Zambezi Seduction Read online

  “Well?” he pressed, his eyes sparkling. “Which do you fancy more – midge bites by a Scottish loch or mosquito bites by the Zambezi?” He was clearly enjoying this intriguing adventure. Kerry hadn’t seen him so animated since their family holiday in Bali.

  “But it’s too late,” she protested, setting down her teacup. “I had my chance and blew it. He’s a handsome guy – not short of female admirers, if I’m any judge. He’ll have found someone else.”

  “Unlikely,” her father encouraged. “A chap doesn’t invite just anyone along on such a trip.”

  The tension that had gripped Kerry for weeks was suddenly gone. She would take that next step – whatever the result.

  “I’ll write to him saying my circumstances have changed.” Kerry’s smile faded and a note of doubt crept into her voice. “It’ll all be for nothing, I’m sure.”

  “You can try at least.”

  “One thing, Dad,” she said thoughtfully. “His work – I’ve been wondering how I might obtain a professional opinion.”

  “His paintings? Simple. Both Sotheby’s and Christie’s have offices and agents around the world. They’ll have someone in South Africa with an intimate knowledge of the local art scene. Phone them . . . no, it’s Sunday . . . tomorrow – get the address of their South African office. Then write to their chappie there asking about . . . whatsisname? . . . Lindsay. Say you’re a collector and his name has come to your notice. Want me to do it for you?”

  “Oh, please, Dad. I’ve got a hectic schedule next week.”

  “That’s settled then,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ll keep me informed of developments?”

  “Of course – but don’t raise your hopes too high.”

  ***

  The e-mail from South Africa arrived a few days later. Kerry’s father forwarded it to her.

  . . . Chad Lindsay is one of a new generation of South African artists to emerge in the last five or six years, and he is without doubt one of the most talented. He spends long periods in the field and is respected as a professional who knows his subject. We have noticed a steadily increasing demand for his work, especially from overseas collectors. If David Shepherd represents the pinnacle of success in wildlife painting, then Chad Lindsay is not far behind. Indeed, the two are more and more being talked about in the same breath.

  He is certainly an artist with a future . . .

  Kerry had done her own internet research. She was shocked to learn just how much money a Lindsay original fetched on the rare occasions one came up for auction. If not already a millionaire, he was well on his way to reaching that milestone.

  Personnel gave qualified agreement to her request to have her leave put back to October. Nothing could be guaranteed though without specific dates.

  And still there was no word from him.

  After each working trip Kerry eagerly checked her e-mail – only to be disappointed. Weeks passed and her hopes plummeted. She became grumpy and showed little tolerance to passengers making unreasonable demands of her time. Personnel sent her a sharply-worded reminder that they still had not received dates for her leave. Her father phoned several times, wanting to know the latest. Each time their conversation was uncharacteristically brief. There was little to say and Kerry was in no mood for idle gossip.

  She felt hurt – worse, she felt humiliated, sure she had made a complete fool of herself.

  ***

  Chad was relieved to be back in Johannesburg. The trip to northern Namibia had been long and tiring, albeit satisfying. It was a fabulous terrain, rich in wildlife and with some plant species found nowhere else. The high dunes of the Namib would be a challenge to capture on canvas.

  On the flight back from Windhoek he had found himself staring at the crew when they passed his seat. He had thought of the Pommy stewardess, Kerry, remembering their meeting. Once or twice during game-spotting drives he had looked across to the empty passenger seat and imagined her there.

  Now as he strode purposefully through Arrivals he kept his eyes peeled. Silly, he thought. Snowball’s chance in hell of seeing her again.

  Where is she now? he wondered. What is she doing?

  ***

  One day – when Kerry had almost put the whole business out of her mind – she found his e-mail in her inbox. She gave a little cry, a mixture of surprise and delight.

  Her fingers trembled as she opened it. She paused before beginning to read. The time span between their letters told her to expect bad news. Chad obviously had had more important things to think about. She was not a priority. She prepared herself for disappointment.

