My Boyfriend and Other Enemies

by Nikki Logan

  All the qualities that she could appreciate and enjoy about Aiden in a safe, appropriate way went in the folder marked ‘brother’. Admiration for his professional aptitude, appreciation of his dry sense of humour, fascination with how he worked individuals and a whole room at the same time...

  They were all perfectly wholesome things to appreciate about a sibling.

  But all those less-than-wholesome feelings—the ripple of goose flesh at his touch, the tightening of her chest at his glance, the catch of her breath when he smiled, the screaming desire to get closer to him, the awful, awful want...

  Those things went in the file marked ‘other’. Not to be opened for fifty years.

  It worked for about an hour.

  The touching had started on the front stairs of her veranda—a gentle, scorching hand at her lower back as he directed her to his car. Then the brush of his body as he needlessly reached across her to fix her seat belt in place. Then his knuckles—curled around the gear stick of his expensive car—that somehow managed to brush the tight fabric of her skirt every time they shifted gear.

  So that by the time they arrived at the restaurant, the ‘other’ folder was already bulging.

  Then came the conversation—so witty and attentive and damned interested in whatever she was saying. Her Achilles heel after a father like Eric—who just wasn’t interested, ever—and a boyfriend like Kyle, who struggled to fully attend to anything that didn’t involve him. Those things were okay to go in the ‘brother’ folder, but the deep, golden glow of appreciation that started to form certainly wasn’t. It was too dangerous.

  She shook the ‘other’ folder to make some room and she shoved that in deep.

  Distracting herself with exchanges with the dinner guests was a great strategy, except that she then became disturbingly conscious of his eyes on her when she was speaking with his colleagues. A cautious glance at first, then curious to see how she handled herself, then quietly pleased. And pleasing him had her shaking that ‘other’ folder again to settle the contents lower.

  She rolled tight shoulders. ‘Must you stare at me so relentlessly?’ she muttered sideways at him.

  Something in what she said made his eyes crease and twinkle. ‘Sorry, I’m just enjoying watching you ignoring me.’

  That brought her glance back to his and she realised it had been a long time since she’d let them make contact. ‘I’m schmoozing with your colleagues,’ she said under her breath. ‘Isn’t that what I’m here for?’

  He grew serious yet flirty at the same time. How was that possible?

  ‘It is. I’m not complaining.’

  No. He was just locking those bedroom eyes on her and making the ‘other’ folder impossible to squeeze the lid shut on. She glanced around for a distraction but everyone else in the room was otherwise engaged.

  No rescue there.

  ‘Why don’t we sit?’ Aiden indicated a vacant double-seater in the lounge part of the restaurant.

  It wasn’t tiny, but a three-seater would have been more to her liking. She sank into one side, as far over as she could go, and cupped her drink. When Aiden sat, the entire suspension of the sofa seemed to change, and she immediately felt the slight lean of her body towards his.

  As if she needed gravity’s interference. She forced herself upright.

  ‘Can I ask you about your mother?’ he asked.

  That brought her focus quickly back to his. ‘Here?’

  ‘You don’t have to be on the job all night. I thought you might enjoy talking about her.’

  Oh. That was sweet. Her mother was so central to the difficulties between them; she was the one person they could almost never talk about. But licence was almost crippling. ‘We talk about her all the time.’

  ‘No. We talk about them. What was she like? Specifically.’

  It was easy to smile. Answering would have been easy, too, but Aiden wasn’t asking lightly. Part of her was vaguely disturbed that he was asking at all; it seemed like strangely intimate territory for them, given what a careful line she wanted to tread. But another part of her hungered to have a normal conversation with him. Just like a regular couple—

  She kicked herself mentally.

  —of siblings.

  ‘She was like me. Optimistic, perfectionist, imperfect but accepting of her own flaws and doing the best she could.’

  ‘She must have been proud of the woman you grew into.’

  Her whole body softened at the memories of the pride in her mother’s eyes the first time she sold a piece. ‘She was, mostly. She loved my work.’

  ‘Mostly?’

  ‘She wasn’t thrilled with my...relationship choices.’ And how she would have turned in her grave as she and someone as risky as Aiden started to get closer. ‘But she recognised that I had to learn through experience. Like she did.’

  It was the closest they’d come to talking about her mother and his father. As close as they’d get tonight.

  ‘Are we talking about Jardine?’

  ‘Mum never liked him.’

  ‘No one likes him. Except him.’

  She sat up straighter. ‘He wasn’t always like he is now.’

  ‘You’re defending him?’

  Tash frowned. ‘I think I’m defending me. Because I chose to be with him, so it reflects on me. He wasn’t an ass then.’

  ‘You just turned him into one?’

  ‘Not intentionally.’ She laughed. ‘But I definitely think our relationship wasn’t good for him.’

  That caused his eyes to narrow a fraction. ‘Why not?’

  She hesitated. Just because she’d rationalised their breakup to herself didn’t make her right. Her hair tickled her cheeks as she shook her head. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m a narcissist.’

  ‘Why would I think that?’

  She took a breath. Went for it. ‘I think he was threatened by me.’

