Книга - Fatherhood Fever!

Fatherhood Fever!
Emma Darcy


Making babies… .His free-wheeling bachelor days behind him, Matt Davis is ready for family and fatherhood. And Peta Kelly seems to be the answer to his prayers. Not only is she provocative and outrageously sexy, she is also prepared to commit to marriage with the next decent man she meets.Making babies with Peta would be pure pleasure. But first Matt has to convince her that he wants more from their relationship than just her delectable body… . MAN Talk There are two sides to every story - now it's his turn!







“Are you ready to have a baby?” Matt asked (#u3683cd7e-7517-5d13-aa60-99da8ef9a937)Title Page (#ufeac9e7f-9f90-55de-b32c-d626c4de86fc)CHAPTER ONE (#u72969015-7e80-5e91-88a5-9704133f5efc)CHAPTER TWO (#ub73b8116-d4c5-54b1-9773-af90065868c4)CHAPTER THREE (#u7f6e8f3a-10b2-5a67-9c7b-fe3ba7dafebf)CHAPTER FOUR (#u37ba1f16-8671-5b70-81a6-5094d8663081)CHAPTER FIVE (#u3b09aa02-433b-5517-bd83-5d17a1935f0d)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“Are you ready to have a baby?” Matt asked

“What? I don’t think being a single parent is the best idea in the world.”

“I could be the father of your children,” he said blandly. “Might be your best chance.”

Peta’s mouth fell into a very sensual pout as she dragged in a deep breath. Matt was tempted to step forward and kiss her, get her mind moving on a positive path. He thought better of it.

“I’ve had a hard time finding a woman who wants to be a wife and mother.”

“You just want to have sex with me.”

“Can’t have kids without doing it,” he said cheerfully. “All I ask is that you give it some thought.”

Peta turned and marched off.

“See you at dinner,” Matt called after her. She didn’t reply, didn’t glance back. He didn’t expect her to. She was in shock. But, given time, the seeds he’d planted in her mind would start to grow. After all, he and she wanted the same thing.


Welcome to MAN TALK! A wonderful miniseries featuring some of your favorite Presents


authors—Charlotte Lamb, Sandra Field, Alison Kelly and Emma Darcy—all written from the hero’s point of view.

Find out what men really think about sex, love and relationships. And when these guys talk, you’ll want to listen.... This month it’s Emma Darcy’s turn to invite you to share in a little MAN TALK!






There are two sides to every relationship... and now it’s his turn!


Fatherhood Fever!

Emma Darcy










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHAPTER ONE

IF ONLY you’d give me a grandchild I’d have something to live for.

His mother’s words tapped a deep well of frustration. Matt Davis was so irritated by them, he headed for the open air and lit a cigarette, defiantly dragging in a soothing shot of nicotine and belligerently crushing the guilt of breaking his resolution to give up the hazardous habit of smoking. Right at this moment, a death wish didn’t seem so bad.

He strolled towards the garden, brooding over his failure to prompt his mother into doing something positive for herself. Ever since his father’s death, she’d been wallowing in a pit of depression, letting herself go, unable to summon the energy or interest to pursue an active life. Bringing her to this health farm had seemed like a good idea but it wasn’t working the miracle he’d hoped for. She was enjoying the pampering treatments he’d organised—trying out a Reiki massage right now—but it wasn’t raising any significant will to forge a new path for herself.

It was absurd to hang the rest of her life on his having children. There were plenty of other ways to fill the void of widowhood. She was only fifty-five, for God’s sake! And she could be so attractive when she was firing on all cylinders. His father wouldn’t have wanted her to mourn him forever. If she’d get out more, do things. A grandchild, of course, didn’t require her to do anything. It was more like a gift from heaven falling into her lap.

Except it wasn’t quite so easy to provide!

Matt paused at the stone steps into the garden and took another angry drag on the smouldering cigarette. He watched the smoke drift into the cool, crisp air and swirl away on the wind. Gone, he thought, like the time of his mother’s generation when women were content to be wives and mothers. Those he’d been closely involved with regarded having children as an unwelcome curtailment of their freedom, not to be entered into until they were ready.

