by Emma Darcy
But she’d come out fighting.
Choosing such flamboyant colours for her hair was not only a rebellious statement but an aggressive one. She was showing plenty of aggression on the tennis court, too. As for riding a Ducati...Peta Kelly had a lot of guts. No way was she going to hide in a hole and lick her wounds. Her attitude reeked of thumbing her nose at the whole damned world.
Matt admired her for it. He’d always admired people who picked themselves off the floor and got on with life. He wished his mother would do it. With any luck, Peta Kelly might be a good influence on her. She might also be the needle in the haystack he’d been looking for.
The lust she stirred gathered an exhilarating edge of excitement. He played particularly well in the second set of tennis, giving her the workout she wanted and enjoying every minute of it. Sweat made her even sexier. He could see her being very athletic in bed, not the passive type expecting him to do all the work. Making babies with her could be a real pleasure.
He won the set six games to three, matching her previous victory.
“Found your rhythm,” she remarked dryly as they met again at the net.
“Feeling good,” he agreed. “Are you ready to have a baby?”
“What?”
“Like your sister. You said she had a baby recently.”
A sigh of exasperation. “She happens to be married. I don’t think being a single parent is the best idea in the world.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Every kid needs a dad as well as a mum. But suppose you find your right man and he puts a wedding ring on your finger, would you be prepared to start a family straight away?”
“Yes, I would.” Very emphatic.
“What about your career?”
“I’d give it up.”
“Just like that?”
“It’s only a job,” she declared defiantly. “You serve a million people, clean up after them...what’s so great about that? I’d rather serve my own children.” She made a rueful grimace. “Though I could probably get work in airline administration if we needed the money. With the cost of living what it is, most families can only survive on a double income these days.”
“Wouldn’t you miss the glamour of travel?”
A scornful look. “Believe me! When you’ve been all the places I’ve been, what you want most is a place to call home. And all it entails.”
“Could become boring,” he suggested.
She glared at him. “I’d expect you to say that.”
“Why do you ride a Ducati if you’d like boring?”
Her eyes glittered. “That bike is my baby. I talk to it and it responds to me. It doesn’t know how to cheat, either.”
“Ah! A baby substitute.” He smiled happily. “You really do want them, don’t you?”
“What’s it to you?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, probably anticipating he intended making fun of her.
“A fascinating point of view,” he answered truthfully. “Most of the women of my acquaintance seem to think kids would be a hell of a drag on them. Too big a commitment. Lifelong responsibility. No telling how much they’d mess up their other interests...”
“If you run with the fast crowd, what can you expect?” she said sardonically.
He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right You certainly represent a different slice of life.”
“You bet I do. As far as I’m concerned, family is the real world. The rest is fairy floss, here today, gone tomorrow.”
Matt found this philosophy highly encouraging. Peta Kelly was not only a spunky fighter, she was a stayer in the family stakes. “So how many kids would you like to have?” he asked, getting down to the nitty-gritty.
“A whole brood of them,” she tossed at him belligerently. Her chin went up and she marched over to the bench seat where she’d dropped her tracksuit. Having set her racquet aside, she began pulling on the baggy trousers, ruining the lime-lemon symphony for Matt.
“No more tennis today?”
“You got even. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“I don’t mind if you beat me. I enjoy playing with you.”
“I’ve had enough.” The sweatshirt completed the cover up. She turned to him with a forced little smile. “Thanks for the game.”
“My pleasure.” On many levels.
“It was good,” she conceded, then picked up her racquet and headed for the gate.
Matt swiftly collected his own tracksuit, slung it over his shoulder, and joined her for the walk back to the main building, blithely ignoring her dismissal of him. He saw no reason for her not to be sociable until they had to part for their separate accommodation.
“Just for the record, what do you consider a brood?”
She huffed and slid him a glittering look. “Six,” she said silkily.
Quite a number in this day and age. Rather daunting, in fact. Very expensive, too. Just as well he could afford a big house and whatever help might be required.
“Want to peel off now?” she asked.
“What?” The provocative question was highly surprising, coming after her reading him the riot act about getting into her pants.
She stopped, planting a hand on her hip as she surveyed him with derisive disbelief. “Why aren’t you taking to your heels? I’m a broody hen. A homebody. Not your type. I don’t care that you look like Tarzan. I’m totally deaf to the call of the wild. You haven’t got a hope of changing my mind.”
Right! She hadn’t been asking him to strip. She expected him to be scared off by the prospect of having to handle six kids. He would have to show her he was a man of mettle.
“I can see now why you think twenty-eight is old,” he said seriously. “If you want six kids, you’d need to get started on them straight away. Give yourself time to space them out a bit so you can enjoy them as individuals.”
She threw up her hands, almost hitting herself with the tennis racquet. “Why are you persisting with this?” she cried in exasperation.
“I like to understand people.”
“Well, I don’t want six. I only said that to...to...”
“See how I’d react?” he helped.
“Yes.”
“How many do you really want?”