  . . . been on an extended trip to the Kaokoveld region of Namibia to find and photograph a unique herd of desert elephants, Kerry read – her excitement such that she hardly dared breathe. She skipped through his descriptions of the beasts, terrain and 4-wheel drive vehicle he’d hired. The trip was a success and should result in several good paintings. Got back only an hour ago, found your letter and hasten to write knowing how concerned you must be at the delay.

  Yes, the offer is still open . . . Yippy Yiiiiiigh! Kerry felt her heart leap with joy . . . Leave for Zimbabwe on the morning of October 5th. Can you arrange to arrive in Jo’burg a day or two earlier? If this date doesn’t suit, you can arrive later and fly up to Bulawayo where I will meet you. He could not alter the starting date as accommodations in the national parks were already booked. He hoped the arrangement suited her and asked to be advised of her arrival details. Any questions regarding their route, animals they could expect to see or what she should bring, he would be happy to answer.

  Kerry reread Chad’s e-mail just to reassure herself she had not dreamed it. She phoned her dad, catching him as he was about to leave for the golf club.

  “Wonderful! Wonderful news!” he cried. “I’m truly delighted, my dear. Tonight I shall celebrate with a drop o’ the hard stuff – as your dear mother would have put it.”

  Kerry smiled at his fair imitation of her mum’s Galway brogue. She pictured him opening one of the bottles of expensive single malts he reserved for special occasions. She herself planned to have a quiet drink in celebration.

  ***

  Time seemed to pass with agonizing slowness.

  Every day in her head she went over her meeting with Chad, trying to recall each word he had uttered. The only disappointment in his e-mail was the lack, or even hint, of an apology over his abrupt departure from the hotel.

  Okay, he had written in a rush and weeks had passed since their meeting. But Kerry had the uneasy feeling that Chad Lindsay didn’t do apologies.

  She was under no illusion that the trip would be a bed of roses. Many successful people were a pain – haughty, egotistical, and demanding. She had met plenty – business and sporting types, A and B-list celebs – in First Class, where they expected stewardesses to be forever at their beck and call.

  It remained to be seen whether Chad fell into this category. His behaviour during their only meeting to date had been a mix of uplifting, adventurous talk followed by a show of petulance worthy of a spoilt child.

  Which was the real Chad Lindsay? Only time would tell.

  One thing the South African would be made aware of at the outset: Kerry had no intention of allowing herself to be used as his personal doormat.

  As her dad had reminded her, she was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

  Kerry longed to tell her friends, sing Chad’s praises. But that nagging doubt refused to go away.

  In the end she told no one.

  That way, if it did turn into a disaster, she would be spared the embarrassment of ridicule.

  TWO

  Kerry had an inbuilt aversion to sleeping during flights. She worked aboard aircraft and even when off-duty found it impossible to relax sufficiently for sleep to overtake her. Consequently, she was far from looking her best as she passed through customs and prepared to meet Chad Lindsay. She resisted the temptation to dive through the Ladies’ room door and attempt to camoufl
age her weariness. This was a holiday, she reminded herself – not a fashion shoot. Instead she hid her tired eyes behind dark glasses.

  Ahead, the usual scenes of joyful reunion – kissing, hugging and back-slapping – were being played out. Kerry stopped and looked around. She’d had weeks to prepare for this moment, yet still felt nervous. A striking young woman, a tall leggy blonde, held up a sheet of paper. Where was Chad? He had assured her that he would meet her. Surely there had been no mix up over dates?

  The stream of arrivals thinned to a trickle. Kerry felt tense. It was just the start she didn’t want. Airports she associated with work, and she longed to be gone. Something must have delayed him. Johannesburg, like any other major city, had its traffic problems.

  The blonde woman walked towards her. Kerry saw her name written on the paper. She smiled from relief and curiosity. “Hi, I’m Kerry Stephens. I was expecting Chad.”

  “Anna Grobler. Chad asked me to meet you. Some last minute business tied him up.”

