Moonflower Read online

  It was Sophie he saw. Sophie laughing, large green eyes arresting, like a splash of green against the gold of the bushveld. Or her mouth, full lips parted as he stroked long golden limbs. He would wake in the darkness, convinced he could feel her beside him, hear her breathe.

  He was a mess and he was not pleased about it. He still saw no way of bringing Sophie’s world and his together. He simply had to be more disciplined, so he’d put in an extra hour in the gym after he left the office. He accepted invitations and attended functions. Sophie was like a virus that had somehow got into his system, and if he worked hard enough, he could get her out again.

  Still his desire for her persisted, so he’d decided to return to ground zero to rid himself of this obsession once and for all, or succumb to its madness. In fact, Reuben wondered how important Sophie herself was in the bigger scheme of things. He had for some time felt a vague dissatisfaction with life, which could have prompted the sudden urge to buy an African game farm. Had an exotic copper-haired beauty become the excuse to escape for a time from boardrooms, endless meetings and cocktail parties?

  He had built her up in his mind in recent weeks, but he was sure the young woman would not stand up to the image when he laid eyes on her again.

  He had arrived at the house, resolute that he would not look for her, or strain for the sound of her voice. He had stripped off his business suit, taken a shower, talked with Rolf and Sara. Even though it was Sophie he wanted to find; test his theory about the woman and the image in his head.

  He’d eventually found Isaac in the storeroom. Sophie was giving a talk to the second school group they’d had that week. Yes, of course he wanted to see her in action, Reuben had told Isaac.

  Why did his heart beat the way it did when he approached the hut? At first she did not see him silhouetted against the bright doorway. He heard her voice—his eyes taking a minute to adjust to the light—and there was laughter in it, a lilting pleasure she took in speaking of her passion. A dozen images came rushing back at him: hoarse whispers as she wrapped long legs around his hips, encouraging him to pleasure her more deeply; her breath hot bursts against his skin.

  Arousal hit him like the blast of a furnace. He had worn a loose shirt. It was just as well, because he burned for her, hot and rigid.

  She was far more than his wildest imaginings, and his response to her had nothing to do with rationality and intellect. He realised now why he’d broken all his own rules, and hurled himself into bed with a very young employee. For all his money and all his power, he was helpless, unable to function around her in any logical way, and he had no idea why. It had been a mistake to come back. Why hadn’t he simply stayed away? It now seemed like the only sensible and sane thing to have done. But it was too late now.

  Sophie had looked shocked to see him. He searched her face for a smile, a lighting up of the eyes, but there was none.

  Mark had told him of his talk with Sophie, of Clarice’s warning to her, and then there’d been the incident with McTavish. Had Sophie decided that Reuben Manning came with too much baggage? She was young; was all this complication beyond her?

  He tried to concentrate, half-turning away from her, as Isaac explained a poster on the wall, but Reuben heard little of what he said. How could he, with Sophie’s voice filling his head? Could he let go of her now? He didn’t think he was ready yet, but he needed time to figure out his next move.

  As soon as Isaac paused in his talk, Reuben thanked him and asked to be taken back to the house. He left the hut, fighting the urge to look back at her. Perhaps he’d turn and the smile would be there, the welcome in her eyes. He stopped, looked over his shoulder, but she had her back to him, pointing to something on a chalkboard.

  ‘Mr Manning wants to see you,’ Isaac said, when she pulled into the garage. ‘And the generator people called. The message is on your desk.’

  ‘This afternoon they’re doing a house call,’ she told him. ‘I want us to do a full power failure drill. Check the generator and electric fencing. We’ll need to be ready from two.’

  ‘All stations go,’ Isaac said, giving her the thumbs-up.

  The smile slipped from Sophie’s face as soon as Isaac had gone. Reuben wanted to see her. He had seemed so distant in the hut, impatient, almost angry, and she hoped if he called her in now to tell her it was over between them, that she would give nothing of her own emotions away. She just needed a little time to tightly fasten her armour about her before she went to the house.