His mouth twisted in savage irony. He was ready. At thirty-three, he was more than ready to become a father. He’d done the freewheeling bachelor bit and was finding the life increasingly empty. His ambition on the work-front was more than satisfied. The merchandising business he’d started and developed was now a solid money-spinner, ensuring financial security for the foreseeable future. He wasn’t exactly lonely, but the appeal of having his own family to share everything with was strong.

He was sure he’d be a good dad, like his own father. The thought brought a flood of memories and a sudden bolt of grief. His mother wasn’t the only one who missed the old man. Matt heaved a sigh to relieve the ache of loss and sternly told himself life moved on. It had to. There was no going back to those happy times with his father.

Unfortunately, his mother’s simplistic belief that he could get himself married and start a family any time he liked was pure fantasy land in this day and age. Finding a woman willing to cooperate in such an old-fashioned life plan was akin to finding a needle in a haystack.

Everything else—careers, travel, living life to the full—came ahead of having a baby. Motherhood was too big a commitment of time and self to take on until a woman was ready. Both Janelle and Skye had told him so. To achieve the desirable end of fatherhood, it seemed he’d either have to find a woman in her early twenties who didn’t know any better, or one in her late thirties whose biological clock was ticking. Neither idea was overly appealing.

He wanted...

The roar of a motorbike accelerating up the driveway blasted his train of thought. His head swivelled to the loud beast breaking the peace and quiet of the health farm. It was a shiny red, middleweight sportster. Matt automatically concentrated on identifying its make as it zoomed into the turning circle for arrivals—a Ducati 600 SS—very stylish Italian job.

It halted within a few metres of where he stood, still paused at the entrance to the garden. Only when the rider started to dismount did he realise it was a woman. His mind instantly clicked into appreciation mode. The black leathers moulded a fantastic female body, perfectly proportioned, deliciously curved and dynamically packed. A kick of excitement stirred hormones he’d thought had become jaded. This was one very sexy woman.

He watched with lively anticipation as she removed her helmet, then couldn’t stop himself from staring outright at the stunning revelation of her face and hair. His riveted gaze did manage to register the pretty, rather gamine appeal of a delicately pointed chin and widely spaced cornflower blue eyes, separated by a finely flared nose and a lush mouth, but the hair totally transfixed him. Like a beacon it was, in blazing technicolour.

He’d never seen such vivid hair in his life. The gleaming copper cap was interrupted by two swathes of iridescent orange and gold, falling in precise bands around her head from a side parting. They glowed like two halos framing her face, set off by the copper bangs following the curve of her cheeks and the copper crown behind them.

The effect stimulated all sorts of wild ideas. This woman was not just sexy. She was dynamite—flaunting her daring, dabbling with danger, defying conventional standards, dumping any care of how others saw her, determined on dancing to her own tune, wherever it led her. She threw out a challenge that stirred more than Matt’s hormones. It fired his blood and sizzled every sensible thought out of his brain.

He wanted...

“Okay to leave the bike here while I book in at reception?”

Her voice cut into the gathering maelstrom of desire, jolting him back to the real world. The bright blue eyes were regarding him derisively and Matt had the uncomfortable impression she knew precisely the nature of her impact on him and was darkly amused by it. Unaccustomed to being caught staring at anyone, he blathered his reply.

“Sure. It’s safely out of the way of other incoming vehicles.”

His voice sounded as though it was scraped out of a gravel pit. Very uncool.

Her mouth curled into a mocking smile. “Cheating, I see.”

“What?” His mind had lost a gear somewhere.

“No smoking at this health farm,” she tossed at him before turning to unstrap a bag from the bike.

He looked down at the offending cigarette, still alight between his fingers. He barely stopped the impulse to throw it away. Littering the ground with a burning butt would really be reprehensible. “I’m not hurting anyone, smoking outside,” he excused.

“Guys always justify their cheating.”

“And women don’t?” he retorted, niggled by her cynical comment.

“I can’t see any women out here polluting the pure crystalline air we’re paying to breathe.” She hefted the released bag onto her back and swung to eye him up and down consideringly. “But maybe you’re staff, not paying at all. Aerobics instructor? Masseur?”

