by Kris Pearson
Chapter Two—Dinner at The Dolphin
Melanie peeled off her ivory camisole and unhooked her matching bra. She tossed the lacy underwear onto the travertine-tiled floor and twisted the shower controls full on.
Three barefoot steps later, she stood close in front of the long mirror that ran upward from the vanity top all the way to the ceiling. She leaned forward—inspecting her face, surveying her breasts and the curve of her waist.
She and Rob had sometimes made love here—Rob pressed warmly behind her, watching her reflection until she was gasping at the hot pleasure of his big body thrusting into hers; waiting until she fell apart so he could follow.
As the years had gone by, she’d begun to crave a baby. Their own flesh and blood. Whenever he climaxed, she prayed. But no amount of calendar-watching and careful timing, or vitamins, or repeated energetic coupling had made her fall pregnant.
Mel had waited and hoped through the whole six years of her marriage. Long years of month-after-month horrible tummy aches followed by shattering heartache that increasingly tore her up and spat her out in a million tear stained pieces. For the last three years, gynaecologists had done their best, without result.
Rob had tried to console her. “We’re young yet, honey. Why the rush? We can travel. We can live how we like with no ties for a while longer.”
And she’d certainly taken pleasure in their life together—in their shared work at CustomAir, and in planning and building their beautiful home.
She’d pretended not to mind, but by the time she was thirty-two it was eating at her self-esteem and her happiness.
“They must be able to find something else wrong with me,” she’d wailed through the half open door as Rob lounged in bed with the newspapers one Sunday morning, and she yet again tipped a tampon from the box in the en suite bathroom and ripped the hateful wrapping off it.
“Could be me, you know,” he’d joked. But this time, seeing how anguished she was, he’d said, “I’ll book in and get tested again in case anything’s changed. It’ll be no great hardship.”
He’d returned full of laughter, mimicking the brisk instructions from the clinic nurse, describing the well-thumbed magazines provided for ‘encouragement’.
A week later he was dead—a scuba-diving accident in Cook Strait—the treacherous cold passage of ocean which divides the North and South Islands of New Zealand. His best friend Cody had broken the terrible news to her, to spare her having to hear it from an unknown policewoman.
***
She continued her careful inspection in the mirror.
Will you like me, Cody? Will you help me?
She worried at her full bottom lip with her teeth. She’d waited exactly six months before outlining her outrageous deal to him. Six months of plotting and planning. Of visiting different fertility specialists and lawyers until everything was finally in place. Of proceeding hopefully until Rob’s death had receded far enough to make her offer seem acceptable.
Melanie slid her panties down and dropped them onto the bathroom floor with her camisole and bra. She stepped under the steaming shower and tipped her head back to saturate her long fall of silver-blonde hair.
Everything must be perfect for him. Cody had to do this for her. She wanted to be beautifully clean and scented, soft and desirable, dressed to entice and please him. She’d visited the day spa earlier in the week and was newly waxed, her pussy smooth as a little girl’s. She hoped he’d enjoy the delicious discovery of a grown woman with a child’s sex.
If she managed to seduce him tonight he’d find her as carefully prepared as any bride. And tonight would be ideal. The unpleasant dull pain throbbing to the left of her navel signaled she was near her peak for the month.
She pressed one hand against her tender abdomen, imagining there was already a new life deep inside. The possibility of her first child loomed so close, but she knew in her heart of hearts the deep and savage yearning for her future family was more than slightly diluted by her deep and savage yearning for Cody himself.
She’d always thought him gorgeous. Too gorgeous by half. She was realistic enough to know he could have any woman he wanted. And she’d been sensible enough to avoid mixing business with pleasure until now.
But this was definitely business, and if there turned out to be a pleasure element, well, who’d lose any sleep over that? Not her. And certainly not Cody Mitchell, red-hot womanizer of Wellington.
She tipped shampoo into her palm and massaged it into her scalp with the pads of her fingers. A huge sense of relief had flooded through her once she’d at last unleashed her plan and made the offer to him. She hadn’t known she’d been so tense, so wound-up.
Mmmmm, that felt good. What would Cody’s hands feel like on her skin? She began to stroke down over her breasts and hips with her slippery fingers. She closed her eyes. Cody’s hands would be rougher. He had big hands. Big capable hands with long fingers and double-jointed thumbs that bent a disconcerting distance backwards. She always enjoyed watching his hands, even if he was doing something as mundane as tapping out a memo on his laptop.
If he was doing... ahhhhhh... something as nice as this, she’d really enjoy it. She circled her soapy nipples, pinching gently, imagining Cody’s long fingers roaming over her.
And roaming over half the other women in town, she reminded herself, trying to banish him from her susceptible brain. Anyway, the deal wasn’t about pleasure, it was about biology. A businesslike barter. Nothing more.
Yeah right, her hardening nipples agreed.
Nothing but business, her tingling clit confirmed.
Oh grow up! she told her body crossly. There’s only one part of him I need. And maybe I won’t need it for very long. If we can get it over with nice and fast, that’s fine by me.
