Ballbreaker (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Simone Sinna

  She pushed Starbuck a little more than was probably wise, but she couldn’t afford to lose the time. The horse was thoroughbred to the core and responded willingly. Even if Mike didn’t have a clue, the horse certainly knew who was in charge. When she saw the impossible boulder in the water in front of her, she didn’t see how they could do it, but clear it they did and were already scrambling up the bank as Mike was coming down the other side.

  “Race you home,” she yelled over her shoulder and managed to catch a stunned look before Starbuck, back on the level ground, was off again at a gallop.

  She ended up slowing him down a little as the stable came into view, delighted that they seemed to have an audience. Jeremy was standing, talking to someone by a car near the stables. She pulled up right in front of them, Mike just behind, and, whispering thanks to the sweating horse, dismounted with aplomb and threw the reins to Mike.

  “Thanks, that was lots of fun. Must do it again some time.”

  She could feel the brothers, and the diminutive woman with Jeremy, staring after her as she sauntered casually back into the house.

  Chapter Five

  “I take it,” said Jeremy dryly, “that things didn’t quite go according to your plan either?”

  Mike shook his head in disbelief. If ever he needed to be reminded that he was an idiot when it came to women, this took the prize. Miss Bloody Pony Club Queen, a near-disaster with the flock, and now here was Monica turning up uninvited. Just what he needed. He eyed his ex-girlfriend distrustfully. “Why are you here?”

  “I’ll leave you two love birds to it, shall I?” Jeremy was smirking as he followed Samantha to the house.

  Monica waited until he was out of hearing range before turning on her full-blown “I want something from you” smile. The last time she had been after money—actually it was always about money in one form or another—and he had had to use every ounce of willpower to stop himself from strangling her. It would have been alright if she was upfront. But she always thought she could dangle Thomas in front of him to get her way. That Thomas was his weak point didn’t help. He wanted to never see her again, but he wanted to see Thomas and be a father to him even more.

  “I…um,” said Monica, pretending to be uncomfortable. “I wondered if we could do lunch.”

  Mike looked at her and wondered if she was actually an alien. Or maybe he was. How could something so vicious look like an angel and weigh no more than forty-five kilos, yet inflict more pain than a rottweiler? Even Leonard knew he’d met his match, but then Leonard had given in to an oversized rat.

  “Lunch?” Mike asked incredulously. “As I recall the last time I saw you, you called me a ‘fucking nightmare cowboy yokel with as much personality as my horse.’”

  “I was just a bit pissed,” said Monica, huge blue eyes staring up at him. She was tottering on four-inch heels and had more makeup on than the local town actually sold. Her tight ass was hanging out of her even tighter shorts, and the pushup bra would have given Dolly Parton a shake. Normally this type of outfit got him going despite how poisonous he knew she was. Today, curiously, it didn’t. He was still thinking about Samantha.

  “So what do you want now?” Mike asked, leading the horses off to the stables. They were both breathing hard and needed to be cooled down. He walked fast and the ground was uneven, so he knew he wasn’t making it easy for her.

  “Just lunch, honey,” said Monica. “I…I want to apologise. Got to thinking… Well, I know I’ve been a right bitch and well, we need to have a like, working relationship, right? Because of Tom-Tom?”

  Mike gritted his teeth. He hated the nickname she used for their son. He unsaddled the horses and handed them over to the stable hand before turning to Monica.

  “Why don’t you come up to the house? Where is Tom, by the way?”

  “Inside,” said Monica, slipping her arm around Mike’s waist. “I was thinking just the two of us.”

  “I bet you were.”

  * * * *

  Samantha soaked all the sweat off in the shower, relishing the cool water, legs feeling a little sore, but otherwise thoroughly energized. She was about to dress for work when she remembered the woman Jeremy had been talking to and heard a female voice. Company for lunch it seemed. Monica, Jeremy had told her in a tone that left no doubt about his opinion. Poor Mike. According to her information, scant as it was, there were ongoing custody issues and at least as far as Gerry Sandford had been concerned, she was a gold-digger pure and simple. Back for more gold?

