room opens and she walks in.
“Oh!” Her eyes widen as she sees me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here.”
“I’m only combing my hair,” I say, amused. I stare at her. “Wow. You look nice.”
She’s changed into a long dark-blue skirt and a flowery pink top. She looks young and sexy and like a piece of summer, a strawberry you’d eat at Wimbledon, sweet on the tongue.
And now I’m thinking about going down on her, and tasting her, and making her come with my mouth. Oh for fuck’s sake.
“Thank you.” She wrinkles her nose at me, then faces the mirror. “Are you feeling nervous about seeing Edmund?”
“I…” Words flutter away like butterflies as I watch her unpin her bun and let her hair fall down around her shoulders. She runs her fingers through it, loosening the curls, then, obviously realizing I haven’t answered, meets my gaze in the mirror, and her hands stop moving.
“What?” she asks.
I shake my head. I’m hard as a rock, and it takes all my willpower not to sweep her up into my arms, carry her through to the bedroom, toss her onto the bed, and make mad passionate love to her.
But I can’t do that. I don’t know how she’d react, for a start. She might freeze. Panic. And lose all the trust she has in me. Ahhh… that’s the last thing I would want.
I swallow and moisten my lips. “Nothing.”
She looks down at herself. “Do I look okay? I wanted to wear something nice to meet Edmund and Isabel.” She laughs. “Why am I nervous?”
“I don’t know,” I say, although I love her for it. She’s anxious because she knows meeting this guy means a lot to me, and she cares for me. “You look fantastic,” I tell her. My voice comes out a little squeaky, and I have to clear my throat. “Thank you so much for going with me. It means a lot.”
“Aw, it’s a big deal for you. Glad I could help.” She finishes titivating with her hair, slicks on some lip gloss, then says, “Ready to go down?”
I nod. “Just give me one minute.”
“Sure.”
I go back into my room, closing the door behind me.
Then I lie on the bed, flop onto my back, and cover my eyes with my hands.
Argh… Desperately, I will my erection to go down, trying to think about anything except Elora and her soft body and what she might taste like, but it’s like trying not to think of the number seven—suddenly it’s all I can think about, and all I can picture.
But it’s ridiculous, and I’m going to drive myself mad doing this. It’s only because I haven’t got laid in a while. Pull yourself together, Linc. Build a bridge and get over it. Eat some concrete and harden up. She’s a good friend, and I need to treat her like my sister. Or like Fraser’s sister, anyway. I need to stop kissing her, and I certainly need to stop thinking about sinking my tongue into her soft flesh…
In the end, it takes me close to five minutes to calm down before I collect my wallet and car keys and go into the living room.
She’s checking her phone, and she looks up and smiles. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I decide to remain brisk and businesslike. “Come on then.” I let her precede me out, and we walk down to the main building.
Inside, it’s relatively quiet, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. A few people are checking in, but only one businessman sits in the bar, reading on an iPad while he sips a cappuccino.
We take a table by the window and look at the menu.
“I think I’ll just have a toasted sandwich,” I say eventually. “I’m too nervous to eat anything else.”
“Aw.” She smiles. “I’ll have the same.”
We order the sandwiches and two coffees, then look out at the view while we wait for the food to arrive. Two jet skis paint white trails on the blue lake, and a boat carrying tourists meanders slowly up the valley, giving them plenty of time to take photos of the mountains. It’s an amazing view.
But all I can think of is meeting Edmund, and my heart begins to race. Well, it’s not every day you meet your real father for the first time.
“Tell me about Saqqara,” Elora says. “The second dynasty child burial you helped to excavate.”
I bring my gaze back to her. Her eyes are gentle, understanding. She knows how I’m feeling.
I clear my throat and start to talk.
We’ve already spent hours discussing archaeology, but I feel as if I could talk to her for days and never run out of things to say. She asks lots of questions about the digs I’ve been on, her big blue eyes studying me with fascination as I reply.
When we were young, she used to look at me the same way. I played up to it back then, swaggering a little, the cocky young guy trying to impress the sweet, innocent girl.
Maybe we haven’t changed so much.
“I wish I’d done some traveling,” she says an hour later. We’ve finished our sandwiches, and now we’re sitting back and drinking our second latte, while the bright sun dances on the small waves in the lake.
I chuckle. “You’re only twenty-four. Plenty of time yet.”
She lowers her gaze to the table and draws a finger through a droplet of water that’s run down the bottle the waiter brought over when we first sat down—something I love about New Zealand that doesn’t tend to happen in the UK.
“Don’t think it’s in the stars for me,” she says. “I’d never have the courage to travel on my own.”
“Honey, you will meet someone. You’re too beautiful not to.”
She doesn’t look up, and she doesn’t answer.
I frown, aching inside for her. Confidence and trust are as precious to a woman as the Sutton Hoo grave goods are to an archaeologist. We have a saying in archaeology—all excavation is destruction, and for women I believe it’s a similar thing—once she loses her confidence and trust, it’s almost impossible for her to regain it.
