Читать книгу Fatherhood Fever! - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

LENTILBURGERS!

Not to mention more rabbit food!

Matt’s stomach growled a protest as he surveyed the lunch menu. What he’d give for a big juicy steak and a plate of French fries! His mouth salivated at the thought.

“Hungry, dear?” his mother said brightly. The Reiki massage had somehow perked up her energy level.

He forced a smile. “Starving.” He piled four slices of freshly baked wholemeal bread onto his plate. At least that was filling.

“They do make such tasty salads here,” his mother rattled on, helping herself to an avocado mix and lots of other greens as she moved along the buffet table.

It was good for her, Matt told himself. She’d piled on weight from comfort eating and needed to get herself back on a decent diet. If she left here with more of an interest in healthy food, at least he had achieved something. But it was no consolation to his stomach. He forked some tomato and onion onto his plate, added as many slices of boiled egg as he thought he could get away with, found some beetroot, and followed his mother to the table they’d been occupying, her at the foot of it, him next to her.

“Oh! Just look at that girl!”

The words were hissed at him as he sat down.

He looked, knowing from the shock in his mother’s voice whom he’d see. He didn’t expect to be drawn into staring at her again. But his eyes seemed to get glued on her and couldn’t be wrenched away.

The black leather jacket had been removed. She wore a red sweater that clung like a second skin, showing off the superb slopes of two glorious breasts. Matt had never thought himself a breast man. Legs had always taken his fancy. He suddenly found himself converted. There was definitely a compelling attraction about perfectly rounded and fulsomely weighted breasts.

“I didn’t think you could wear red with red,” his mother murmured, her initial shock having turned to awed fascination.

“Mmmh...” he replied, leaving his response options open.

The vision of feminine plentitude moved past them to the buffet table, not so much as flicking a glance in his direction. Which was just as well, since being caught gawking at her again would have been galling. The cornflower blue eyes were quite capable of slicing him in two and shrivelling all activity below the belt. Though, come to think of it, his testosterone levels could probably do with a bit of shrivelling at the moment. Not since he was a teenager had he felt such a strong wave of lust.

“Well, she’s new,” his mother declared with relish, her eyes atwinkle with more lively interest than she’d shown in anything for quite some time.

“Mmmh...” Matt repeated, busily buttering his bread. The communal table was filling up with the regulars. It usually held ten, though a couple of guests had departed this morning. He didn’t want to be put on the spot with an open discussion of the new arrival. After all, he was the only male here and the focus of considerable speculation. He didn’t really care to reveal how taken by her he was. Not when it was still uncertain how she felt about him. Now if she attended the archery session this afternoon...

“Don’t you think she’s striking?” his mother pressed.

“Quite,” he agreed, stealthily withdrawing his personal salt cellar—a recent and desperate purchase from the grocery store in the nearby village—from his trouser pocket. Salt was not supplied at the health farm. He would suffer a lot for his mother, but doing without salt was taking sacrifice too far. He surreptitiously sprinkled it on his food while everyone else was still settling down to their meal.

“There’s a spare chair here, dear,” his mother called.

Matt couldn’t believe his ears. His ultra-respectable, conservative mother inviting the sexy as sin, red on red to sit next to her? Opposite him? In the hot seat left by Vida, the vamp, who had gone through five husbands and had flirted with the idea of taking Matt as her toy-boy, much to his mother’s amusement and his embarrassment?

He held his breath. She was coming, a whimsical little smile showing her surprise at the encouraging welcome extended by his mother. She cocked an eyebrow at Matt and he knew curiosity had drawn her. Mummy doing the honours for Mummy’s boy?

“Thank you,” she said, placing her plate on the table. “I was wondering where I should sit.”

“There’s no special place for anyone,” his mother informed. “I’m Cynthia Davis. This is my son, Matt. And you are?”

“Peta. Peta Kelly.”

Matt stood up to offer his hand in courtesy, only to realise he was still holding the salt cellar. She looked at it, looked at him, and rolled her eyes mockingly.

“Still at it, I see.”

“At what?” his mother asked.

“Cheating. Your son was outside smoking when I arrived. Now he’s sneaked in salt.”

“Salt? Salt? Did someone say salt?” A plaintive voice cried from the other end of the table. “I’d give my eyeteeth for some salt.”

Matt sighed and offered it up.

“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!