Just Say Yes (Escape to New Zealand Book 10)

by Rosalind James

  The older couple, who were still standing nearby as if the North Head toilets had been starred in their guidebook, were whispering at each other urgently. Finally, the woman approached Chloe and pulled her aside.

  “My husband says I shouldn’t interfere,” she said, “but I thought surely it was better to tell you that nothing happened. So you can know for sure.”

  “What?” Chloe asked.

  “What your wee boy said. You can’t be too careful, I know. He—my husband—said of course you wouldn’t think there was anything in it, because he’s an All Black, but that doesn’t necessarily mean what it once did, does it? And wouldn’t any mother wonder? So I just thought I’d mention it, since my husband won’t. It was all perfectly normal, he said. Just helping the boy go to the toilet the way anybody would.”

  “Ah ... thank you,” Chloe said. “Good to know.”

  Kevin had heard, she could tell. Something about the palm over his face. The woman’s husband was approaching him now. This ought to be interesting. “Kevin McNicholl, isn’t it?” he asked with too much heartiness. “Sorry, mate. She reads too many news stories.” He held out a hand, and Kevin shook it. “Good luck next week, I should say. Though I’m a Chiefs supporter myself.”

  “Thanks,” Kevin said, and the couple moved away at last. “I guess,” Kevin muttered after them. “And next time, mate, wash your hands.”

  “Zavy,” Chloe said, trying desperately to ignore Kevin, “when we talked about boys and girls and why Theresa looked different from you, I said that talking about private parts of our bodies wasn’t for in public. Remember that?”

  “Yes,” Zavy said, “But Reesa doesn’t have a penis, and you don’t have a penis, because you’re a girl and Reesa’s a girl, and girls have a bagina. But Kevin has a penis like me, but it’s big like Batman.”

  “This is in public,” Chloe said desperately, not daring to look at Kevin, “because Kevin’s here. We aren’t going to talk about it here. It’s rude to talk about private parts of bodies when you’re with other people. You and I can talk about it later, alone, at home, and I’ll explain.”

  “Can’t wait to hear that,” Kevin murmured, and when she looked up at him, he was grinning.

  “You’re not helping,” she said, and he stifled the grin—sort of—and said, “Sorry.”

  “Except you’re not,” she said.

  “Nah,” he said. “I reckon it could be worse. He could’ve said it was small.”

  There was no way she couldn’t laugh at that, Zavy or no. She said, “Well, I think I’ve had about all the entertainment today I can handle.”

  “Ah, no,” Kevin said. “That’d be a pity, surely. I’ll bet Zavy’s hungry, aren’t you, mate? Ready for your tea?”

  “Yes,” Zavy said.

  Kevin gestured at the sailboats tacking home across the Harbour. “Here we are, then. Five o’clock, it’s the weekend, and for once I’m not listening to Hugh attempting to be motivational or nursing my bruises. Something to celebrate, eh. So let’s do it. Let’s go out.”

  She glanced sideways at him, and maybe the wind wasn’t the only thing putting color in her cheeks. “Dinner in our jeans, with a booster seat involved.”

  “With a booster seat and all. Why not?”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why aren’t you asking me to get a babysitter and go for a proper date? Why are you doing it this way? Why would you?”

  “I want to go see the guns,” Zavy said, and took off at a run toward the enormous structures again, which meant Chloe had to run after him and scoop him up.

  “Stay with Mummy,” she told him. “It’s time to go.” She set him down, held his hand when he would have pulled away, and began to walk back to Kevin. Zavy did his imitation of a limp rag, which meant she had to pick him up, but at least he wasn’t screaming.

  Why would any man be interested in this? It wasn’t possible. Of course she had to ask. If things sounded too good to be true, they were.

  Kevin caught up with her in about two strides. He wasn’t looking good-natured anymore. She was getting the eyebrows, not to mention the eyes. “Not OK,” he said.

  “Pardon?” She wasn’t sure whether to walk faster or stop, so she did neither. She just kept going. She knew she was looking a gift horse in the mouth, but she was right. Wasn’t she? Especially if he was going to give her grief about saying no?