***
By the time he gunned his lively snarling car up her hillside driveway, Cody simmered with resentment. She’d made the deal sound halfway reasonable face-to-face, but once he was on his own, with time to think, the reality of the situation had punched him in the gut.
She wanted a stallion. That was about the measure of it. Someone to service her on her own terms. Willing to wait until she was fertile each month and then go for it like a stud animal.
Once he’d knocked her up he was apparently no longer welcome in her life. Until she was ready to try for a second child.
Unreal, Mel.
He knew now there was no way he’d agree. The ‘planes for babies’ offer hadn’t tempted him in the least. He’d been shocked. It had put a whole different slant on things. The possibility of doing a favor for a friend had been turned into a commercial trade-off. Would he like a share in her airline? Hell yeah, but it would be on his terms, not hers.
He eased out of the driver’s seat, flexed his tense shoulders, and then leaned down against the toughened glass fence bordering the front of the property. Wellington harbor glimmered far below in the soft evening light. Stars and neon signs danced on the water. The snaking line of golden sodium lamps edged the waterline like a sinuous topaz necklace. It was a spectacular view, but he barely registered it.
She’d spoiled everything. Just as he felt the time might be right to explore a relationship with her, she’d trampled through his plans, offended his pride, and shown herself to be cold and insensitive. How could she practically demand children from him when he’d had such a disastrous upbringing himself? Demand them as though they were nothing more than commodities to be bartered? Bile rose in his throat at the thought, and he swallowed against his own disappointment and her selfishness.
***
Melanie watched from the bedroom window as Cody pulled the Porsche to a screeching halt in front of her home, alighted, and leaned down on her fence with his tight butt thrust back toward her appreciative eyes.
Her gaze ran up over long legs in black trousers, past a lean torso to broad shoulders—very nicely outlined by the fabric of his dark grey shirt as he stretched his arms along the safety barrier. Hopefully
he wore no tie because she looked forward to sitting across the table from a slice of bronzed chest.
He turned, and Mel saw her wish had been granted. No tie. Some shirt buttons undone. She smiled and closed her eyes, then opened them because the view was just too good to ignore.
He began to pace to and fro beside his sleek car. Agitation rolled off him in waves, and Cody was usually the most languid and unflappable of men.
Mel licked her lips at the thought of the tussle to follow. There was nothing she enjoyed more than setting up a situation, proposing a deal tailored to tempt her opponent, and eventually emerging the victor.
This time she must win. He was the father she required for her children. As she’d not managed children with Rob, who she’d loved perfectly well, she’d have them from Cody—who she found she now lusted after most immoderately. They’d be beautiful children with his genes. Tall, healthy and smart.
She left him to his pacing and slithered into her sage green silk shift dress. Jewelry? His clothes were casual, so maybe not. Perhaps just the square-cut emerald ear studs her mother had given her as a wedding gift; they’d always been her lucky charms. She threaded them through the piercings in her lobes, pushed on the tiny butterfly clips to hold them secure, and set off down the stairs.
The emerald studs had been a personal present—the real wedding gift had been the airline. After a long and less than happy marriage, her widowed mother preferred to devote her considerable energies to various international theatre productions. Attending to the day-to-day running of a pesky little airline was ‘such a nuisance, darling.’
Mel had been ecstatic. She’d been her father’s secretary, then his trusted assistant. When she’d married pilot Rob, her course in life had been set and her ambition for CustomAir knew no bounds. Her father’s untimely death had brought fierce responsibility, but also huge satisfaction.
Cynthia’s lawyers had structured the deal so the airline remained Mel’s. In the event of a divorce, Rob would have gained a minority shareholding with no option to sell.
If Mel’s only brother, Andrew, ever dared to sniff around again there was no way he could get his sticky and inept fingers on it either. But being in a Thai prison had solved that problem for the last ten years.
Mel ached for Andrew—her twin—but close as they’d once been, she couldn’t comprehend how he’d run so far off the rails. Poor Andy. Poor, silly Andy. How had the pair of them turned out so differently?
She pushed the house door open and then closed it with a soft click. Cody spun to face her.
Melanie hoped his desperate expression didn’t mean he intended cancelling their dinner. “You didn’t knock,” she said, keeping her tone light.
“I was thinking about something.”
Her heart stuttered. He looked very serious, and Cody never looked serious unless he was at the controls of a plane.
“Thinking about this evening?” she asked, stalling his reply by tugging the passenger door open, seating herself, and clicking the safety belt closed. If he wanted to call it off, he now had to dislodge her from his car. “Nice wheels,” she added, checking out the interior.
“I can’t do this,” he grated, sliding in to sit beside her.
Mel sent him her best smile and decided to ignore what she feared he meant. “I’m all dressed up now.”
“Not dinner, Mel. Make babies. I can’t do it. You’ll have to re-marry and start off properly. Children need a father—or so they tell me.”
“You never had much of one.”
“Right. And look how I turned out. No sense of permanence. Unwilling to commit to anything for more than a couple of years.”
“You’ve been longer than that with CustomAir.”
“And maybe it’s about time I left.”
Not now! Not now! She grabbed for his arm, and it took all her determination to relax her fingers until her grip around his firm bicep was acceptably gentle. “Because I offered to share the airline?”
