by Emma Darcy
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Mum.”
“You’re not even trying.” She turned away in disgust and stared bitterly at the log fire. “You’ll end up a lonely old bachelor and I’ll never get a grandchild.”
How about four in fairly quick succession?
Matt didn’t voice the thought.
Some things were best kept private.
His mother could be embarrassingly heavy-handed in her matchmaking efforts and he preferred to run his own race. Besides, he couldn’t be certain of winning. He couldn’t be certain it would turn out how he wanted it to with Peta Kelly. But he meant to give this chance a damned good try.
Driven by furious energy, Peta ploughed through twenty laps of the pool with barely a pause. Only when her chest started aching did she slow down and change to a leisurely sidestroke. Her mind, however, did not ease off its fuming activity. Matt Davis’s poking and prying into her heart, followed by his outrageous advice with the focus on him as her future interest, still made her burn.
Devious, cocky man! Trying to turn her personal wounds to his own profitable advantage. He’d obviously taken her blunt honesty as a challenge and couldn’t let it pass, worming out how best to get to her, then presenting himself as the answer to her dreams to be gratefully grabbed on the spot!
Peta knew what he wanted to grab. Did he think she was a fool who could be caught on the rebound if he held out a heap of glib promises? She ought to play him along and keep pinning him down just to teach him a salutory lesson. Yes...she would quite enjoy watching him wriggle on the hook he thought he’d baited for her. Serve him right!
Except it would be a total waste of her time and energy. Better to ignore him. Though that would be rather difficult if he went along to the same activities she’d planned to enjoy here. His persistent presence could become an irritation, but she wasn’t about to change her choices because of him. At least she didn’t have to share the same table at meals. She could frustrate him on that score.
Peta hauled herself out of the water and dripped her way over to the wall switch that activated the hot spa pool. Having turned it on, she lowered herself into the bubbling warmth, finding a seat where the powerful jets hit her in all the right places. She needed to relax. It was counterproductive to her whole purpose in coming to the health farm to let Matt Davis work her into a lather.
The temper he’d raised gradually dwindled into a brooding gloom. It was a pity he wasn’t Mr. Right. Physically he couldn’t be faulted—a fine build of a man, obviously a good athlete, nothing objectionable about any of his features. Any woman would fancy a share of his genes for her children. High on intelligence, too.
As a stud, he could be considered almost perfect, but Peta didn’t believe he was genuine about having fatherhood on his mind. No one came on that far that fast unless he was a con-artist. In fact, given the blatant sexual interest he’d already shown, his outrageous attempt to put marriage and children at the top of his list of wants was an insult to her intelligence.
Too much of an insult.
That afterthought clung, stirring niggling doubts over her angry dismissal of him as a candidate for Mr. Right. What if he had been frustrated in his search for a woman who wanted a family? Career women were holding off on motherhood these days. He’d certainly ascertained her attitude about her job before leaping in with his proposition of possibilities between them.
But he couldn’t be serious...
No...it would be too much of a miracle if he turned out to be a really nice guy who wanted a family as much as she did.
The memory of last weekend with Megan and Rob and their baby brought a dull ache to her heart. Her sister was so lucky. Rob was besotted with his beautiful little son, supportive in every way. But it was baby Patrick who touched the deepest chords in Peta...holding him, cuddling him, smelling him.
Tears pricked her eyes. Damn Giorgio for fooling her into believing what couldn’t be. Even now her mind writhed over the dreadful shock of seeing the photograph of his children... hits... and his wife’s.
She mustn’t keep dwelling on it. She had to move on. Yet the need stirred by Megan’s baby kept reminding her what she’d been cheated out of by Giorgio and his lies. It hurt. It hurt all the time.
She’d come to the health farm for distraction, for...
Maybe she should find out more about Matt Davis. The chance of him being sincere was highly remote but...why turn her back on a chance? She wasn’t exactly inundated with eligible men and time was her enemy.