  That didn’t even surprise him. He nodded. ‘By your success?’

  ‘That, and...other things.’

  Aiden frowned.

  Oh, God, how had they arrived here? Weren’t they talking about her mother just a moment ago? A warm, fuzzy, safe topic?

  ‘We weren’t all that compatible.’ Tash leaned heavily enough on the last word to break it.

  Again, with the blank stare. Until suddenly it wasn’t blank at all. Blue eyes widened. ‘Right! Compatible.’ His lips split to reveal even white teeth. ‘So Jardine is a lousy lay? That’s priceless.’

  ‘Why would you assume it’s Kyle?’

  ‘Because it’s you—’ the warm glow rushed in again until she batted it away with the entire crowded folder marked ‘other’ ‘—and because he told me you were a dynamo in the sack.’

  The glow all but shattered, it froze so fast. ‘He what?’

  ‘Don’t get angry. It was all bluster.’

  ‘What the hell were the two of you doing having a conversation about my sexual performance in the first place?’

  His hands rose in front of him as if he could physically lower the volume with which her words had erupted from her lips. He glanced around to ensure they hadn’t been overheard. ‘It was an introductory monologue more than a conversation and it told me more about Jardine than it did about you.’

  ‘Except that I’m a dynamo.’

  He slouched back against the sofa back. ‘Actually “cracker” was the word he used. You should be flattered.’

  ‘Well, I’m not.’ She could totally imagine the tone with which he’d said it. It was too close to the old hurts at Kyle’s hands. The implication that she was somehow aberrant.

  Broken.

  But she could hardly cast stones since she’d just volunteered how beige Kyle was in bed. ‘I think it’s time for a subject change.’

&nb
sp; The smile didn’t leave Aiden’s eyes, but a curious spark formed there. Thankfully, he let it go. ‘We were talking about your mother. She didn’t like Kyle,’ he reminded her.

  ‘She thought he put me down to make himself feel a bigger man.’

  Aiden’s lips pressed tight. ‘I concur with her assessment. It surprises me that you would have put up with that. You don’t strike me as the type to let anyone get the better of you.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m slow to learn but I get there eventually. I watched my father do the same thing to my mother and then I went out and found a man just like him.’ She shook her head. ‘She was delighted when I broke it off with Kyle.’

  ‘Why did you, finally?’

  ‘I grew up. Expected more.’ Hoped for more, anyway.

  His eyes took on a molten sheen. He leaned closer. ‘What do you expect from a man?’

  Someone who would treat her like an equal. A man who got satisfaction from watching her be the best she could be, not by trying to make her who he wanted her to be. A man who treated her as if she had value outside what she could bring him. And a man who would not blanch if she stepped out of the bathroom in something risqué.

  A grown-up, in other words.

  But, no. Those were not thoughts she could express aloud. She’d shared quite enough for one evening. Especially with this man. He was just as likely to take anything she said as a job description.

  And, regardless of whether or not he fitted the criteria, there was no way he was now suitable for the job.

  ‘I expect a man who wouldn’t leave his date thirsty and empty-handed,’ she hedged, looking pointedly at her fingers.

  Aiden smiled. ‘Don’t move.’

  She took three long breaths in and exhaled just as slowly. She wasn’t thirsty and she didn’t want a drink. What she wanted was the few precious moments his departure in the direction of the restaurant’s bar bought her.

  ‘Brother’ and ‘other’ she repeated in her head like a mantra.

  She just had to keep her filing system going. And keep him at arm’s length.

  She wiped her damp palms on a restaurant napkin and curled it into a ball in her fist. Perhaps the best way to force some distance between them was to give him a return dose of the Spanish Inquisition. She had a question about him for every one he had for her. There were still lots of blanks about Aiden Moore that she’d like to see filled in. In a perfect world.

  Which this wasn’t.

  In this flawed world, she was going to have to confront Nathaniel with her suspicions and he was going to tell Aiden that they shared genetic material. And that would be that. They’d be relegated to the polite exchange of cards at Christmas and nods across crowded parties. Because there was no way the bastard child of Nathaniel Moore would be accepted into the perfect Moore family.

  Which was probably just as well, because if tonight was any indication then the only thing that was going to convince her body that Aiden was now hands-off was distance. And lots of it.

  Even now, she had to concentrate to keep her heartbeat regular as he headed back across the room towards her. His suit looked even better on him from a distance. Fitted and flattering. All shoulders and lean waist. He moved like a thoroughbred.

  ‘When is your father back?’ she asked the moment Aiden returned, to keep the topic from swinging back to where they’d left it. All the relaxation fled from Aiden’s body.

  ‘His flight landed this afternoon. Back at work on Monday,’ he said, sitting stiffly.

  ‘How was their trip?’

  His lips flat lined and her heart squeezed to see him swallow the pain. ‘Not terribly beneficial.’

  ‘Things are no better between them?’

  ‘This wasn’t a disagreement about finances or what colour to paint the living room, Tash. He went behind her back in seeing the daughter of a woman he’d once had an affair with and that was just too close to what he did once before.’

  She softened her words to minimise the impact. ‘Do you think it would have made a difference if he’d been up front with her?’