  Samantha put the white linen suit back in the wardrobe, thought about the blue dress, but in the end vanity won. She pulled on the skin-tight, short, black-and-white dress that showed all her curves. Possibly a bit too much, but at least she’d neutralise any advantage Monica might have had in her outfit.

  “You must be Monica,” Samantha said as she came into the living area. “I’m Samantha Coulton.” She stood towering over Monica and getting a great view of the other woman’s cleavage. Advantage of being short, she supposed. Mike didn’t look like it was an advantage he cared for any longer. His eyes went straight to Samantha, as did Jeremy’s, which Monica was quick to notice.

  “Sam?” said Monica, looking startled. Someone else who had been expecting good old dad it seemed. Recovering herself, Monica grabbed a glass from Jeremy. “Darling, is that for me?”

  The glass of champagne had almost certainly not been but she took it anyway.

  “Samantha? Are you on duty?” Jeremy asked as he picked up an empty glass.

  “Yes,” she said, eyes meeting his. “But some rules are made to be broken.”

  Jeremy raised his eyebrows and as he gave her a glass murmured in her ear, “I’ll drink to that.”

  Monica nestled as close as she could to Mike but as she did a boy of about four came running in and literally threw himself at Mike. Mike’s face lit up as he grabbed the boy and swung him around, the child giggling in delight. Still holding the boy and smiling, he introduced Thomas to Samantha.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Samantha. Consulting skills didn’t extend to small children, even if half of the consultants she worked with acted like they weren’t much older.

  “You’re Snape’s owner,” Thomas announced with authority.

  “That’s right.”

  “Which is pretty funny,” he said, giggling.

  “Well Snape is very different to Leonard,” Samantha agreed.

  “No,” said Thomas. “Because your dog is a girl, and Snape is a wizard.”

  “Now, Thomas, don’t bother the lady,” said Monica, all but pulling the child out of Mike’s arms. He went limp and frowned. Samantha had an urge to slap her and from Mike’s expression the urge might have been a good deal stronger. “Be a good boy and run off and play.”

  “But…”

  Monica looked at her son murderously, and the previously good-humoured boy looked like he was going to cry as he skulked away. The level of tension made the previous day’s business meeting look like a spa retreat.

  Samantha sat down and slowly crossed her legs. Consulting Skills Advanced Class. Dealing with the female sniper. Tricky, but with both men watching her, and Monica watching them, she was off to a good start. She wanted Monica off the team and there didn’t seem any doubt that the two men also wanted her out of the house as soon as possible.

  “So, Monica, I believe you used to live here,” said Samantha, thinking that if she tried to do this socially she could never have done it. Why on earth was it so much easier to be her work persona?

  Mike had chosen a chair, so short of sitting on his knee, which Monica may well have debated, she had to settle for the sofa by herself. Jeremy was leaning against the piano, watching.

  “Mike and I have known each other a long time,” said Monica, smiling at Mike who remained stony-faced.

  “Yes,” said Samantha. “Thomas is a lovely child. What, four years old? Such a pity really that Gerry Sandford was so old-school.”

  “What do you
mean?”

  “Believing in the sanctity of marriage and all that.” Samantha watched Monica closely and was gratified to see her flinch. When Jeremy had told her Monica never came to High Camp if she could avoid it, she’d guessed the reason and it looked as if she was spot on. She saw that Jeremy had twigged, too. The will had been very clear about who had the right to vote and neither Monica nor Thomas were eligible. The woman had to be married to one of the men and the child had to be born in wedlock.

  “Thomas was provided for separately,” said Mike, who was still watching the door as if hoping Thomas would return. “Though it can only be accessed for school fees from the interest, until he is twenty-one.” Clearly to stop Monica from getting her hands on it.

  “So Monica, what do you do now?” Samantha wasn’t about to let up, hoping she could get the woman to incriminate herself. Seems like she might be stupid enough.