  “You can say you don’t want to have dinner with me,” he said, keeping pace with her. “You can give me no reason at all, you can tell me you’re not interested, or you can ask me to take you for a proper dinner instead, with wine and candles and everything a woman deserves. You can do any of that, but you can’t do this.”

  She knew he was right even as she reacted. “I’m entitled to ask.”

  He was standing in front of her now, forcing her to stop. Zavy was wriggling, so she set him down but kept hold of his hand. Kevin said, “Right, then. You’re asking, and I’m telling you. I’m doing it because I like you, obviously. I’ve liked you from the first moment I saw you, and I thought I was getting something fairly close to that back. But you’re a mum, and you seemed earlier this week to think that I’d think that was too much of a barrier, and you also seemed like it would only take one false move and you’d be running. I don’t know why that would be, but there you are, that’s what I saw. So I decided my best bet was to show you. Talk’s cheap, so here I am. I’m showing you.”

  He was as hot under the collar as he’d been casual before, and he was making her burn, too. “You’re telling me you’ll take this package deal, even though you don’t know anything about me. Nobody would do that. Not even his dad—” She stopped and said instead, “Is that how you bought the house, then? Is that how you always do things?”

  “What? And not even his—” He glanced at Zavy and seemed to think better of it. “I want to hear more about that. That might actually be an answer. Or at least an explanation.”

  She made an impatient gesture. “The house. Why didn’t you know exactly who was living in the flat? Could you possibly have bought the whole place sight unseen? Who does that? What kind of pattern do you expect me to be seeing here?”

  There was definitely some temper showing on his face now. “Because I bumble through life on a whim, without a clue or a plan? Or could it be because I’m a rugby player, and I arrange my life the way it needs to be arranged in order to do the things that need to be done? Could it be that I know what I want when I see it, and I don’t believe in wasting my chances just because I’m afraid? Maybe I was on the road for three weeks, and the property of my dreams came on the market, and my brother went and looked at it for me and told me it was as good as I imagined. Maybe he arranged all the inspections and did a pre-auction offer so I could get it, so I could move in with room for my sisters, and him and his family, and everything else that keeps coming along whether I ask it to or not. I’m not going to apologize for that. I came and told you it was happening as soon as I got your name from the agent. I’m giving you extra time before you have to move out. Yes, I asked you to come out with me today. Yes, I’m attracted as he— ” He broke off, glanced at Zavy, and said in a quieter tone, “I’m attracted to you. I’m probably not hiding that, but then, why should I? Last I checked, that was what men and women did.”

  He looked across the water toward the cluster of white buildings that was Auckland City, hauled in a breath, and said, “And I don’t lose my temper. What was that? My sister-in-law told me the tone was ‘safe and steady.’ So much for that.”

  “I don’t know.” Her own voice wasn’t entirely even. “I’d call it a fail.”

  He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “You’re a frustrating woman. At least you’re frustrating me.”

  “But you still want to go to dinner with Zavy and me.” Zavy, who was tugging at her hand. Who was absolutely nothing like “helpful to one’s romantic life.”

  Kevin looked at her, the corner of h
is mouth lifting in a lopsided, reluctant smile. “I thought I did. For some bizarre reason, I still think so. Why, I’ll never know. Or maybe I know exactly. Yes, I still want to go to dinner with you and Zavy. If you think you can refrain from looking up my police record whilst we’re actually sitting at the table.”

  “Do you have a police record?”

  “No. It tends to be frowned on in my line of work. You could call it a rule. Or at least a strong suggestion.”

  Chloe—and Zavy —got into Kevin’s car. At least there was that. But after that, Chloe glanced at him again, then away, and he could see the wariness she was still carrying in the set of her slim shoulders. All she said, though, was, “Right, then. I’m trying again. We’ll try ‘gracious.’ I’ll see if I can work up to it.”

  No wonder she was wary. He didn’t lose his temper like that. Not on a rugby ground, and not off it. Except, of course, that he had. All out of proportion, too. The girl was entitled to have some qualms considering everything on his mind, which was probably showing straight through the veneer. It wasn’t her fault he wanted her this much, and he couldn’t blame her if she was terrified. He was twice her size, not to mention practically a different species.

