Catch

by Kenyon, Toni

  "It's not a first date - technically it's our third."

  "He's even got you talking like a lawyer. This is scary." Gina arrived on the terrace with an open bottle of chardonnay and two glasses.

  "I don't want a drink - I'm driving."

  "Well, on the strength of this news I need one and I'm not drinking alone."

  "It's never stopped you before."

  "Don't start that again, Tams. You can at least have a glass."

  Tamsen sighed. "Pour me half then." If Gina needed to pretend she didn't drink alone that was her problem. Anyway the wine would take the edge off her anxiety about what she was getting herself into.

  "I just don't know what you see in him, Tams. He's a prick."

  "You believe what you want to believe, but I don't see that and what I see is all that matters."

  "And it sounds like you might be seeing a hell of a lot more of it tonight."

  They both giggled. "It does, doesn't it?"

  Gina softened. "I suppose I have to admit he is rather gorgeous looking."

  "Tell me about it."

  "But you get over that when the bastard's yelled at you a few hundred times."

  Tamsen nodded. "You would."

  The wine left the tang of apples and pears in her mouth and, even if she only admitted it to herself, was helping settle her nerves. Unable to take her dress off because she kept fantasizing about Matt taking it off for her, Tamsen had been wound like coil all afternoon. She knew she was being a total fruit-loop and Gina was, in fact, a welcome distraction, but Tamsen wasn't going to let her best friend know that.

  "You never did tell me what he was yelling at you about yesterday."

  "His ex called. I was distracted and put her through."

  Tamsen nodded. "I heard that part."

  Gina continued, "She’s been a daily stalker for about three months now - been thrown off the premises twice."

  Gina refilled her wineglass, settling in to tell what had the makings of a sordid tale. Tamsen wasn't sure if she wanted to hear any more, but it didn't look like she had a choice.

  "Rumor has it they were getting married. She's the society sweetheart his family want, but he called it off. They'd been living together for a while, but apparently he got tired of the society crawl - couldn't stand some of the people they had to spend a lot of time with. She works with charities, organizing those huge balls and hoopla events that you see in the local gossip mags and he just wasn't up to the whole deal. Told her it was all off, chucked her out and she's been trying to get back in ever since. I think she must have his mother on her side, 'cos she's constantly on his case about it too."

  Gina took another swig of her wine and cast Tamsen an evil glance. "I've met his mother, so if you've got any ideas already that he might be the one just bear in mind she's a scary looking creature. Even worse than your mother, and that's saying something."

  Tamsen felt queasy and it wasn't the wine. Maybe she should just give the whole evening the bum's rush and go to bed. She giggled to herself. Problem was she wanted to go to bed all right - with Matthew Solomon.

  "What the hell," she told Gina. "I'm not looking for marriage. I want a half-decent shag and he's the first man in a very long time who's done anything for me."

  "You horny tart."

  Gina slipped off her chair, and brushed a hand across Tamsen's breast as she planted a kiss on her wine-soaked lips.

  "I'm always available for you, honey - you should have let me know you were in need."

  "With your schedule? Excuse me, who's had...let me see, was it three or four different women through the checkout on her bedroom door in the last month?"

  "It was three."

  "That's right; Carey made a comeback after...who was the blonde surfie chick with the eyebrow ring?"

  "Don't remind me. I was drunk and out of my mind."

  "You're always drunk and out of your mind."

  "Below the belt."

  "Serves you right for calling me a horny tart."

  Gina looked at her watch, then drained her second glass of wine. "Shouldn't you be on your way? Didn't you say you had to get to Titirangi?"

  "I did. But hopefully I'll miss most of the traffic."

  "Take the Dub - you can hardly turn up on Mr Wonderful's doorstep in your fish-mobile."

  "And pray tell what's wrong with the fish-mobile?"

  "Nothing, but if you take the Dubby you'll have to get it back for me in the morning."

  Tamsen laughed. "You crafty cow."