“Guest,” he answered shortly, finding himself standing straighter under the boldly open appraisal of his length and breadth and the amount of muscle outlined by his tracksuit.

“For a macho man like you,” she drawled, “this health farm must be a happy hunting ground. A bunch of women on the loose, needing to be fixed up.”

Matt could not find his tongue. She stood like a provocative witch, her head tilted to one side, hair flaming around it, one hand holding the strap of her bag over her shoulder, the other planted on a seductively jutting hip, legs apart in a challenging stance, her black-leathered body taunting him with its sexy self-confidence.

“I bet you’re just awesome when you strip,” she went on, her eyes sparking with cold blue lights. “What any woman would call a gorgeous hunk. Do you work out with weights in the gym?”

It was a payback for the way he’d stared at her, pure and simple. When her gaze dropped pointedly to his crotch, Matt found his tongue very promptly. “I’m here with my mother.”

It was a dumb thing to say, but at least it broke the focus of her attention on a highly volatile physical area. She looked up in startled bemusement. “A Mummy’s boy?” Laughter bubbled out of her throat.

It fizzed through Matt’s brain, exploding whatever common sense he had. “As maddening as my mother might be, I happen to care about her,” he bit out, his jaw clenching over how foolish she made him feel.

“Well, good for you.”

The sudden burst of warmth from her confused him further.

Sheer impishness shone from her broad grin and she had the temerity to wink confidentially at him. “I hope you’ve got the stamina to keep on caring.”

Then she was off, striding past him up the path to reception. Like an irresistible magnet she pulled his gaze after her. The brilliant copper cap bounced. Her jaunty walk kept changing the gleam on her leatherclad bottom, highlighting its cute cheekiness. Her legs seemed to spring with exciting vitality.

He yelped and dropped the cigarette. Damned thing had burnt his fingers. He bent to scoop up the smouldering butt and when he straightened, the glass doors to reception had swallowed up the tantalising torment that had invaded his space, turning him every which way.

He wondered what she’d be like in bed. He figured the sheets would be smoking with the heat she’d generate. He sure as hell wouldn’t be thinking of having a cigarette. Or needing one.

With a self-derisive little laugh, he strolled on into the garden and buried the evidence of his cheating, vowing once again to stop the habit. He dragged in several deep breaths of the pure, crystalline air of the southern tablelands. The health farm was only two hours from Sydney, but it could have been a world away. He should be appreciating the total lack of pollution here.

A macho man like you... Was she impressed? Attracted to him? He hadn’t been looking for a fling with any of the women guests, hadn’t felt drawn to any of them, either, but this recent arrival certainly had him ticking over. He wondered how long she’d be staying and if he could keep his mother’s eagle eye from noticing a change in his chemistry.

He glanced at the flamboyant, red Ducati. That was her baby. No way was the hell’s angel who rode it ready for motherhood. He should give her a miss. She was bound to be trouble. If he got involved with her, his mother would look dolefully at him and complain, “You’re just not trying, Matt.”

If he wanted fatherhood, and he did—he really did—picking up with the wrong woman was stupidly self-defeating. On the other hand, a spin around the block on a Ducati wouldn’t be wasting a lot of time. It might be time well spent. Excitingly spent.

A man only lived once.

There was no age limit on fatherhood.

It wasn’t good for his mother to think a grandchild would answer everything.

Besides, he was not—definitely not—a Mummy’s boy!


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!


CHAPTER THREE

“DOESN’T look like anyone else is coming,” Matt cheerfully remarked.

Peta had glumly arrived at the same conclusion. They’d been warming up on the tennis court for ten minutes, waiting for others to appear for the round robin. Apparently the rest of the guests were giving it a miss this afternoon. Which left her alone with him if she wanted to stay and play.

“Care for a game of singles?” he asked, the eagerness in his voice a dead-set giveaway. He wanted to show her how good he was. Macho man strutting his stuff. In more ways than one, no doubt.

