Sliding the glasses up his nose, he peered out again to see Carly hurrying out to her car. She had on that uniform again, and those sexy, black Mary Janes.
He vaguely remembered that she’d been wearing red Mary Janes when she’d come over. Maybe she had a collection of them.
“Oh, God, I’ve a shoe fetish.” Lifting his glasses with one hand, he rubbed his eyes. Replacing his glasses, he watched as the little blue Honda backed out of the driveway onto the road and drove away.
He had an insane urge to run out onto the road and wave his arms to get her attention, but man, she was dressed for work and no way was he going to make a spectacle of himself in the street, gaining unwanted attention.
The only attention he wanted right then was from Carly. He thought. Did he want her attention? He certainly didn’t want her inattention.
“That’s it,” he told SJ. “I need to rest my brain. I’m going to get a horror movie and flop on the sofa and fill my mind with the supernatural.”
Obviously bored, SJ wandered into the kitchen.
“While you’re in there, see if you can find the car keys.”
A car horn hooted outside and he looked back out through the security screen to see Alan getting out of his car. In the passenger seat sat Marty, his best friend, and another man sat in the backseat, only he couldn’t make him out.
“Hey.” Alan stopped at the bottom steps.
“Hey.” Sam pushed open the door. “You lot coming in?”
“Nah. We’re heading for the gym for a sweaty session of lifting weights. Impress the chicks.”
“You’re married.”
“I can’t help it if the sight of me lifting weights impresses the chicks. They can look but not touch.”
Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Sure, why not. Give me a minute.” It’d sure take his mind off his tangled thoughts.
“Don’t get all glitzed up for us.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I do, and I repeat, don’t.”
Feeling marginally better, Sam laughed. “I’ll just get my gear.” Minutes later, he opened the back door of the car and got in. “Hey, Marty.”
“G’day, Sam.”
SJ’s vet and Marty’s brother-in-law, Tim, sat in the back.
“Tim.”
“Hey, Sam.”
“Girls, please, stop gossiping. All this talk is doing my head in.” Alan backed the car out onto the road. “Now, this is a man’s session. Please try not to talk about feelings, okay? This means you, Tim.”
“Up yours. I don’t do feelings.”
“Yeah, you do.” Marty smirked. “Cindy’s softened you up.”
“I’m a man. Men don’t soften.” Tim pointed to his t-shirt. “See this? This is a man’s shirt. Men wear this shirt.”
The t-shirt had had a picture of a dog on it with a set of over-sized balls and a massive set of biceps. The caption underneath read All Balls, Brawn & Bite.
“That’s a shirt a man trying to prove something would wear,” Alan said. “Now, I have nothing to prove, which is why I dress in more mature, plain t-shirts.”
“You’re wearing a tank top,” Sam pointed out. “I bet that’s to try and make your miniscule muscles show. Tyring to impress someone?”
“I have Sophie. I impress her. A lot. All the time.”
“Really?” Marty queried. “Because I read a bit of her latest book last night. If she was being satisfied, why would she write that stuff?”
“Because she chooses to share her findings with you clueless bastards.”
“Have you really read it?” Tim queried.
“Read it?” Alan leered. “I helped her research it. The juicy bits, if you get my drift.”
“Cousin,” Sam reminded him.
“Look, don’t get all shy about sex, Sam. Your cousin and I do it. A lot. All the time.”
Tim snickered at Sam’s grimace.
“Man,” Tim said, “Marty doesn’t get in knots when I mention sex and his sister in the same sentence.”
“I just vomited in my mouth a little.” Marty looked pained. “Stop right there or you’ll be all ball-less, brawn-less and bite-less.”
“You can’t take brawn from a man’s man.”
“You have to have the brawn first.”
“I have brawn.” Tim flexed his arm. “See? Muscle.”
“What, your brain slid under your skin to your arm? Stop embarrassing yourself.”
Alan pulled into the gym’s car park. “Everyone out. You’re cramping my style.”
