Chapter 10
After dinner my father and Mrs. Tracy bring apple pie and ice cream and a tray of coffee into the lounge where everyone gathers to watch the news. Alan beckons me over to the sofa but I shake my head daintily. Bold as anything, I go over to the other sofa and park myself down next to Scott.
"Hello," I say shyly.
He looks delighted. "Well, hello."
"Hey, Tin-Tin," Alan protests. "What's he got that I haven't?"
"A bigger piece of apple pie," I retort.
"I'm just bigger all round," Scott deadpans.
"Yeah, your head's definitely bigger," scoffs Gordon.
"Not to mention your ego," says Alan.
"Not to mention my wallet," Scott replies, clicking the spoon against his teeth.
Mr. Tracy calls for quiet as the news report comes on. Virgil turns the sound up with the remote. "Three men have been arrested in connection with the bush fires that have been raging in the outback all week," the news reporter announces excitedly. "Police have long said they suspected arson and tonight they swooped on an address in Clydesdale after receiving a tip-off from a member of the public. The breakthrough comes after 75 people were pulled out of a cave by the world-renowned organization International Rescue in one of the worst-hit areas. Search and Rescue team leader Desmond Arnold was quoted as saying, " 'it's outrageous that those people were left to fend for themselves for so long.' "
A surprisingly handsome blond man of about thirty five comes on the screen. He has the crinkly blue eyes of someone who's spent a lifetime in the sun. He is as dirty and streaked with grime as Scott was when he came home.
"There's Des," Scott says around a mouthful of apple pie.
"He's cute," I whisper. Scott nearly chokes.
"The whole thing stinks!" Des proclaims. "Heads oughta roll over this. If it wasn't for those guys from International Rescue, those people would have been burned alive in that cave. It's high time we got our priorities in order. Who cares about a ruddy golf course?"
"Good for you Des," Scott mutters. "To think I was ready to punch his lights out."
"I wonder who tipped off the police," muses Virgil.
"A hundred bucks says it was a girlfriend," says Scott, finishing his pie and putting his bowl down on the floor. "They always have axes to grind."
"You would know." I say, nudging him.
"Ex-girlfriend now," says Gordon.
We are suddenly interrupted by a loud beeping. Everyone turns around to see the eyes of Lady Penelope's portrait flashing on and off. "Hey, there's Penny," says Mr. Tracy with a broad smile. He gets up and goes over to the wall to activate the screen. "Hello, Penny!"
"Hello, Jeff," Lady Penelope says in her warm, breathy upper-class British accent. "Hello, boys."
"Hey Lady P," they answer almost in unison.
"I've been watching the news reports. Congratulations on another job well done. It must have been quite, quite brutal out there."
"It was touch-and-go at first," says Mr. Tracy, "but we managed to get things under control eventually."
"You are a master of understatement, Jeff Tracy," Lady Penelope smiles a perfect pink-lipped smile. "You must have some British ancestry. Most of you Americans do, after all."
"You'll never make a tea-drinker out of me, Lady P," says Scott. He slings his arm across the back of the couch behind me in order to turn and get a better view of her. I want to snuggle up against him and tell Lady Penelope to stop looking at him that way, even though she looks at all of them that way. I swear she's batting her eyelashes at Scott.
"That won't stop me trying, dear boy," she drawls flirtatiously.
"You let me take you to a baseball game and then I'll think about it," Scott laughs.
"Perhaps I'll take you up on that one day. If only to see you drinking out of a dainty china cup."
She exchanges affectionate banter with the boys for a couple more minutes, wishes Virgil luck with his upcoming jazz gig, which makes him blush, and then she is gone. The boys all start to get up. Gordon yawns and stretches. "Man, I can't wait to get into that pool tomorrow. Work out some of these kinks."
"What kinks?" Alan laughs. "You sat in Thunderbird 2 all day with your feet up!"
"Get outta here! You'd all be lost without me."