  "Ah well, just looking after my sister. Can't have us both getting lousy reputations, now can we?"

  "And since when has a reputation worried you before?"

  "It hasn't, but I wouldn't like a lovely girl like you getting one."

  Tamsen gave her a hug; Gina really was the sweetest girl sometimes. "So I don't have to worry about you spreading gossip around the office then?"

  "Absolutely not. My mouth is sealed." Gina ran through the universal monkey, no-see, no-hear, no-speak routine. "But I do expect a full report, preferably with intimate details plus explicit descriptions of every carnal act of pleasure he performs - okay?"

  "Pervert." Tamsen headed out to her room to check her makeup.

  "Well, at least put in a good word for me so he stops yelling at work, would you?"

  "Done."

  "Thanks, sis. Go make a pig of yourself."

  Tamsen laughed. "Shut up." Some days Gina was a gift from the heavens.

  Tamsen had worked out which off-ramp she wanted from the motorway before leaving home. But now came the moment she hated, winding her way through unfamiliar parts of town trying to keep a handle on which direction she was going – always a problem with the way Auckland's satellite cities circled the central business district and their orbiting suburbs.

  Tamsen was a North Shore girl born and bred and, like so many of her friends, after she came back from the big OE had settled back in the suburb she knew and had missed while she was away.

  West Auckland was another world. As for heading out west to meet a Central City lawyer, this was even more ass about face. No wonder the socialite in his life had trouble; he should have been living by the waterfront in Herne Bay, or at least on some beautiful tree-lined street in Remuera.

  Traffic hadn't been too bad. She pulled over on the side of the road. The well-thumbed map of Auckland, her constant traveling companion, stared bleakly at her from the passenger seat. She still had a huge mistrust of electronic navigation systems. Gina swore by her nav system, but Tamsen hadn't even turned it on.

  Pulling Matt's card out of her purse, Tamsen checked the address for the umpteenth time. Map reading wasn't her forte and Tamsen resorted to turning the map upside down, so at least the streets on the right were coming up on the right. Every little thing helped.

  Tamsen put the Dubby into gear, released the handbrake and set out again. Negotiating street names with the map upside down was a challenge, and the soothing effect of the wine with Gina had long worn off - her resident butterflies were back.

  Hell, she was going to be at least ten minutes early. What to do? Sit at the top of his driveway or knock on the door? Tamsen resigned herself to sitting in the car like a nutter waiting for the digital readout to get to at least 6:58 before she'd allow herself the luxury of getting out.

  There was no sign of a house, just a long private roadway. The clock read 6:47. Perhaps she should just get on her way, she had no idea how far it was down the driveway and she'd rather be early than late.

  Dense native bush surrounded her and the whole atmosphere was incredibly lush. To her surprise, Tamsen felt a sense of ease and peacefulness. She hadn't expected to feel the same connected calm in the bush that she felt from her ocean.

  She climbed the front steps of an eco-friendly building, carefully avoiding the replanting material strewn all around, and stopped in front of a dark blue door, complete with ornate brass door knocker. Tamsen smoothed down her dress, the one she hoped Matt would b
e removing later as promised, the memory making her skin tingle with anticipation. Checking her watch, she noted with amusement she was now only about seven minutes early.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Matthew had had the worst day. He really should've just stayed in bed this morning, he thought ruefully. The only highlight had been lunch with Tamsen, and thankfully she was due any minute, a welcome relief from the dire and unmanageable circumstance his life had become.

  If things hadn't been bad enough his mad ex Angie had got through to him on the phone, and then the dragon who would have become his mother-in-law had snatched the phone from her and given him a burst just for good measure. He stopped what he was doing, crossed himself, and took a moment to thank God for saving him from that mistake.

  Their receptionist really was just a waste of space. How could someone as intelligent and likable as Tamsen live with her? He'd spent an embarrassing half an hour on the phone to the mother-in-law-from-hell explaining why he wasn't going to be getting back with her daughter, even if she turned out to be the last surviving female on the planet. The relationship with Angie left a nasty taste in his mouth and he was glad to be rid of the whole family.

