Man About the House

by Alison Kelly

  ‘Who cares? At least I’d be able to see where to thread the earring!’

  Her testy tone stunned him, before surprise gave way to amusement. ‘Finally!’ he said with exaggerated relief. ‘Evidence that you aren’t always the paragon of patience and acceptance you appear.’

  ‘Oh, I get annoyed about things,’ she said. ‘But I try not to let them get the better of me.’

  ‘Annoyed, but never steaming, ranting and raving angry?’

  ‘Not really...’ Her tone was pensive. ‘I’ve always found it quicker and simpler just to shoot the offender. Eeek!’

  Her yelp of surprise and giggles resulted from Brett grabbing her wrists and tugging her out of the chair.

  ‘Has anyone ever told you,’ he asked, ‘that you’re too cute for your own good?’

  Laughing, she shook her head and went to pull free. Brett’s hands tightened of their own accord, his thumbs stroking across the inside of her wrist. With his own pulse vibrating through his body he couldn’t detect hers, but the playful amusement which had been in her face was now replaced by something more intent.

  Her eyes were dreamy soft as they lifted to his. Then, as he stood too mesmerised to look away from the serenity of her beauty, their turquoise depths darkened to a smoky teal. The transformation was spellbinding. No, she was spellbinding.

  ‘Do you know what colour your eyes are?’ Considering it was a ridiculous question, it seemed to take an age for her to answer.

  “They’re...blue.’

  He shook his head. ‘Turquoise. They’re a true turquoise. Exactly the same colour as the stones in my bangle.’ Though he’d unwittingly increased the pressure of his right hand against her wrist, as if to draw it to her attention, he was thrilled when she didn’t respond and her eyes remained locked on his.

  ‘But they aren’t turquoise now, Jo,’ he said, hearing the awe echo in his words. ‘They’ve darkened to a deep, glorious—

  ‘Teal...’ he finished feebly, trying to work out how his hands had become empty and why Jo was across the room opening the freezer. He didn’t put much stock in the bizarrely hopeful notion that she kept a supply of condoms there.

  ’T-teal, huh? Interesting...’

  She didn’t sound interested.

  ‘But I read that it’s quite a common occurrence for people’s eyes to change colour. Apparently some people—’

  He shut his ears to her trivial explanation. The only person’s eyes he wanted to talk about were hers. And the effect they had on him. How could she not have felt the... the soft, sensual energy which had enveloped them a few moments ago? His own lungs had been frozen by the experience. Surely something that powerful couldn’t be all one-sided. Dear Lord, a moment ago he’d looked in her eyes and would have sworn they shared the same thoughts, the same wants and the same needs; that all those emotions he’d felt were flowing on an endless three-sixty-degree circuit from his soul into hers and back again.

  Damn it, had she read something that would explain that to him?

  Brett didn’t know how long she’d been chattering on without him hearing anything but his own inner confusion, yet typically he chose the wrong time to tune back into her.

  ‘Anyway, I better hurry and finish getting dressed. Steve’s going to be here shortly and...’

  He managed to keep his succinct four-letter expletive trapped behind his clenched teeth, but containing the desire to put his fists through the wall of toughened glass was proving much harder. This time it was anger and jealousy that deafened him to her voice. Desperate to get some rein on both, he forced himself to focus on the southernmost point of the beach, where the waves broke onto rocks. Three... Four... Five...

  In real time he had no idea how long he stood counting wave after wave after wave, but he abandoned the task at number twenty-two. Whoever said the sea was calming was full of garbage!

  She arrived home from the party at 2:41 a.m. Saturday. Brett knew the precise time because for the last hour and ten minutes he’d lain in bed watching his digital clock and thinking only of her. Prior to that, he’d spent the time since her departure watching the TV...and thinking only of her. His mind hadn’t even had the room to accommodate images of the man she was with, despite the gut-eroding jealousy he felt towards him.

  At 2:44 a.m., he heard the door of her bedroom open and close.

  Then the only sound was the digits of the clock clicking over.

  At 7:10 a.m., he heard her bedroom door open, then, a few seconds later, the brief, tell-tale creak of the bathroom door opening and closing.

