Belle

She grimaced, her face contorting. "Honey, that's just Belle. She is stubborn."

"Well good luck to her.

"I don't believe that for one minute. You care Carl, you don't fool me for a minute. If we could put that aside for a moment and talk about the house? What do I have to do to make it right? How can I fix this?"

"You can't. I'm sorry it worked out this way, but Thomas has made it abundantly clear where I stand. Those designs are mine and I will be marketing them as such. If Thomas uses my plans we will end up in court."

"Please don't do that, Carl, I beg, please can we find an amicable solution?"

"I'm not doing this to be malicious or spiteful, Elise. I am just protecting my intellectual property."

We finished our coffee in silence. At the end she stood up, hugged me tightly, kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "I really am sorry for the way things worked out. This just feels wrong. We were going to be family. Please Carl, can't you soften your approach? Belle has already bought the property.

"No, I know it is hard but those designs are mine. There are lots of good architects around. If you need a referral, I can arrange that."

"Deary me Carl, you seem so bitter, you must really love that girl. Again, I am sorry. I would have loved for you to be part of our family. I'm sorry we let you down, I'm sad that you feel so let down. Please reconsider."

She left and I kicked the shoe bucket screaming. "Fuck!"

The information requests dried up. Life moved on. Belle seemed to be on an upward curve. She flew into the top ten, then into the top five. Her face was plastered everywhere. Magazines, newspapers, TV, billboards, if it could carry advertising her face was on it.

I got a boost, as well. The plans I designed for her were picked up by a family who were building a house out in the Maitai Valley. It was equally as good a setting as Belle's site. We started construction within months of signing. It was going to be a big winner for me. The design was picked up by several magazines and industry newsletters. The design was hailed as ground-breaking and a novel use of natural materials.

My personal profile grew, my business prospered. I had to take on staff. I employed Joy as my office assistant. She was cute, effusive and good at her job. She was perfect for me.

I tried to push Belle's memory from my life. I wanted her expunged. It was however much more difficult. Every time I turned on the TV, or picked up a newspaper, there was her picture. Every time I saw her pictured with some celeb or pretty boy it tugged at my heartstrings. It took months before I came to the realisation that stalking her like that was just causing me grief.

The house in the Maitai Valley was finished. It got rave reviews and was featured not just in NZ but many papers around the world. I received many accolades, and of course, with the acclaim came money. It meant hiring another architect, and a couple of project managers. Things were looking up.

As part of my growing business, I followed the local real estate market closely, searching for interesting bare blocks of land to build new homes on.

While browsing the real estate pages of the Saturday press, I was shocked to see Belle's Ruby bay block come up for auction. I was not only shocked, but immediately interested. I wanted it. God damn, I wanted it so badly.

I drove out there and surveyed it again. Again, I was shocked that they hadn't done a single thing to it. That was an added bonus. It meant there would be no extra prep work.

I rang the agent, trying my best to hide my excitement, and asked what they thought it would go for. She seemed to think in today's market, it might go for close to a million.

I ruminated, checked my bank balance, ruminated some more and decided, regardless of how much it would stretch my feeble finances, I would bid on it. I wanted it badly.

Using a broker, I placed my bid. My absolute maximum bid was going to be eight-fifty. Win lose or draw.

On the auction day, I followed it closely on my phone. The broker acting on my behalf attended the auction and started the bidding low. making his bids in small increments, he dragged it out as long as he could. It turned out the agent was miles off. We won the bid at

It didn't fill me with happiness. In fact, I was sad for Belle.

With the block secured, I now needed plans. I couldn't repeat using the existing plans. I had made a guarantee to the Atawhai clients that it was a one off. I set to work. Hours and hours I sweated over those drawings, but eventually I came up with something novel. Using all my skills, I designed what I hoped would become a modern masterpiece. It was something that, when I looked at sketched out, made me tremble. I realised it was good, perfect for the site and it included all of the necessary elements. It would be carbon neutral. The running costs would be infinitesimal, and above everything else, it looked stunning. The roof-line followed the contours of the hills; it nestled in low so as not to stand out too much.

