Just for Fun

by Rosalind James

  “I don’t need to work hard in school,” Zack protested. “Because I’m going to be a rugby player when I grow up, like Nic.”

  “Hang on,” Nic said. “Even if you are a rugby player, you have to be able to do sums, and read and write, don’t you. Otherwise, how are you going to count all that lovely lolly you’re getting? Or read your contract? And besides,” he went on more seriously, “Rugby only lasts so long, no matter how far you get, and then you have to go do something else. So I’m afraid it’s going to be homework at that desk, like I said. And not just looking at those photo books about footy.”

  “Thank you,” Emma told him. “He has a one-track mind, that’s the problem. Boys.”

  “Not all boys,” Nic protested. “My mind runs on at least two tracks.” He grinned at her, and she laughed and stuck out her tongue at him, and he suddenly felt that there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be right now than here, with the two of them.

  “Well, since you’re so smart, and so handy, and have a stepstool,” Emma said, “maybe you’d like to hang these posters, too. And the bulletin board, over the desk. Though they’re pretty big,” she said doubtfully, beginning to lug a large framed image of the All Blacks in mid-haka toward the wall where she wanted it. “And heavy. Do you have the stuff?”

  “Do me a favor,” he said. “What kind of a Kiwi d’you take me for? Course I do. And stop that. Wait for me to shift them. Please.”

  He returned in a few minutes with a toolbox and a plastic case for a serious electric drill. “Right, then. Show me where you’d like them.”

  The two of them, working together, had all three items hung within a few minutes. Emma collected the last of the rubbish, stacked it outside the door, and they all stood back to admire the room.

  “This is a theme bedroom, is what this is,” Nic pronounced. “Nobody’s going to be walking in here and asking, “So, Zack. What are your interests?”

  “It’s so cool!” Zack said happily. “When can Graham come? Friday? I want him to see it!”

  “It should just be us at first,” Emma told him. “We’ll have Graham over next time. If it’s OK with Nic,” she said, looking at him.

  “Course,” he agreed. “My mate Graham needs a bit of help on his offloading anyway. Got a wild arm.”

  “You know, though, there’s one more thing this room needs,” he told the two of them seriously after a moment. “Hang on a tick, and I’ll get it.”

  Zack gazed longingly at the distinctive black Champions bag Nic brought back with him. “That’s the real bag!” he told Nic. “From the shop. What’s in it?”

  “The real deal,” Nic promised. “Something you may need, this weekend. Because when you shift house, you know, people give you a housewarming present. Reckon this is your bedwarming present.” He handed the bag to Zack. “Open it and see.”

  Zack dropped to the floor, opened the big bag. “Wow,” he breathed, pulling out the set of All Black pajamas. “Can I put them on now?” he implored of his mother.

  “I don’t see why not,” she smiled. “Wear them home, if you like. Because it’s time for bath, and bed.”

  Zack pulled off his clothes impatiently, tugged on the new pajamas. “I fit them!” he told Nic excitedly. “Mum doesn’t have to roll! And they have tags on!”

  “Yeh, mate.” Nic cleared his throat. “And they look awesome.”

  “Thank you,” Emma told him quietly as Zack ran to examine himself in the bathroom mirror.

  “Got an ABs jersey for him too,” Nic said. “For him to wear Saturday night, when we all go to the match.”

  She hugged him. “He’s going to love that so much. How did you know what size he was, though?”

  “I had a squiz at some of his gear when we were at the bach,” he confessed. “Been wanting to get him those pajamas for a fair few weeks now. This seemed like the right time.”

  Chapter 31

  “Sorry,” Emma said on Friday evening when Nic was once again opening the door to the two of them. “I know we’re really late. I hope you’re not too starved.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Hard day at work. I’ll tell you later, OK?”

  He nodded, hefted her roller bag. “Whoosh. What d’you have in here, bricks? It’s only two days.”

  “If it’s too heavy,” she said with a flash of spirit, “I’ll carry it myself. You want me to look nice, don’t you? That doesn’t happen by accident, you know. Curling iron, shoes . . . it all adds up.”