  Driven by desperation, he flung back the covers and bolted from his bed...

  At 7:16 a.m., he was knocking urgently on the back door of his friend’s house. Finally Jason answered it.

  God knows where he’d have gone if no one had been home, but there was no way he could have stayed in the house with Jo there. He checked the water level in the kettle, switched on the power and opened the china cupboard. ‘You want one, Jason?’

  ‘In the middle of a fire? I don’t think so. There is a fire, isn’t there?’ he asked. ‘After all, what other reason could you have for waking me at this hour on a Saturday morning? Uncaring that I may have someone here.’

  Only then did the extent of his presumptuousness dawn. ‘Hell, mate, I’m sorry. I didn’t think... You should’ve said something sooner.’

  ‘Forgive me. These days it takes me at least a nano-second to make the transition from being blissfully asleep to being a victim of home invasion.’

  ‘Look, I’m really sorry; consider me out of here.’ He was already heading towards the door, but his friend shut it.

  ‘Sit down, Brett,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the coffee. Although I’m not sure it’s going to do much good... If a dog looked like you do, I’d have it put down as an act of humanity.’

  ‘Thanks, mate. Hold that thought and I’ll try to muster up a bark.’ His backside was halfway to a chair when he froze and glanced in the general direction of the bedrooms. ‘Er... what about...?’

  ‘Merely a hypothesis based on wishful thinking,’ his friend said. ‘Sit. I’ll fix the coffee.’

  A few minutes later a steaming mug of the beverage was set before him, along with a plate of cinnamon toast. Not feeling the least bit hungry, he shot a bemused frown at the man taking the chair opposite him. ‘Er...did I say I wanted toast?’

  Jason shook his head. ‘No, the only thing you’ve uttered since sitting down is, “I’m going to have to kill her.” But you look like you could use some food. Sleep doesn’t look like it’d go astray either.’

  ‘Blame my sister,’ he muttered. ‘She’s the source of my problem.’

  ‘So Meaghan’s the one you want to kill?’

  ‘Yeah, her too.’ He picked up his cup, but then banged it back on the table. Too wired to stay seated, he prowled to the sink.

  ‘Damn it, Jason, this whole situation is driving me nuts! I told myself I wasn’t interested—at least I didn’t want to be interested. I sure didn’t need any more female emotional baggage in my life.

  ‘And what happens?’ he asked, pacing to the refrigerator. ‘Whammo! I’m sideswiped by a raven-haired witch with the face of an angel and a body built for sin! None of which I’m supposed to notice, of course,’ he said sardonically, pivoting, ‘because not only is she barely out of high school, she’s as trusting and naive as a kitten and still getting over some mongrel who saw her vulnerability and naivety as handy for some extra-marital recreation!

  ‘So,’ he continued, ‘at the risk of suffering a hormone-induced nervous breakdown, I behave like the model gentleman from day one. I make sure I always wear a shirt, because the first time she saw me start to peel off my wetsuit I thought she was going to hyperventilate from shock. I’m careful to avoid any sexual innuendo, I try till I sweat blood not to notice when she parades around the house half naked, and when I can’t take it any more I go and paddle out into a freezing winter Pacific, or—’

  ‘Or come over
here at all hours, make coffee, then sit around waiting for it to go cold so you can make another one.’ Jason inserted.

  ‘You’re exaggerating.’

  ‘Not by much. You’ve spent more time over here the last few weeks than you did in the whole time we were at school. And for God’s sake, stop pacing!

  ‘Look, Brett,’ Jason continued, pouring himself another coffee. ‘I don’t have any idea of what sort of social life Joanna has, but I suspect I could go pretty close to calculating her diary based on the number of times you’ve “just dropped in” lately.’ He grinned. ‘Amazingly, though, on this occasion you haven’t included her name in every sentence.’

  Brett allowed himself a humourless laugh. ‘I’d like to think that was a sign that I’m turning the corner and losing interest in her. Except the only things I’m losing are sanity and sleep.’

  Sheer frustration had him emitting a growl and dragging his hand down his face. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to shave last night, or this morning! He’d religiously shaved twice a day from his university days, yet she’d managed to disrupt his life on such an elemental level that even his most ritualistic idiosyncrasies were being undermined by her.