The hard part would be building it. Now that I was servicing a mortgage on the land, I needed to move quickly. I knew I could never convince the bank that it would be my own home. I got the loan based on the fact it would be a spec-home. Which I would build and sell quickly.

The planning consents went through and construction started immediately. I was on site every day, making sure everything went smoothly and there were no hiccups.

Another thing happened: Joy. She was a very attractive young woman and having her in the office every day was a highlight. She was bright and bubbly. She may have been tiny at five foot three, but what she lacked in height she made up for with personality. She really lifted the whole team.

She had a certain quality that sucked you in. She had the most gorgeous eyes, deep, like pools of melted chocolate. I think she may have had a mixed ethnicity, her skin had that glorious warm glow.

We had fun; she was like that, always joking and laughing, playing tricks on each other.

It was the Christmas party where things changed. We didn't have a lot of money to spend, so I opted for a barbecue. We went down to Tahunanui beach and set up for the day. There was more than enough food and drinks. We swam, ate, drank and generally enjoyed the day. The others all left, but Joy stayed to help me pack up. As we did, she asked, "Would you like a last drink before we go?"

That's how we ended up lying among the sand dunes, sheltering from a breeze that picked up. She snuggled up on the leeward side of me, getting out of the wind. Her thin cotton dress was no match for the bite of the northwester.

The heat of her sexy taut little body radiated through that flimsy material and her head resting on my shoulder stirred emotions I tried desperately to restrain. An office romance was something I didn't want.

Her lips though found their way onto my naked neck, soft gentle nibbles, her tongue tasting the salty brine from my earlier swim. Her hand slipped up under my T-shirt and I felt her sliding sexily across my abdomen, stroking, caressing, her touch so light it was torture.

I turned to say stop, but her mouth closed over mine and the kiss that exploded was beyond intense; it was ferocious, hungry, devouring and animalistic.

I rolled her onto her back, my weight crushing her into the sand, her bikini bottoms no defence against my rampant member. I was inside her, enveloped in the hot moist confines of her convulsing pussy. "Oh god," she squealed. "Don't stop."

'Stop?' God, that was the furthest thing from my mind. My hips rose and fell quickly, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist as she tried to get more of me inside her. It was fierce, raw, brutal sexuality exploding in a passionate crescendo.

So started our romance. She was the tonic I needed for a broken heart, she was the glue that stuck it back together. Life suddenly didn't seem so dark, there was light.

We went out to the movies; she loved to hike. I tried to teach her to play golf, but after a hilarious afternoon of watching her dig up my favourite fairways, we both decided she was never going to be a golfer.

She uncovered my relationship with Belle by accident. There were some fairly incriminating emails on my computer. Which she stumbled upon while searching for a client's information. It was one of those moments I wished had never happened. When she questioned, me I tried to hide the facts.

"Carl, you still love her, don't you?" Her words cut me like a flashing blade, my old wounds opened and the raw flesh was exposed.

"No, don't be ridiculous. That was ages ago."

"Don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. You do, don't you? You still love her."

"Joy, she is history, she is consigned to a time in my life that is long gone."

"But if she walked in here tomorrow, you would die for her, dive in front of a bullet to save her."

"Okay, okay, yes, I still have feelings for her, but I have moved on."

She hugged me. "I don't think you have, but I hope one day you will feel about me, the way you feel for her."

It wasn't the end of our relationship, but it certainly cooled. Fuck, Belle, even although she wasn't in my life, was finding ways to screw me over.

I finished the house and it was every bit as spectacular as I expected it to be. It was amazing, but even with careful management I used up every cent of my contingency. We stayed on budget, but only just. Now I had a million-dollar mortgage.

It was hard. I wanted to keep it, but it was becoming more obvious with every passing day that I couldn't afford it. Not yet anyway. It broke my heart the day that realisation seeped into my weeping brain. The real estate agent almost had a fit when she walked into the property. She gushed and cooed. She was in love. When I set the price at one point seven million, she didn't even flinch.

"Carl, it's not enough, you could get more. I think I could sell it tomorrow at that price. Why not go to auction?"

"Because I hate the idea of selling. I want it gone as soon as possible."

She gave me a little hug. "Okay, but if you don't mind, let me work it at two million. If I can't get that I will eat my hat."

