Just a Little Sex... (Blaze, 9)

by Miranda Lee

  Oh, Drake. If only you knew.

  9

  AIDEN DIALED THE ONLY telephone number committed to his memory and waited for his mother to answer. It rang several times before she picked up.

  “Kristy Mitchell,” came her softly lyrical voice, sounding just a little fuzzy around the edges, as though she’d just got out of bed.

  Given it was only eight-fifteen in the evening, Aiden didn’t think she’d been asleep. He smiled. Same old Mom. He wondered who her latest lover was and if he knew he had no chance of either moving in with her or marrying her. His mom was not a marrying kind of woman.

  Much like he was not a marrying kind of man. Perhaps it was in the genes.

  “Hi, there, honey-bunch,” he said in greeting. “How’s my best girl?”

  “Aiden!” she cried. “Oh, how lovely to hear your voice. I was just thinking about you.”

  “In what way?”

  “If you really want to know, I was wondering when you were going to give up all that celibacy nonsense and get back to normal again.”

  “Well, actually, Mom, I, er…” His voice trailed off rather suggestively.

  “You didn’t! I don’t believe it. At last! Who was she?”

  “Just a girl.”

  “Just a girl my foot! She’d have to be something special to drag you out of your self-imposed monkhood. The last time I talked to you, you were adamant that you still wanted nothing to do with the opposite sex. You said life was much happier without females in it.”

  “Yeah and I was right,” he snapped, giving in to the spleen which had been building all day.

  “Oh, dear. You sound upset. What happened, sweetie?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumped.

  “Of course you do. That’s why you called me. Just wait a second ‘til I get myself a glass of wine.”

  Aiden was left dangling for a minute or two whilst his mother collected one of her favorite creature comforts.

  He smiled wryly at how little time it had taken for her to find out the reason behind his call. She was a very astute woman, especially when it came to her one and only son. Because of course he had rung her to talk about Zoe. He just didn’t like to admit it. He was twenty-eight years old. He should know his own mind by now. And know what he wanted out of life. It galled him that he still felt at sea on such matters.

  “I’m back,” she trilled. “Now don’t go being a typical male. I want the whole unvarnished truth, not some edited version to flatter your ego.”

  Aiden sighed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But it was too late now. So he told her the whole unvarnished truth, right down to the bit where Zoe did a bunk whilst he was still asleep.

  “Mmm,” was her initial highly instructive comment.

  “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

  “Give me a moment, sweetie. I’m thinking, and trying to remember how I might have felt and acted when I was Zoe’s age. How old did you say she was?”

  “I have no idea. When I first met her last Friday I thought she was in her late twenties, but the next morning, without all that makeup on, she looked about eighteen. My guess is early to mid-twenties.”

  “And she’s from Sydney. And she has a boyfriend. Not a married one, I hope.”

  “Zoe wouldn’t have anything to do with a married man.”

  “You sound quite sure of that.”

  “I am.”

  “Mmm.”

  There was a wealth of underlying meaning in that “Mmm.” Aiden wished he knew what it was.

  “Whatever the case,” his mother continued, “she still has a lover who’s creating problems for her. Perhaps the man in question is her boss. What does she do for a living?”

  “I have no idea about that either. But judging by the way she looked and dressed on Friday, she’s no factory worker. Something in an office is my guess.”

  “And what does she think you do?”

  “Er…not much.”

  “She didn’t recognize you?”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t enlighten her,” came the dry comment.

  “No.”

  “Oh, Aiden, Aiden. I thought I taught you to be straight with people, especially women.”

  “I used to be. But where did it get me, Mom? In court, and in all the newspapers.”

  “Nothing is to be gained by lying,” she pronounced firmly.

  “That’s not true,” he countered sharply. “Marcie gained a million-dollar apartment full, a snazzy little sports car and two hundred thousand in cash.”

  “Material assets count for nothing if you lose your soul, son.”

  Aiden rolled his eyes. She was always talking like that. About souls and stuff. Yet she wasn’t religious in the conventional sense of the word. There was nothing at all conventional about Kristy Mitchell.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’ve already lost mine.” There was a time not so long ago when all he thought about was material assets.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You have a wonderful soul. I know. I gave it to you.”

  Nothing modest about his mother, either.

  “But back to Zoe,” she said. “Are you thinking she might be your one true love?”

  Aiden rolled his eyes again. Not the one-true-love thing!

  “Now who’s being ridiculous, Mom. I hardly know the girl.”

  “I only knew your father one short week and he was my one true love. I fell for him the moment I set eyes on him and there’s never been another to touch him since. I couldn’t even bear to be with another man for years afterward.”

  Aiden smothered a groan. How often had he heard this same story, about the drop-dead gorgeous hunk she’d met at a party when she’d been sixteen. How she’d been immediately smitten. How he’d gotten her pregnant the same night and been tragically killed in a head-on smash with a truck a week later. He’d been riding a motorcycle at the time. And speeding, of course.

  What a hero!

  What an idiot.

  “Yeah right, Mom. But I rather doubt dear old Dad felt the same way about you. It was more likely just sex. You yourself explained to me when I was a teenager that sex and love were two entirely different things, and not to confuse them.”