  Feeling almost utterly defeated, he slumped back into the chair. ‘Jason...I swear, she’s driving me out of my mind.’

  ‘Why? Because she’s not interested?’

  Brett gave a harsh, ironic laugh. ‘If only it were that simple! If she’d stop sending out so many mixed messages and just post a “thanks, but no thanks” I’d get over it. I’m not a masochist. But it’s like she’s been testing me ever since she told me she trusted me—I mean she actually verbalised the phrase: “Now I know I can trust you.”’

  He shook his head. ‘Being told by a drop-dead gorgeous woman that she trusts you... Well, now I know exactly how poor old Ken Evans felt in Year Eleven when that chick who was putting out for everybody else refused to go to the end of year dance with him because he was always so respectful of her she thought he deserved better!’

  Jason laughed, whether at Ken’s past or his present. Brett didn’t know.

  ‘What are these tests she’s setting you?’

  ‘Breathing, smiling, walking!’ he said dryly. ‘Oh, you know...it’s kind of more the way she acts than anything else. If she was a few years older, and not so damnably innocent, I wouldn’t doubt for a minute she was interested...’ He paused and searched for words to explain.

  ‘Well, it’s not so much that she runs hot and cold. On some occasions I’ll catch her sending me furtive looks, but the minute I make eye contact she gets this guilty blush...’

  ‘Sure, because you caught her doing it and she’s embarrassed.’

  ‘Nah... It’s more than that, Jason. She reacts as if...I don’t know...like she’s suddenly realised she’s lusting after the devil himself. And let me tell you,’ he added, ‘when you know as much about her family’s view of Old Nick as I do that can make you feel lower than a snake’s belly.

  ‘But then,’ he continued, ‘she’s back to being her usual unselfconscious self—or at least she doesn’t act self-conscious around me,’ he qualified. ‘In public she can glow neon if someone so much as asks her if she wants salt on her chips, but with good old Brett she’s so at ease she thinks nothing of parading around in sexy little negligées. Or—get this, mate—knocking on my bedroom door late at night wrapped only in a hand towel to ask sleep-destroying questions such as can she borrow one of my razors to shave her legs.’

  That particular incident had happened last week, but coming after the incident with the dress and her non-stop chatter about Steve it had made him more angry than aroused. At least that was what he’d told himself through the ensuing sleepless night at any rate.

  Brett went on to recount the incidents of the dress and the massage to Jason, who, of course, by now found the whole thing totally amusing. He would; his dates all wore shirts.

  ‘Give me a break, here, Jason... She’s driving me nuts! I mean, take the massage scenario...it’s the oldest trick in the book for both sexes, right?’

  ‘Mmm. Classic preliminary lead-in to a seduction,’ his friend agreed.

  ‘Exactly! Except Jo acts like she knows I’m not going to make a move. There she was, lying under my hands purring like a well-satisfied cat, and expecting me to act like a damned eunuch! I know she’s naive and—What’s so funny?’ he demanded of his suddenly chuckling friend.

  Jason merely shook his head. ‘Er...tell me, Brett,’ he said, trying to contain his mirth. ‘How has she reacted when you’ve tried to put the moves on her?’

  ‘What moves?’ he snarled. ‘I told you; I’ve nearly killed myself trying to keep my hands off her. The closest I’ve come to losing it was yesterday. I was a heartbeat away from kissing her—and, damn it, Jason, I know she wanted me to!’ Recalling the moment, he raked his hand through his hair. ‘I could feel it, you know. I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to,’ he admitted. ‘Then suddenly she bolts, like I’m the plague or something, and starts rabbiting on like a narrator on a TV doco. I tell you, mate, she—’

  He broke off as Jason, quaking with mirth, staggered out of his chair holding his stomach.

  ‘Oh, God...’ his friend cackled, his eyes tearing. ‘This is priceless... I think I’m going to wet myself.’

  ‘I’m glad the sorry state of my life is such a source of amusement to you...mate!’

  ‘I...I’m sorry,’ Jason managed, wiping his eyes. ‘But I’ve just put two and two together and I think I know what your problem is. It’s just all suddenly added up.’

