by Emma Darcy
For once, his mother decided discretion was the better part of valour and didn’t persist in pushing her opinions. Peta didn’t offer any more. Ignoring the silence that had descended at their end of the table, Matt mechanically went through the process of finishing his meal. His stomach staged a mini-revolt but he kept forcing the food down, determined to eat the lot.
However, when his emptied plate was collected by the waitress, he simply couldn’t face the sweets course which had been laid out on the buffet table. It was passionfruit mousse, an ironic reminder that the passion he’d fancied with Peta Kelly had been killed stone-dead.
His mother attempted to revive conversation, asking Peta what pampering she had decided upon and expounding on the pleasures of the treatments she had experienced here. Matt shut his ears. He decided to walk down to the village hotel and get roaring drunk. To hell with health!
“Are you going to come to the meditation session with the Thai monks, Matt?” his mother asked, tentatively reaching through his silence.
“No, I’m off for a walk in the clean night air,” he answered, casting a mocking look at Peta Kelly as he rose from the table. “I hope the meditation will help you relax so you can sleep well. It would be a pity not to get some benefit out of coming here.”
Before either of them could say a word, he flashed a smile and added, “Please excuse me, both of you.”
He left without a backward glance.
What was dead was dead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE clean night air was decidedly chilly. Winter in the southern tablelands was more biting than in Sydney. Matt dropped into the cottage to don his parka and gloves. There was no point in freezing to death when all he wanted was a pleasantly pickled mind and body. Alcohol might not promote joie de vivre tonight but it should numb the pain of dashed hopes.
As he emerged from the cottage, his attention was drawn by running footsteps on the flagged terrace leading from Reception. His gaze narrowed on the flying figure of Peta Kelly. She caught sight of him and came to a panting halt, her eyes wildly targeting his, a sense of urgency pulsing from her. Matt’s mind raced to account for it.
“Is there something wrong with my mother?” he shot at her.
“No!” She shook her head to allay any such fear. Her hands lifted in an agitated gesture of appeal. “I...I just wanted to catch you...speak to you...” She spoke jerkily, out of breath and totally discomposed.
Matt noticed she was now wearing her leather jacket, though she hadn’t stopped to zip it up. Gloves were clutched in one hand. She’d obviously meant to run him down however far he’d gone. Which piqued his curiosity.
“Taking a risk, aren’t you, Peta? Little Red Riding Hood chasing after the Big Bad Wolf?”
Her head jerked into an anguished little roll. “I’m sorry,” she burst out. “I know you must think I’m not worth any more of your time, but...I really am sorry for what I said to you at dinner.”
Sorry she’d wrecked a chance that might have been viable? Too late, lady, Matt thought grimly. Peta Kelly had shown her true colours and he didn’t like them. He didn’t want any part of them.
“We’re all entitled to our own opinions,” he said, dismissing her apology as unnecessary.
“Not if they’re not fair,” she retorted, her face pained by the admission.
It made him pause, frown, his own sense of fairness being pricked. Was she genuinely upset at her misjudgment of him or did she have another agenda?
“May I walk with you?” she pressed.
Cynicism instantly resurfaced. He was nobody’s fool. If she thought she could sweeten him up and get the ball running between them again, she was in for a bout of frustration. Do her good, too. A return dose of her own medicine.
He shrugged carelessly. “It’s a free country. Though if it’s an escort you’re wanting, I should warn you my goal is the local pub and I intend staying there quite a while.” He wasn’t about to put himself out for her. “And I don’t give a damn if you call that cheating,” he added, his eyes stabbing home his scorn for her opinion of him.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Fair enough!”
Vexed by her emphasis on fairness, he strode out down the driveway, uncaring that she had to hasten her step to keep up with him. He hadn’t invited her. He didn’t want her tagging along, reminding him of the lust she’d stirred and the blind way he’d rushed in and suggested there might be a future for them. No doubt she was now wishing she hadn’t killed off her options with him. He wasn’t a bad catch, after all. Well, let her sleep with her regrets! He didn’t need a woman who couldn’t see straight.
“I truly am sorry for hurting you like that.”
Her soft plea was like a bee sting to his pride. He stopped, glaring at her in the semidarkness. “I’m not bleeding,” he bit out.
“I am,” she answered quietly. “And I’m deeply ashamed for taking it out on you, Matt.”
The sincerity coming from her was so strong, Matt couldn’t quite bring himself to disbelieve it. “Want to explain that?” he said, cursing the impulse to invite more from her even as the words tripped off his tongue. There was nothing to be gained by prolonging this encounter. He should have just accepted her apology and let the whole issue between them drop.
She grimaced and resumed walking, head down as she pondered what to tell him, or mulled over whether telling him anything would do any good or not. Matt fell into step, slowing his pace to match hers. He could afford to show her a bit of consideration. Maybe she was bleeding.
“You were right this afternoon,” she said on a rueful sigh. “I have been colouring you with my experience of someone else. You’re rather like him in some ways.”
Matt gritted his teeth, his pride stung again. Charming to hear he resembled some cheating bastard. Besides, whatever the likeness, it was no excuse to load him with crimes he hadn’t committed.