“Perhaps Zoe or Hallie would enjoy traveling,” I add. “I’m sure Fraser would encourage the three of you to go to Australia together so you can see the museums there.”
“Maybe.” She finishes off her glass of water and looks at her phone. “It’s three-thirty. How long will it take us to get to Edmund’s house?”
“The GPS says it’s only ten minutes.” The address he gave me was in the suburb of Fernhill. It’s on the other side of Queenstown, but it’s not a big town. “But I guess we might as well get going in case there are any hold ups.”
We make our way down to the Lexus, and I start the engine and head us out to join the state highway. “I forgot to ask, have you been to Queenstown before?”
“Once,” she says, “when I was a lot younger, but I don’t remember much about it.” She looks out of the window as the shops pass by. It’s a very affluent town, and many of the shops bear the names of designer brands. “It must be expensive to live here,” she adds.
I take the coastal road southwest. “I read a bit about it. Lots of people have holiday homes here, and those who work in the service industry struggle to find places they can afford.”
“I suppose it’s always going to happen,” she says, “when a town like this is so beautiful and so popular, especially in the winter.”
“Tough though. I wonder how Edmund manages. The kids of the rich folk still have to be educated. They need schools, and teachers have to live somewhere.”
“I wonder what he’s like. If he’ll be like you.” She smiles at me.
I feel a fresh wave of nerves. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
The GPS leads us through roads full of large houses that perch high on the hill, overlooking the lake. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of these cost millions to buy, with their glass walls, stupendous lake views, and sprawling gardens.
Edmund’s road is on the other side of the suburb, nearer the forested mountain slopes. The houses here are closer together and smaller, but they’re neatly maintained, and it’s a nice neighborhood. We pass a pleasant café, a kids’ playground, a classy looking beauty spa, and a small group of shops.
I pull up at the bottom of his road and turn off the Lexus. We sit there for a moment, not moving.
“You okay?” Elora asks.
I nod.
“What number is his house?” she asks.
“142.”
She looks out of the window at the house next to us, which is number seven. “So… why have you parked here?”
“Just thinking.”
I don’t know if I can do this. It’s mad. The DNA test must have been wrong. They got the labels mixed up or something. Or he’s going to end up being a serial killer. I’ve gotten my hopes up, and it’s all going to come crashing down around my ears.
Elora’s hand creeps into mine. “It’ll be okay,” she says. “He’s going to adore you. You’re amazing! Look at you. Only twenty-eight, well-traveled, and already semi-famous. Who wouldn’t be proud of that?”
I shake my head. “It’s all for show. Deep down I’m still the kid whose father didn’t love him, and who ended up being such a degenerate that he had to go to a school for troubled youths.”
“Well, yeah, you’re still degenerate,” she jokes. Then, to my surprise, she leans forward, takes my chin in her hand, and turns it so I’m looking at her. “We’ve both changed,” she says firmly. “I’m not the same girl I was at fourteen, or at eighteen. I’m with Darwin—we’re constantly evolving, and none of us stays the same. We retain the memories of things that have happened to us, but that doesn’t mean that if they happened again we would have the same emotional or physical reaction, because we’ve changed. Like new civilizations, we build on the ruins of what’s been and rise higher. You’re a different man now. Strong, well-educated, intelligent, competent. Successful in your chosen field. Meeting Edmund will be fantastic but remember that you don’t need him or anyone else to complete you. You’re perfect as you are.”
I stare at her, surprised at her insightfulness, as well as her ability to voice her thoughts. I continue to stare as her lips curve up at my bemusement. And then she leans forward and kisses me.
Shocked, because I didn’t think she’d initiate a kiss like this, I freeze, remembering my promise to myself not to kiss her anymore. But she doesn’t stop. She tilts her head to the side a little, changing the angle, her lips parting, and I feel her tongue brush my lips, asking for entrance.
Heat rushes through me. I’m so fucking weak, powerless against her. I lift a hand to cup her head, open my mouth, and sweep my tongue against hers, and she moans, shifting in her seat so she can move into my arms. We indulge in a long, luscious kiss, while the summer sun slants through the windows, warming us both with its golden rays.
When I finally lift my head, Elora blinks slowly, looking dazed. “Mmm,” she murmurs, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue.
I lower my arms, exasperated with myself. “You’re like a siren,” I grumble.
“You didn’t have to kiss me back,” she points out.
I give her a wry look and start the Lexus’s engine. “Come on. I can’t wait any longer.”
I drive up the road to Edmund’s house and turn the Lexus onto the drive in front of his garage. The house is on one level, with pots of flowers surrounding a neat front lawn. Elora and I get out, and I wait for her to circle the car and join me on the path.
She slides her hand into mine. “I’m here,” she says. “You’re going to be fine.”
I nod, then walk up the path.