“You have to have style first,” Sam said.
“And you’re the first one to be walking home.”
“I’ll tell Sophie. She’ll make you sleep on the sofa for a month.”
“Sam, listen. Sophie, sex, me, Sophie, sex, me. Me and Sophie having sex.”
“I need a bush. I’m going to be sick.” Sam started for the door to the gym. “Maybe we should take up boxing.”
Tim and Alan looked at each other, looked at Sam and Marty, and shook their heads.
“Sissy game,” Alan announced.
“Not a man’s sport.” Tim agreed.
Grinning at the lean vet and the lean cop, Sam swung open the door. “After you, princesses.”
“Arsehole.” Alan walked past him.
“Next time you bring SJ in for a check-up, you’re getting the thermometer.” Tim followed Alan. “Revenge is sweet, princess.”
Inside the gym music pulsed from speakers. A Rumba class was underway, men and women in leotards, tank tops and shorts sweating and grinding to the music.
Once Alan would have been ogling the women, but now he simply picked up five kilo weights and started arm curls. “So, anyone got any juicy gossip?”
“Cripes.” Tim leaned against one of the weight machines and unscrewed the top off his drink bottle. “Is this a ladies’ session or what?”
“Or what, is right.” Stepping onto a treadmill, Marty started it at a slow pace, quickly picking up speed until he broke into a small jog.
Sam started jogging on another treadmill, warming up his muscles.
Tim swigged from the bottle.
“So are you actually going to do anything?” Marty asked his brother-in-law.
“I’m checking out the equipment, trying to decide. Don’t rush me.”
“Your shirt says you’ve got balls. You have a lot to live up to.” Marty broke into a run.
“I get plenty of exercise. Your sister and I-”
“Don’t make me bench-press you, Tim.”
“Ooohh!” Tim shuddered in delight. “Big boy!”
“Yeah, isn’t he,” another man said wistfully, eyeing Marty.
“He’s taken,” Alan informed him without blinking. “Sorry.”
“All the good looking ones are.” The man gave Marty one more wistful look before switching to Sam.
“Him, too,” Tim said.
“Shit.” He walked away.
“I’m flattered,” Sam said to Tim. “Really.”
Tim looked at the man walking away. “Seriously? Him?”
“No, that I’m apparently taken.”
Tim looked blank.
“By you, dearie. You big protector, you.”
Marty snorted a laugh, lost his footing and almost fell off the treadmill.
Picking up two kilo weights, Tim tested them out. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Grinning, Sam broke into a run. The pounding of his and Marty’s feet rhythmically hitting the treadmills was soothing in its monotony.
After ten minutes of running, Sam started bench pressing weights.
Tim, who was sitting on a bench with a towel around his neck and not a weight in sight, said conversationally, “I hear your new neighbour has a dog.”
“Crusher.”
“Oh, so you know who I was talking about.”
“Yep.” Sam moved his arms smoothly, enjoying the burn in his muscles.
“Huh. How about that.�
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“Yeah,” said Alan, “how about that.”
Catching the tone of their voices, Sam lowered the weight and peered over at them to find them all watching him, Tim sipping from his bottle, Alan lifting five kilo weights, and Marty arm curling ten kilo weights with ease.
“What?” he asked.
“So what’s she like?” Alan queried.
“Carly?”
“Oh, my.” Tim fluttered his eyelashes. “He knew exactly who we were talking about.”
Dropping his head back on the bench, Sam took a deep breath. “So?”
“So what’s she like?” Marty queried. “I hear from Alan that she’s built real nice.”
“Alan said that?”
“I may have ad-libbed.”
“Come on,” Alan said. “I know you’ve met her. I know her dog went after SJ and then embarrassed himself.”
“SJ didn’t embarrass himself.”
“I mean the dog.”
“Where’d you hear all this from?”
“I get around.”
“Sophie know that?”
“I mean, dumb arse, I’m a cop. I keep my ear to the ground.”