“It’s only been two weeks since I found out he’d been married all the time he’d been...attached to me. Two whole years of leading me to believe...” She caught her breath and released a long, ragged sigh. “Not only married, but with three children, as well,” she added bitterly.
Two years? “How did he manage it?” Matt asked, forgetting to remain uninvolved, amazed that such a deception could be carried on so long.
“I met him in Rome. He was there on business. He actually lived in Milan but he always met me in Rome whenever I had a scheduled layover there.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes. And he’d have everything planned. It seemed...all he thought of was how to give me the most pleasure. Surprises. Romantic settings. Lovely gifts...”
“The perfect Latin lover,” Matt remarked sardonically.
“He certainly played the part,” she agreed. “He couldn’t believe I’d walk away from what he offered when he finally confessed he had a wife and family. He thought he could buy my compliance to the situation, that I’d be happy to remain his bit on the side.”
The money angle. It must have stirred up painful memories and she’d lashed out indiscriminately. Nevertheless, it didn’t excuse her for assuming he was bent the same way as her erstwhile lover. He was a different person. Though perhaps she didn’t see that as clearly as she should.
“Am I a look-alike?”
“What?”
She seemed befuddled, as though he’d dragged her out of a deep mire of memories.
“You said I was like him in some ways,” he reminded her.
She managed a wry smile. “Not really. Not anymore. I guess you could call it a first impression. The way you sized me up and decided you wanted me. The air of confidence. It got to me.”
“Instant urge to slap me down, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Because she’d felt a tug of attraction and wasn’t ready for it, distrusting feelings that had led her badly astray? Matt suddenly found it of urgent importance to ask, “But I don’t look like him physically?”
�
��Not at all.”
Relief flooded through him. She was not likely to confuse the two of them again. He really hated the idea of being taken for someone else, especially when the someone else was a double-dealing rat.
They’d already walked beyond the grounds of the health farm and were heading down the road towards the village. Matt noted that the stars were very bright, no pollution to dim them out here in the country. The crisp air was invigorating. Getting drunk did not seem such a good idea anymore. Maybe there was a chance with Peta Kelly after all. If she could put the other guy behind her.
“Do you still love him?”
“No.” Very emphatic. “He didn’t love me. He enjoyed having me.”
Disillusionment. It was a killer all right. At least she was seeing straight on the Latin lover. Not that Matt could blame the guy for wanting her. He himself had taken one look and...no doubt about it, he would enjoy having her. The question was...would she enjoy having him?
She’d stopped using him as a whipping boy. Her apology and confession surely meant she cared about his opinion of her. Or it could mean only that she didn’t like herself for having stuck the knife in where it wasn’t deserved. Best not to assume too much. She was trudging along beside him, head down, immersed in thoughts that probably had nothing to do with him.
They were approaching the outskirts of the village. Matt found himself riven with uncertainty, which was not a feeling he liked. Would she slap him down if he asked her to have a drink with him in the pub? Nothing risked, nothing gained, he told himself. Besides, now he understood where she was coming from, his pride could take another knock.
He was about to open his mouth when her steps faltered to a halt. Her head lifted and jerked around as though she’d lost her bearings and needed to find them again. She stared at the streetlight up ahead then swung her face towards him. Her eyes glittered, but not with derision. Matt recognised the shiny wetness of tears, barely held in check.
“I’ll go back now,” she said huskily. “Thank you for... for listening to me.”
“It’s okay,” he said, instinctively comforting. But damn it! It wasn’t okay. He didn’t want her swimming in a sea of misery over the bastard who’d deceived her. It wasn’t the end of her dreams. She was so gut-achingly beautiful, desirable, her lips slightly atremble...
His heart kicked and civilised man disappeared under a rush of blood to his head. His whole body sprang alive with primitive urges as he stepped forward, wrapped Peta Kelly in his arms, and kissed her, kissed her with mind-pounding passion, wanting to wipe out the Latin lover from her life, wanting to stamp his own imprint on her, wanting a million things he couldn’t stop to think about but she pulsed at the core of them.
Peta didn’t know how it had happened. Her body was crushed against his, and his mouth was hotly bent on invading hers, and her head was whirling, the black depression that had settled in her mind attacked by a buzz of sensations, compelling her to do nothing but feel what he was doing to her.
Then his tongue was tangling with hers, tingling over her palate, firing a wild eroticism that pulled her into responding, angrily at first because he was taking without her consent, but curiosity and the sudden surge of need to experience him drove her into plundering his mouth with all the passionate energy of wanting hurts to be salved, dreams to be restored, self-esteem mended.
And the power of the kiss streamed through her, healing, exciting, exhilarating, making her feel like a whole woman again, brilliantly, exultantly alive and pulsing with the pleasure of it. The cold, bleak sense of being alone and adrift was swept away in a tide of heat. She smouldered, burned and melted when a hand closed over her breast, gently kneading her inflamed flesh, a thumb brushing her nipple, making it extend, stiffen, beg for more attention.