“Four, if you must know. That would be the ideal.” Her face drooped despondently as she looked off into the distance. “But I guess I’d make do with two if I had to. Probably lucky to have two, the way I’m going.”
“Never give up on a dream,” Matt advised, thinking four was really a more manageable number. Two boys and two girls would be just fine. A well-balanced family.
She sighed and resumed walking.
Matt figured he needed to correct her impression of him. The image of Tarzan was not to his liking. Though he had to admit the idea of carrying Peta Kelly off to a tree house and mating with her on the spot had a very strong appeal. She stirred quite a few primitive instincts. He’d like to punch out the guy who’d soured her on men. On the other hand, he suspected violence would not win her approval.
“I’m not an apeman,” he stated as a matter of fact. “I’m actually quite civilised. My mother house-trained me from a very young age. She’d vouch for that if you asked her.”
It earned a wisp of a smile. “You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?”
“Yes. She took my father’s death hard. It’s been almost two years now and she makes no effort to get over it.”
“She must have loved him very much.”
He heard the sympathy in her voice and frowned. Had she really loved the guy who’d done the dirty on her? Matt didn’t like that idea.
“Don’t give my mother sympathy. It’ll only make her worse,” he warned.
She glanced sharply at him. “You’re a hard man.”
“No. A practical one. Sympathy feeds her grief which she uses as an excuse to indulge herself in misery. And might I add, for your benefit, it’s a futile waste of time nursing a broken heart over a guy who wasn’t worth loving.”
“He was. I meant the scumbag who cheated on you.”
“Oh!” Resentment flared. “I’d take it kindly if you minded your own business, Matt Davis, and left me to mind my own.”
“You make it my business when you put me on the same level as him.”
“That’s it!” She wheeled on him and stamped her foot. Her blue eyes were laser bolts, searing him with fury. “I don’t have to take any more from you and I won’t.”
“I could be the father of your children,” he said blandly.
“What?” The laser bolts lost direction.
“Might be your best chance.”
Her mouth fell into a very sensual pout as she dragged in a deep breath. Matt was tempted to step forward and kiss her, get her mind moving on a positive path. He thought better of it, remembering the fierce stipulation of the wedding ring. He didn’t want to scare her off. He threw in another persuader for good measure.
“I think four’s an ideal number, too.”
Her breath whooshed out. She backed away, wagging a finger at him. “You...are making a fool of me.”
“Nope. Just being practical.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’ve had a hard time finding a woman who wants to be a wife and mother.”
“I’m not listening to this.”
“Think about it.”
“You just want to have sex with me.”
“Can’t have kids without doing it,” he said cheerfully.
“You’re a cheat!”
“I’ll give up smoking but be damned if I’ll give up salt.”
“You stay right here until I’m inside and out of sight. I’ve had enough of you.”
“Facing the truth is always difficult. Go on then. All I ask is you give it some thought.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not likely to forget this.”
“Good!”
She turned and marched off towards the door into the gym. She looked great with her bottom stuck out and her shoulders thrust back, emphasising the highly feminine curve of her spine.
“See you at dinner,” he called after her, feeling rather like the Big Bad Wolf who wanted to gobble up Little Red Riding Hood. Peta Kelly was the most stimulating woman he’d ever met. And the most delectable.
She didn’t reply, didn’t glance back. He didn’t expect her to. She was in shock at the moment. But given time, the seeds he’d planted in her mind would start to grow. They had fertile ground. After all, he and she wanted the same thing. Any reasonable person would see that.
CHAPTER FIVE
ONCE Peta was lost to his view and the pleasure of watching her was at an end for the time being, Matt decided on a stroll around the grounds. Best not to run into Peta again for a while, even accidentally. She needed some space to get things in proper perspective. Dinner would come soon enough.
He pulled on his tracksuit and headed up towards the pine forest From there he could descend to the garden in front of the cottage where he and his mother had adjoining rooms. It occurred to him, as he walked, it was imperative to find out how long Peta was staying at the health farm. Today was Tuesday. His week here was up on Friday though he could probably manage to extend the booking over the coming weekend. He’d talk to Reception about it.
Without any conscious thought, Matt drew the packet of cigarettes and lighter from his trouser pocket and actually had one of the death-sticks—as his mother called them—between his lips, ready to light up, when he realised what he was doing. Habit was an insidious thing.
One more couldn’t hurt, he reasoned, but the image of scornful blue eyes suddenly made him squirm over the urge to indulge himself. Damn it! He’d said he’d stop smoking and he would. Giving Peta Kelly any cause to accuse him of cheating again would muddy the issues between them. Besides, if he was going to have kids, he had to do the right thing by them.
He took the cigarette out of his mouth, broke it open and scattered the tobacco on the ground. He destroyed the remaining ones in the packet in like manner, then shoved the resultant rubbish in his pocket for later disposal in a garbage bin. Temptation dealt with. Resolution affirmed. He walked on with a springier step, breathing in the pure air of virtue.