  He sat a moment, then reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a twenty-dollar note. She watched him do it, looking positively alarmed now.

  “Taxi fare,” he said, and handed it to her. “So you can get home if you need to run out on me.” He reached into his wallet again, extracted his EFTPOS card, and waggled it. “Dinner guarantee as well. You choose the place, I pay. That’s what you’re agreeing to. If I step over the line, you storm out and leave me to my fate.”

  She was smiling now, which was a definite improvement. “So far, I seem to be getting the better of this deal.”

  “Ah.” He wasn’t smiling, not quite. “You forget, though. Or you don’t know. The twins’ contribution to our living arrangement is the cooking.”

  “And are you harsh?” She was looking at him from under her lashes, a little flirt in her, and his body responded to it like she’d pulled a string.

  He did his best to keep it cool. “Some would say so. The girls probably would, especially Holly, but everybody needs to make a contribution, or you don’t have a team. My parents pay some rent for them, but they have to do something of their own as well, and the truth is, the only thing I could think of was the cooking. And sad to say, but they can be a bit shocking.”

  “Especially Holly, I’m guessing.”

  “Nah. Equally shocking. They’re twins.”

  She was laughing when he added, “So, yeh. Going out to dinner suits me. Besides, I like to look at you.”

  “Even in my jeans.”

  “Even so.” Of course in her jeans. There weren’t many things better than a pretty woman in tight jeans, as far as he was concerned. Except for a pretty woman out of her tight jeans. “So ... you choose the place, and I’ll buy. Can’t say fairer than that.”

  She shook her head, but finally said, “No, I don’t think I can. Al Forno, then. Suit you?”

  “Yeh,” he said, the satisfaction settling into his bones as he finally put the car in gear. “Suits me.”

  She’d been right, he discovered when they were inside the upscale space, all light wood and high ceilings, in the heart of Takapuna. It wasn’t romantic. No wine, no candles, and too much noise bouncing off hard surfaces for any kind of real chat. Not the kind of chat he wanted, anyway, with bodies leaning toward each other, hands trying to touch. This wasn’t what any bloke would have chosen for an intimate evening. Especially at five o’clock on Sunday afternoon.

  Once they’d ordered and found a table and she had Zavy in, yes, his booster seat, Chloe pulled a plastic bag from her purse and emptied the contents in front of her son. They consisted of a police car, an ambulance, and two sporty models that immediately engaged in a highly reprehensible round of racing and wrecking to the accompaniment of bloodcurdling sound effects and a running commentary.

  “I should say thank you,” Chloe finally said over the noise of the carnage. “That was a good afternoon. See, this is me trying again. Going for normal.”

  “Fun for me, too,” he said. “You forget how much fun some things are until you see them through somebody else’s eyes.”

  “Especially with the added bonus of information shared,” she said with a sidelong glance.

  He laughed. “Nah. I told you, that was all good.”

  “Did you do a lot of that, then? Sliding down hills and all? Lot of running around?”

  Ah. Neutral topic. No, date topic. “Oh, yeh. Kiwi as, my childhood. Sliding down hills, exploring, making forts, kicking the rugby ball around with my brothers. I barely came inside to eat. But then, I’m a country boy with five brothers and sisters. What about you?”

  She smiled, and as always, it was like a light switching on. “No. Only child, city girl, and the ballet bug bit early. Life is different for dancers.”

  “Not so much a job as a lifestyle, then.”

  “Or a calling. School, dance, and that’s all. Stunted, some people would call it. Focused, we like to think. Driven, but that’s because you love it, not because it makes any sense at all. A bit like a lifetime playing rugby, I imagine, but even less chance of making a living at it.”

  Their food was delivered, but Chloe didn’t start eating straight away. Instead, she fixed a plate for Zavy with cut-up pieces of chicken, ham, and vegetables, poured out half the glass of milk she’d ordered into a water glass, and said, “Here we are, love. We’re having a treat tonight. This is called Italian.”

  Zavy looked at his plate and said, “No trees” in a tragic little voice.

