Make Love Not War (11 page)

“Oh, Bryce.” She sighed with ecstasy as his hand cupped her feminine mound.

He continued touching her, becoming more intimate, his fingers sliding under the leg of her panties so he could stroke her soft feminine curls. Did he feel the sudden warm wetness as need surged through her? It raged white hot, like a wildfire burning out of control.

“You want me, don’t you, darling?” his voice sounded thick with desire. “Stop me now, if you don’t.”

Voices coming from outside the door shattered their fiery passion and instantly doused it.

“Kerry’s home,” Caroline said in a panic.

“Hell.” He rolled away and started buttoning up his shirt.

Trevor and Kerry must have been kissing each other at the door, as silence reigned for a few moments, giving them time to tidy up their clothing.

“I think I’d better skip the coffee.” He stood up. “Good night.”  He lit a cigarette with trembling hands and started across the room just as the door opened.

“Oops, sorry, did I interrupt anything?” Kerry didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

“I was leaving anyway.”  Bryce nodded to Trevor, raised his hand in a salute which encompassed them all and left.

“I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Kerry, Trevor.” Caroline escaped to her room and got ready for bed. She could still taste Bryce’s lips. Feel his hands roaming over her heated body. Smell his special male scent and the musky perfume of her arousal.

Kerry came to bed not long afterwards, but she pretended to be asleep. Her friend would be bursting with curiosity, but she felt too vulnerable to parry any questions tonight. Instead, she lay there savoring her magical evening.

***

Next morning at work Bryce greeted her as usual. Last night might never have happened. Halfway through the afternoon, Amanda Cleveland arrived, demanding to see Bryce. Caroline didn’t like Shereen over much, probably because of jealousy as much as anything else, but Amanda set her teeth on edge.

This woman was arrogance personified, the way she spoke and held herself, sweeping into the office as if she owned it.

“Bryce will see me,” she stated confidently when Caroline tried putting her off by saying he was unavailable. Unavailable forever, if Caroline Dennison had any say in it. A
u
revoir
.
   
F
arewell
. G
ood riddance, Amanda.

In the end, Amanda pushed past and minced across the office. Not bothering to knock, she opened the door and marched in. About ten minutes later the buzzer sounded and Caroline picked up her book and went into Bryce’s office.

“Caroline, make Miss Cleveland some coffee, will you, please? I might as well have one, too, while you’re at it.”

“Black with no sugar,” Amanda put in coolly and draped herself across a chair. Her bare legs were well tanned and her dark hair had recently benefited from an expert cut and set. She wore a white linen miniskirt with a matching low necked top, absolutely plain, but so well cut that even on a broomstick it would have looked sensational. The miniskirt exposed most of her thighs. She moved her legs, parting them in brazen invitation.

Caroline hurried out of the room. Jealousy burned her up, she nearly self-combusted. No wonder he forgot about her so quickly. She pushed the plug of the percolator so hard into the electric socket it almost came out the other side of the wall. The china cups and saucers would be in order today, no doubt about that. She put them on a silver tray and added a plate of cream biscuits, which she could cheerfully have sprinkled with rat poison. Hope they choke on them.

When everything was ready, she took the tray into the office, just in time to hear Amanda say, “Seven-thirty tomorrow will be fine. Daddy bought me a dress in Paris. I know you’re going to love it.”

Bryce nodded for Caroline to place the tray on his desk.

“Would you like me to pour?” Her months of training as his secretary allowed her to speak normally, instead of screaming and scratching the other woman’s eyes out.

“I’ll pour,” Amanda cut in. “Bryce likes me doing things for him, don’t you, darling?”

Feeling nauseous, Caroline left them ogling each other. She banged away at her typewriter. About fifteen minutes later they came out of his office. Bryce’s hair was mussed and he had a lipstick smear on his mouth.

“Oh, darling, you’ve got lippy on your mouth. Let me clean it off. What will your little secretary think?” Amanda took out a white lace handkerchief. Standing closer than necessary she made a big production of wiping away the offending mark.

Caroline forced herself to continue typing despite the excruciating pain in her heart.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he offered when Amanda stepped back from him. With his hand resting on her waist, they disappeared into the corridor.

***

Two weeks passed. Bryce dated Amanda continuously. If she wasn’t in his office she was on the phone demanding to speak to him. Her arrogance and unmitigated cheek were incredible. She told Bryce that Caroline treated her rudely, and Caroline subsequently suffered a tongue lashing from him, along with the veiled threat that if she weren’t careful her services would be terminated. How unjust. She sobbed the story out to Kerry the night it happened.

“Quit,” Kerry snapped. “Leave the pig in the lurch.”

Dear God, it was tempting, but she couldn’t do it. Seeing Bryce with Amanda was torture, but not seeing him at all would be even worse. She must be a masochist who enjoyed self-flagellation and martyrdom.

She did enjoy a little taste of revenge, although it hadn’t been a deliberate act. To clean the inside of the coffee pot she had filled it up with salt water and brought it to the boil. Amanda, obviously wanting to show off how domesticated she could be, insisted on making their coffee this one day. Caroline grinned each time she thought about it. Bryce spluttered into his cup and Amanda vomited all down the front of her white lace dress.

Andy wrote, saying he had graduated and was now waiting for a permanent posting. She desperately hoped it would be in Victoria, because she needed him now more than ever before. What if the government wanted him to serve in Vietnam? A shudder racked through her because Dennison and war didn’t mix. There always seemed to be a bullet with their name written on it.

On several occasions Bryce had her arrange for flowers to be sent to Amanda. She liked long-stemmed yellow roses.
Caroline wished she
was brave enough to order poison ivy. Amanda had started hinting that she would soon be Mrs. Bryce Harrington.