Peta wondered if the workout he’d give her on the tennis court was worth the aggravation of dealing with a come-on and decided it probably was. She was a bit stiff from the ride this morning. A good hard game of singles, followed by a swim in the heated indoor pool, then the warm relaxation of a hot spa tub, a light dinner, the meditation session with Thai monks... surely she’d sleep like the dead tonight.

“Okay,” she agreed.

Predictably he started stripping off for the real action. The gentle warm-up ralleys had hardly been a test of skill, merely a stroking of the ball back and forth over the net. Peta watched him remove his tracksuit with cynical eyes, refusing to be impressed. She’d been fooled by physical attraction once too often. Never again, she fiercely vowed.

Not that he had Giorgio’s lean elegance. Matt Davis was a much bigger man, his tall frame amply packed with muscle. However he did share the same air of ingrained self-assurance, quick to sum up an object of desire and confident it was within his grasp any time he cared to reach out. Peta had instantly been struck by it and subsequently goaded into an uncharacteristic show of defiant provocation... Look all you want, Mister, but I’m not up for grabs!

All the same, he did have a certain charismatic maleness that no woman could completely ignore. Strength, Peta decided, was his main asset. Matt Davis looked capable of standing up to anyone or anything. It wasn’t just his powerful build, either. Peta sensed the kind of character that would take on any business and make a success of it.

He had a strong face, every feature carved with definition; a squarish, determined chin, a mouth full of straight white teeth, a nose that seemed to flare with passion, rather prominent cheekbones providing an emphatic underlining for surprisingly light grey eyes... very luminous and piercingly direct eyes shining from between rows of thick black lashes. Straight brows added to his no-nonsense look, as did the thick, closely cropped black hair.

Most people would see him as the solid, dependable type, but Peta wasn’t about to trust that image. She’d seen and felt the simmer of sexual speculation emanating from him and no way was she about to fulfil the fantasies flying through his head. Giorgio was definitely the last man who would ever lead her down the garden path, whispering sweet nothings that came to precisely that. Nothing. From now on she was taking charge of her life and she was not going to have her judgment seduced by sex appeal.

“Speaking of singles...are you?” she asked, looking for feet of clay under the magnificent masculinity now revealed in navy shorts and a white sports shirt. His tan, she noted, was not of the sun-lamp variety. It had the natural glow of healthy outdoors activity. However, that did not preclude lots of indoor activity, as well.

He frowned incomprehension. “Pardon?”

“Single, unattached, on the loose?” she rolled out with a quizzical little smile. “I mean the wife could be taking a separate vacation while you do your filial duty. Or you might have an understanding lover sidelined until further notice...”

“No,” he cut into her flippant little speech. “I’m not in a relationship at the moment. Haven’t been for quite some time.”

“Prefer to be fly-by-night, do you?” she tossed at him.

He hesitated. “Is that what you prefer?”

She arched her eyebrows and shook her head. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about air hostesses and pilots.”

“I was asking about you in particular.”

“And I was asking about you. Some guys are take it and run specialists.”

She heard the bitter edge on her voice and saw it give him pause for thought. She didn’t care. If he was of that ilk, let him be warned the only thing he’d get from her was frustration.

“That’s not my style. Though I guess there could be circumstances that might influence me,” he answered slowly, his eyes sharply scanning hers.

“Well, it’s my guess you do whatever suits you, Matt Davis. Like the salt and the cigarette,” she said dryly.

And like Giorgio, keeping her on a string with a stack of cheating lies. Two years she’d wasted on him while he’d kept his real life hidden from her, holding out the promise of a future that was never going to happen. She’d hung on every flight to Rome, wild for the intense romance he showered on her, and all she’d been to him was a bit of fluff on the side.

She thought of her sister and the husband who adored her and their new baby and felt almost sick with envy. Why couldn’t she meet a decent man who didn’t shy clear of commitment? Just the mention of the word, baby, over lunch, had made Matt Davis bolt for a different tack in the conversation.

Her eyes flashed icy derision at the man who’d taken one look at her today and got bed on his brain.

“You want to know about me? I’ll tell you straight before you start nursing any ideas of fun and games.

The next guy who wants to get in my pants will have to put a wedding ring on my finger first!”