Even given the worst case scenario of his being a king rat, she was too wise to the seduction game to be taken in by ploys to bypass her wedding ring edict. At the very least he would provide some distraction from her misery over Giorgio.
Dinner tonight.
Avoiding him wouldn’t achieve anything.
Though if Matt Davis thought he could make a meal of her, well, let him try. He would end up choking on the sweets course.
CHAPTER SIX
SEVEN o’clock at last! The guests in the lounge room started moving out for dinner. Others were coming down the stairs from the accommodation provided on the upper floor. Matt was starving, not only for food but for the sight of Peta Kelly again. He tried to hurry his mother in his eagerness to satisfy both needs.
She hung back. “You go on, dear. I think I’ll visit the powder room first.”
Matt sighed. No forethought. Since he might have missed seeing Peta on her way to the dining room, he didn’t want to wait. “Okay, Mum. Don’t be long.”
He was at the door when he remembered he’d left the salt cellar in his tracksuit pocket. A quick scan of the women already in the dining room did not pick up the vibrant hair of Peta Kelly. Making a snap decision, Matt turned away and hotfooted it to the cottage. Dinner without salt could not be stomached. Five minutes at most it took him, yet on his return he found both his mother and Peta seated at the table, having a cosy chat.
Suspicion instantly hit. His mother could not have visited the powder room. She had deliberately held back to snaffle Peta Kelly and pursue her maternal matchmaking. Silently cursing the unwelcome interference in his affairs, Matt hastened to his chair.
The pleasure of seeing Peta in her red sweater again momentarily wiped out his disgruntlement at his mother’s tactics. He smiled at her as he sat down, undeterred by the guarded look in her eyes. Peta Kelly was strong-minded enough to put his mother off if she hadn’t wanted to sit with them. It was a good sign she was here. It meant she was prepared to explore the situation further.
“Peta went for a swim in the pool after tennis,” came the first piece of personal digging from his mother. “She likes swimming.”
“Mmmh...” said Matt, hoping his mother hadn’t bragged about his swimming trophies from school carnivals. All the same, he was pleased to hear Peta enjoyed the same activities he did.
“And she leases an apartment with two other stewardesses at Bondi Junction,” his mother smugly informed. “Peta was just telling me about having put in for a transfer to domestic airlines. She’s seen enough of London and Rome.”
“Well, I guess Australia is home,” he commented happily.
It showed Peta was serious about settling down. Though her decision might have been triggered by the outcome of her last relationship. If her lover had been English or Italian, it could account for a wish never to revisit his stamping ground. Which was fine by Matt. It meant the guy couldn’t come sniffing around her again, upsetting the applecart.
“Matt lives at Bondi Beach,” his mother slid out, obviously pleased with the short distance between their domiciles.
“Not with you, Cynthia?” Peta asked.
“Goodness, no! That wouldn’t suit him at all.”
Hard blue eyes flashed at him. “Why not?”
Her cynical thought was easily read... Cramp your style?
“Mum lives at Gosford on the central coast. My business requires me to be in Sydney,” he answered matter-of-factly.
; “And what business is that?” she inquired.
“Merchandising.”
“Matt owns his own company,” his mother rushed in. “It’s very successful but it has taken up a lot of his time, working long hours with his wheeling and dealing. He hasn’t stopped long enough to find himself a nice girl to settle down with. I keep telling him...”
Here it comes, Matt thought in exasperation, and cut in before the floodgates opened on the nagging subject of grandchildren. “I have made time for you, Mum,” he reminded her.
She frowned at his interruption. “Yes, I know, dear. I’m not saying you haven’t been good to me...”
“Ah! Stuffed mushrooms,” he said with satisfaction as the waitress served them with starters. Dinner was always more to his taste than lunch. He got out the salt cellar and sprinkled away, then caught a crooked little smile playing on Peta’s lips. He grinned openly at her. “I did tear up the last of my cigarettes.”
It surprised her. Her eyes took on a wondering look.