  “So why are you?”

  “Why am I what?”

  “Confused. If you’re so sure it was just sex, then let it go. Let her go.”

  “I can’t,” he confessed.

  “I see.”

  “If you really do see, then tell me what to do.”

  “You already know what you should do, Aiden. You just want me to give you a push in the right direction.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you should go after her and make sure of both your feelings, one way or the other. Otherwise you’ll always wonder.”

  “I told you, Mom. I’m pretty sure it was just sex. Admittedly, it was the best sex I’ve ever had, but I reckon that was because I hadn’t had any in such a long time. What do you think? That could be the reason, couldn’t it?”

  “It’s possible, but you can’t really speak for the girl though, can you?”

  “I guess not,” he agreed.

  “Look, the least you can do is call your lawyer friend and make a few discreet inquiries about this girl. Find out a bit about her background and this boyfriend of hers.”

  “Yes, I supposed there’s no harm in that.”

  “No harm at all. Keep me posted.”

  “I’ll do that.” Having made up his mind, at least about his immediate course of action, Aiden felt infinitely better. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”

  “And don’t you forget it!”

  Aiden hung up, opened the drawer which contained his red leather address book and looked up Nigel’s home phone number, dialing straight away before he changed his mind.

  Nigel answered almost before it rang at the other end. “How dare you call me again!” he raged down the line. “I told you not to. There’s nothing more to be said. I
won’t forgive you, Jeremy, not even if you got down on your knees and begged. Not even if you…”

  “It’s not Jeremy,” Aiden broke in before Nigel could elaborate on what Jeremy might do on his knees to be forgiven. “It’s Aiden. Aiden Mitchell.”

  “Oh. Aiden. Oh. Er. Right.” Nigel cleared his throat. “Sorry. Had a bit of a tiff with Jeremy and he keeps ringing.”

  “So I gathered. Blotted his copybook, did Jeremy?”

  “Unfaithful little… Can’t keep it zipped up. But he is gorgeous,” Nigel added, sighing wistfully. “I guess I’ll forgive him in the end. So what’s up?”

  “I need your help with something…”

  It took Nigel ‘til mid Monday morning to get the last of the information Aiden wanted and call him back.

  “You’re out of luck,” he said. “She’s gone back to Drake. Which is a pity. I can’t stand that sleazebag.”

  Aiden felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

  So she’d forgiven her cheating boyfriend. Straight away. Raced right back into his arms the night after she’d spent with him.

  When Nigel revealed last night the circumstances leading up to his lending Zoe his place, Aiden had been confident she wouldn’t go back to someone who’d cheated on her. He’d also started thinking she might have fled his bed because she’d been confused and embarrassed. He’d started hoping that maybe she’d be interested in their getting back together again.

  Just to see, of course, if there was any special connection between them.

  “How do you know, Nigel?” he asked, frowning. “Did she actually say so? You didn’t ask her any of this straight out, did you? I warned you not to mention me at all.”

  “Would I do that?” He sounded offended and incredulous at the same time. “Moi? The soul of tact and discretion? Lawyer to the stars? Never in a million years! Besides, Zoe and I are not on such friendly terms that I could ask her anything of a personal or intimate nature. Anything I know about this, I’ve found out through Fran, plus a sneaky peek at the card attached to the two dozen red roses sitting on Zoe’s desk this morning. It read, ‘To the sweetest, most understanding girl in the world. All my love, Drake.’”

  Aiden’s stomach tightened. Not much doubt about the situation now.

  So what had he been? came the angry question. Revenge? Payback time? Maybe that was what was behind Zoe’s surprise at enjoying herself with him so much. She hadn’t expected to. She’d been out for vengeance, not pleasure. But she had found pleasure. A great deal of pleasure. Strange…if she loved this Drake so much.

  Another explanation occurred to Aiden. Maybe she didn’t love the boyfriend. Maybe she’d been lying about that. Maybe she was just with him for the money. Which explained why she’d enjoyed herself so much the other night, but why she’d still gone back to the boyfriend.

  Aiden was rocked by this possibility. No way would he get mixed up with another female who wanted nothing from a man but his money.

  But no sooner had he thought this than he remembered Zoe had already proven she wanted something from him other than his money. She’d wanted his body, over and over. Whatever had been her initial reason for letting him make love to her, true desire had soon taken over. Aiden knew when a girl was enjoying herself in his bed, and Zoe certainly had.

  “How wealthy is this Drake?” he asked Nigel, trying to get the full picture here.

  “Can’t say precisely. I gather he’s one hotshot of a real-estate salesman. He’s sold oodles of those flash inner-city apartments with harbor views. Fran even bought one, which should tell you something. She’s not an easy sell. He lives pretty high. Owns one of the apartments in the same building as Fran’s. But I seriously doubt his bank balance would rival yours.”

  “Mmm.”

  “I always worry when you start mmming like that.”

  Aiden laughed. It seemed enigmatic mmming ran in the family. “Did you find out for me what branch our hot-shot salesman works at?”

  “North Sydney.”

  “And the phone number?”