His jaw visibly sagged.

Peta smiled. “Ready to play now?”


CHAPTER FOUR

A WEDDING ring?

She wanted marriage? Actively wanted it?

The tennis ball whizzed past Matt so fast he was left totally flat-footed, his racquet still balanced in both hands. Her first serve and she’d aced him!

He saluted her, graciously conceding her the point. She grinned, her face alight with triumphant pleasure at surprising him. Her jaunty walk to the other side of the service line gave warning this had not been a fluke shot. Peta Kelly could really play. Strong arm for a woman, too. Great coordination. He wished she would take her tracksuit off so he could watch her fantastic body in action. The baggy trousers and sweatshirt frustrated his...

The next ball shot down the centre line, leaving him standing again!

“Okay! So I’ve got the cannonball express on the other side of the net,” he remarked appreciatively.

She laughed. “Should I slow up for you?”

“No. I’ve just got to adjust my pace a bit.”

A lot, as it turned out. She was dynamite on the court. Not only could she hit the ball with considerable power, her tactical play was terrific, running him around, lobbing over his head, killing him with deft drop shots. He’d just managed to catch up with her at three games each when she decided to strip off and his concentration was blown to pieces.

Underneath the tracksuit was one of those jazzy little aerobics outfits, stretch shorts and a midriff top in shiny lime green and lemon, very tart and spicy. She blitzed him for the rest of the set and Matt couldn’t bring himself to care. People talked about poetry in motion. Her cute sexy bottom, her flashing, fabulous legs, and her bountiful bouncing breasts would have made the most illiterate man in the world wax lyrical.

“Had enough?” she asked sweetly, having trounced him six games to three.

Matt couldn’t help blurting out what was on his mind. “Are you counting on a long celibate period or are you ready for marriage right now?”

It stunned her speechless for several seconds. They’d met at the net after the last point played and he could see her cornflower eyes glaze in disbelief at the up-front question. She recovered slowly, the glaze giving way to a mocking challenge.

“Given the right man, I’d marry him like a shot. The problem is in finding him. At my age, that’s akin to finding a needle in a haystack. The best ones are already taken and the rest have other agendas.”

A touch of bitterness there. Matt figured she’d been recently let down and was still hurting from it. “How old are you?”

She shrugged, uncaring what he thought of her. “I’m twenty-eight and the years are getting faster.”

“Not so old that you’re out of the race.”

“My sister is twenty-six, married to a great guy, and she’s just had her first baby. Right now I’m feeling very old, very alone, and totally depressed with life in general. A roll in the hay will not fix me up so don’t bother thinking it. On the other hand, another set of tennis...”

“You’ve got it.”

He grinned to himself as he headed down to the end of the court, ready to play again. He had her pegged now. She was using him as a whipping boy for the guy who’d punched out her self-esteem. Several things she’d said over lunch fell into place. Dying her hair I made her feel better. No one was going to take her for a blond bimbo anymore. Matt figured her last lover had done a real number on her, no doubt about it.

But she’d come out fighting.

Choosing such flamboyant colours for her hair was not only a rebellious statement but an aggressive one. She was showing plenty of aggression on the tennis court, too. As for riding a Ducati...Peta Kelly had a lot of guts. No way was she going to hide in a hole and lick her wounds. Her attitude reeked of thumbing her nose at the whole damned world.

Matt admired her for it. He’d always admired people who picked themselves off the floor and got on with life. He wished his mother would do it. With any luck, Peta Kelly might be a good influence on her. She might also be the needle in the haystack he’d been looking for.

The lust she stirred gathered an exhilarating edge of excitement. He played particularly well in the second set of tennis, giving her the workout she wanted and enjoying every minute of it. Sweat made her even sexier. He could see her being very athletic in bed, not the passive type expecting him to do all the work. Making babies with her could be a real pleasure.

He won the set six games to three, matching her previous victory.

“Found your rhythm,” she remarked dryly as they met again at the net.

“Feeling good,” he agreed. “Are you ready to have a baby?”

“What?”

“Like your sister. You said she had a baby recently.”

