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“Definitely a corrupting influence,” Peta declared.
“And you are a spoilsport,” he retorted in some exasperation. “A pity the jug on the table isn’t full of prune juice. I could have offered you some.”
She laughed and sat down. “Put out, are we?” she tossed at him teasingly.
“Matt, you promised to give up smoking...”
“Mum, if you nag me about one more thing today...”
“Well, if you want to have a baby...”
“You want to have a baby?” The cornflower blue eyes stared incredulously at him.
“Matt would make a wonderful father,” his mother enthused.
“Pass the salt back, please,” he thundered down the table.
“Salt? Who’s got salt?” someone appealed from across the dining room.
“Got everyone cheating now,” Peta muttered darkly.
Matt didn’t care. At least he’d diverted the talk about babies. He gave his mother a baleful look. It was perfectly obvious babies were the last thing on Peta Kelly’s mind. His freewheeling bachelor image would be far more likely to appeal to the rider of the red Ducati. If he was to get to first base with her, he had to shut his mother up on the subject of grandchildren. The problem was, she was so obsessive about it.
“Please forgive me,” his mother gushed to the object of his desire. “I can’t stop looking at your hair. I’ve never seen anything so daring.”
Peta grinned at her. “Well, nobody can take me for a blond bimbo anymore.”
More like a blond bombshell, Matt thought.
His mother was astonished. “You’re really a blonde? I thought the copper red part was natural.”
“Nope. Straight out of a bottle. It’s called flaming chestnut.”
“What are the other shades called?”
“The first band is crushed orange and behind it is papaya.”
Very exotic, Matt thought. He reached for the jug of juice on the table and poured her a glass. “You’ll like this. Tropical fruit.”
She laughed. No mocking lights in her eyes this time. Pure amusement dancing at him. Matt’s heart did cartwheels. There was definitely a connection here. He could feel it. He smiled at his mother.
“Why don’t you do something exciting with your hair, Mum? Peach with cream highlights would look good. Much more fun than grey.”
“Oh, Matt! I’m at the stage in life where there’s nothing left to do but grow old gracefully.”
“Nonsense! Who says the mature woman has to be dull? You admire Peta’s daring. Put some colour into your hair. Splash out on some bright clothes to go with it. Start a new life.”
“It can make you feel better,” Peta said in support.
Matt grinned at her, delighted with her help in encouraging his mother to do something for herself. Peta looked quizzically at him, probably assessing his motives for using her as a glowing example to be emulated.
“Well, I’ll think about it,” his mother said dubiously.
It wasn’t the usual flat negative. No negative vibrations coming from Peta, either. Matt sensed a burgeoning of interest. He munched into the sandwich he’d made with more appetite than he’d experienced for days.
“You must have a colourful job,” his mother remarked to Peta, still in the grip of fascinated curiosity.
She shrugged, doing instant damage to Matt’s resolution not to focus on her breasts. “Not really. I’m an airline stewardess with Qantas.”
Fortunately his mother held Peta’s attention. “On international flights?” she asked.
“Yes. Mostly to London or Rome.”
Ah, the Italian influence, Matt thought.
“That must be a very responsible job, taking care of a planeload of people on such long trips,” his mother said appreciatively.
Matt frowned. It was a fair comment. Somehow that kind of responsibility did not gell with the powerful sportster, black leathers and exotic hair. On the other hand, there was a lot of action in London and Rome. They could be very wild cities for those on the prowl for excitement.
“Yes. And it plays havoc with one’s sleep patterns,” she said. “Which is why I’m here. Maybe this place will help to regulate them.”
Matt could think of other, more satisfying ways of regulating them than programmed exercises and lettuce leaves. He carefully kept his gaze lowered as his imagination took fire and hungered through several erotic fantasies.
“Try some massages, dear,” his mother advised.
Yeah...slow and sensual would be great, Matt thought.
“I’ve just had the Reiki massage,” his mother went on. “It does the most amazing transference of energy. The heat it generates in some places...”
Couldn’t possibly be as good as sex.
“...I’ve had quite a lot of backache recently...”
Matt was jolted out of his private reverie. He frowned at his mother. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Oh, you fuss so, Matt.”
“You mean you don’t want to hear that backache is often related to weight. And, of course, sitting around doing nothing instead of getting some proper exercise can exacerbate the problem.”
“And you have the gall to call me a nag,” she flared at him. “I’ll have you know I didn’t exercise when your father was alive, either.”
“You didn’t have to. You had a good sex-life.”
“Oh!” That flustered her.
“Maybe Vida’s right,” Matt went on, enjoying his advantage. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you to a health farm to encourage good habits. I should have got you a toy-boy instead.”
“Matt! How could you? Your father...”
“My father would turn in his grave if he knew you’d given up on life, Mum. He loved a very vital woman who enjoyed herself in hundreds of ways. You might not miss that person but I do.”
“Well, I certainly don’t need a toy-boy.” She was affronted.
Matt shrugged. “Just a thought.”
“You think sex is the be-all and end-all, do you?” Peta drawled.
The cornflower blue eyes were very cutting, very cold, very cynical. Matt’s spine crawled. This was a loaded question if ever he’d heard one, and coming from this red hot tomato, it had caught him right off-guard.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “But physically it can be a great workout.” Extremely good for deep, restful sleep, he almost added.
The finely arched eyebrow lifted. “No need for weights at the gym to maintain that impressive physique?”
“Matt plays a lot of sport,” his mother interposed.
“I bet he does. Sport would definitely be his thing.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Do you cheat at that, too?”
There was arsenic in that smile.
His mother laughed. “Good heavens, no! Why would he? Matt’s got so much natural talent, he’s always been a winner,” she declared proudly.