  “What exactly are you going to do, Aiden?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how I feel by the end of this week.”

  10

  ZOE WALKED FROM ROOM to room, checking that everything was ready for the party. The flowers. The music. The snacks. The drinks.

  A superb buffet supper awaited in the kitchen. Nothing hot, just salads and seafood, plus a selection of mouthwatering desserts, all delivered straight from the best city store food hall.

  Drake didn’t expect her to cook on these occasions, just order what she thought necessary on his credit card, then be there to collect the food and set everything out. But even doing that was a lot of work for upward of fifty guests.

  Drake wasn’t keen on hiring waiters to walk around with trays at his parties. He preferred having everything laid out on tables placed strategically around the large living areas, as well as out on the terrace. He liked to create a relaxed, informal atmosphere where people had something to do besides stand stiffly around in groups. Drake found there was more mingling if the guests had to get their own food and drinks.

  And he was right. His parties were always a huge success. Drake had his successful-host routine honed down. After answering the door personally for the first hour or so, he then continuously circulated, chatting and telling jokes and making people feel special. Zoe was left to welcome any stragglers after that, as well as ensure the snack bowls were kept filled, ice buckets replenished and supper served right on eleven.

  Frankly, for all Drake’s talk about wanting her by his side at this do, Zoe would not see all that much of him tonight.

  She was glancing around, satisfying herself that everything was ready, when she noticed that the arrangement of fresh Australian flowers on the hall stand in the foyer looked a bit lopsided. She hurried over, changed the position of two of the waratahs, then stood back to inspect the result.

  “Stop fussing, darling.”

  Zoe glanced over her shoulder to see that Drake had finally emerged from his bedroom, ready for the night ahead. He’d chosen to wear all black, a perfect foil for his apartment’s largely gray-and-white decor. He looked sleek and successful, and yes, sexy, she supposed. Eight days ago, she certainly would have thought so.

  So why didn’t she now?

  Normally, she would have complimented him on the way he looked, but she found the words would not come. She went back to fiddling with the flowers, even though she knew they were fine.

  “Don’t change another single solitary stem,” he advised. “They’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. Now go and make yourself perfect before people start arriving. As much as I quite like you in those shorts, I can’t wait to see you in that fantastic little number you bought. I’m so glad you splurged on a designer dress and not something off the peg. It wouldn’t do for my image, you know, if some other female turned up tonight wearing the same dress as my girlfriend.”

  “Yes, that would be a catastrophe, wouldn’t it?” she snapped before she could stop herself. But her nerves were suddenly stretched to breaking point.

  This last week had been the longest and most agitating week of her life. Drake giving her time and space hadn’t really worked at all. By Friday, her head was even more full of memories of her time up at Hideaway Beach, and her body strung tight with a frustration she’d never known before.

  In an effort to find distraction from her never-ending fantasies about Aiden, she’d worked like a demon at the office, staying back late every night, clearing her In tray to perfection, catching up on filing and correspondence, and being so super efficient that even Fran hadn’t been able to find fault. Not once. Which was a first. Fran was a very demanding boss.

  Then last night after work she’d spent hours looking for the sort of party dress Drake would approve of. Not that she was complaining. The lengthy shopping expedition had kept her busy, and her mind blissfully Aiden-free fo
r a while.

  She’d finally settled on a mauve satin slip dress which wasn’t too revealing, courtesy of the bodice being over-laid with pink lace.

  Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately at the time—she had no shoes to match, and it had taken a further hour to find strappy pink-and-mauve imitation crocodile skin shoes.

  She’d ended up spending more than the five hundred dollars Drake had given her, adding some of her own money. An unusual extravagance for Zoe. But she’d needed a lift, and she’d wanted to really please Drake.

  Guilt, she supposed.

  Lots of her actions this past week had been inspired by guilt.

  This morning, she’d dragged her dream-haunted sleep-deprived body out of bed and driven over to Drake’s place extra early where she’d propelled herself into all the preparations for the party with enthusiasm, angrily resolving not to think of Aiden anymore.

  And it had worked to a degree. She’d even convinced herself that if she got nicely drunk tonight, she might be able to successfully go to bed with Drake after the party and rid herself of some of this hideous frustration.

  But the moment Drake had come home from the office around five, cock-a-hoop about some wealthy world champion sportsman he’d snared as a client this afternoon, Zoe had found him infinitely irritating, especially when he told her he’d asked the wretched man to the party tonight.

  As if he hadn’t asked enough people already!

  She’d been glad to have Drake disappear for the past hour into his room to shower and shave and dress, but the moment he’d reappeared, he’d rubbed her up the wrong way again, hence her sarcastic remark.

  Drake glared at her across the room, his black eyes cold and angry.

  Zoe shook her head at herself. She was acting exactly as Mel had done with Ron, deliberately finding fault and picking a fight. The difference in Mel’s case, however, was that she’d got together with her new man this week, whereas she would never see Aiden again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a weary sigh. “That was uncalled for. I’m just tired, and a little nervous. You know I hate making small talk with strangers, especially rich and famous strangers. I know very little about sport. What was it you said this new client of yours was world champion in?”