A sigh of exasperation. “She happens to be married. I don’t think being a single parent is the best idea in the world.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Every kid needs a dad as well as a mum. But suppose you find your right man and he puts a wedding ring on your finger, would you be prepared to start a family straight away?”

“Yes, I would.” Very emphatic.

“What about your career?”

“I’d give it up.”

“Just like that?”

“It’s only a job,” she declared defiantly. “You serve a million people, clean up after them...what’s so great about that? I’d rather serve my own children.” She made a rueful grimace. “Though I could probably get work in airline administration if we needed the money. With the cost of living what it is, most families can only survive on a double income these days.”

“Wouldn’t you miss the glamour of travel?”

A scornful look. “Believe me! When you’ve been all the places I’ve been, what you want most is a place to call home. And all it entails.”

“Could become boring,” he suggested.

She glared at him. “I’d expect you to say that.”

“Why do you ride a Ducati if you’d like boring?”

Her eyes glittered. “That bike is my baby. I talk to it and it responds to me. It doesn’t know how to cheat, either.”

“Ah! A baby substitute.” He smiled happily. “You really do want them, don’t you?”

“What’s it to you?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, probably anticipating he intended making fun of her.

“A fascinating point of view,” he answered truthfully. “Most of the women of my acquaintance seem to think kids would be a hell of a drag on them. Too big a commitment. Lifelong responsibility. No telling how much they’d mess up their other interests...”

“If you run with the fast crowd, what can you expect?” she said sardonically.

He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right You certainly represent a different slice of life.”

“You bet I do. As far as I’m concerned, family is the real world. The rest is fairy floss, here today, gone tomorrow.”

Matt found this philosophy highly encouraging. Peta Kelly was not only a spunky fighter, she was a stayer in the family stakes. “So how many kids would you like to have?” he asked, getting down to the nitty-gritty.

“A whole brood of them,” she tossed at him belligerently. Her chin went up and she marched over to the bench seat where she’d dropped her tracksuit. Having set her racquet aside, she began pulling on the baggy trousers, ruining the lime-lemon symphony for Matt.

“No more tennis today?”

“You got even. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I don’t mind if you beat me. I enjoy playing with you.”

“I’ve had enough.” The sweatshirt completed the cover up. She turned to him with a forced little smile. “Thanks for the game.”

“My pleasure.” On many levels.

“It was good,” she conceded, then picked up her racquet and headed for the gate.

Matt swiftly collected his own tracksuit, slung it over his shoulder, and joined her for the walk back to the main building, blithely ignoring her dismissal of him. He saw no reason for her not to be sociable until they had to part for their separate accommodation.

“Just for the record, what do you consider a brood?”

She huffed and slid him a glittering look. “Six,” she said silkily.

Quite a number in this day and age. Rather daunting, in fact. Very expensive, too. Just as well he could afford a big house and whatever help might be required.

“Want to peel off now?” she asked.

“What?” The provocative question was highly surprising, coming after her reading him the riot act about getting into her pants.

She stopped, planting a hand on her hip as she surveyed him with derisive disbelief. “Why aren’t you taking to your heels? I’m a broody hen. A homebody. Not your type. I don’t care that you look like Tarzan. I’m totally deaf to the call of the wild. You haven’t got a hope of changing my mind.”

Right! She hadn’t been asking him to strip. She expected him to be scared off by the prospect of having to handle six kids. He would have to show her he was a man of mettle.

“I can see now why you think twenty-eight is old,” he said seriously. “If you want six kids, you’d need to get started on them straight away. Give yourself time to space them out a bit so you can enjoy them as individuals.”

She threw up her hands, almost hitting herself with the tennis racquet. “Why are you persisting with this?” she cried in exasperation.

“I like to understand people.”

“Well, I don’t want six. I only said that to...to...”

“See how I’d react?” he helped.

“Yes.”

“How many do you really want?”

“Four, if you must know. That would be the ideal.” Her face drooped despondently as she looked off into the distance. “But I guess I’d make do with two if I had to. Probably lucky to have two, the way I’m going.”

