HE’S WATCHING ME, so I try to subdue my reaction. But as lightning and thunder burst almost simultaneously, and rain hammers the enormous windows and the roof of the pool room, I am quivering.
‘You’re actually terrified,’ he murmurs with bemusement, his fingers brushing my shoulder as he removes the lightweight jacket I wore to Clint’s.
‘I’m not,’ I lie, stepping away from him before he can detect the fine tremble in my body.
I dig my fingernails into my palms, staring out at the raging storm. It’s furious and I can’t stand it. If I was alone I would put earphones in and dig myself under my duvet to wait it out. But I can’t, and he’s still watching me.
My voice is scratchy when I speak. ‘It was such a nice day. Where did this come from?’
‘It’s the tropics,’ he points out, stepping out of his shoes and shrugging free of his jacket at the same time.
His jacket is slightly crumpled at the front, from where I curled my fingers into it as he drove me to multiple orgasms.
‘Heat builds up, then it breaks in a storm.’
‘Why does that sound familiar?’
His half-smile shows he agrees. We are our own tropical weather system. Sultry heat, storm clouds and flash floods without warning. And plenty of lightning and thunder, too.
A spike of lightning floods the lounge with an eerie glow and I jump. ‘God!’
‘It’s only a storm,’ he murmurs, closing the distance between us, his eyes locked to mine as his thumb presses beneath my chin, lifting my face to his, exposing me to his curiosity and inspection. ‘It will pass.’
My stomach twists painfully now as the metaphor takes on new resonance. Is he trying to be cryptic? Is he talking about the surge of awareness that thunders between us? About us? Of course this will pass. What else do I expect?
‘Sit with me.’
He squeezes my hand and draws me to him, holding me to his side as we cross the lounge to the white leather sofa that offers the most spectacular view of the harbour. The opera house is ghoulishly lit in white, and the rain lashing against it creates the impression of fog and apocalypse.
‘Even the air smells different.’ I inhale the acrid, electrical thickness of the atmosphere.
‘Yeah...’ The word is hoarse.
He sits, and I go to take the seat next to him, but he pulls me closer, landing me softly on his lap. And now his kiss is gentle. Soft. A kiss of reassurance that scares me all the more because of the way it shakes my heart to life.
I panic. This is too much. Everything is too much. I’m in the eye of two storms and I don’t know if I’ll survive either one of them.
‘Tonight went well,’ he says, his hand stroking my bare arm, comforting and confounding all at once.
‘What do you think of the team?’ I ask, finding what I hope will be common ground in our established business dynamic. Some reassurance from the familiarity of that life.
‘Competent,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sold on Ryan being a good fit.’
‘What makes you say that?’
I feel him shrug, the movement brushing the crispness of his shirt against my skin.
‘Instinct.’
‘He comes highly recommended.’
‘I know.’
He runs his hand over his chin and I hold my breath as I’m seared by the memory of him pressing his finger inside me, holding me as I fell apart. My gut clenches and my insides are slick with a swirling tempest of knowledge of what we’ve done.
‘There’s just something about him that seems wrong. I can’t explain.’
I think back to the evening, trying to capture the same sense Jack has, and shake my head. ‘We’ll see, I suppose.’