by Kenyon, Toni
"Well, shelve your lustful thoughts. Mom could walk through that door at any moment."
"Aw, I keep forgetting about her."
"How long is she going to be here?"
He thrust a forkful of pasta into his mouth, hunching his shoulders at the same time. The universal sign for who knows and who really cares. "She can be hell on wheels. I suppose she'll be here for as long as it takes."
"As long as what takes?"
"For me to concede defeat and live my life the way she wants me to."
Tamsen looked thoughtful. She had a cute way of running a piece of her hair over her top lip when she was thinking. He found it endearing.
"Why don't you tell her what she wants to hear," Tamsen suggested, "and then run your life the way you want to?"
"That's rather dishonest, don't you think?"
She shrugged. "I suppose. But, you can have rather dishonest with her out of your hair, or honest and her here driving you insane for the next who knows how long."
"Hmm. Maybe. But I don't want to talk about her anymore." He wanted to talk about Gina, but didn't know how to bring it up.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"How about what's going on in your life?"
Tamsen smiled. "You are quite dishonest, you know."
"How d’you mean?" He was insulted.
"You want to talk about Gina. You're just putting out fishhooks, hoping I might pick up on the bait. It's an underhand way to direct a conversation."
"And since when were you as pure as the driven snow, Miss Tell-Mother-What-She-Wants-To-Hear?"
It disturbed him how well she read him. He'd spent his life making sure no one got too close, carefully doling himself out in small slivers - a slice here, a portion there. But this woman, this beautiful enigma, seemed to be scrambling all his defenses. Taking the sum of his parts and - far too quickly - putting it all together.
"Okay." He put his fork down; the conversation had come to the point he'd been dreading. "You've got me. I've been terrified of how you were going to react over the whole fiasco. So how's it been at your end?"
"Terrible."
His stomach lurched; it was as bad as he’d thought it would be. "Like, on a scale of one to ten."
"Hmm." She rolled her eyes at him. "Twenty-four."
"Oh, shit. You must hate me."
"Absolutely, that's why I was happy to have your dick in my mouth less than an hour ago."
"Tamsen, I'm being serious."
"So am I." She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. The gesture settled some of the butterflies careering around in his stomach. "Gina's a disaster that's been looking for a place to happen for a long time. It's just unfortunate that it had to happen in your office at the same time I met you."
"You say the nicest things."
"It's a fact. If it's any consolation, I've been rescuing her from herself for years and I've had enough. She can just stew in her own juices for a while. It might bring her to her senses."
"Wow. Tough woman."
"I try to kid myself. But really, it's crippling our friendship."
He thought he saw a tear escaping from the corner of her eye. "Oh babe." He was at her side in an instant, on his knees beside her.
She wrapped her arms around him, laid her head on his shoulder. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart and hear muffled sniffling on his neck.
He didn't know what to say, so he just held her. For a man who worked with words he was lost. Even though she’d said he wasn't responsible, he certainly felt as if he was.
"You know what the worst thing is?" Tamsen lifted her head off his shoulder, her eyes glassy with tears.
"No, tell me." He stroked her hair, smoothing the still-damp strands down her back.
"We were supposed to be going on holiday together." She sniffed again. "And Gina said she won't go unless I throw you over."
The pain in his gut was sudden. He felt as if he'd been hit. The possibility that Gina was a threat had become very real.
He worked hard to sound composed and calm. "So what did you tell her?" He wasn't sure if he wanted an answer, but the question begged to be asked.
"I've told her I won't be blackmailed." She kissed him on the nose and he felt as if he wanted to burst into tears.
He laughed nervously. "You could always just throw me over. I mean - " he took a deep breath; he wanted to sound jovial and secure " - you girlies have to stick together, don't you? Aren't we men a dime a dozen?"
She smiled, and even through his own angst and pain her smile plucked at his heart. "No. Not all the time. Sometimes us girlies have to stick with you boys." She reached out, trailing a finger down the side of his jaw. "Especially when you boys are as gorgeous as you."
He couldn't help smiling. "Does that mean we get to have rampant sex again?"
She laughed. He loved the sound; it filled the air. "No. We get to load the dishwasher and then you get to help me work out what the hell I'm going to do about my insane room mate and what I'm going to do about my trip away."
"Easy."
"Who - me or the room mate?"
"Both." He couldn't help himself. She was wide open for the broadside and it was one of the things he loved about her - the ability she had to poke the borax at herself and at him.
"Steady on, pal." She gave him a light cuff around the ear. "You'll be beginning to think you’re God's gift to the poor working girl soon."
"What do you mean? Beginning."
"Now look here. Just because my room mate hunted you down like some sort of prize animal in the kitchen-"
"And you happen to be shagging my brains out." Bless her, he thought, she had the temerity to blush.
"That still doesn't give you a license to think you're a stud."
"I don't. But I hope that maybe you might."
"Hmm. Jury's out on that one at the moment, counselor. You may have to present a little more evidence."
"Is that right? And how much evidence, exactly, would I have to present?"
"I haven't decided." She smiled at him from where she was, he suddenly realized, cleaning up his kitchen.