“Never give up on a dream,” Matt advised, thinking four was really a more manageable number. Two boys and two girls would be just fine. A well-balanced family.

She sighed and resumed walking.

Matt figured he needed to correct her impression of him. The image of Tarzan was not to his liking. Though he had to admit the idea of carrying Peta Kelly off to a tree house and mating with her on the spot had a very strong appeal. She stirred quite a few primitive instincts. He’d like to punch out the guy who’d soured her on men. On the other hand, he suspected violence would not win her approval.

“I’m not an apeman,” he stated as a matter of fact. “I’m actually quite civilised. My mother house-trained me from a very young age. She’d vouch for that if you asked her.”

It earned a wisp of a smile. “You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?”

“Yes. She took my father’s death hard. It’s been almost two years now and she makes no effort to get over it.”

“She must have loved him very much.”

He heard the sympathy in her voice and frowned. Had she really loved the guy who’d done the dirty on her? Matt didn’t like that idea.

“Don’t give my mother sympathy. It’ll only make her worse,” he warned.

She glanced sharply at him. “You’re a hard man.”

“No. A practical one. Sympathy feeds her grief which she uses as an excuse to indulge herself in misery. And might I add, for your benefit, it’s a futile waste of time nursing a broken heart over a guy who wasn’t worth loving.”

Her eyes whirled in confusion. “Your father wasn’t worth loving?”

“He was. I meant the scumbag who cheated on you.”

“Oh!” Resentment flared. “I’d take it kindly if you minded your own business, Matt Davis, and left me to mind my own.”

“You make it my business when you put me on the same level as him.”

“That’s it!” She wheeled on him and stamped her foot. Her blue eyes were laser bolts, searing him with fury. “I don’t have to take any more from you and I won’t.”

“I could be the father of your children,” he said blandly.

“What?” The laser bolts lost direction.

“Might be your best chance.”

Her mouth fell into a very sensual pout as she dragged in a deep breath. Matt was tempted to step forward and kiss her, get her mind moving on a positive path. He thought better of it, remembering the fierce stipulation of the wedding ring. He didn’t want to scare her off. He threw in another persuader for good measure.

“I think four’s an ideal number, too.”

Her breath whooshed out. She backed away, wagging a finger at him. “You...are making a fool of me.”

“Nope. Just being practical.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve had a hard time finding a woman who wants to be a wife and mother.”

“I’m not listening to this.”

“Think about it.”

“You just want to have sex with me.”

“Can’t have kids without doing it,” he said cheerfully.

“You’re a cheat!”

“I’ll give up smoking but be damned if I’ll give up salt.”

“You stay right here until I’m inside and out of sight. I’ve had enough of you.”

“Facing the truth is always difficult. Go on then. All I ask is you give it some thought.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not likely to forget this.”

“Good!”

She turned and marched off towards the door into the gym. She looked great with her bottom stuck out and her shoulders thrust back, emphasising the highly feminine curve of her spine.

“See you at dinner,” he called after her, feeling rather like the Big Bad Wolf who wanted to gobble up Little Red Riding Hood. Peta Kelly was the most stimulating woman he’d ever met. And the most delectable.

She didn’t reply, didn’t glance back. He didn’t expect her to. She was in shock at the moment. But given time, the seeds he’d planted in her mind would start to grow. They had fertile ground. After all, he and she wanted the same thing. Any reasonable person would see that.


CHAPTER FIVE

ONCE Peta was lost to his view and the pleasure of watching her was at an end for the time being, Matt decided on a stroll around the grounds. Best not to run into Peta again for a while, even accidentally. She needed some space to get things in proper perspective. Dinner would come soon enough.

He pulled on his tracksuit and headed up towards the pine forest From there he could descend to the garden in front of the cottage where he and his mother had adjoining rooms. It occurred to him, as he walked, it was imperative to find out how long Peta was staying at the health farm. Today was Tuesday. His week here was up on Friday though he could probably manage to extend the booking over the coming weekend. He’d talk to Reception about it.

Without any conscious thought, Matt drew the packet of cigarettes and lighter from his trouser pocket and actually had one of the death-sticks—as his mother called them—between his lips, ready to light up, when he realised what he was doing. Habit was an insidious thing.