“No, you revel in gossip.”
“Hey, that’s a chick thing. I gather information.”
“Sam’s avoiding the subject,” Tim said.
“I noticed,” Marty agreed.
Sam set the weight in the frame and sat up. “There’s nothing to avoid. I met her, she’s nice, the dog is small, and SJ wants to eat it.”
“What about her skinny partner?” Alan asked. “Or is he her husband?”
“Her uncle.”
“You are shitting me.”
“Late life baby, apparently. They’re more like cousins.”
“Huh.” Tim scratched his jaw. “So she’s single, then.”
“Yep.”
Alan’s eyes gleamed. “You might have a shot, mate.”
Shot? He’d had more than a shot, but he wasn’t going to admit that, not to these bozos, friends or not. “Some of us have more on our minds than scoring, Alan.”
“Bullshit. Scoring with my woman is always on my mind. Scoring is always on the mind of every man.”
Marty looked at him. “It’s not always on my mind.”
Alan just looked at him.
“Not all the time.”
Tim raised his brows.
“I have five minute gaps.”
Picking up the towel, Sam wiped his face. Unfortunately, they hadn’t finished with him.
“Maybe you should go out on a date with her,” Alan suggested.
“What?” He’d already long-gone past the date stage. He’d hit home base without the date first.
“Date.”
“What is it with you three? You’re married and suddenly you have to start match-making your friends?”
“Yeah,” Tim said. “We have to wreck your life as well. Misery loves company.”
Tim looked about as miserable as a miser who’d found a hidden cache of gold under his bed. Sam knew for a fact that he was besotted with his wife.
“I’m a big boy, I can take care of my own love life.” If he could get a handle on it.
He actually didn’t have a love life. Was one session of hot sex a love life? No, that would imply more than one session.
He’d like to have more than one session with Carly. Yeah. Hell, yeah.
Marty’s eyes narrowed. “Huh.”
“Yeah, I see it.” Tim nodded.
Alan’s eyes widened. “You dog!”
“What?” Sam stood up.
“Have you dated her already?”
“No.”
“Then you’re thinking about it.”
His friends were too wily. If he didn’t put brakes on this conversation they were going to find out the truth. All three of them had been real rogues in their single lives, it wouldn’t take much for them to realise more had happened than he was willing to admit.
“Maybe.” He stretched. “I thought about it.”
“And?” Alan queried.
“And Debbie brought around her friend. Hot brunette in a slinky dress and an ‘eat me’ attitude.”
“Whoa.” Alan’s eyebrows rose. “So you’re taking her out instead?”
“Maybe.” No way. “No.”
“Why not?” Tim asked.
“I’m scared.”
Marty burst out laughing.
Alan shook his head. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“Hey, you asked.” Sam packed his towel in his gym bag.
“You ladies had enough?” Tim patted his face with his towel.
“You’re wiping your face?” Marty looked at him. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“You did nothing but sit on your arse and gossip.”
“Your point?” Tim pointed at his t-shirt. “Man, remember? I don’t have to prove anything. This says it all.”
“Hi.” A blonde with a cute ponytail and freckles across her nose sidled up to Marty. “I’m Bunny.”
Alan’s eyes crossed.
Marty smiled. “And I’m married.”
“So?”
Tim choked.
Getting up from his squat beside his gym bag, Sam saw Bunny’s eyes light up when they hit on him. Her gaze went to his hands and her smile widened.
“Bunny.” She neatly insinuated herself between the men, her attention focussed on Sam. “You are…?”
“Scared,” Tim said, followed by a muffled ‘ooofff!’ when Alan elbowed him sharply.
“Sam.” He picked up the gym bag. “Nice to meet you, Bunny.”
When he took a step to the side, she matched him, bouncing in her small sneakers. “I’m a little thirsty. Would you like to join me for a drink?”
“Sorry, I have to get to work.”
“Oh.” She ran her hungry gaze over him. “My, you are built. What line of work are you in?”
