Catch

by Kenyon, Toni

  "Well, maybe you should do some research, dear." Tamsen helped herself to seconds; marinara was one of her favorites.

  "Have you been cyber-sleuthing again?"

  "Who me, would I?"

  "You bloody would. You've got it bad for him, haven't you?"

  "Let's just say, I'm simmering."

  "Potentially stalking more like."

  Tamsen giggled, "Careful, I could always have one of your bosses sue you for libel."

  Gina poured herself a glass of iced tea. "Oh, Tam, what have you put in here tonight? It looks like I'm drinking the floral arrangement."

  "Just a couple of marigold petals and some heartsease. Don't you love the way the purple and orange set each other off?"

  Gina pulled an orange petal off her bottom lip. "I just worry that one of these days I'm going to drop dead as a result of some of the weeds you feed me."

  "Trust me, Gina. It's the only thing that keeps your liver going, the amount you drink."

  "Hey, steady sister, it's your bad habits we're discussing here. Leave mine out of it."

  Tamsen poured herself a glass of tea and realized she'd eaten far too much. "Actually, I don't think he’s a bad habit. In fact, he's not even a habit yet. But if you must know I'm meeting him for lunch tomorrow, so it does look promising."

  Gina flung her hand across her forehead and swooned dramatically. "I can see my wisdom and experience of dating the worst possible bastards on earth is wasted on you. But at least know that I'll be here to pick up the pieces after he's done the dirty on you."

  Matthew's honest attempts at wading through the lease and franchise agreements strewn across his desk seemed fruitless. Strange, he mused, he hadn't been in the mood for a lot of things about the practice lately; it was all rather disturbing and out of character. He'd spent years working his way through the system, from top graduate through wet-behind-the-ears associate to attaining partnership at 31.

  Maybe he'd achieved everything too quickly. The firm had taken a gamble on him, but he'd been pretty clear he'd have moved on to greener pastures if they hadn't supplied a sufficient carrot to keep him.

  Matthew looked out the seventh-story window. The moon hung in the evening sky though he couldn't remember the sun setting. The remnants of the sushi he grabbed for a quick bite in his office lay amongst the offending paperwork. To make matters worse, he must have walked out to the aquarium in the foyer at least half a dozen times in the last two hours. It drew him like some kind of liquid magnet. Sod it, he thought, he needed to check once again how the newbie was doing - at least that was his excuse to walk away from tedious paperwork.

  He made his way down the long corridor. At this late hour he knew he would be the only idiot still in the office, but that wasn't unusual; workaholism ran in the family.

  Passing the thin office partitions, he felt the need to scurry. They always reminded him of those awful mazes he built for rats in Psychology One when he’d spent months spent torturing the poor beasts. Unlock the puzzle pathway for a reward of food. He shuddered.

  The aquarium looked beautiful. He marveled at how Tamsen had rearranged it. It wasn't just an aquarium with fish and plants in it; she'd created a complete environment - a moving, magical work of art. The entire structure stood a little taller than him, which must make it quite difficult for a petite woman like Tamsen to manage. He measured in at just under six feet, so he picked her at about five foot four. It hadn't occurred to him before now, but that would have been why she carried a small stepladder with her. A minor miracle she didn't kill herself wearing those lethal heels.

  Three panels of clear glass and three panels of black, a tall pentagram, made up the unusual aquarium. Tamsen had filled the structure with long aquatic grasses that swayed gently in the currents from the filter. Fish idled in and around the weed - playing hide and seek, he imagined, with each other. There were nine residents in all, including one unusual black suckerfish that seemed to spend most of its time vacuuming the glass. The tiny bright Comet Tamsen had delivered that afternoon nosed the glass at Matt's nostril level. Every time he came out here to look it had been the same; the pint-sized fish would rush out from wherever he hid to greet him.

  "Hey there, little fella." Matt placed his finger against the glass, careful not to tap and scare any of the occupants. "How's your new home? Have you settled in okay?"