True to her word, the house sold within a month. I was now the next millionaire, but it didn't take away the pain.

Fucking Belle, even then she got the last laugh. Reading the weekend newspaper there was an article. A peek into the celebrity world of Belle Bennet, the new owner. There were pictures of most rooms, but the picture of Belle and her parents was the galling part for me. The bitch had outsmarted me, at least that's how it felt. Call it juvenile, but it felt like she had worked me over. That she sold the property knowing I would buy it, finish the build and sell.

The article also carried an interview with her about how she was going to base herself out of Nelson from now on so she could be close to her parents.

I tried to put it behind me, to move on with my life. I had new designs, that I wanted to build. The sale of the property and resultant media coverage did me one favour. I was now the architect of the moment, I was suddenly the people's choice, and I had more work than I could handle. My goal, though, was to win. I found another property in Ruby Bay. It might have even been better than the first. The fact it sat above Belle's place and would hold pride of place was the icing on the cake. It wasn't really for sale, but I found out through contacts that the owners were contemplating selling it. I approached them personally, and we settled on seven hundred thousand. Larger than the original, it did have some negatives. Cresting the cliffs, it was going to have to withstand all the winds.

The design I developed, was low and sleek, all of the rooms having sweeping views of the bay. The roofline sloped down into the wind, and the deck was sheltered by clear glass panels.

The construction brought about lots of interest and there was the usual coverage. I got my photo on the front page. Award winning architect builds new dream house.

Joy, rather than being impressed, became angry. She loved the house design, but she saw through me like I was paper thin. "You're not building this because the site interests you, or that it fits. Or even that you love it. You're just trying to get one over on your ex. You are a sick puppy, Carl."

It sort of spelled the end of our relationship. I was very sad the day she handed me her resignation. It wasn't just from the job, she was resigning from my life.

I moved into my new house, sold my old one, and I suppose I should have been happy as a pig in shit. Somehow though, the house just made me sad. It was big, too big for me. I was lost in it. I swam in it. It never felt like home, it felt like I lived in a show home, which is what it was.

Yes, I won an award with it. Yes, it got me lots of publicity and my little business took another leap forward. The problem is I didn't exactly hate it, but it never ever felt like my home. It never gave me pleasure. Not real pleasure. I was living there to prove a point to Thomas, to Belle. I was surreptitiously saying, "Suck this, bitch."

It was one day while shopping in the little supermarket at Mapua I bumped into Belle. The first time in over a year. I suppose it was bound to happen. We were, after all, neighbours. That aside, it was still a shock. We stood either side of the freezer, both reaching in for something. Her eye caught mine and she grinned. "Well, well, well. Hello, Carl."

Seeing her again made my heart skip a beat. It felt weird seeing her again. "Hi, Belle, how have you been?" Be still, you beating heart, stay cool, don't make a fool of yourself.

"Good, I'm taking a couple of months off to enjoy my first summer in the house."

"Sounds great. How are you finding living in it?"

She gave a wistful sigh. "I love it. I suppose I should say thank you. It is better than the original."

Trying to bite back my feeling of anger, I tried to sound deep and philosophical. "As they say, everything happens for a reason. Glad you're enjoying it."

There was no animosity or malice in her answer, unlike me she seemed totally unfazed "Carl, I love it, and mum adores it. I can't keep her away. We put a pool in, and she turns up for a swim all the bloody time."

Why didn't she feel the resentment, like me? "Good, nice to know," I replied curtly.

She cheekily asked, "How's your golf game going?"

"Pretty good, almost down to scratch."

"Wow, pretty good."

"Yeah, I'm happy with it. I don't get out as often as I would like, but hey, that's how it goes."

I saw her biting her bottom lip in a nervous, uncomfortable manner. "Do you have a partner... significant other? Is there somebody in your life?"

"No, just me and Gumbo, my little terrier. What about you?"

With a shake of her long glossy tresses, she said, "Nope, you know me. Nothing but golf."

"Well, nice to see you again," I said, turning away. "Might see you around."

She pouted sadly. "Yes, I suppose so." As I walked off, I got no further than a couple of paces before she threw out, "Would you like to go out for a round of golf sometime? I go out most days."