  So she unpacked the vehicle, sorted out everything they’d need for this afternoon’s drill, then went to her desk just off the storeroom and made a few calls. Almost an hour later, she made her way to the main house. It was never a good thing to keep Reuben waiting, but she’d needed the time to steel herself against the encounter. She was ready now.

  The study door was open, Reuben behind his desk. He remained seated, although he wanted to get up and go to her, his body compelling him to do so. ‘How are you, Sophie?’

  ‘I’m fine thanks. How are you?’

  He nodded, indicated a chair in front of his desk. Sophie made no move to sit. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘How have you been?’

  ‘Busy. I’ve plotted flora and fauna and soil quality across almost seventy percent of the farm. I can show you the grid if you’d like.’

  Reuben was silent for moment. ‘I meant how have you been?’

  He saw her chest move beneath the khaki shirt; she took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been fine, Reuben. Thank you.’

  He frowned, stood up, went to her. She stepped back. Put a chair between them.

  Reuben had never been rejected by a woman. Of course Sophie wanted him, he told himself. Was this some sort of childish fit of pique because he’d gone away?

  ‘Those children in the hut—you’ve started a school programme.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your brief is to conserve what’s already on this farm and replenish what is missing. I hadn’t thought that included schoolchildren. Need I remind you that the first consignment of animals is due in this week?’

  Sophie’s chin came up; her copper ponytail swished behind her and caught the light. A cat’s tail. He knew he had her riled and that thrilled him, got his blood pumping. He would not tolerate cold, polite indifference.

  ‘I appreciate your interest,’ she said politely, ‘but I’ve carefully planned out my time and everything’s in place for the animals’ arrival.’

  Still cold, and so controlled.

  Just weeks ago he’d had this woman in his arms. Felt her yielding beneath him. Clinging to him, whispering her desire for him in that deep husky voice, while he burned up inside her.

  ‘That isn’t the point.’ He stepped closer to her. She watched him warily. ‘As a professional, if you had not thought it necessary to ask permission, you should have at least informed your employer of your intention to begin an extramural activity that appears nowhere in your job description.’

  Sophie’s eyes blazed at him. She stepped closer and his heart bumped and jolted in his chest. ‘You’ve obviously forgotten that we did talk about it. That first day at the hikers’ cottage.’

  Reuben watched her blush, despite her anger, at the mention of the cottage and the memory of them pressed together beneath the fallen wall hanging, then their explosive lovemaking the next time he’d taken her there. He hadn’t forgotten a moment of it; could still see her unbuttoning his jeans, pushing her hand past the waistband, lower until she’d felt the tip of him against her fingertips.

  Perspiration broke out on Reuben’s forehead. He took a step towards her. They were almost touching now, chest-to-chest. Hers rising and falling, the cold exterior gone. He ached for her. Had to touch—

  ‘Sophie?’

  They stepped apart at the sound of Sara’s voice in the passage outside.

  Sophie moved quickly to the study door, poked her head out. ‘I’m here, Sara.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to interr
upt. There’s a young man here to see you.’

  Sophie moved out into the passage. Reuben walked to the doorway.

  ‘Alan!’ she exclaimed as a tall young man, dressed in khakis, appeared. His dark, curly hair was tousled and he had bulging pockets everywhere. Sophie flung herself into his arms, hugged him tightly. Reuben felt a constriction in his throat.

  ‘I heard they’d let you loose out here,’ he said, stepping away from her. ‘You look fantastic, Sophie-girl.’

  ‘You too, darling boy,’ she said, kissing him lightly on both cheeks.

  Sophie-girl? Reuben felt like throttling the guy. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, behind them. ‘I don’t mean to interrupt, but—’

  Sophie spun around, stiffly made the introductions. ‘Reuben, this is a close friend, Alan Jeffries. We worked together on the African Wild Dog Project. Alan, this is Reuben Manning, the owner of Labour’s End.’

  Alan stepped forward and the men shook hands. ‘Sophie’s told me about your long-term plans for the farm,’ Alan said. ‘I think what you’re doing here is fantastic.’