  Kerry was aware of the other woman giving her a detailed look-over. It was hardly unobtrusive and it made her feel uneasy. She sensed rivalry in the air – but that was ridiculous. Who was this drop-dead gorgeous woman? More importantly – what business had prevented Chad from meeting her?

  They took a lift down to covered parking and Anna led Kerry to a late-model Mercedes. The boot swallowed up her baggage and she settled herself comfortably alongside the South African blonde. Kerry answered pleasantries about the flight as they pulled out into the heavy rush-hour traffic.

  From her many stopovers in Johannesburg, Kerry knew the airport’s position in relation to the city. They headed west along the fringes of the northern suburbs, the wealthy side of town.

  “Is it far?” she asked, noticing how dry the ground was, the grass tawny on the highway’s verges. The dry Highveld winter was over, but judging by the parched ground the first of the warm season’s thunderstorms had yet to arrive.

  “Not long now,” Anna Grobler said.

  “You are Afrikaans speaking?” Kerry asked. She had noticed the slight hesitation between words, the odd mispronunciation. And of course there was Anna’s surname.

  Anna Grobler took her eyes off the road for a second. And in that instant Kerry saw them flash with fire.

  “Ja, for sure,” Anna said with a grin. “I’m a Boer’s . . . a farmer’s daughter from the sticks.”

  Curiouser and curiouser, thought Kerry. Just what was Anna’s relationship to Chad?

  “Lucky you,” she said with genuine feeling. “I’m a countryside freak – into nature, wild places. What do you farm? Crops? Livestock?”

  “Mealies . . . maize. We have thousands of hectares in Northwest Province.”

  “I’m envious. An African farm – what a place to grow up!”

  Anna steered the Mercedes off the highway and followed a road signposted Kyalami. She pointed out the Grand Prix circuit and shortly afterwards turned onto a narrow dirt road. The car threw up a thick cloud of dust. Anna pressed a button, closing the windows. The road surface was ridged like a washboard, but the big car’s superb suspension ensured a smooth ride. They passed smallholdings and low-built homes set back from the road to escape the dust of passing vehicles. In one field stood jump-fences made of painted poles. Everywhere was dry, sun-baked. Kerry had seen the veld green; she knew the miraculous changes the summer thunderstorms would bring.

  “Are you an artist?” Kerry probed.

  “I wish. No, Chad and I are complete opposites. We met by accident – literally.” The memory provoked a chuckle. “Ask him about it sometime. We’re friends and I escort him to exhibitions and meetings with gallery owners. When he’s away I keep an eye on his place. That’s it – there’s nothing deeper. As I said, we don’t have a lot in common.”

  “Forgive me if I’m wrong, Anna,” Kerry said, deciding on a sudden whim to go for broke, “but I sense that you don’t approve of what he and I are embarking upon.”

  Anna’s hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. Kerry wondered at her own boldness and braced herself for an angry retort.

  “How you and Chad live your lives is your own business,” the Afrikaner girl said tersely. “Just don’t pin your hopes too high.”

  “Hopes? What hopes?”

  Clearly ruffled, Anna shifted position on the car’s seat.

  “Let me put it this way . . . Chad is set in his ways. Self-centred – his work is everything. He has little time for socializing . . . but that’s not to say he has no time for women.” Anna paused to let her words sink in. “I’ve seen them move in, at receptions, exhibitions and parties. He’s a handsome guy with talent. He’s not short of money. Women find that an irresistible combination. He’s had plenty of girlfriends. Occasionally there are explicit messages on his answerphone.”

  Kerry listened without interrupting. The revelation came as no shock. She realized that her own first impressions of Chad Lindsay had been pretty accurate.

  Anna Grobler continued in a serious vein. “Chad uses women of a certain type – and I don’t include myself among them. I’m sure I don’t have to go into detail. They’re soon cast aside. He keeps the door to his heart firmly closed. Never talks of marriage.”