Scott is restless by nature. I pray that he won't get up. It's nice sitting here next to him, our thighs almost touching. I swear I can feel the heat from his leg. Or is it the heat from mine? He smiles at me and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He brings out a portable Brain Teaser game with a small stylus attached. He opens it up and switches it on. "Don't worry, it's not Sudoku," he says. He holds it up to show me. "Hangman," he grins. "I was going to ask you for a game later, but as you're already here, we may as well play it now."
"Goodness, I haven't played that in years!" I exclaim.
He creates twelve words with a question mark at the end.
"Twelve words? That's a bit ambitious."
"Don't worry, it's easy," he smiles.
I start guessing, beginning with the vowels. There are four As and four Es. "I think you're going to get this," he chuckles.
"I." There are seven Is. "N," I giggle, giving him a nudge. There are three Ns. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? " I rest my head on his shoulder. "Scott. How sweet!"
He concedes defeat. "Not bad."
"My turn." I take the game out of his hand, not quite accidentally touching his fingers with mine, setting off butterflies in my stomach. I tap out four spaces then five spaces and put a smiley emoticon at the end. He starts his guessing with the vowels, like I did. One A, two Es and one I. He strokes his lower lip and shoots me a sideways glance.
"Is it 'easy tiger'?" he smiles.
"Oh dear," I sigh. "We're just too good at this." I hand the game back. He taps out six sets of blanks and again puts a question mark at the end.
I go through the vowels again. There are three As but no Es. He uses the stylus to create the hangman's head. "Okay. There's a start!"
"All right. 'I'."
"Nope, no 'I'." He gives the hangman a torso. There are three Os, but I'm still none the wiser. There are no Us, so the hangman gets an arm. "Now he can scratch his head."
"Or untie himself."
"No chance. Boot Hill here we come."
I start on the consonants. There are no Ss so the hangman gets his other arm. I've got two more chances to guess what it is. There are two Ts. The second word is 'to'. "N " I say. An N appears in the first word. " 'Ant to?' I know, 'want to'. Want to what?" I muse aloud. I guess at W. The first and last words start with W. I study all the remaining blanks and then I make a stab at it. "Want to go for a walk?"
"Damn," he taps in all the remaining letters. I was right. I stare quietly at all the words.
"Well?" he says. "Do you?"
We walk down to the gardens. The moon hangs overhead, almost full, lighting the way with a gentle blue glow. There is a sweet scent of jasmine in the air. My father and I are so proud of our gardens. We spend hours pottering around, tending and manicuring, lost in our deepest thoughts.
"It's a nice night," says Scott.
"Yes. It must seem very tranquil after yesterday."
"It sure does," he agrees.
An ornamental water feature bubbles and trickles nearby. We walk in silence for a while.
"It must be hard not to let personal feelings get in the way of the job sometimes," I say at last. "Especially when so many people are in trouble like that."
"I've been trained to put personal feelings aside in any given situation," Scott replies. "But you're right, it's not always easy. I've seen guys go too far and not show any sign of emotion or feelings at all. Most of them crack up in the end."
"I don't think that will ever happen to you, Scott," I smile. "You seem perfectly in control of your feelings. Well, most of the time."
He laughs, takes hold of my hand. I thrill at the feel of his fingers through mine as we walk.
"About yesterday," he smiles. "I really shouldn't have come onto you quite that strong."
"I'm a little embarrassed myself," I admit.
"Having said that," he continues, "I think I was half-expecting something to happen- if it hadn't happened yesterday, I think it would have happened one day." He sighs and squeezes my hand briefly. "There have been times when you look at me, and times when I look at you, and it's not just the way you would look at a friend. And don't try to kid me, Tin-Tin. I know when I'm being looked at."
"I don't doubt it for a second."
"The first time I felt an inkling that something was going to happen was when you asked me to put sun cream on your back. Did you know that's the first time I'd ever touched you anywhere more than just on your arm or your shoulder?"
"yes, Scott- I suppose that it was."