"Hell. I'm supposed to be doing that."
"You cooked, so I can at least clean up. Wouldn't want your mother arriving home and finding the place looking like a pigsty, now would we?" She tipped her head sideways in that cocky way she had. "She might think you were spending time with a woman waaaaay below your station."
"Tams, stop it." He'd be having words with Marguerite. She wasn't about to drive Tamsen out of his life. "Tell me about your trip away."
"More like lack thereof."
"Well, lack thereof. Maybe I should come with you."
There, he'd said it. He'd been mulling the idea round in his head since she'd mentioned Gina pulling out. Now he wished he hadn't. She'd probably think he was moving too fast and run a mile. But the more time he spent with Tamsen, the more time he wanted to spend with her.
She hadn't moved a muscle. He could hear his own heart beating in his temples. He should've kept his mouth shut.
"Could you get time off work?"
Could he get time off work? Hell, yes!
"Maybe." Now he sounded like a complete asshole. "When were you looking at going?"
She grinned. "Don't you want to know where we were going?"
Shit, they could be going to the ass end of the country for all he cared. As long as he was going with Tamsen.
"You mentioned where you were going." Did she? He couldn’t remember. Why would he even consider lying to her? He felt like a complete dick.
"Yeah, well. We'd talked about going down on the train - you know, sort of make it a girls’ own adventure."
He nodded knowingly. A train. Where the hell would you be able to get to on a train?
"But then we thought that flying would be so much quicker. Though I'm not that keen on planes and the thought of landing in all that wind in between all those houses..." She shuddered.
Wellington. They were going
to Wellington; nowhere else in the country had wind and an airport landing strip between houses. He'd hoped for somewhere like...at least Melbourne. But, he figured, if he was going with Tamsen he could stand Wellington.
"So what's in Wellington then?" He felt like a total schmuck for deceiving her.
"A trade show." She finished loading the dishwasher and closed the door.
Turning to face him, she trapped her hands against the bench behind her back. The pose was hideously sexy and he felt his desire for her soar again. A trip away with her was just what he needed - a chance to get to know her inside and out, without the pressures of other people.
A chance for him to work out exactly what it was he wanted from his life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Matty, darling. Where are you?"
Tamsen felt every inch of her body go rigid. There could be only one owner of that voice.
"In the kitchen, Mother." Matt cast his eyes to heaven and Tamsen's stomach lurched.
The urge to vomit was strong. Maybe she'd eaten far too much lunch - she couldn't blame motion sickness or, God forbid, pregnancy. Where had that thought come from? Terror at the prospect of finally meeting his mother?
She found herself hurriedly checking her hair. She had no make-up on. The last vestiges that hadn't been smeared across Matt's floor had been washed off in his shower. She shivered, feeling sure she must have "You just missed me sucking your son's cock" running across her forehead for the entire world to see.
Matt held his hand out and she took it gratefully as the owner of the upper-class drawl came into sight. His firm grip supplied much-needed reassurance.
"Tamsen, this is my mother, Marguerite Solomon. Mother, I'd like you to meet a special friend of mine. Miss Tamsen Parsons.”
"A special friend. I see." Marguerite looked Tamsen over as if she were something the local tabby would drag in.
Tamsen resisted the urge to crawl away into a corner and wait for an acute case of dengue fever to hit, releasing her from her torment. Instead, she proffered a hand and a smile in welcome. She'd always been taught you didn't have to lower yourself to someone else's level.
"I'm delighted to meet you, Marguerite. Matt's told me so much about you."
Tamsen resisted the temptation to squeeze Marguerite's scrawny sparrow-like fingers together in a show of feminine dominance. Instead she concentrated on making sure the filigree around the whopping great ruby the woman wore on her ring finger didn't tear the flesh from Tamsen’s thumb. It was a possibility, given the velocity with which Marguerite retrieved her hand from Tamsen's grasp.
"All good, I hope?" Marguerite enquired.
The challenge was more than Tamsen could bear. "No, not all good." She smiled sweetly. "But I expect you're used to that."
Matt looked as if he'd been poleaxed. The color running from his face, he opened his mouth to speak, took one look at his mortified mother's face and closed it again. He reminded Tamsen of one of her fish.
"Why don't I go and wait for you in the car, Matt?" This seemed a good time to make her exit.
"Er, yes. That would be a good idea." Matt found his voice at last.
He looked sheepishly back and forth from his mother to her. If she wasn't so totally pissed off with the arrogant attitude his mother had taken she could almost have felt a little sympathy for the man. But she remained blinded by fury. How a woman could be so obnoxious and even revel in her own unpleasantness?
"Right. Well, I'll be going then." She couldn't resist turning her attention to the off-putting creature before her. "I don't expect we'll be seeing much of each other, having gotten off to such a great start." She plastered a saccharine smile on her face. "Goodbye."
And Tamsen walked out, leaving the two of them gaping in her wake.
"Matthew, that woman is atrocious. What in the world do you think you're doing with her?"
"Mother, be quiet. Tamsen's only out in the car - she'll hear you."
She was shrieking now. "Hear me! I don't care if that excuse for a lab-rat hears me. Didn't you hear how she spoke to me? She's got absolutely no respect for me at all."