“I’m so glad to hear that, Matt,” his mother warmly approved.
“Well, there’s always the village store if you get desperate,” Peta said dryly, not ready to believe too much.
“No. The deed is done,” he assured her and attacked his mushrooms with a hearty appetite.
The food shut his mother up for a while.
“What’s the name of your company?” Peta asked as the plates were cleared away.
“Limelight Promotions,” Matt answered, wondering if she intended checking up on him. It was obvious she wasn’t taking much on faith anymore. He didn’t blame her. Once burnt, twice shy.
“It’s at Rockdale, just past Mascot Airport,” his mother supplied brightly. “You’d both take the same road to work.”
Matt gave her a baleful look. She just couldn’t keep out of it.
Thankfully Peta ignored the comment, asking, “How do you manage the noise factor from the flights coming in?”
“The building is soundproofed.”
“You’d need it,” she commented.
“Oh, Matt spares no expense in looking after his employees,” his mother gushed. “He’s done very well. Very well, indeed. You might have read in the newspaper a little while ago about an apartment at Bondi selling for 1.2 million dollars?”
“Mum...” He was too late to stop her.
“It was Matt who bought it,” she boasted.
The cornflower blue eyes widened and Matt had the sinking feeling they were propped open with dollar signs as they stared at him, probably calculating how much he was worth. He didn’t want her to want him for his money. He hated this kind of boasting, hated how the knowledge of his wealth could affect people’s opinion of him, their manner towards him, their assumptions about him.
“It’s an investment,” he said curtly. “I don’t live in it. It’s rented out to cover the loan from the bank. It’s a matter of negative gearing...”
He clamped his mouth shut, stopping himself from explaining how he managed his finances. It wouldn’t do any good. The damage was done. Her eyes had taken on a speculative look, no doubt seeing him as a far more attractive proposition than previously.
Funny... the question of money had never come into the equation of his relationships with Janelle and Skye. Janelle had been earning a six figure income from her legal practice. Skye was a high-flyer in the fashion industry, probably raking in a fortune of her own. Matt didn’t know what an airline stewardess earned but it wouldn’t be in that league.
Did the thought of snagging a millionaire excite her? Maybe she would now loosen up her underwear. The thought did not excite him. He much preferred Peta, the fighter.
“Excuse me. Dinner calls,” he muttered, rising from the table to go to the hot buffet where the main course was laid out. Let his mother babble on if she had to. Suddenly he didn’t care.
Barbecued chicken, boiled potato, broccoli, beans, grilled tomato with basil...not bad...except he’d somehow lost his appetite. Nevertheless, he heaped up his plate and returned to the table. A man had to eat. Peta and his mother and the others from the table had joined the queue to the buffet so he could salt his food without an eyebrow raised. Driven by a sense of discontent he almost drowned it in salt.
His garrulous mother and the tantalising red sweater returned to torment him again. Matt tried to concentrate his attention on the meal but his mind kept wandering. Maybe he was being oversensitive about the money issue. He wished it hadn’t been brought up so soon, but there was no denying the advantages of being financially secure when it came to marriage. Peta had to see there was no problem about starting a family straight away. Of course, other important factors had to be weighed first. Like her attitude towards sex. Especially with him!
The two women chatted on about family. He learnt that Peta had two older brothers, John and Paul, as well as the younger sister, Megan, who’d just had a baby. Two boys, two girls...the same family she wanted. Her parents lived at Blackheath, up in the Blue Mountains, about two hours’ journey from Sydney.
In turn, his mother explained Matt was an only child. She’d almost died having him, and his father wouldn’t risk her trying for any more. Which was a shame, since there was only Matt to carry on the family line and provide her with grandchildren and he was now thirty-three and still single. Heavy sigh.
“I daresay you spoiled him terribly since he was your only child,” Peta remarked sweetly.
Matt instantly recognised a dig at him. His gaze flew up. “I was not spoiled,” he stated firmly before his mother could begin raving on about his childhood, indulging herself with a string of potentially embarrassing memories.