"And do you remember how it felt?"
"Yes, I remember it well." Remember it well? I tingle at the very thought of it.
"I remember every bump and ridge of your spine, every single little hair follicle on the small of your back. I've got a photographic imprint on my memory that will never, ever fade."
"Gosh." As a matter of fact, so do I.
He bends his head down to mine. "I'll let you in on something else. At the risk of sounding totally lecherous now, there's a particular swimsuit of yours. I don't even want to tell you what it does to me when you wear it."
I tingle at his proximity. "Which one?" My brain makes a valiant attempt to sift through my extensive swimwear collection. Is it the turquoise one? I know he likes blue. Or the shimmery green one that goes with my eyes? Or maybe it's the bright red one with the gold trim...
"I'm not telling you. You might stop wearing it."
"I might start wearing it all the time."
"Now there's a thought," he chuckles.
"Well, if we're both going to be lecherous," I say, " then I may as well tell you that the sight of you in your uniform makes my knees go weak."
"Really? Now that is kind of naughty, Tin-Tin." He is silent for a few moments, no doubt considering the endless array of opportunities to tease me that my confession has just afforded him. " I was wearing it yesterday." He grins. "Is that what got you so turned on? Or maybe the fact I was all covered in dirt?"
"It might have been both," I admit.
"I'm sorry I'm not wearing it now," he smiles. "I could go and put it on for you, if you want."
"I can use my imagination," I murmur. "Scott, please kiss me again."
He kisses me. He eases me up against a nearby statue of Buddha. His kiss is deep, passionate, and extremely thorough. He runs his hands over my hips. I lean back against Buddha, and he presses closer. His kiss goes on and on, like a lifetime of kisses stored up and released all at once. His tongue pushes deep into my mouth. My neck begins aching from the pressure of it. I kiss him back just as hard. I rake my nails through his hair. I moan softly as his mouth breaks free of mine and he kisses my throat, pressing his lips against the tender spot where my pulse beats hard and fast. Every cell in my body is filled with longing for his touch. If he makes love to me now, up against the stone Buddha in the garden of this Pacific island paradise, then I will die a happy woman.
But he doesn't. The opportunity is robbed from us by voices shouting down from the house, piercing the still night air. It's Gordon and Alan, and they're looking for me. "Tin-Tin! Hey, Tin-Tin. Where are you?"
"Damn," mutters Scott, pushing himself off me almost as quickly as he did yesterday.
Sometimes in times of stress I start laughing. Alan used get quite irritated by it, especially when he thought I was laughing at him. I start to giggle now as I frantically straighten my clothes.
"Oh no," I whisper breathlessly. "My husband's home."
"You have two husbands?"
"Yes. My religion demands it."
Alan calls again. "Tin-Tin! Where are you?"
"Scott, you have to go."
He grabs my head and kisses me hard and quickly. "This is way too much like my college days," he quips, and then sprints off over the grass, making himself scarce.
I find the nearest bench and sit down on it, or rather, my shaky legs give way. I pat my clothes down and smooth my hair, straightening my headband. I am flushed and giddy, my mouth tender and kiss-bruised. I compose myself as Alan and Gordon call again. There are times when I could quite happily throttle them. "For goodness' sakes you two!" I call back, affecting boredom. "There's no need to keep shouting. I'm in the garden."
That night I find it almost impossible to sleep. I turn this way and that. I kick the covers off and then pull them back on again. I stretch my arm across the empty side of the bed, imagining what it would be like to be in bed with Scott. I am envious of the women that have already been that lucky. With his darkly handsome looks and his ready wit he is quite a catch. I wonder if he has been with Lady Penelope. Scott's convinced she likes Virgil, but Scott would only have to look at her a certain way and she'd be putty in his hands. I smile to myself. My thoughts are so outlandish sometimes. I picture him lying next to me with his dark head resting on my pillow. His warm smile and his knowing blue eyes are the last things I see before I finally drift off to sleep.