  He almost imagined the little guy was making an effort to connect with him, frantically wiggling in the water to catch his attention. Matthew ran his fingers through his hair. He must be tired; he really needed to go home to bed - standing here talking to fish. If anyone in the office saw this, he'd be a laughing stock.

  A random thought struck him - he wouldn't mind if Tamsen caught him. Matthew exhaled through his teeth. Oh boy, this was all about her; it had nothing to do with the fish. He was trying to find some way to connect with her again and this water vertebrate with gills was the nearest he could get.

  Matthew realized he wanted to get to know her, discover what made her laugh. Tamsen was charming and witty and off-center in the most intriguing way. Areas of life he knew nothing about fascinated her, and he wanted her tell him more. She sparked something inside him - something decadent and dangerous and terribly alive.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tamsen lay listening to the crashing of the waves on the beach, the symphony of the ocean competing with the orchestral maneuvers of the first birds singing in the dawn. She especially loved the pre-dawn chorus, the birds and waves battling it out for her attention.

  Little illumination came from the terrace windows, though a light covering of muslin barely hindering the breaking light of dawn. It was enough, however, to make out the shape of the Victorian bedstead, a gift from her grandmother.

  She had, one uneventful Saturday afternoon, voiced a request that Mary Ellen leave it to her in her will and was more than a little surprised when the woman who loved her so unconditionally arranged a week or so later for the entire bedroom suite to be delivered to her apartment. Any attempt to return such a gift given in love would be useless and so she graciously accepted the goods.

  Tamsen stretched, overwhelmed by an immense sense of gratitude, lying there in her grandmother's bed, listening to the birds beginning their day and contemplating the start of her own.

  How simple their lives were; not for them the worry of where the next worm came from, or where they would find the right building material for their nests. Did sparrows get migraines fretting about whether or not they'd have somewhere safe to sleep at night, she wondered. No, they just opened their eyes and trusted - singing, she imagined, for the pure joy of being alive another day. Knowing all their needs would be taken care of.

  This kind of faith Tamsen carried with her often, but some days she found it elusive.

  Stretching again and reveling in the feel of the cool cotton sheets on her naked body, she noticed the sensation of slightly rough weave from the top sheet across her nipples. Still present was the faint scent of chamomile oil she'd dripped on the edge of her pillowslip to help her sleep the night before - it always reminded her of Juicy fruit chewing gum.

  Tamsen ran her fingernails up the length of her stomach and goose bumps prickled her flesh in their wake. A sudden vision of Matthew came to her; she relaxed and played the mental game of undressing him in the cinema of her mind, fingers exploring intimate parts of her flesh as she surrendered herself.

  Tamsen sighed. Nothing so perfect as the fantasy of vicarious lovemaking.

  Matthew's day began with an aching sensation in his groin, almost like lover's balls. A ridiculous notion since he'd been nowhere near a woman in months. Angie had seen to that, thank you very much. He'd rather be in an arena with a Rottweiler than take on another woman at the moment - so why had Miss Fish caught his attention?

  He opened his eyes gingerly, hoping it was still the middle of the night, but no such luck; the luminous digits on his alarm clock glared 5:45, a full half-hour before the alarm usually woke him.
What the hell was going on? He must have had some sort of nightmare.

  Matt rolled onto his back and groaned out loud; pain wasn’t a welcome visitor at this hour. Trying to ignore the discomfort, he turned his mind to drifting back into unconsciousness for another half hour, then was jolted from his stupor by the sudden vision of Tamsen.

  No wonder he'd woken up feeling as if he were trying to sleep on a baseball bat. He must have been having some sort of teenage dirty dream about her. How bizarre.

  True, he found her attractive. Matthew snorted - who was he kidding? He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since coffee yesterday. It was frightening, a little obsessive even, and he didn't like that. Being out of control didn't suit him, especially over a woman – he'd been burned too many times before.

  Another attempt to settle back under the covers thwarted, he decided there was little hope of getting any more sleep. With a huge and heavy sigh he threw the crimson duvet cover back from his futon and drove himself to the adjoining bathroom. May as well get the morning ablutions underway, he thought miserably. The day ahead loomed long and large, the only respite another meeting with Miss Fish.