  “No trees tonight,” Chloe said, and told Kevin, “Broccoli. His favorite.”

  Zavy seemed to be debating whether this would be acceptable, and apparently decided in the affirmative, since he started to work on his chicken with a salad fork. Chloe finally picked up her own fork, and Kevin said, “I guess parenting’s all about deferred gratification. Something else in common with rugby, and ballet as well, probably. Maybe good things are worth waiting for, though. A person could look at it that way.”

  She had a little Mona Lisa smile happening now, like a woman who knew she was making an impact, and he cut a bite of his eye fillet and tried to pretend he didn’t want to take off her clothes. She finally asked, “Are you trying to work out what makes me tick? I don’t think I’m so complex.”

  “Aren’t you?” The venue might be noisy, but the food was delicious. Or maybe he was just enjoying himself. It wasn’t everything he could have asked, but it was good.

  “I’ll have a guess. You think I’m too closed off, and you want to know why.” She wasn’t eating a salad, or whatever he’d imagined dancers ate. She was making good inroads into her own dinner, in fact. “Dated a lot of single mums, have you? We tend to come with baggage.”

  He ignored the second part of that. “Maybe I do think that. Maybe I’m also wondering what would make you open up.”

  She stopped chewing, then started again, took a sip of water, transferred a bit of potato to Zavy’s plate, and finally said, “If that was meant to be subtle, it’s another fail.” But he thought she was smiling.

  “It wasn’t. I’m not subtle. Haven’t you noticed?”

  This time, she laughed. “Maybe I have.”

  A chatting group of six came and took up noisy seats at the next table, and Kevin said, “Next time, so you know? It’s candles and tablecloths. Next time, I get romance.”

  That wasn’t subtle, either. He didn’t care.

  It wasn’t even seven when they were standing beside the staircase leading up to her apartment. The fountain trickled and burbled against the wall, and there was some chill in the air now. Chloe held Zavy on her hip, the boy looking much too heavy for her, but Kevin knew how strong she actually was.

  She said, “I had a good time, and I wasn’t expecting to. Thank you. And—oh.” She r
eached into the pocket of those tight jeans, pulled out his twenty-dollar note, handed it to him, and gave him her nymph’s secret smile. “Since I didn’t need to run out on you.”

  He put it in his pocket. “I’ll save it for next time, eh. And you weren’t expecting to? Not the most flattering thing I’ve ever heard. But I had a good time too, and I was expecting to.” She raised her delicate eyebrows at him, and he said, “Well, hoping, anyway.” And then he put his hand on her shoulder, bent down, and brushed his lips over her mouth.

  That was a new one. Kissing a woman who was holding her child. And it felt bloody amazing. She swayed toward him, the tiniest of gestures, her lips were soft and warm, and there was that current between them, fine and strong as silk.

  At any other time, with any other woman, he’d have kissed her again, and he’d have kept doing it. Instead, he said, “Goodnight, Zavy,” gave his hair a gentle tousle, went home, and ached.

  Most nights, Chloe did paperwork until eight or nine, then went to bed in preparation for waking by six, her days as focused and regimented as any soldier’s. Tonight, though, she stole downstairs in the gathering dusk in an oversized sweater, leggings, and warm socks, sat at her little table on her tiny patio with a candle casting a pool of light and the fountain burbling quietly away, wrapped her arm around her knees in the wooden chair, sipped at a mug of tea, and ... maybe she listened.

  All she had to do was step around the corner, and she’d be looking in the glass sliders at the master bedroom. She knew what was in there, because she’d peeked. A bed with wide, curving slats, looking like an enormous, sumptuous sleigh. A bed that suggested, somehow, that Kevin was more than the straightforward, good-natured man he appeared. A bath behind it, from which she could hear the shower running now. The water stopped, and she imagined Kevin walking around the bedroom drying himself off, as unselfconscious in his nudity as she was herself after a lifetime of changing in a group. His powerful body would be reflected in the dark windows outside, while the marble nymph on the fountain, lit from beneath, poured water from her stone vessel and didn’t look at him. If Chloe walked around that corner, she’d see him. She’d glance inside, he’d see her, and ...