Without any conscious realisation of what it was doing, her body sought the satisfaction of feeling his arousal, pressing closer, going up on tiptoe to cradle the thick, enticing bulge where it was needed. His mouth eased from hers and a groan swam into her ears as he adjusted his stance. It was not until he moved against her, actively accommodating what she had blindly initiated, that Peta came to her senses.
Shock slammed through her mind. She was encouraging an intimate connection with a man she barely knew, revelling in his kisses, his touch, his...manliness! Her hands were gripping his head and neck, fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to what he’d started, pressing for more. She’d lost all cognition of time, place, and circumstance.
Her heart kicked with fright at what she had unwittingly done. Her hands scrambled down to grasp hard, muscle-bound shoulders. She jerked her head back to disarm another lethal kiss and pushed some breathing distance between them.
“Stop,” she gasped.
It jolted him into looking at her, though he seemed to have difficulty in focusing his eyes. The message was slow in filtering through his system but it did reach him. The hand on her breast suddenly stilled. His lower body straightened, easing back from hers.
“It’s okay,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t set out to...umh...get in your pants.” He plucked his hand from her breast. “You didn’t say anything about your sweater.”
“No. I...” She didn’t know what to say, how to explain herself. She swallowed hard, feeling hopelessly choked up.
“It’s okay,” he asserted more strongly. His mouth started stretching into a smile. “It’s fine. Great. Bloody marvellous!” The smile widened to a dazzling grin. “Let’s get married.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Married,” he repeated with deep relish. “Pity we’re not in Las Vegas. We could do it tonight.”
“Are you mad?” Peta squeaked.
“Never been saner in my life.”
“Just to get in my pants?” Her voice reached a higher register.
“Nope. Going to have four kids, too.”
Peta stared at him, completely dumbfounded. He bent and scooped their gloves off the ground where they had somehow dropped. Then he took her limp hand, threading his fingers through hers and gently squeezing his strength into them.
“Come on. We’ll unwind over a drink at the pub and make whatever plans you’d like for the wedding.”
“Wedding,” she repeated dazedly.
“It’d be much less fuss, probably quicker, too, getting married in a register office, but I know women like weddings. I wouldn’t do you out of one.”
He pulled her along with him and she let him.
Her mind told her it was utter madness.
She should go back to the health farm and try to sort herself out because she seemed to be in a helpless muddle. But he held her hand, pouring an irresistible energy into it, and her body had a will of its own. It wanted to go with him. It did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DYNAMITE! No doubt about it, Matt thought exultantly, his body still zinging from the explosion of sensation. He was on Cloud Nine as he walked Peta Kelly to the village pub, amazed that he’d reached the age of thirty-three and never felt like this before, so incredibly, exuberantly alive and bursting with anticipation for more and more of the woman walking beside him, her hand snugly held in his.
He’d never really believed his father’s tale of meeting Matt’s mother and deciding to marry her on the very same day. Too simple, he’d thought dismissively, even cynically. It was undoubtedly a romantic rendering of the past. Marriage was too serious a business to decide upon so quickly. But he now understood how it could happen. All the right bells were ringing, telling him unequivocally that Peta Kelly was the one woman who’d make his life complete.
Thank God both Skye and Janelle had gone on their way, leaving him waiting for this! Not that he’d ever actually proposed marriage to either of them, just skirted around the subject, thinking of it as a possible extension of their relationship, more a rational playing with the idea—weighing pros and cons—than a compulsive desire to hold on to them forever. Nevertheless, he might have made a big mistake with either one of them an
d never known this feeling, this nerve-tingling sense of absolute rightness.
Peta Kelly was the one, just as his mother had been for his father. She might think it was a crazy impulse, proposing marriage out of nowhere, so to speak, but Matt knew he wasn’t crazy. Many times in business situations, the right bells had rung for him, telling him to grasp the opportunity, ride the wave, pursue a certain course. It had happened with key employees, too, some extra sense insisting this person would do the job better than any other. Matt had learnt never to ignore his instincts. Much of his company’s success had ridden on them.
No way was he about to ignore them now.
He wasn’t crazy. He’d been absorbing everything about Peta all day, unable to think of anything else. The Latin lover had muddied their intercourse but that had been dealt with. Matt was confident they could go forward now. Peta was with him. She hadn’t slapped him down or walked away. She was still with him. He hoped it meant what he wanted it to mean.
They entered the pub. Matt had forgotten how cold it was outside until warm air enveloped them, drawing them into the cosy atmosphere engendered by a huge log fire. He ushered Peta to a table near the friendly heat and saw her seated, reluctantly releasing her hand.
“What will you have?” he asked.
Her eyes looked huge and slightly vacant. Matt hoped she was overwhelmed by the same feelings coursing through him. It was difficult to concentrate on anything else.
“Beer, brandy, gin...” he helped.
“Yes. Gin. And tonic,” she decided somewhat vaguely.
“Won’t be a minute,” he promised.
Matt strode to the bar, eager to get served and back to Peta as fast as he could. Fortunately the pub was fairly quiet and the bartender immediately obliged him. He ordered two gin and tonics since beer on his breath might not be desirable in these promising circumstances.