“Of course,” Peta said dryly, and resumed her meal, closing off any further interest in the conversation.
The connection was broken. It was as decisive as a switch being thrown. Matt mused over it with mounting frustration. How could a woman who flaunted her assets be anti-sex? It made no sense to him yet that was the subject that had turned her off.
On the other hand, the continual dig about cheating might be significant. Maybe her last guy had cheated on her. Some men were stupid. They’d stray anywhere with anyone available. Not him, though. Matt worked on the principle...when you’re onto a good thing, stick to it.
He’d probably still be with Skye if she hadn’t taken that two-year contract overseas. He’d had quite a long-term relationship with Janelle, too, until her career in law became more important than anything else. Basically he was a one-woman man. He’d be very happy to have Peta Kelly for as long as she wanted him and he couldn’t imagine even glancing at another woman with her at his side.
Well, he’d straighten her out about him soon enough. Maybe at the archery session. Shoot a few arrows into the air...
“Do you play any sport, Peta?” his mother inquired, instantly pricking Matt’s antenna for trouble. Surely she wouldn’t try her matchmaking tricks with Peta Kelly. Couldn’t she see this was not wife and mother material?
The blue eyes flicked derisively at Matt before a smile was turned on his mother. “I enjoy a game of tennis.”
Ah...mixed doubles, Matt thought with satisfaction.
“There’s a round robin tennis session scheduled for this afternoon. After archery,” his mother informed.
“So I noticed.”
“Matt’s very good at tennis.”
Another derisive look. “Maybe we’ll get to drive a few balls at each other.”
“Mmmh...” said Matt, wondering why she was out for his blood. Not that it mattered. As far as he was concerned it was a definite date with her. One way or another, he was going to turn it to his advantage.
He smiled.
She smiled back.
The challenge was on.
And if his mother thought it might get her a grandchild, she was out of her tree!
CHAPTER THREE
“DOESN’T look like anyone else is coming,” Matt cheerfully remarked.
Peta had glumly arrived at the same conclusion. They’d been warming up on the tennis court for ten minutes, waiting for others to appear for the round robin. Apparently the rest of the guests were giving it a miss this afternoon. Which left her alone with him if she wanted to stay and play.
“Care for a game of singles?” he asked, the eagerness in his voice a dead-set giveaway. He wanted to show her how good he was. Macho man strutting his stuff. In more ways than one, no doubt.
Peta wondered if the workout he’d give her on the tennis court was worth the aggravation of dealing with a come-on and decided it probably was. She was a bit stiff from the ride this morning. A good hard game of singles, followed by a swim in the heated indoor pool, then the warm relaxation of a hot spa tub, a light dinner, the meditation session with Thai monks... surely she’d sleep like the dead tonight.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Predictably he started stripping off for the real action. The gentle warm-up ralleys had hardly been a test of skill, merely a stroking of the ball back and forth over the net. Peta watched him remove his tracksuit with cynical eyes, refusing to be impressed. She’d been fooled by physical attraction once too often. Never again, she fiercely vowed.
Not that he had Giorgio’s lean elegance. Matt Davis was a much bigger man, his tall frame amply packed with muscle. However he did share the same air of ingrained self-assurance, quick to sum up an object of desire and confident it was within his grasp any time he cared to reach out. Peta had instantly been struck by it and subsequently goaded into an uncharacteristic show of defiant provocation... Look all you want, Mister, but I’m not up for grabs!
All the same, he did have a certain charismatic maleness that no woman could completely ignore. Strength, Peta decided, was his main asset. Matt Davis looked capable of standing up to anyone or anything. It wasn’t just his powerful build, either. Peta sensed the kind of character that would take on any business and make a success of it.
He had a strong face, every feature carved with definition; a squarish, determined chin, a mouth full of straight white teeth, a nose that seemed to flare with passion, rather prominent cheekbones providing an emphatic underlining for surprisingly light grey eyes... very luminous and piercingly direct eyes shining from between rows of thick black lashes. Straight brows added to his no-nonsense look, as did the thick, closely cropped black hair.
Most people would see him as the solid, dependable type, but Peta wasn’t about to trust that image. She’d seen and felt the simmer of sexual speculation emanating from him and no way was she about to fulfil the fantasies flying through his head. Giorgio was definitely the last man who would ever lead her down the garden path, whispering sweet nothings that came to precisely that. Nothing. From now on she was taking charge of her life and she was not going to have her judgment seduced by sex appeal.
“Speaking of singles...are you?” she asked, looking for feet of clay under the magnificent masculinity now revealed in navy shorts and a white sports shirt. His tan, she noted, was not of the sun-lamp variety. It had the natural glow of healthy outdoors activity. However, that did not preclude lots of indoor activity, as well.
He frowned incomprehension. “Pardon?”
“Single, unattached, on the loose?” she rolled out with a quizzical little smile. “I mean the wife could be taking a separate vacation while you do your filial duty. Or you might have an understanding lover sidelined until further notice...”
“No,” he cut into her flippant little speech. “I’m not in a relationship at the moment. Haven’t been for quite some time.”
“Prefer to be fly-by-night, do you?” she tossed at him.
He hesitated. “Is that what you prefer?”
She arched her eyebrows and shook her head. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about air hostesses and pilots.”
“I was asking about you in particular.”
“And I was asking about you. Some guys are take it and run specialists.”
She heard the bitter edge on her voice and saw it give him pause for thought. She didn’t care. If he was of that ilk, let him be warned the only thing he’d get from her was frustration.
“That’s not my style. Though I guess there could be circumstances that might influence me,” he answered slowly, his eyes sharply scanning hers.