  Reuben disliked Alan for no rational reason. He seemed like a perfectly nice guy. ‘Thank you, Alan,’ he said, being sure to keep his voice polite. ‘I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, but Sophie and I were in the middle of something.’

  ‘Go to the kitchen and wait for me,’ Sophie said, rubbing his arm affectionately. ‘I won’t be long. It’s to the end of the passage, first right, down to the end, then last door on the left.’

  ‘See you in a mo,’ Alan said. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Manning.’

  ‘What is he doing here?’ Reuben asked, when Alan had disappeared and the study door was once again closed. He quickly held up a hand. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, of course; this being my farm and all.’

  ‘He’s a friend and colleague,’ Sophie said, tilting her delicate chin at him so the light caught the sweep of her cheekbone and sprinkled it with gold dust. ‘We went through a lot together on the African Wild Dog Project. Those kinds of challenges make for close friends.’ Sophie was obviously intent on getting a dig in. ‘Very different to the corporate world I’d imagine, which seems far more dog-eat-dog than in the African bush.’

  ‘Whoa,’ Reuben said, holding his hands up in a don’t-shoot gesture. ‘Just asked a simple question.’

  ‘Did you, Reuben?’ Sophie’s eyes flashed at him, but Reuben chose not to take the bait.

  ‘Why didn’t you discuss the school programme with me first?’

  ‘You were away.’

  ‘Yes, Sophie,’ Reuben said testily. ‘But I was also a phone call or an e-mail away.’

  ‘I don’t know what your life is like in England. I thought you’d be too busy to get involved with something as trivial as a school programme out here.’

  ‘I am involved.’ He stepped away from her and went back to his desk.

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Sophie said. ‘Can I go now?’

  ‘I’m not a bloody headmaster,’ he snapped. He knew she was champing at the bit to go after Alan.

  ‘I’m trying to be civilised, Reuben.’

  ‘Well, don’t. It doesn’t suit you.’

  Sophie’s gasp was barely audible and she stared at him with huge green eyes. Reuben felt disgusted with himself and looked away. ‘Just go,’ he told her, but he called her name as she got to the door.

  She turned to look at him, eyes still troubled.

  Reuben sighed. ‘Apart from not informing me, the school programme’s a good initiative.’

  Sophie stared at him for a moment, then nodded and left the room.

  It was wonderful to see Alan again. In no time at all he’d lifted Sophie’s spirits with his down-to-earth personality and wacky sense of humour. They drove around the farm and caught up on the gossip doing the rounds in conservation circles. He laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks when she told him about her encounters with their resident thieving baboon.

  Sophie wanted to hold onto Alan. He was not only a welcome distraction, but he reminded her of who she was when she was carefree and focussed on the work she loved to do. A familiar face, a friend and ally. But, too soon, he had to leave.

  Rather than be alone with her thoughts, Sophie ate the evening meal at the house. She thought she should have gone back to the cottage. She felt jumpy, on edge, thinking of Reuben eating his dinner in another part of the house.

  Her thoughts plagued her, even though she was surrounded by the happy banter of the other staff. She needed to clear her head, so she went for a walk in the garden. She hoped Mr Solomon would pop up from behind a bush with some words of wisdom for her.

  She made her way down the path, but he made no appearance and he was not to be found behind any of the rose bushes in the garden.

  Sophie entered the small apple orchard where the formal garden ended. It was a beautiful night, the air soft and warm. ‘Mr Solomon?’ she called.

  It had been a scorcher of a day and she had no desire to go back to the cottage that would still be a little stuffy despite the ceiling fan. After the shower she’d taken earlier, she’d put on a thin white sleeveless shirt and the only casual skirt she owned: a red wrap-around that reached almost to her ankles. It was wonderfully cool and Sophie wished she could wear this sort of attire more often.

  It was cool in the orchard and the air smelled of sunshine, wood and apples. Through the trees the moon was as full as a bowl of cream.

  ‘Mr Solomon; you in here?’

  ‘Sophie?’

  She jumped several centimetres into the air and spun to face the voice that certainly did not belong to the gardener.