  He laughed. “I think I can still shift it. Come up with me. We can see how Zack’s getting on, then you can help me put dinner together. Only the very best for you. All ready-prepared by somebody else.”

  “Whew,” Nic said once Zack was safely in bed, and he and Emma were in the lounge again. “Alone at last.”

  It had taken awhile. Zack had been unable to decide on the upper or lower bunk, until Nic had hit on the proposal to spend tonight on the bottom, and Saturday on the top. “Then you can decide scientifically,” he told Zack seriously.

  “Getting both sets of sheets dirty,” Emma protested.

  Nic scoffed at that. “What, Graham’s going to come to spend the night, and say, ‘Oh, Zack! These sheets have been used, I can tell! How will I ever, ever sleep in such filth?’” He made his voice high, slapped both hands to his face in mock horror, and had Zack helpless with giggles.

  “We’re boys,” Nic finished with a grin at Emma. “We don’t care too much if our bed’s had a prior occupant or not.”

  Now the two of them were finally sitting on one of the big leather couches, the gas fireplace making a cozy display, and sharing the second half of a bottle of wine that, Nic had insisted, was necessary for their “housewarming party.” Emma was already a little tipsy, feeling relaxed for the first time all day as she snuggled with him. She thought lazily about working on the sweater she had started for Reka’s baby, but couldn’t be bothered. Besides, she’d probably lose the pattern.

  “So what happened today?” Nic asked her. “In your hard day at work?”

  She sighed. “I almost hate to tell you. I wish I handled this stuff better. Why do I let myself get so upset? Why can’t I just say what a guy would say?”

  “What would a guy say?” Nic asked in confusion. “About what?”

  “You know. Eff you.”

  “Can’t even say the word, eh,” he said, rubbing the back of her neck. “You’re such a girly girl. I think you’d better tell me, though. Explain why you’d be swearing at somebody. If you were a bloke, that is.”

  “Roger called me over,” Emma said reluctantly. “He was with Aaron, one of the project managers. There’d been a problem with some of the drawings. An important spec change that hadn’t made it onto the final version, they said. But it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t think it was at the time, but I couldn’t think of how to prove it. And I got all flustered. Because Roger didn’t give me a chance. He just laid into me. Going on about how I’d made the company look bad, made Aaron look bad. He was saying things like, “This is a very serious error. I have no choice but to write you up for this.”

  And then I went back and checked,” she said, tears filling her eyes, “what I’d been given. And that—that change—wasn’t on there. I went back over there, tried to explain. And Aaron insisted he’d told me, and Roger was standing there berating me, for everyone to hear.”

  She lost the battle with the tears, couldn’t stop them from spilling down her cheeks. “I just felt so . . . so small. I couldn’t think of the right thing to say. And Roger was loving it, I could tell. I was so angry. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted so much to walk out. To quit right there.”

  Nic pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms around her as she finally let the tears go that she’d been holding back all day. It was such a relief to be held, to be comforted, that, perversely, it made her cry all the harder. He didn’t try to talk to her, just reached for the tissue box, then held her against his chest until she was
cried out, and was blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.

  “Feel better?” he asked. She nodded shakily, took a deep, shuddering breath and blew her nose again. Grabbed another wad of tissues and tried in vain to blot some of the moisture from his T-shirt where she’d soaked it.

  “Why don’t you tell that Roger to go fuck himself?” Nic asked. “See, I can say the word. Bet you could too, if you practiced enough.”

  “Want me to practice on you?” she asked with a watery smile, pulling back to look at him.

  He laughed. “Nah. But maybe you should quit, have you thought of that?”

  She sighed, rested her cheek against his chest again as he continued to stroke her hair. “Every single day. But I can’t. I need my job, and Roger knows it. He knows I won’t quit, unfortunately.”

  “I thought you were talking to the people at Hannah’s place. Have you heard back from them?”

