Every muscle in Jeanie’s body screamed as she pounded the path through the trees. Her breath came in rasping sobs and the shadows grabbed for her, their slimy tendrils scratching her skin. She stumbled and fell, the burn of the gravel grazing her knees. Forcing herself onto her haunches she pushed up determined to keep ahead of the baying crowd. They closed in on her, nearer and nearer, the long, insistent fingers grabbing at her clothing until only shreds of tattered rags covered her body. No matter how hard she pushed herself every step did little more than mark time. The voices got louder, echoing in her ears until her own scream filled the night air and she lurched up fumbling frantically for the light switch.
Surges of panic ebbed and flowed through her like waves hitting a beach. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with a shaking hand. Her skin was wringing wet, the bed clothes a drenched tangle around her exhausted limbs and the customary heaviness clutched her chest.
Finally her fingers closed on the switch and light flooded the room, sending the howling crowd back into the deep recesses of her mind. Empty and shaking, she laid on the bed only her ragged breath breaking the stillness of the unfamiliar room.
Stretching her hands behind her, she pushed her way up the bed until her head rested against the bed head and she could concentrate on her breathing and settle her rapid heartbeat.
It had been ages since she’d had the nightmare, years since that fateful night in the park when she’d foolishly fallen for Billy Westward’s promises and made such a fool of herself. But what had sparked the nightmare?
She played back the memories of yesterday. Xander. Xander, the photographs, the beach, their swim, and his kisses. A fresh wave of heat washed over her and she kicked back the sheets. Her first kisses, her first real kisses sullied by the nightmare. She ran her hands over her cheeks and fingered her mouth, checking for any trace, any residue from his lips. Nothing but a curling deep inside her belly. At last, at long last, she knew what it was to be kissed.
How anyone could be only a few months shy of their twenty-third birthday and never have been properly kissed defied every statistic known. There had been a few fumbled attempts, but nothing before rated as a real kiss. To compare Xander’s kisses with the few sordid gropes under the mistletoe at the Christmas street party or behind the bicycle shed at school was a travesty.
And how had she responded?
She closed her eyes against the harshness of the bedside lamplight as a wave of disappointment flooded her limbs. She had run — well, swam — away, ignoring the delicious response of her clamoring body. Terrified it would be Billy all over again. And in running away, she had done the one thing years of counseling had taught her she shouldn’t do and she had paid for it. The nightmare had come back.
All those hours spent talking about her fears and facing her terrors, holding her head high and smiling, anything as long as it didn’t involve running away. But, she consoled herself, she hadn’t truly run away — at least not far away. Just out of the water and away from his insistent body and her outrageous response. After that, she’d been fine. No signs of panic, no coiling dread, and the rest of the day had been wonderful. Xander was wonderful.
Her body had behaved, it hadn’t rebelled, only her mind. Panic attacks were not allowed to feature. She had officially banished them from her self-conscious. Her muscles tightened with determination and she swung her feet off the bed and headed for the shower.
Steam billowed around her as the needles of hot water washed away the last remnants of her dream. She dressed in a pair of cotton trousers and shirt and draped the heavy cardigan over her shoulders. She hadn’t imagined she’d need it in Sydney — closer to the sea it was so warm — but she’d brought it for comfort and it had proved a godsend, mentally and physically. She examined her refection in the mirror, searching for signs of change. Could it only be a week since she’d served the CWA ladies their morning tea, unaware a life like this even existed?
The persistent fidgeting on the bedside table caught her eye and she reached for her phone. Two days ago, a mobile phone was an extravagance and now it was practically welded to her hand. Two days ago, she hadn’t been kissed and now she wanted nothing more than for it to happen again, and again. Exiling the thought, she picked up the phone.
“We’re downstairs in the lobby.” Xander’s deep voice made her stomach flutter and she glanced back in the mirror and made a quick promise — nightmares or no nightmares, no running away today. Today she was ready and waiting.
“I’m ready. I’m on my way.”
She tucked the phone into her pocket, grabbed a bottle of water, and threw it into the big tote bag her new persona had adopted as a handbag. A girl needed a lot of different things at hand if she didn’t know what the day would bring — especially water. Even Jaz would be proud of her.
Jeanie closed the door with a determined click and walked into the lift. Her legs were a little shaky but at the same time she felt strangely balanced. She leaned forward and gave Xander a quick peck on the cheek, just the way everyone else did in Sydney.
“Hi, Jeanie, all ready?” His crisp white shirt highlighted the tan of his face and her palms twitched with the memory of the cool skin of his muscled arms.
“Ready and waiting.” Oh yes, she was ready and waiting.
Watch out world, here comes Jeanie Baker.
The eyes of the night staff in the lobby followed them as they walked out of the door making Jeanie giggle and Xander turned to her, one eyebrow raised in question.
“They’re watching us. I feel famous. ”
“You are famous.” He pointed to the magazine rack on the newspaper stand and she gasped. Multiple copies of her picture in the café stared back, filling the top row of the stand.
“Third Wednesday of the month. All the gossip magazines come out. They’ve picked up the photograph from the competition.”
Jeanie gazed the rows of pictures of her balanced on the stool in the café. Her breath caught. “It’s not bad actually, for an amateur.”
“Amateur photographer or amateur model?”
She sniggered and gave a small skip as she threaded her arm through his. “Model. But she’s getting better at it. Wait until you see today’s pictures.”
“Oh, Miss Confidence today, are we?” His navy eyes sparkled down at her as if he was assessing his options.
“The photographer is getting to know his subject, so the shots are bound to be better.”
• • •
The virtually empty roads made the trip to Randwick Racecourse a breeze and before Jeanie knew it, they were standing against the railings watching the horses and jockeys thunder through the rising morning mist.
The hours passed in a blur of dresses, hats and horses until her stomach cramped with hunger and her calves screamed in agony. She sat down and pulled off the three-inch heels and loosened the wide belt on the tight blue linen dress.
“Are we finished? This plus sized model’s got a giant sized headache.” She unpinned the elegant cream hat and handed it to Jaz.
“Yep. Pretty much. See what Xander says.”
“Xander?” At the sound of her voice, he pulled the camera from his face and turned to her. Her heart skipped a beat as his eyebrows disappeared into his hair and he focused his attention on her. “Have we finished? I’m dying of starvation and I would kill for one of those hamburgers and chips, lots of chips. My curves are in danger of disappearing.”
His laugh bounced across the turf toward her. “We can’t have that. I’m done. Let’s find some food.”
“Follow me. I have a nose for chips, believe me.”
“Jaz. Can we get you something?” Xander turned and winked at Jeanie.
“Fantastic. Yes. Chips, please.”
It seemed she wasn’t the only person who’d suffered a change of heart in the last few days. “And sauce?”
“And sauce — lots, tomato,” Jaz replied with a grin.
• • •
“Once my stomach knows my throat hasn’t been cut, it should stop rumbling,” Jeanie promised as she licked the tomato sauce from her lips and fingers, keeping an eye on Xander’s chips for any crispy ones she might steal. “Did we do okay this morning?”
“I think so. The misty morning light will make for some interesting shots and then we got the half cloudy sunlight, fingers of God, it makes the light reflect differently.”
Jeanie nodded. She was beginning to get the hang of this photography lark. At first, it had seemed odd when he said it was the light he liked to photograph but now she was beginning to understand. It was the way objects — she — reflected the light. “What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?”
“Not a lot. A quick run through the pictures — I’ve got my laptop with me today so we don’t need to go to the office. Why don’t we go back to your hotel? And then I thought I’d suggest a stroll around the Botanic Gardens — we could take a picnic and have an early supper.”