I laughed knowingly. "Yeah, I heard. Apparently, the subscriptions are up by three hundred percent at Tasman."

She sniggered. "Yeah, it's hard to have a casual game. They tried to drag me into the pennants team. I didn't think that was fair."

"Yeah, I got an invite as well."

She looked shocked. "You did? Wow, holy shit, you must've improved."

Her barb did bite a little, but I replied, "No, I think it more reflects the ability, or lack thereof, from the other members."

She giggled mischievously. "I would love to see whether you have improved. I know things sort of imploded on us, but I would love to try and at least be friends. Otherwise, it's going to make these supermarket meetings difficult."

"Do you really think it's a good idea?"

Her sad expression deepened, as she pushed her trolley up besides mine. "What could it hurt? It's just a game of golf."

"Belle, I'm not so sure. Why stir all that shit up? It hasn't worked in the past."

"Carl, surely we can be friends, God, I'm not asking for a date. We shared so much, and I would love to have you as my friend. I mean, shit, we may end up on the same team, if we both play Pennants."

Could we do it? Could we be just friends? With a deep reluctant sigh, I replied, "Yeah, all right, what about next weekend? I have a couple of days off."

"Could we go somewhere else? Tasman is pretty crowded these days."

"Yeah, what about over at Mot?"

She nodded. "Guess I better get some practise in."

"Not to beat me."

I watched with a fluttering heart as she walked away. God, she still managed to get my pulse racing.

That night at home, I dug out as many balls as I could and headed out back to my driving range. The one treat I gave myself when I built the place was that the grassed area out the back that was long enough for a driving range.

Over the next few days, I smacked somewhere near a thousand balls down my range. Was I any better? Yes, I think I was. My drive was at its peak.

The Sunday game raced towards me, and I got nervous. I almost prayed for rain. Unfortunately, the day dawned sunny and bright.

As I packed the car, my phone beeped. Being bright and sunny, I didn't recognise the number. "Hi, Carl here."

There was a little giggle, then Belle's velvety voice. "Hi Carl, are we going to save the planet some carbon, and drive over together?"

Surprised, I panicked. "Yeah, if you want."

"Christ, if it's too big a deal I'll drive myself."

"No, sorry, I just wasn't expecting it. I'll pick you up."

"Cool, see you in ten."

Driving up to the house was interesting. It still hurt a little that after everything she still ended up with it. Rather than go in, I honked the horn and she came out wearing a micro mini-skirt and a tight-fitting pink T-shirt that proved beyond the shadow of a doubt she was braless.

I helped her load in the clubs. "Do you want to come in and see what I did with the place?"

"No thanks, Belle. I've seen inside."

She shrugged. "Okay. Just thought you might like to see what I did, my tastes."

As we drove over the coast road, she blurted out, "I thought you might have updated your car. The old Golf must be nearly worn out now."

"No, she gets me around. It's just a car."

We drove on, and with every passing mile, the silence became more awkward. What started off being a bad idea was getting worse. Belle blurted out, "I suppose you think you can beat me, now you play off scratch."

"No, you're what, number four in the world, and I'm supposed to beat you? Yeah, right."

"We could have a little bet."

"A bet huh, and what would that be? I remember the first time you hustled me."

"What say the loser cooks dinner?"

I glanced across at her and she had that cheeky little grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Cooks dinner, aye. Yeah, all right, you're on, but you have to give me five shots."

"No way!" she shrieked. "Fuck, you cheeky bastard. Five shots, that's too many."

"Oh come on, you're a professional golfer. You play every day. I play once a month, at best."

She pouted, bit her lip. "I'll give you three shots, but that's it."

"Okay, three shots and you play from the men's marker."

She pretended to be annoyed. "Okay, deal." She reached over and we shook hands. The feel of her warm hand in mine felt good. It brought back instant memories of days gone by. The shake held for a long time, I felt her thumb massaging the back of my hand.

We unloaded the clubs, picked up our cards and headed for the first tee.

I waved for her to start. She had a couple of practise swings and I was shocked. Her swing had gone again. Replaced by the most repugnant thing I had ever seen. It was angular, squared off and downright ugly.