He was tired of fighting. "And you think you showed any respect for her? It was pretty obvious you weren't prepared to give her a chance so you can hardly be upset at the way that she spoke to you." His voice rose an octave, anger constricting his throat. "You looked like you wanted to disinfect your hand after she touched you."
He turned and stormed out of the room, worried sick about how Tamsen would be and desperate to get out of the toxic waste dump his home had become since his mother’s arrival. His home, he reminded himself as he ran away yet again.
What was it he'd read somewhere? Taking the same action and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity. He might not be insane, but at moments like this he felt fairly close.
Climbing into the driver's seat, he noticed Tamsen staring straight ahead - into nothing it seemed. He sat beside her with no idea what to say, prepared to wait forever for her to say something. Anything. He was tired of his mother getting in the way of the good things in his life, and for the first time was prepared to fight for something that meant a lot to him.
"I'm sorry."
He looked at her in amazement. "You're sorry? Tamsen - " he was finding it hard to keep a conversational tone; he wanted to scream like a lunatic " - there is absolutely no reason for you to be sorry." He could feel his rage stalking him and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. "If anyone should be sorry it’s me."
She turned to look at him. Were those tears collecting in her eyes? They had a glassy, liquid look, turning them an iridescent green. "You haven't done anything wrong."
"Other than expose you to my mother." He slapped himself on the forehead. "The woman drives me nuts. I really don't know what I've done to deserve her."
"Maybe you were evil in a former life?"
Her impious grin was infectious. "Maybe I've just been wicked in this one."
She leaned over, planted her lips on his and forced them apart with her probing tongue. In a moment he was hard, all his frustration and emotion concentrated in an immediate, lustful desire to take her again.
She pulled away, smiling. "You have no idea how much you turn me on."
He switched on the ignition and the engine roared into life. "Baby, I think I'd better get you out of here before you have the chance to find out just how much you turn me on."
As they drove back into town, Matt realized later, the silence that fell between them wasn't a difficult one, but a comfortable one. A silence suggesting an intimacy and trust he'd never experienced with a woman.
The scene with his mother had been unsettling, but even more unsettling was Tamsen's reaction. He'd not been witness before to anyone who had the courage to take his mother on at her own game, never mind come out on top. He'd sorely underestimated this girl. Here he was believing he'd be the big man while she was out there slaying dragons.
"So. Are you serious about coming to Wellington with me?"
The question took him by surprise and he nearly drove into the barrier arm of the car park building. "No, not really."
He looked across at her; she was biting her lip, a look of bitter disappointment on her face. He could have kicked himself for toying with her in this way. It was a habit he'd developed to punish Angie, an automatic reaction to feeling vulnerable.
"What I meant to say was I'd rather take you to Melbourne for a holiday. I need a break and I think you'd love it."
A smile lit her face in immediate response. "Do you? Really?"
"Yes, I do, really." He couldn't resist popping a quick kiss on her glowing face. "I quite fancy catching a show at The Globe. It's terribly civilized and it'll be great taking you shopping. My treat."
"I'm not taking handouts." She got that obdurate look he'd begun to love.
"You'll take what you're given, my girl." He felt sinful. "And enjoy it too."
He saw a shiver dance up her spine and her
obstinacy give way to a look of anticipation.
"When shall we go?"
He shut down the engine, having carefully maneuvered them into his car park. The way she’d said "we" touched him.
"I don't know. How soon can you get away? It's reasonably easy for me to block a couple of days out of my schedule. But your fish - don't you have to do regular rounds or something?"
She tipped her head sideways in that delicious way and he could almost hear her thought patterns.
"Hmm. I'll have to check my diary, but I'd blocked time out in a fortnight to go away with Gina - " a wave of despair crossed her face, gone as soon as it arrived, a passing cloud almost " - so I'm sure I can just rearrange a few things if you want to go. Not this weekend, but next?"
"Sounds perfect to me. Why don't I check my diary and give you a ring tonight? We can compare notes and then I can get the whole thing booked."
"You'll get the whole thing booked, huh?" That you think you can push me around look was back on her face.
"I will." He couldn't resist the challenge. "Have a problem with that, do we?"
"We might." She ran a perfectly manicured fingernail up the inside of his thigh. Even through the material the touch disturbed him. "But we might not too." Her tone was playful and any misgivings he had about her - or the trip - vanished into the ether.
He picked up the hand that was still idling on his thigh and clamped his teeth around the firm, fleshy part of her thumb. She squealed and vainly tried to wrench it from his mouth, all the time playing tag with his tongue.
"I love it when you play rough." He smiled, still not releasing her.
"You've no idea where that thumb's been."
"I know exactly where it's been and I'm already planning where it's going."
"And on that smutty note, I'm on my way." She opened the door and he got a clear view down her top as she reached back into the car to collect her purse off the floor. He could hardly wait to get her on the plane.
This is the second Tuesday night Gina's refused to have our usual dinner. Tamsen's despondency increased as she wrote the words in her morning pages. Nothing's been the same since she stormed out of Matt's office and I'm at my wits end.