  Matt tucked the last of the dirty washing in the hamper in the laundry room and checked again that the bedroom was spotless. He laughed at himself for changing the sheets, but it didn't hurt to be prepared.

  Moving the last of the pizza boxes out of the kitchen into the recycling, he realized there also was a pile of banana skins that should have gone out into the worm bin.

  A resounding and unmistakable banging on the front door announced Tamsen's arrival and all thoughts of worms went out the window.

  His mouth went dry, guilt washing over him: he'd set the scene for seduction. Too late to back out now, he thought. He’d best temper his behavior and behave like a gentleman.

  He opened the door and all thoughts of gentlemanly behavior went straight out of his head.

  "Hi." He struggled to get the simple word out of his mouth.

  She looked utterly beautiful, the light of the setting sun turning highlights in her hair to spun gold, creating an almost halo-like effect.

  "Hey, I'm early."

  He looked at his watch. "Only a couple minutes, but if the place isn't up to your expectations then I've got an excuse, right?"

  "Right."

  He couldn't stop staring; it was as if an angel had appeared on his doorstep. "You'd better come on in then." He stood aside and allowed her to enter the roomy foyer.

  Her heels clicked on the parquet flooring; its dark-stain gave an impression of age to the reasonably young establishment. Tamsen hesitated at the stairs, appearing unsure whether she should go up or down.

  "Sorry, we're going upstairs. I'll show you round later, but down there's fairly grubby." Matt pointed to a closed door sat at the bottom of the second set of stairs. "It's where I work out, where the car's stored and where I do all those blokey things with power tools you probably don't want to know about."

  "I don't know - you shouldn't underestimate me. I'm pretty versatile with hand tools." She winked at him and Matt's temperature skyrocketed.

  As they both emerged at the top of the stairs, Matt took Tamsen by the elbow and guided her into the kitchen. It was a large affair, sitting neatly between the lounge and dining room, with access from all three rooms to a huge deck that ran the length of the house.

  "What can I get you to drink?" He hadn't forgotten how to be a good host, despite the increase in his internal thermometer.

  "Have you got a mineral water?"

  "A mineral water? I'm not exactly going to get your knickers off with a bottle of mineral water, am I?"

  She laughed out loud. "No, you might have to do some work. Now that'd be a challenge, wouldn't it?"

  He hunted through the fridge; he knew he had a bottle of Perrier in there somewhere. "Ah, there it is. Tell me, water doesn't go off living in the fridge, right?"

  "Don't think so."

  He poured her a glass and plucked a beer for himself out of the fridge. "You don't mind if I imbibe?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "Come on, let’s enjoy the last of the evening. I've dusted the old barbie off and I thought I'd toss a few prawns and some chicken on and throw a bit of a salad together. How's that sound for dinner?"

  "Really great. Thanks."

  He pulled a heavy wooden folding chair out for her, set it on the deck and seated himself just to her right. He wanted to be close enough to engender intimacy, but far enough away that Tamsen didn't feel overpowered by him.

  "So, you don't drink." It was a statement, not really a question.

  "Oh, I do." She took a sip of the mineral water and wrinkled her nose, her obvious distaste for the bubbles making him smile. "I just don't like to overindulge. Gina opened a bottle before I came out, so I had a glass with her." She smiled at him, a look of mischief in her emerald eyes. "And I wanted to make sure I had a clear head to deal with you."

  "And here's little me thinking it might be because you had to drive from one side of our fair city to the other."

  "How do you know I live on the other side of the city? I don't remember telling you where I live."

  He could feel the heat crawling up over his collar. He'd sprung her out at lunchtime and now he'd been stupid enough to get caught in the same trap. "You live with Gina and I know she's on the Shore."

  Tamsen leaned forward, snaring him in her steely gaze. "Strange you'd know where your receptionist lives, especially one you can't stand."