Back at the cottage, he took a long hot shower, washing his hair to ensure Peta could not smell any smoke on him. He gave his teeth a good brushing, too, rinsing out his mouth with the peppermint flavour of the toothpaste. After all, a kiss was just a kiss, not an assault on her underwear. If the opportunity presented itself and she was willing to try him out...Matt grinned to himself. He bet a kiss with her would be dynamite.
He changed into clean clothes; jeans, T-shirt, and the sweater his mother always commented on. It was grey with two broad stripes of red and royal blue across the chest and sleeves. If his mother thought it looked so great on him, Peta might, too. No harm in stacking the cards his way.
He wondered what Peta would wear to dinner. The bag she’d brought with her wasn’t large, more the size of an overnighter. The thought made a visit to Reception even more pressing, though surely she’d be staying longer than one night.
He checked his watch as he left his room. His mother’s afternoon appointments for the Face’n’Feet treatment and manicure would be over by now. He knocked on her door. No reply. Probably having a cup of tea in the main lounge room, he decided, and headed straight for Reception.
“Hi!” He flashed his most appealing smile at the woman behind the desk. Her name tag read Sharon.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Davis?” she responded warmly.
“A matter of desperate need, Sharon. A Miss Peta Kelly checked in today. Can you tell me how long she’s here for?”
She bridled. “We’re not supposed to give out that information, Mr. Davis.”
He put a rueful tilt into his smile. “As a concession for the only male around? I forgot to ask her myself and we had a cracking game of tennis this afternoon. Best partner I’ve had since I arrived. I was hoping she was staying until Friday, too.”
“Well... since you’re a suffering male, surrounded by the female gender, I’ll look it up for you.” She checked her book. “You’re in luck, Mr. Davis. Miss Kelly took the Petite Pamper Package, Tuesday to Friday.”
“Great!” He grinned and saluted her. “I owe you one, Sharon.”
She laughed. “We’re here to serve.”
Aglow with satisfaction, Matt breezed into the lounge room in search of his mother. It was a friendly room. Deeply cushioned sofas and armchairs and footstools were spread around numerous coffee tables loaded with a variety of books and magazines. In one corner, a bench held all the provisions for a variety of herbal and ordinary teas. In another, a three thousand piece jigsaw puzzle was laid out on a table as an ongoing challenge for any guest to try their hand at it. A piano sat in a third, inviting anyone to play. Best of all was the massive fireplace at the end of the room where burning logs crackled a warm welcome.
Good room for a family, Matt thought, as he strolled through it. A sociable room. No television. He particularly liked the piano. He’d had a few piano lessons as a boy, until they got in the way of football training and other sports. He regretted giving it up. The electronic keyboard he’d bought in recent years gave him a lot of enjoyment, but if he acquired a big house, he’d get a piano. His kids would have fun banging on it, just as he had.
His mother was sitting close to the fire, looking down at her hands spread out in front of her and wriggling her fingers. Having seen Skye and Janelle perform this curious action, Matt knew the nail polish from the manicure wasn’t dry yet. What did surprise him was the rather smugly admiring smile on his mother’s face.
“Pretty colour on your nails, Mum,” he remarked, drawing her attention to his presence.
She looked up, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “It’s called Perfect Peach. It does look nice against my skin tone, doesn’t it? The manicurist said it
would.”
He lowered himself into the chair next to her, smiling his approval. “You should buy it. Better still, go and have a manicure every week.”
“Yes. I think I will. She dipped my hands into a wax bath and it’s made them feel soft and silky, not old at all.”
This was good news. “You aren’t old, Mum. No reason to feel it, either,” he pressed pointedly.
“I might try getting my hair coloured, too.” She held up her hands to assess them again. “Not as bright as my nails, but something like this peachy shade. It does suit my skin.”
This was even better news, taking a positive interest in her appearance. “Great idea!” Matt enthused. He reminded himself to give his secretary a box of her favourite Belgian chocolates. Her health farm idea was turning out to be a winner, in more ways than one.
“Oh! You’ve got your really classy sweater on.”
“Mmmh...”
“Did you have a nice game of tennis with Peta, dear?”
“Yes, I did. She’s a top ‘A’ grade player. Almost wiped me off the court.”
His mother looked delighted. “How wonderful to find someone who can match you. It’s so important to be able to play together. Your father and I...”
Matt switched off from the list of fond recollections, his mind wandering to the games he’d really like to play with Peta Kelly.
“Where does she live?”
He snapped out of his fantasies. “Who?”
His mother sighed in vexation. “Peta.”
“Haven’t got a clue.”
An exasperated roll of the eyes. “Where is she now?”
He shrugged his ignorance. “She went off on her own after our tennis match.”
“I don’t know where your mind is, Matt.” Her tone was loaded with reproof. “You meet an extremely attractive woman. She’s competent enough to hold a responsible job, athletic, obviously very bright, and the right age for you, too. It’s opportunity handed to you on a plate and you just let it go past you.”