  “Do?” asked Monica, smiling in a way that it made it look as if she was baring her teeth. “I look after Thomas. Such an important task, don’t you think, though I suppose women like you don’t have husbands and children to bother with as you battle that ceiling thing.”

  Jeremy nearly choked on a mouthful of champagne. “Glass,” he offered helpfully, though Monica looked at what he was holding in his hand, puzzled.

  Gloves were off.

  “Quite,” agreed Samantha. “Marriage hasn’t been on my radar.” Mainly because she’d never met a man she had wanted to marry. Somehow a lifetime with a Justin Bieber look-alike who wanted to watch reruns of Idol had never had that much appeal.

  “Mike and I nearly got married, didn’t we Mike?” Monica’s tone was overbright. She got up and sat on the arm of his chair, one hand on his shoulder.

  “That was a long time ago,” said Mike, not looking at her.

  “I bet you’ve been giving it more thought, though,” said Jeremy softly, topping up her glass. “A child needs both parents. Thomas getting older and all, wanting his dad.”

  Samantha threw him a look of gratitude but Mike looked totally bemused.

  “Yes,” said Monica enthusiastically. ‘It’s just what I was coming to talk to Mike about.”

  “Custody?” Mike asked.

  “No, darling,” said Monica, kissing him on the cheek. “Just like Jerry said. Thomas really misses you and I know…well we’ve had our difficulties, but for him, his benefit, I’d give it a go.”

  Mike looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

  “I think you need to help the boy out,” said Jeremy to no one in particular.

  Monica took the boy to mean Thomas but Samantha was fairly sure he had been talking to her and referring to his younger brother.

  “See,” said Monica, “even Jerry agrees.” She slid off the arm of the chair into Mike’s lap, giggling. “We could go back to like it used to be…”

  Don’t explode, Samantha silently prayed as she watched Mike’s neck get redder and redder. Just give her a little more rope and she’ll hang herself.

  “…I really wouldn’t even mind living here, though you know I’d love a place in town, too.”

  “You’ve given it a lot of thought,” said Mike, who despite how he looked, managed to sound only slightly strangled. “How come the change of heart?”

  “Darling, you know I’ve always loved you deep down. Just it was so hard with your dad around and now he isn’t, and Thomas needs you. I need you.”

  “So we’d go back to just like before?”

  Samantha and Jeremy exchanged glances. Mike had got it.

  “Well, pretty much, the good bits,” said Monica, giggling and grinding her butt into his groin. “I think we should have a honeymoon, though, don’t you, kind of a start afresh after we’re married? Jerry, you’ll look after Thomas and the farm won’t you?”

  The explosion was quieter than Samantha expected. Mike merely stood up so Monica landed on her butt, and he wasn’t even yelling when he asked her, “So just how did you find out about the terms of the will?”

  Chapter Six

  Samantha wasn’t sure why, but the atmosphere over lunch was considerably more congenial than any previous moment in the Sandford house. It may have been the exhilaration of the cross-country ride and not coming to grief on the water jump, the champagne, or the sight of Monica wriggling her butt off in defeat. Regardless, no one was complaining. Mike seemed to have forgiven her for pretending she couldn’t ride and letting him think he was going to be up for a manslaughter charge, and Jeremy, not apparently a fan of anyone who referred to him as Jerry the babysitter, was at least allowing himself to relax a little.

  “We still don’t know how she found out about the will,” said Mike as they finished off the poached salmon and salad the cook had prepared.

  “Could she have gotten a copy as Thomas’s guardian, given he’s a recipient?”

  “Would have thought she’d only need the relevant paragraph,” Mike replied. “And though I know she can just about manipulate any man to do anything, I would have thought Martin our lawyer was immune.”

  “As well as being a stickler for protocol,” added Jeremy. “No way he would have let her anywhere near it.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter now she knows you aren’t going to fall for it,” Samantha said. “But just for the record, I don’t think she has seen it. More like someone has referred to it vaguely.”

  The men looked at her.

  “The terminology is very specific,” Samantha explained. “The child that gets to join the board aged eighteen has to be born in wedlock. And any wife added has to be the mother of that child.”