  That brilliant mind turned over—and over—behind his eyes, and his response was more sigh than sentence. ‘No. The hurt is in the act.’ His brows dropped. ‘But it’s amplified by the cover-up.’

  Would Laura feel any differently if she discovered it was his daughter he was secretly seeing? Maybe she might find it easier to forgive that? And maybe sea stars would fly.

  ‘Better that they deal with the underlying issues, though, right?’

  His eyes pierced her. ‘What underlying issues?’

  She regarded him steadily, welcoming the emotional gulf opening up between them. Yes, that was what they needed. Emotional distance. ‘All families have underlying issues. As upsetting as this was for your mother, chances are there’s other stuff going on that’s really at the bottom of all of this.’

  Hint hint...

  ‘My father’s poor decision-making is what’s at the bottom of this.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  His hiss was a little too loud for this refined restaurant. ‘Are you a card-carrying member of the mutual admiration society, Tash?’

  It was only the defensiveness in his voice that stopped hers from rising. He was particularly touchy about his mother. But it came from a very fundamental place. ‘I just think you’re very quick to blame him.’

  ‘And you’re very quick to defend him. And your own mother. Which only leaves one person by implication and she’s the only innocent one of the lot.’

  Laura Moore, innocent? The woman who stole her best friend’s man at the first opportunity? Tash picked her words as carefully as if she were collecting berries from a cactus field. ‘I’m not blaming your mother. I’m just suggesting that this issue might be the trigger, but it’s not necessarily what the troubles between them are all about.’

  ‘Who says there are troubles?’

  She lifted one brow. ‘Aiden. He had an affair.’ With his first love. ‘There must be troubles.’

  ‘That was twenty years ago.’

  ‘My mother died still loving him.’

  ‘That’s sad for her.’

  The speed of his comeback was disturbing. And telling. But, no, she wasn’t going to let him do this any longer. She needed him to pull his head out of the sand and start putting the puzzle together, and if she couldn’t do it for him without breaching Nathaniel’s trust then she’d have to lay out some serious breadcrumbs.

  ‘He left her a message on her cell phone just a few months ago for what should have been her fiftieth birthday. So clearly she was still very much on his mind.’

  That stopped him flat. His mind was fast enough to realise what that meant. He shook his head. ‘He gave Mum his word he’d never see her again.’

  ‘He honoured that. He didn’t even go to her funeral.’ Her voice cracked just slightly on that and Aiden curled his fingers around hers. She extracted them just a moment later by changing her still-full drink into the other hand. ‘Since we’re talking about mothers, tell me about yours. What is it about her that you love so much?’

  His face grew blank. ‘She’s my mother.’

  ‘You defend her so fiercely. That’s very telling.’

  ‘She’s my mother,’ he repeated, slower for the cognitively challenged. But then he deigned to elaborate. ‘She was always there for me when my father was working. Taking me to school, making my lunches, salving my wounds, mixing with my friends’ mothers, which helped me to fit in, volunteering in class.’

  Something inside her squeezed. ‘You didn’t fit in at school? Did you struggle making friends?’

  ‘On the contrary.’ She thought that was going to be it, but then he surprised her with a rare moment of candour. ‘But I struggled keeping them.’

  She d
idn’t find that hard to picture. He would have been charismatic even as a boy, but his high expectations when it came to others must have meant constant disappointment in the friend department.

  ‘I was seven when the whole Moore v. Porter thing began, so I grew up knowing something bad happened, and it happened because of my father.’ His eyes beseeched her. ‘But it happened to my mother, you know?’

  Laura—always the victim...despite getting her man, and a beautiful son, and the luxurious lifestyle and everything that brought with it. But Tash forced herself to be charitable. ‘It’s right that you love her so much—’

  ‘Thanks for the permission.’

  ‘—but you’re also an adult, so you should be able to look at both of them with adult eyes.’

  The eyes in question narrowed. ‘What is it that you think I’m not seeing?’

  Uh-oh. One breadcrumb too many. ‘Just...there’s always more to the story.’

  He stared so long and so hard she wondered if things were about to turn dangerous. But then his brows folded—just a hint—and the cogs started turning behind his eyes. ‘I’ll keep that in mind. Right now, I wouldn’t mind hearing more of the story we were just discussing. Your story.’

  Instantly her body tightened up as her mind shut down.

  ‘My story is not all that exciting.’

  ‘Only child, estranged from asshole dad, dumps jerk boyfriend and loses beloved mother in the space of a couple of years. So who does Natasha Sinclair turn to when things get bad?’

  Tash pressed back into the sofa back. ‘She turns inward. Finds the strength in herself.’

  ‘That’s very Zen of you.’

  ‘It’s also true.’ She chuckled. ‘Though I will admit to asking myself what Mum would do in situations I can’t handle.’

  He shifted only slightly but it seemed to bring him—and his mesmerising lips—much closer. ‘I can’t imagine there’s anything you can’t handle.’

  Dangerously close. But she worked around the danger as best she could. ‘You might be surprised. Situations where I only have two choices and both of them are bad.’

  ‘Bad for whom?’

  ‘For the people involved. Bad for me.’