  He hated conference calls at the best of times – and old man Sheldon would likely try and drag him through the hoops. Then there was Tim's contract and lease, which he’d spent the better part of last night digesting and now had to go over with him. As usual Tim had managed to persuade Danielle to give him an appointment just before lunch; always a pushover for Tim was his Danni. A lot to do with the fact he often arrived at the office with a box of chocolates under his wing.

  Flushing the toilet, Matthew lowered the seat and headed for the shower, then stopped dead in his tracks. In a sudden moment of defiance he returned to the lavatory and lifted the seat back up.

  Matthew spoke directly to the seat itself. "Ha, no one here to demand that you be put down now, is there?" The pleasure of victory surged through him, marking his moment of conquest.

  Tamsen repeated the mantra to herself, wishing with all her might she could believe the three simple sentences. "We are the greatest thing that will ever happen to us. Believe it. It makes life much easier."

  Sitting on the terrace, she took in the sight and sounds of the ocean, the remnants of her carrot, celery and parsley juice hanging like fluorescent porridge on the inside of her glass. The first spoonful of muesli, fruit and yoghurt had scarcely passed her lips when Gina breezed out, black coffee in hand and doughnut hanging out of her mouth.

  She removed the offending pasty. "You know that healthy shit's going to be the death of you, don't you?" Gina said.

  "Good morning, G. Did you sleep well?" Tamsen chose to ignore the taunt; it was the same every morning.

  "Ah, not bad. You know me, couldn't get to sleep but now I don't want to get up - nothing changes."

  "Well, you could-"

  "Yeah, right." Gina cut her off mid-sentence. "Save your breath for the brethren you'll convert when you get your retreat up and running." She smiled sweetly. "So you still having lunch with His Poxiness then?"

  "I know you're just jealous and yes I am."

  Gina shoveled the balance of her doughnut into her mouth and sluiced it down with half the coffee. "Don't come running to me heartbroken 'cos he's treating you just like the last poor bitch."

  Tamsen could feel the indigestion coming on watching her friend eat. "I won't."

  "Gotta go." On the run didn't come close to describing Gina's morning ritual. "Will I see you at lunchtime or is he meeting you somewhere?"

  "Meeting me somewhere."

  Gina rolled her eyes. "Well, don't say I didn't try to warn you off."

  "I won't. Have yourself a great day."

  "Yeah. Whatever." And she was gone as fast as she'd arrived.

  Finishing the last of her dandelion tea, Tamsen spotted Gina's sunflower yellow VW maneuvering out the secure gates of the apartment complex. On her way to fight the rush-hour traffic into town, clouds of blue cigarette smoke billowing from the driver's window. Tamsen despaired. Her best friend ran on anxiety, adrenaline, coffee and cigarettes, probably the very reason she looked stick-insect thin. "Can never be too thin or too rich," Gina always joked.

  Tamsen was neither. She had to constantly reassure herself that it couldn't be much fun making love to a table leg, although a number of Gina's girlfriends didn't seem to have a problem with the concept.

  Grateful that working for herself meant she could duck the morning crawl over the harbor bridge into the city, Tamsen picked up her journal and began to write. Something she did every morning, allowing the nonsense that accumulated in her brain a chance to discharge itself onto the page. She could never be sure whether the words would be rants or thanks until pen hit paper. Either way, it was cathartic.

  Some mornings she just wrote, 'nothing to write, nothing to write,' until she found her truth point, usually midway down the second page. A point where she was unable to hide from herself any longer. Written truth serum. Who needed drugs?

  Matt backed the Audi out of the tea-tree lined driveway, careful to avoid the ponga logs that were blocking half the entrance.

  He would have to talk to the gardening contractors, he thought. It was bad enough he couldn't turn the car around by the garage for their bark, topsoil and plant supplies, but having to play dodge-the-log in the driveway was more than he could cope with at this early hour.