Cody gunned the motor and compressed his lips. “Not because you offered to share the airline.”
“Because I want a couple of children? Come off it, Cody. You’re prepared to bed anything with tits, as I hear it. So why not me?”
He shook his head and shot down the steep driveway. Mel held her breath until they were safely on the road.
“Is that really how you see me?” he demanded, flicking a glance sideways at her and then returning his attention to the twisting streets.
She started breathing again. “Sorry—Rob’s description. He had you down as the last of the red-hot lovers.”
“And what do you have me down as?”
She hesitated. The right words were so important. “A friend, Cody,” she finally said. “A friend who might do me an enormous favor. Who could give me the most precious gift I can imagine.”
She shot him a cautious sideways glance. His face had set like stone. In profile against the glittering water he looked like the imperious dictator of some small country addicted to raising statues of its leaders. Mel easily pictured him mounted on a splendid prancing bronze horse instead of seated behind the wheel of this fancy silver death-machine.
Tight military trousers, long boots with spurs, a gleaming sword up-thrust against the world…and that implacable handsome face.
He didn’t reply to her comment, and remained silent for the rest of the ride, apart from a soft curse as traffic lights changed to red. Melanie thought better of trying to revive the conversation, hoping he’d be more relaxed once they were in the restaurant, menus in hand.
But it was bliss to sit so close beside him cocooned in the near-darkness. His hair shone damp from showering, and the streetlights gleamed on the blue-black spikes where he’d pushed his agitated fingers through it. Mel locked her hands together to stop herself from reaching across and touching him again.
A faint fresh scent teased her nostrils. Not his normal cologne. Pure ‘Essence of Cody’ perhaps? Maybe he’d deliberately dispensed with anything he considered seductive in an effort to deter her? That was fine with Mel—his own scent enticed her beyond measure. She leaned toward him, commented on a sparkling cruise liner moored some distance away, and sniffed quietly and deeply.
Warm skin. Hot man. Heaven.
***
Cody’s keen gaze swept through the parking area. By some miracle there was a space close enough to The Dolphin. He turned in sharply, and braked.
“There—that’s a good start,” Melanie said.
“I’m not six years old. Stop trying to humor me.” He switched off the growling engine, grabbed his jacket, and found Mel right there beside him by the time he’d slipped it on.
They strolled along the waterfront together. Now the wind had dropped, the harbor lay calm. Rhythmic surge-and-splash noises echoed against the wharf piles below them, and the salty marine air felt soupy-warm.
Melanie stumbled slightly. “Are you safe in those shoes?” he asked.
“What? Yes, of course I am.” She grinned across at him. “You know I like my heels.”
He looked down. “These planks are none too even.” He took her arm as though she was an elderly lady in need of help to cross a road.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
And he realized he’d made yet another mistake. Shouldn’t be touching her. Shouldn’t add to his current extreme frustration.
The flesh of her inner arm was smooth as satin, soft as velvet. His fingers itched to slide and caress... to acquaint themselves with all her curves and hollows, all her delicate scents and textures.
She’d given him permission. Had out-and-out encouraged him. He could turn her around right now, hustle her dinnerless into the car, race up the hill, and rip her pretty dress off as they hit the bed. She’d thank him.
But he’d never forgive himself. This was absolutely not the way he’d wanted it to happen between them. Always supposing it ever did happen, now things had reached this absurd point. Being begged to make her pregnant? He shook h
is head. Not a hope in hell. Not with his background. Not with the example of fatherhood he’d been saddled with.
The waiter showed them to a prime corner table with expansive water views. They sat, and he leaned across to her. “On a busy Friday? How did you manage it?”
Her glossed mouth twitched. “I own an airline. Some of it could so easily be yours.”
Cody watched as she realigned her cutlery, moved her water glass a fraction, small signs she was less relaxed than she’d like him to think.
“Still not tempted?” she asked.
“Tempted as all hell,” he murmured. “But I’ve got my principles, Mel. I can’t be bought. My children certainly can’t be bought.”
A small bitter smile touched her lips as she poured herself water and pushed the chilled carafe in his direction. “They’d never need to know if you didn’t want them to. I’d say their Daddy died. There’s no way they could ever find out. And we’d have a nice time making them?”
She reached across the table and took his hand, tightening her grip as he tried to pull free. “We’d have a brilliant time making them. Can you really doubt that?”
He shook his head. He had no doubts at all, but he was adamant it wouldn’t be happening.
He stared at her, silently counting until he trusted himself to answer. “What you want, Mel, is me, all tied up in tinsel and ready to jump the moment you snap your fingers.”
Annoyance and frustration sharpened her tone. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cody. I don’t want you at all. I don’t want to slow you down, or make you feel responsible, or trap you. I’m not one of your fluffy little girlfriends who’s hoping to snag herself a handsome pilot.”
He opened his mouth to tell her what he thought of that theory, but the waiter appeared with superbly bad timing to take their order.
He stabbed at a Pinot Gris on the wine list and followed it with a none too gracious request for lobster with lime and chili dressing, and crab-cakes and green salad to follow.
“The same thanks,” Mel sighed.