A week before Christmas, Harrington Constructions gave their annual work Christmas party. It was being held at Alexander Harrington’s Toorak mansion and would take the form of a pool party cum barbeque. All members of staff and their partners were invited.

Four of the girls from the typing pool didn’t have partners. Caroline arranged to go with them, although she would catch a cab home. “I’ll drive,” Judith had volunteered. All the staff received a generous bonus, so she splurged out on a new outfit. She needed something to cheer herself up. Not that Bryce would notice her with the luscious Amanda sticking to him like a leech.

Caroline lived in hope that the other woman wouldn’t be attending, because if they met face to face at a social function, she would be hard pressed not to tell Amanda exactly what she thought of her.

She now perused the social columns of the newspapers with avid interest, particularly the engagement column. Apparently the entire Cleveland family, mother, father and daughter, would be flying to Fiji to stay with friends for a few days over the festive season.

“Imagine flying all that way, paying out heaps of money just for a couple of days. It stinks,” Kerry raged. “Those wealthy types make me sick, squandering money, while twenty-year-olds are getting conscripted into the army.”

Caroline laughed. Kerry’s political persuasion verged on the communistic, but such frivolous self-indulgence was uncalled for with soldiers dying in Vietnam and conscientious objectors being sent to prison.

The once peaceful anti-war demonstrations were becoming violent. Protesters were being dragged away by the police, innocent bystanders attacked. Troublemakers had infiltrated the ranks of genuine protesters. The whole situation worried her. It was a powder keg, and Kerry and Trevor were sitting right on top of it. Because of Andy’s commitment to the army she didn’t want to be close by when it went off.

Chapter Eight

On the Friday night of the Christmas party, Caroline rushed home from work to get ready. She was meeting the other girls at six o’clock outside work because it was the most central place to congregate. Kerry, who was going to a work
party with Trevor, would be staying the night with his parents.

“I won’t be home until late Saturday, Caro. Do you think you’ll be all right?  Trevor’s grandparents live in the country, and we’re going up on Saturday for the day, so we won’t get back until late.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll keep all the doors and windows locked and not let in any strange men.”  Caroline grinned. “I promise.”

Kerry wore an after-five dress for her Christmas function, as it was a formal affair. Trevor had promised to drop Caroline off at work so she could meet up with the other girls, the dateless and desperate, as they jokingly called themselves.

She wore a pale blue toweling frock with shoestring straps. It had floral appliqués around the hemline. High-heeled white sandals gave her added height. She was tall for a woman, a fraction over five feet six inches.

She combed her hair. The sun had already bleached it a shade or two lighter than normal, and the blonde streaks scattered through it, suited her fair complexion. She allowed herself a full fringe and parted her hair down the middle, drawing it back from her face by flicking it behind her ears to show off her gold stud earrings.

“You look terrific, far too pretty to be eating your heart out over a selfish brute like Harrington. Promise Aunty Kerry that if you meet someone nice at the party, someone who wants to take you home, you’ll let him.”

Caroline laughed. “I won’t promise, but maybe I will. I’m fighting a losing battle anyway.”

Trevor arrived to pick them up, and he whistled his approval.

“Good thing I’m not taking you both to the party, I’d be fighting guys off all night.”

Arms linked, Kerry and Trevor left the apartment, Caroline following a step or two behind them, and when they got to the car, she sat in the back - alone.

As they pulled up to the Harrington Building, Trevor turned around. “I’ve been thinking. I could pick you up from the barbeque and you could spend the night at my place. Kerry’s worried about you staying on your own, especially with that spate of burglaries in the neighborhood. You could come to my grandparents, too.”

“Thanks Trev, but I’ll be all right.” She opened the car door. “Go off and enjoy yourselves. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl now.” 

The other girls were already waiting on the pavement, so Trevor drove off straight away. Judith’s beehive hair-do was even higher than usual. She must have used a whole can of hairspray to keep it in place.

On arrival at the Harrington mansion, Judith parked the car out in the street. Walking four abreast, they strolled through a pair of enormous iron gates set into a bluestone wall.

A uniformed security guard escorted them to the pool area. Probably making sure we don’t trespass into the house. Caroline would have given up a year’s pay to have one tiny peek inside the place where Bryce had spent his childhood.

Hurricane lanterns illuminated the expansive gardens and a soft mantle of light encircled the numerous trees and shrubs.

A huge barbeque had been set up at one end of a cobblestoned poolside area. By the appetizing aromas, the meat was already cooking.

She smiled at several people from work before Harrington Senior claimed her attention.

“How are you this evening, my dear?” As always whenever they met, he stared at her intently. Never rude, of course, too much of a gentleman for that, but his eyes took on a contemplative puzzlement. Did he suspect how she felt about his son? Oh please God, no.

“I’m fine, thanks. You’ve chosen a perfect night for a barbecue, Mr. Harrington.”

“We have, haven’t we?” He rubbed his hands together. “If you would excuse me, I’ll see how the food is coming along.” He headed towards the pool area. No sign of Bryce. Perhaps he wasn’t coming. She didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry.

A waiter hovering at her elbow asked what she wanted to drink.

“Um, I’m not sure. What have you got?”

“The fruit punch is nice, Miss. And there’s sparkling wine, beer…”

“Fruit punch, thanks,” she cut him off.

She accepted a glass and took a sip. It tasted delicious and would quench her thirst. Alcohol had never appealed to her.

Long tables, set up at one side of the pool, were covered with various salads and other delicacies, a virtual banquet.