  She shook her head. “I had the interview, and they’re interested in hiring me, but they need to get their new line going first. The kids’ line,” she reminded him. “Probably November, they said. I don’t want to look for a new job, if this is a real possibility. Because it’s exactly what I want. I just have to hold on till then, that’s all.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve held on this long, if it’s been this bad.”

  “It’s only been the past year that it’s been this bad. Just since Roger. At first, I thought he’d get over it. That he was just proving he was my boss. Showing me he was in charge. I thought if I didn’t challenge him, he’d settle down.”

  “Not if he’s a bully,” Nic said with certainty. “That just makes them push more, if they think they can get away with it. You have to push back, with that type.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “I figured that out, a little too late.” She reached for her wineglass, took a sip and handed it to him. “Finish this, will you? I’m already a little drunk. That’s probably why I cried.”

  He took it from her and obliged. “Wish I could go in there and talk to him,” he said with frustration. “I’d like to sort him out.”

  She snuggled up against him. “Like you did with Ryan?” she asked, listening to his heart beating under her cheek. She felt his start of surprise and smiled with satisfaction. “You thought I wouldn’t find out about that, huh? Not too hard to figure out. Suddenly he was avoiding me like the plague. And then I heard, third-hand, that somebody’d seen you talking to him outside the office, that next day.”

  “Yeh,” he admitted. “I had a word.”

  “Well, thanks. If you hadn’t done that, I might really have had to quit. And then who knows where Zack and I would be.”

  “You’d be OK,” he promised, running a hand down her back and setting the wineglass back down on the coffee table. “I wouldn’t actually let you starve, you know.”

  “Mmm.” She nestled a little closer. “Anyway, thanks.”

  “If you really want to thank me, you’ll come upstairs with me. Because it’s bedtime, you know. And we’ve got a bit of bedwarming to do ourselves, tonight. Got a pressie for you, too, along those lines.”

  “All Black pajamas for me too?” she asked, climbing off his lap and walking to the stairs with him, her hand in his. “Why, Nic. How thoughtful.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure you’d be adorable in them. But nah. I went in a little different direction.”

  “Better not be red and black, or crotchless either,” she warned him.

  “Why don’t you just be quiet, and let me show you what it is?” he scolded, pulling her through the door into his big bedroom. He went to the closet, pulled a pale blue box from the shelf, tied with a white ribbon. “Here.” He handed it to her. “Happy bedwarming.”

  She sat on the gold satin duvet cover, pulled off the bow. Opened the box and pulled back layers of tissue to find a short gown in the palest pearl pink silk. The bodice was made entirely of lace, and the same pale pink lace edged the hem and the edges of the side slits. She set the box aside and stood, holding the beautiful thing up to herself, looked into the mirrored closet doors at the halter neck, the deep V of the neckline.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed. “Is this real silk? It feels like it.”

  “Meant to be,” he smiled. “How’d I do? Sorry it isn’t red and black, or crotchless. Didn’t know that was what you were expecting.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, still holding the gown. “It’s brilliant,” she told him fervently. “It’s so pretty, and the silk feels so luxurious. I just need to try it on, make sure it fits.”

  “It should do. Because I had a wee look at some of your things, too, for the size,” he confessed. “I didn’t have a clue, other than that you’re pretty small. And they’d have thought I was pervy, standing in the shop, holding out my hands to show how big you are.” He demonstrated tracing her curves in the air. “But don’t let me stop you trying on your bedwarming present. Because I’d like to see it. Though you know I’m planning to take it straight off you again.”

  “I’m going to take a shower first,” she said. “Wash my face. Too much crying. And I want to get pretty, and put lotion on, before I wear this.” She reached for him, kissed him again. “I’ll be back in a little while. Then I’ll show you.”

  He was waiting, sitting up in bed, bare chest brown against the white linens, when she reappeared in her dressing gown.

  “You ready for this?” she asked, her hand on the tie.