  He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, you got me, I'll come clean. I looked your address up in the phone book, so sue me."

  "I'm sure I can think of things I'd much rather do than sue you."

  The words went straight to his groin. She idly ran her index finger up and down the stem of the crystal flute holding her water while Matt had lewd visions of where he'd like her hands to be.

  "Maybe I should get the chicken on the barbecue?" Anything to get his mind out of her knickers. Food to the rescue for the second time today.

  "Is there something I can do?"

  "How'd you go with making salad?" Matt headed into the kitchen to get the chicken and prawns out of the fridge. She followed him.

  Tamsen had come in after him. "My speciality. With or without unique accompaniments?"

  "Er, with?" He wondered what the hell she was talking about, but decided to go with it. This going with gut feelings seemed to be opening all sorts of interesting doors.

  "So can I use whatever I find in the fridge?" Tamsen's question followed him back out onto the terrace.

  "Yeah, go for it - use whatever you want." He popped his head back in through the bifold windows over the sink, "There's a crystal bowl in the cupboard next to the fridge and the salad servers are in the drawer underneath the bench."

  "No probs, chef. You cook and I'll chop."

  He'd always appreciated the ease with which the house lent itself to alfresco dining. He was also quite enjoying having Tamsen in the kitchen; the physical distance between them eased the tension in his groin.

  There was a continual knot in his stomach. That bubbly feeling of anticipation - it had been present since the first moment he'd set eyes on her and he was unable to shake it.

  Throwing the chicken on the hot steel, he took a swig of his beer, grateful that Tamsen didn't seem to have any objections to his drinking straight from the bottle; he'd so had enough of airs and graces.

  The sizzling chicken sealed quickly and he expertly turned the kebabs, careful to avoid being spattered by hot fat. As much as he loved barbecued food, he hated wearing the scent of cooking and went to extraordinary lengths to make sure he created as little smoldering smoke as possible.

  He could hear Tamsen singing softly to herself in the kitchen. He couldn't make out the words or the tune, but was taken with the gentle harmony.

  "Matt?" She was leaning out the window. "Those flowers round the front door - you don't s
pray them or anything, do you?"

  He laughed. "You're kidding, right? I live in the country's leading eco-city - what do you think?"

  "That'd be a no, then?"

  "Correct." What the hell could she want with flowers when she was making a salad?

  After throwing the prawns on the barbecue, he headed back into the kitchen to pick up his new favorite serving platter - a huge oval fish Danni had painted in ceramics class and given him last Christmas.

  The kitchen looked as if a bomb had exploded in it and he couldn't help wondering what sort of chaos she'd have created if she'd cooked the entire meal. There were lettuce leaves from one edge of the bench to the other, water all over the draining board, and a pool on the tiled floor where some of it had run down the cupboard doors. One little person – one large mess.

  "Oy, you, out of here - I'm creating." Tamsen returned with a small bunch of flowers in her hand.

  "I can see that."

  "Oh, right, the carnage." He saw the start of a blush as she dropped her eyes from his and looked at her feet. "Gina doesn't like me cooking. She says it's not worth the effort of having to clean up after me. I'm afraid I'm not the tidiest of people."

  He shrugged. "Hey, no big deal. So you're creative - create away. I can clean up later."

  Matt walked outside, adding to his list of mental notes. Passionate. Tick. Sensual and creative. Tick. It made for a heady mix. His mind wandered again to the promise of the pleasures of her flesh and he experienced another hot and sweaty moment that had nothing to do with the heat coming from the barbecue.

  Tamsen arrived outside with the salad - a work of art contained in a simple white bowl.

  "Wow!" He was impressed. "I'd never have thought of putting flowers in a salad. Are you sure it's okay to eat them?"

  "Absolutely." She beamed at him and he was touched she received so much pleasure from his affirmations.

  "It’s a great idea to eat the centerpiece."

  "Keep up the compliments and there's a damned good chance you'll get me between the sheets tonight."