“He was always good-natured,” she popped in, thankfully showing admirable restraint.
“My father set rules and he saw that I kept to them,” Matt insisted, holding Peta’s challenging gaze. “He taught me responsibility and I respected his lessons. I’d do the same with my own kids. If I ever have them,” he added darkly, resenting her assumption he’d been a spoiled little rich kid.
“Then why do I have the impression you’re used to getting your own way?” she inquired archly.
“Probably because I’ve made my own way,” he retorted. He certainly hadn’t had everything handed to him on a plate. His parents had been reasonably well off but they’d never had the kind of money he’d accumulated.
She smiled but it wasn’t a smile of acceptance or approval. “So now you feel you can buy anything or anybody you want.”
Her eyes said... Not me, Mister. Not in a million years!
He stared directly into the glittering derision, fiercely willing her to back down from the insulting assumption she was making about him. Her gaze did not waver. Neither did the sparks of contempt. To Matt, it was like a punch in the guts, draining him of any lingering desire to win her over.
The accusation of being a cheat had some basis. It could be excused, even turned into a bit of fun between them. But not this. He didn’t care where she was coming from or what some other man had done to her, she had no cause to think he used his money to get himself a woman. As though he couldn’t attract anyone on his own merits!
“Actually, I have no taste for whores or gold-diggers,” he drawled, mentally sliding sheets of steel between him and the woman who was bent on belittling him so meanly. His eyes returned her contempt and he had the brief, savage satisfaction of seeing her recoil from it.
“Matt!”
The shock in his mother’s voice tapped at his social conscience. Polite behaviour should reign at the dinner table. “I’m sorry.” He raised his eyebrows, inviting correction for the crass comment. “Did I misunderstand the implication in what you were saying about me, Peta?”
Her cheeks flooded with hot colour.
Good! If she wanted to fire arrows, let her burn from the sting of them!
“Perhaps I should have said I can’t buy the kind of wife I want,” he went on. “She’d have to want for herself, the same things I want out of
marriage. Otherwise it wouldn’t work, and not all the money in the world could fix it.”
Let her chew on that!
“Money does help though, Matt,” his mother put in anxiously, worried by the tension in the air which was not at all conducive to the outcome she wanted from this encounter. “Financial problems often put a strain on a marriage. It’s much better not having to worry.”
Matt didn’t need this advice. “What I can buy is property,” he went on purposefully, wanting to ram the good intentions he’d been nursing down Peta Kelly’s throat. “For example, I wouldn’t have too much trouble finding the means to purchase a five bedroom home, with a pool and a tennis court thrown in. If I had a use for it.”
The blue eyes went blank.
“Five bedrooms?” his mother queried, astonished at his choice. “Most modern homes don’t have more than four.”
Matt kept his gaze boring into Peta’s, relentless in nailing his point. “I believe the question was buying power. Satisfied?”
She came out fighting, her cheeks still aflame but stubborn pride in her eyes. “Since you have so much to offer, perhaps you should draw up a premarriage agreement to protect yourself. It would avoid the risk of being taken to the cleaners by some unscrupulous woman...” she paused, baring her teeth “...should the marriage fail to live up to your expectations and you want a divorce.”
“Oh, I so dislike that practice!” his mother declared, shaking her head in a pained fashion. “How can any marriage work without trust and real commitment? People shouldn’t enter into it if they’re already looking for it to fail.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Matt said emphatically, cutting Peta’s feet out from under her.
She stared at him.
He stared right back, daring her to continue her attack on his character, promising her a retaliation she wouldn’t forget. Confusion crept into her eyes. She dropped her gaze, giving up the fight.
To Matt it was a hollow victory. Nothing had been won. A sense of loss gnawed at his guts. He told himself he was better off not getting involved with Peta Kelly. Let her stew in her own sour juices. Shouldering her bitter baggage would bring him no happiness.