  “Ready and waiting,” he assured her. Hitched himself up a bit further, watched her take off the flowered dressing gown and lay it on a chair.

  “It fits perfectly, see?” she asked, smoothing her hand over the silk. “And it feels wonderful.”

  “You need to let me feel it too,” he said, his eyes warm with appreciation. “But first, turn around, let me see the back.”

  “Well?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. He’d got out of bed, was standing behind her, pulling her against him, running his hand down the silk.

  “Felt good in the shop,” he said huskily. “But I reckon I needed to see it on the model to get the full effect. Because you’re so damn beautiful.”

  “Too easy,” he said, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck, beginning to pull the gown up over her thighs with one hand, the other sliding inside the lace to cup a breast as he watched their reflection in the mirror.

  “What is?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes drifting shut.

  “You. All I have to do is say something like that, and you’re mine.”

  “No.” She opened her eyes to smile tenderly at his reflection, gave a long sigh as the gown fell to the floor in a drift of silk. Both his hands came up now to cover her breasts, to move over her, play with her as he watched in the mirror. When she was boneless and sighing against him, he finally sent one big hand on a leisurely journey down her body, drifting over her sides, her belly, before settling in at last to caress her.

  “No,” she repeated breathlessly, arching back against him, barely able to support herself as his hands continued to move. Her legs parted under his touch, and the view in the mirror, the sight of his big hands holding her, moving over her pale skin, was doing as much for her as she could feel it doing for him. “All you have to do is look at me, and I’m yours.”

  He groaned, pulled her with him to the bed. Lay on his back and lifted her over him. “I keep thinking I’ve got you. Then you say something like that, look at me the way you do. And I realize that you’ve got me.”

  He pulled her down to kiss her, finally settled her over him and began to move her, so slowly, for long minutes. Then turned her so he was on top. Held her, caressed her. Kissed her again and again as the heat built. Brought her up, step by slow step, watched her lose herself in him. And this time, it was her name he groaned out, in the end.

  Chapter 32

  Emma woke to the sight of the charcoal-gray walls, the sound of the door opening.

  “Morning,” Nic said, sitting next to her and carefully se
tting down a steaming mug on the bedside table. “Brought you a coffee.”

  “Thanks.” She hauled herself up and pulled an extra pillow behind her. “A coffee?” she realized. “Not a cup of tea?”

  “I bought one of those K-Cup things yesterday,” he confessed. “Because you’re too exciting. If my nights are going to be this eventful, I decided I was going to need serious caffeine.”

  “Ha. You thought I was going to need it, that’s the real truth.”

  “Well, yeh. That too. You look just as pretty in that nightdress in the daylight, by the way. And I wish you’d stayed with me, last night. Because I’m not sure when Zack wakes up. Too late now.” He gave a disgruntled sigh.

  “What time is it?” she asked, taking another grateful sip of hot, milky coffee as she stretched out a knee to rub it against his side. He didn’t disappoint, reaching for it and stroking her skin. And he’d even put honey in her coffee, she could tell, even though he shuddered every time she added it.

  “A bit after seven,” he said, letting go of her knee and standing up again with another sigh of regret. “I was about to use the gym, before breakfast. I really came in to ask if you wanted to join me.”

  “Sure. Let me get dressed, and I’ll be right there.”

  Half an hour later, she was beginning to realize that she was in for a serious workout. Nic was a demanding coach, keeping a critical eye on her form. “You don’t have to help me, you know,” she protested as he set down his bar to put a hand behind her lower back, another on her upper chest. He gently nudged her more upright before he picked up his own bar again and resumed counting off squats and dead lifts to the accompaniment of pumping music from the room’s built-in speaker system.

  “This is meant to be your workout,” she went on breathlessly. “It’s for you. I’m just . . . ugh . . . tagging along. And enjoying watching your . . . muscles flex.”

  “You’re missing your class today,” he pointed out, shifting his grip a bit on the heavy barbell he held across his back. “Twelve more. And this is for me. Because I like looking at your bum while you do this. It’s my entertainment.”