  ‘Well, maths never was my strong point,’ Brett said testily, irritated at being the source of his friend’s amusement and in the dark as to why. ‘So why don’t you just give me the answer, Einstein.’

  Jason’s grin was as wide as Sydney Heads. ‘Joanna thinks you’re gay.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘GAY! You think I’m gay?’

  Brett got his answer when she had to grab the bookcase to keep from collapsing with shock! That she was so obviously dumbfounded sent his ego nose-diving even further; his anger, however, was probably burning holes in what was left of the ozone layer.

  ‘Y-you mean you aren’t?’

  ‘No, damn it, I’m not!’

  Her eyes were wide as saucers, her mouth gaping, and she was taking two steps backwards for every advancing one of his.

  ‘Now would you mind telling me why you’d jump to such a crazy conclusion?’ Hell, here he’d been turning hormonal cartwheels every time he so much as looked at her, while he’d made all the sexual impact of a slice of bread on her!

  ‘Well?’ he demanded, when she merely continued to stammer and stare at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head.

  ‘I... Th... Oomph!’ The bookcase brought her stammering back-pedalling to an abrupt end. On her right she was hemmed in by a turn-of-the-century wing-backed chair. Brett braced his arm against the wall to her left to close off that escape route.

  ‘Well, Jo? I’m dying to hear how you came to make this insane assessment of my sexuality.’

  ‘Um...well, for lots of reasons, really,’ she said.

  ‘Lots of reasons? Gee, when you set out to mutilate a guy’s ego, you don’t pull your punches, do you?’ he said. ‘I take it one of these reasons is my friendship with Jason?’

  ‘P-partly.’

  ‘I hate to tell you this, Jo, but your small-town homophobic attitude is—’

  ‘I am not homophobic!’ Her denial was loud and emphatic. ‘If I was I wouldn’t have stayed here with you when I’d been led to believe you were—’

  ‘I know what you believed, Jo!’ he cut in, not needing to be hit over the head with the fact yet again. ‘What, besides me having a gay friend, gave you this wacky idea?’

  ‘Lots of things.’

  ‘Will you stop saying that! What things?’

  She sighed under the weight of his glare. ‘Well...first, just after you moved in, I told Karessa I w
asn’t comfortable living with a man I knew nothing about. And she said I didn’t have to worry about you...’ she swallowed nervously ‘...because you weren’t interested in women—’

  ‘Temporarily!’ he jumped in. ‘I wasn’t interested temporarily !’

  ‘Well, she didn’t say that. The reason she gave me was because you were still getting over Toni.’

  Brett groaned. ‘And you naturally assumed Toni was short for Anthony rather than Antonia.’

  ‘I didn’t know Toni could be a girl’s name. And you didn’t do anything to correct my impression!’ The uncharacteristic tartness of her tone dumbfounded him almost as much as her accusation.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Well, you didn’t,’ she said. ‘You don’t act like normal straight men.’

  ‘And this observation of yours is based on what? Your vast experience with men?’

  Her only response was a blush of discomfiture that he refused to feel guilty about; after all he was the victim in this. She, on the other hand, had jumped to conclusions on the flimsiest of circumstantial evidence.

  ‘Look. Brett,’ she said, clearly flustered. ‘I just meant you seemed different to—’

  ‘All those other men in your jet-setting past?’

  Her hands went onto her hips, and for the first time since he’d met her Joanna didn’t look anything like the calm, serene person by whom he’d become so fascinated. But her sexiness sure hadn’t diminished with this sudden leap in attitude.

  ‘I may not,’ she said, ‘be as sophisticated as most women my age, but a person doesn’t need to have ridden a horse to recognise one.’

  Hearing her make a statement with such an overt sexual connotation sent his jaw slack even as it curled nerve-endings in other parts of his anatomy. But, in the absence of an ensuing sultry smile or lewd look, he belatedly realised Jo hadn’t intended any double entendre.

  ‘And whether you like it or not,’ she continued, ‘your behaviour isn’t what I’ve come to expect from most men. Until I met you, Steve was the only man I’d known who hadn’t treated me like a servant or been nice to me because he wanted to sleep with me.