  ‘Reuben?’

  The dark figure moved towards her. ‘Why are you looking for Mr Solomon at this time of day?’

  ‘We sometimes have a chat. What are you doing here?’ she asked, trying hard not to sound breathless.

  He looked up at the sky. ‘It’s one of my favourite places on the farm. But at night; like this, when the moon’s up.’

  His hair was touched with silvery light. His eyes dark as the lake when he looked back at her. ‘Where’s your friend?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your friend, Alan.’

  ‘It was a brief visit; he had to leave.’

  He came towards her, his movements unhurried. Every hair stood up on her body, even though he’d stopped a metre away from her. She did not look at his face; she found it so hard to resist reacting to the intensity of his eyes. She stared at his chest as it rose and fell. He stood with his feet apart, arms at his sides.

  ‘I thought he might spend the night.’

  ‘We’re friends, that’s all,’ Sophie said, standing her ground as he stepped up to her. She did not move a muscle even though her heart beat wildly like a buck caught in darkness thick enough to mask the approach of a predator.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said, placing a hand on the tree trunk beside her head. ‘And what in Sophie Kyle’s book constitutes a friend?’

  Sophie pressed her body and palms to the bark behind her, needing it desperately for support. ‘You know the answer to that,’ she said, looking away from him towards the dark tree shapes around them.

  He brought his lips to her cheek, so close she could feel his breath against her skin as he spoke. ‘Few weeks ago I thought I knew the answer to that question, now I’m not so sure. So you tell me, Sophie. Explain it to me.’

  He smelled faintly of expensive brandy. Sophie breathed him in and her head felt light as a dandelion wheel. Her knees dipped a little. Reuben caught her round the waist; palms against her hips.

  ‘I could say the same about you,’ she managed in a breathless voice.

  Reuben placed a finger beneath her chin. Tilted her face up to him, but she kept her eyes cast down.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘You have to look at me, Sophie.’

  She couldn’t or she’d be lost again. She shook her head.

  His fingertips brushed her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut. He touched he
r lips.

  ‘Look at me, Sophie!’

  It was a command and, helpless to resist him, she obeyed.

  His eyes were on her lips, following the path his finger travelled. She opened her mouth, her tongue grazing his fingertips. His eyes flew to hers. She looked up at him; a full, open stare, and let everything she felt for him pour from her eyes.

  ‘Yes, Sophie,’ he breathed, and there was triumph and longing in those words. ‘My wild and beautiful Sophie.’

  He said her name as if the uttering of it gave him immense pleasure. She reached up and touched his face. ‘And you are no less beautiful to me, Reuben.’

  He let out a deep breath, as if he’d been holding it all in. His lips brushed softly against hers, then he took her lower lip between his, running his tongue side to side, and Sophie melted into his arms, unable to control the force of her longing for him.

  His hands slid over her hips, lower to her buttocks. He slid his palms downwards, cupping the flesh, squeezing gently. Sophie crushed her hips to his, rocking, feeling the hardness there. She thrust her tongue into his mouth and out again, a mirror of how desperately she wanted him inside her. Deep inside. As deep as he could go.

  Her fingers fumbled to unbutton his shirt and her lips followed her fingers across the strata of muscles, stopping at hard nipples, teasing them with her teeth. He groaned, snaked his fingers in her hair.

  Sophie moved lower, sinking to her knees. When she reached for the button of his trousers, Reuben, with a strangled cry, dropped to his knees in front of her, unbuttoned her shirt and nibbled the tender flesh above her collarbone. He gently squeezed her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra. Sophie unfastened the front clasp and pushed the cloth aside.

  A sharp breath hissed between Reuben’s teeth before he clasped her back and ducked his head to her breast. His tongue circled her swollen nipple. Round and round until Sophie tangled her fingers in his hair. Only then did he take the nipple into his mouth and suck gently. He repeated the motion: tongue circling, circling, then swooping in to suck her gently, until Sophie panted, her head swaying back to touch the tree trunk. She thought she might pass out. She focussed on his face.