  “I appreciate your frankness,” Kerry told her. “But you misjudge my motive for coming. I’m here to see something of Africa – especially its wildlife – with one who knows. No more, no less. If Chad thinks he can use me and discard me, he’s in for a big surprise.”

  Anna brightened. “You must come out to Sterkfontein – the farm – for a braai. Tell me about the trip. Okay?”

  Kerry consented without hesitation. Once before, she had attended a South African barbecue and had enjoyed the day.

  “You’re sure it won’t cause problems – my being English?”

  “Agh, man . . .” Anna Grobler’s hand left the wheel and patted Kerry’s reassuringly. For a moment she was silent as if searching for the right words. “Of course we Afrikaners have had problems with the Brits in the past. Even today I know of some who refuse to speak your language. You will be welcome at my home, have no fear about that.”

  Kerry couldn’t help wondering why Anna was not accompanying Chad on the trip. Was their friendship really only platonic, as Anna claimed? Could the Afrikaner girl’s explanation be a cunning attempt to mask a deeper involvement? No doubt all would be revealed in time. But Kerry felt confused. She had viewed this adventure as something embodying herself and Chad only. Now, at the very start, a third person was included – not just anybody, but a beautiful Mercedes-driving local girl who knew Chad so much better than she did. She felt a pang of jealousy. But the folly of it hit her and she laughed it off. She, after all, was the one making the trip with Chad.

  She felt the car slow. Anna pointed. “That’s Chad’s place.”

  The cottage stood beside a stand of towering blue gums, its exterior painted the khaki colour of the veld. It blended almost unnoticed with the landscape – a simple, modest structure, devoid of the opulence Kerry had been expecting, giving no clue that its owner was in the millionaire class.

  Anna brought the car to a halt in the shade under the trees. She pointed to the empty carport.

  “He’s not back yet. We’ll take in your things, have a coffee and wait.”

  As she followed the South African to the cottage door, Kerry detected a hint of eucalyptus oil in the warm scented air – from fallen leaves crushed by the big car, she guessed. The weather was a pleasant contrast to the damp autumn she had left behind. Kerry breathed deeply, enjoying the freshness of the dry air. Her respiratory system felt cleansed, after the aircraft’s recycled air and the pollution around the airport.

  They agreed that it was only proper for Chad to show Kerry around, and so they remained in the kitchen talking and drinking coffee. Several vehicles passed before Anna cocked her head.

  “That’s him now. I recognize the engine’s tone.”

  They waited at the door. Chad
swung his long legs out from the car and strode across to greet them.

  Kerry was pleasantly shocked. Natural daylight enhanced his good points – which were many. He seemed taller with a stronger physique than she remembered. His hair was longer. Africa’s yellow light showed him off to advantage – so damned tanned and healthy looking. With her pale skin, she felt like an intruder from another world – which was true in a way. He kissed her cheek and appeared happy to see her. His physical presence reawakened romantic notions that had fleetingly entered her head through the build up to the holiday. She was quick to vanquish them now, mindful of Anna’s warning and of her own painful first meeting with this man.

  Yet she could foresee that when an attractive, sexually-aware couple were hidden from the eyes and ears of the world for days on end anything could happen.

  It promised to be an interesting three weeks.

  ***

  While Anna made a phone call, reverting to her native Afrikaans, Chad showed Kerry over the cottage. It was of simple design: a large living room with the dining area off to one side, a kitchen containing a fridge freezer and gas stove that had seen better days. The bathroom held only bare essentials – shampoo, deodorant, shaving gel and toothbrush. Typical of the single male, Kerry thought. One of the three bedrooms served as his studio. At the door of the spare bedroom Chad made a short speech. It was hers – if she wanted it. As they were going to be together for some time, he felt it important that a relationship based on trust be established early. If she preferred, he’d take her to a hotel. Kerry answered that she was perfectly happy with the room. They were responsible adults and she was sure there would be no problems. Without mentioning it, she was glad the matter of sleeping arrangements had been cleared up early, for after her sleepless night on the aircraft she wanted to rest.