  Not for the first time this week he was running late and he'd promised to pick Danni up on the way. Throwing the Audi into a right-hand bend, he was nonplussed at meeting banked-up traffic for what seemed like miles into the distance. Anxiety rising in his stomach, he speed-dialed Danni.

  "Hey, it's me."

  "Morning, boss. You sound as if you're talking from inside a rubbish bin."

  He cast his eyes around the inside of the car; she had no clue how close to the truth she was. A valet service wouldn't go amiss, he thought. "The traffic's hellish. Didn't want you to worry I'd forgotten you."

  "Not a problem, Matthew. The radio said there'd been some sort of pileup on the motorway. I'll just wait for you at the top of the driveway. You know where Mum's is?"

  "Presumably the same place it was the last time I picked you up." Teasing Danni had become an occupational hazard.

  "Right. So I'll see you in about five?"

  "Hours maybe. It could be faster to walk in, you know. Then you could have a nice long black waiting for me on my desk."

  "Ha-de-ha."

  This was no way to be starting the day, Matt thought as he disconnected. He needed everything to go smoothly this morning - for some reason he felt riddled with anxiety about lunch with Tamsen.

  A sudden surge came in the traffic, brake lights parting like the Red Sea. It seemed a good omen. Saying a quiet thank you to God, Matt sped through the divided vehicles, grateful that for some reason everyone else seemed to be going in a different direction than his own.

  Why so many problems with the road today? The weather was beautiful, one of those clear antipodean spring mornings. The sort of morning he used to miss so much when he was working in London.

  The big OE hadn't been at all to his liking. Living in close quarters - damn near squatting in damp and dreary concrete apartments - and supposedly having the greatest time. He couldn't get back to good old clean and green Aotearoa fast enough.

  Danni waved from the pavement. Pulling the Audi over, Matthew was immediately assailed by an irate motorist's horn blast. Rush-hour traffic turned perfectly sane people into raging lunatics, he decided.

  "Moron." Danni slammed the door and rearranged a beige pencil skirt around her shapely legs.

  It was going to be one of those days; he alternated between loathing and loving that skirt. It had an impossibly long split up the back, tempting his eyes all day to follow the curve of Danni's legs to areas off limits.

  "I see you're in fine spirits this morning."

  "Pardon?" Danni looked puzzled.

  Matt took a moment to wa
ve thanks to a kind woman for allowing him to rejoin the crawling mass of traffic. "Good morning, Matt, would have been preferable. But if you think I'm a moron..."

  "I was talking to the dick in the land cruiser who seemed to think just because he was driving a three-ton truck on a residential road we should all get out of his way."

  "Ah, four-wheel-drive issues then?" Matt wasn't fond of them either.

  "Something like that. My brain-dead brother-in-law's just bought one. I mean, he lives in Ponsonby, for God's sake. You can hardly swing a cat down those streets."

  "Not much call for off-roading either, is there?"

  "I suppose parking on the sidewalk doesn't count?"

  Matthew laughed. He'd grown to love Danni's quirky sense of humor.

  "How's your mum holding up?"

  "Not too bad - the doctor says she'll be right as rain in a couple of weeks. It's amazing how quickly she's recovered from a hip op. I thought it'd be months."

  "So you'll be back home with Glen before he knows where he is?"

  "At the weekend, actually. My seven days are up and my sister, bless her little cotton socks, is coming up from the South Island to have a couple of weeks with Mum, so I'm off the hook."

  They turned onto the motorway, the traffic still crawling. "Great, so I've only got another two days of the diversion from hell to deal with."

  Danni looked perturbed. "Honestly, Matt, I really can take the bus into work if you want to get in earlier - or later...I mean, I know how much you hate this."

  He smiled. "It's not really been a problem, and it's woken me up to how the other half lives. I'd forgotten just how lousy it was trying to get in and out of town at peak times. The privilege," he teased, "of being the boss and able to work a 60-hour week in your own time."

  "So who is she then?"

  Startled, he asked, "I'm sorry?"

  "The woman you're having lunch with?"