“SAS,” Tim said. “He’s on a secret mission.”
“Yeah,” Marty added. “Wheels up tomorrow morning.”
Alan looked at Marty. “You got that line from Sophie’s book.”
“How would you know?”
“Because the only wheels you know are on your car, and the only way you’d know when they go up is when it tips over.”
Bunny was practically slavering at the mouth. “You’re a soldier?”
“No.” Sam frowned at his friends. “I’m a nurse.”
Her expression went from awed to a whole lot less, but then she brightened. “You save lives?”
“Uh…” Sam startled to sidle away.
“Don’t be shy,” Alan said. “Bunny, Sam does important work.”
Uh-oh. Sam glared a warning at his friend.
Completely ignoring him, Alan added, “He works in the sexual health clinic.”
Oh God. “Alan!”
“Hey, she needs to know the truth.” Alan smiled. “He knows his way around the human body.”
Bunny flushed a little, her gaze growing eager. “Really?”
“Yep. He’s had his digit up so many bums checking prostates that he actually strained it last week.”
Marty grinned.
“Had to have a splint,” Tim added.
God help me. “Do you mind?” Sam said.
“Of course not. That’s why we’re still your friends.”
“Even though our little bum cheeks clamp together when you’re behind us.” Alan smiled at Bunny, who was looking a little sick. “So, shall we leave you two alone to get acquainted?”
But Bunny was made of tough stuff. She took a deep breath. “Sure.”
“Sorry. Work.” Seven though his every instinct screamed run! Sam smiled kindly.
“Okay. Wait here.” She hurried off.
“What is it with you and chicks?” Alan queried. “You’re more a rabbit than her name.”
“I don’t like being treated like a piece of meat.”
“I loved it.”
“You chased
them.”
“And I scored every time.”
“Not all the time,” Marty drawled. “Once we were in here with Mike, and I got this card from a cute sheila who-”
“Jesus, Marty, no one likes a braggart.” Alan inclined his head. “Wait. Juliet is coming back for Romeo.”
“Hold your position, soldier,” Tim said.
“No deserting in the face of the enemy,” Marty added.
While Sam wasn’t happy with his situation, his friends were getting a lot of amusement from it. They watched happily while Bunny handed him an embellished card with her name emblazoned across it in gold.
“Call me,” she said throatily. “Ill give you a special discount.”
Alan choked, Tim’s mouth fell open, and Marty actually took a step backwards. Sam was speechless.
Bunny winked and strolled away.
“Give me that card,” Alan demanded, and snatching it away from Sam, he studied it. “Good God, I think you just got propositioned by a hooker.”
“Is that legal?” Sam goggled at it. “I don’t think that’s legal.”
“She’s not a hooker.” Tim took a look at the card. “She’s an estate agent.”
“Oh.” Alan handed the card back. “But are you sure her discount was for a house?”
“Maybe it’s rental on her property,” Tim suggested.
They snickered.
Except Sam. He gave the card a look and sighed. Man, didn’t any woman see him as more than just a good body with a pretty face? He wasn’t blind, he knew he was attractive to women, but the way some approached him, it wasn’t seductive, it was downright sleazy.
Taking one look at his face, Alan slapped him on the back. “Come on, Sam. Let’s treat you to bloke hour. Forget the chicks, have some fun times with your friends instead.”
“Yeah.” Marty headed out of the gym. “Let’s go to my place and have a beer.”
“That’s not fun.” Tim followed him. “That’s degrading. You dress your dog in pink and it gives me the creeps. Men shouldn’t dress their dinky poodles in pink.”
“Says the man who has a cat for a son.”
“Al’s tough. He respects me. Your dinky poodle doesn’t respect you.”
“She loves me.”
“And that’s not creepy?”
They bickered all the way to the car.
“Cripes.” Alan got into the car. “How about we go to my place instead?”
At the mention of seeing his cousin again, Sam brightened. “What’s Soph doing?”
Seducing Sam Page 13