  “Bastard’s way of keeping out my son,” said Mike grimly.

  “No.”

  This time it was Mike and Samantha’s turn to stare at Jeremy.

  “He provided for Tom,” said Jeremy. “This was our father’s way of ensuring Monica didn’t convince you to marry her for the wrong reasons, and to have us start on an even playing field.” There was some admiration in his voice.

  “Speaking of which…can we get back to business?” This was all very well, but Samantha had a job to do.

  “Certainly,” said Jeremy. “I was thinking we really should show you the figures, don’t you think?”

  Samantha caught Mike’s glance. Jeremy was playing to his strengths and Mike’s weaknesses.

  “Have the afternoon off while we work on it,” said Jeremy. “I have a masseur booked for you and I recommend a swim after. Dinner is 7 p.m. for drinks on the terrace.” He stood up and, kissing her on the cheek, hand lingering on her shoulder a little too long and not long enough all at once, he excused himself and was gone before she could think of a reply.

  Mike saw her expression and laughed. “That’s Jeremy for you. Take my advice. Go with the flow, enjoy.”

  “You’re on board with this?”

  “Would be a pity to waste a good masseur,” said Mike. He looked a little lost.

  “You’re a great dad,” said Samantha. “Most women would give you a lot of points on the scoreboard for that.”

  “Only women,” said Mike, “that loved their child. With Monica?” He shook his head in disbelief.

  Though Samantha didn’t for a moment believe getting the brothers to agree was going to be simple, it looked like she was going to have some breathing space until tomorrow. If Jeremy wanted to pamper her? Well she wasn’t going to say no to a swim and a massage, which she followed up with grabbing a romance from the library. She was pleased to see the book was inscribed to their mother from their father rather than one of Monica’s. She set herself up on the deck in a hammock with Snape in her lap. Sipping a mango daiquiri, she let all thoughts of work fade.

  When it was time to get ready for dinner, the heat haze on the horizon had given way to the pinks of a sunset only surpassed by the serenading magpies and kookaburras. Sitting at the vanity in her room she wiped her eyes, wondering why real men weren’t like the one in the novel. Admittedly the heroine wasn’t reeling from catastrophe
to catastrophe and would never ever have lasted a minute in a boardroom. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, psyching herself up. She knew exactly what Jeremy had planned, and if she had signed off, maybe a fun romp in the sack would do her good, even if she really wanted more than a one-night-stand from a relationship. But given Coulton & Co.’s ongoing involvement with these two, they were absolutely out of bounds. She couldn’t have a romp with either one of them because that would be seen as her being prejudiced. That, at the end of the day, was all she had to remember, no matter how much Jeremy’s languishing looks made her go wet, or Mike’s corny grin made her want to kiss him. No, no, no, and no.

  Both men were dressed and waiting when she arrived. She’d gone for an elegant silk pantsuit she’d bought cheaply in Singapore the last time her father had sent her there. Tapered at the ankles and belted at the waist, its golden tassels tied in a halter neck leaving her back bare. Perfect in this heat. Jeremy poured her champagne as Mike let out a long, low whistle. Samantha flushed and did a bob courtesy. “Thank you.”

  “To a successful deal,” said Jeremy, his eyes conveying every bit as much appreciation as Mike’s whistle suggested.

  “I can drink to that,” Samantha replied carefully, trying to figure him out. What was he up to? Still seduce and conquer? He had to have more up his sleeve.

  In the end she drank probably too much, but as hosts, both the Sandfords were determined to be on their best behaviour. When the meal ended there was the inevitable invitation from Jeremy to the spa which she felt genuine regret at having to turn down. Samantha thought of her Auntie Jane’s assurance she just needed a real man. These two were certainly that and in such wildly, wonderfully different ways. She knew he had ulterior motives, but she still wondered what a smooth smart ass like Jeremy could actually manage in bed, in contrast to her experience of Justin Bieber lookalikes. It would have been tempting had it not been for the need to not favour either one of the brothers. She had to make her decision on business grounds alone.