One more couldn’t hurt, he reasoned, but the image of scornful blue eyes suddenly made him squirm over the urge to indulge himself. Damn it! He’d said he’d stop smoking and he would. Giving Peta Kelly any cause to accuse him of cheating again would muddy the issues between them. Besides, if he was going to have kids, he had to do the right thing by them.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, broke it open and scattered the tobacco on the ground. He destroyed the remaining ones in the packet in like manner, then shoved the resultant rubbish in his pocket for later disposal in a garbage bin. Temptation dealt with. Resolution affirmed. He walked on with a springier step, breathing in the pure air of virtue.

Back at the cottage, he took a long hot shower, washing his hair to ensure Peta could not smell any smoke on him. He gave his teeth a good brushing, too, rinsing out his mouth with the peppermint flavour of the toothpaste. After all, a kiss was just a kiss, not an assault on her underwear. If the opportunity presented itself and she was willing to try him out...Matt grinned to himself. He bet a kiss with her would be dynamite.

He changed into clean clothes; jeans, T-shirt, and the sweater his mother always commented on. It was grey with two broad stripes of red and royal blue across the chest and sleeves. If his mother thought it looked so great on him, Peta might, too. No harm in stacking the cards his way.

He wondered what Peta would wear to dinner. The bag she’d brought with her wasn’t large, more the size of an overnighter. The thought made a visit to Reception even more pressing, though surely she’d be staying longer than one night.

He checked his watch as he left his room. His mother’s afternoon appointments for the Face’n’Feet treatment and manicure would be over by now. He knocked on her door. No reply. Probably having a cup of tea in the main lounge room, he decided, and headed straight for Reception.

“Hi!” He flashed his most appealing smile at the woman behind the desk. Her name tag read Sharon.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Davis?” she responded warmly.

“A matter of desperate need, Sharon. A Miss Peta Kelly checked in today. Can you tell me how long she’s here for?”

She bridled. “We’re not supposed to give out that information, Mr. Davis.”

He put a rueful tilt into his smile. “As a concession for the only male around? I forgot to ask her myself and we had a cracking game of tennis this afternoon. Best partner I’ve had since I arrived. I was hoping she was staying until Friday, too.”

“Well... since you’re a suffering male, surrounded by the female gender, I’ll look it up for you.” She checked her book. “You’re in luck, Mr. Davis. Miss Kelly took the Petite Pamper Package, Tuesday to Friday.”

“Great!” He grinned and saluted her. “I owe you one, Sharon.”

She laughed. “We’re here to serve.”

Aglow with satisfaction, Matt breezed into the lounge room in search of his mother. It was a friendly room. Deeply cushioned sofas and armchairs and footstools were spread around numerous coffee tables loaded with a variety of books and magazines. In one corner, a bench held all the provisions for a variety of herbal and ordinary teas. In another, a three thousand piece jigsaw puzzle was laid out on a table as an ongoing challenge for any guest to try their hand at it. A piano sat in a third, inviting anyone to play. Best of all was the massive fireplace at the end of the room where burning logs crackled a warm welcome.

Good room for a family, Matt thought, as he strolled through it. A sociable room. No television. He particularly liked the piano. He’d had a few piano lessons as a boy, until they got in the way of football training and other sports. He regretted giving it up. The electronic keyboard he’d bought in recent years gave him a lot of enjoyment, but if he acquired a big house, he’d get a piano. His kids would have fun banging on it, just as he had.

His mother was sitting close to the fire, looking down at her hands spread out in front of her and wriggling her fingers. Having seen Skye and Janelle perform this curious action, Matt knew the nail polish from the manicure wasn’t dry yet. What did surprise him was the rather smugly admiring smile on his mother’s face.

“Pretty colour on your nails, Mum,” he remarked, drawing her attention to his presence.

She looked up, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “It’s called Perfect Peach. It does look nice against my skin tone, doesn’t it? The manicurist said it would.”

He lowered himself into the chair next to her, smiling his approval. “You should buy it. Better still, go and have a manicure every week.”

“Yes. I think I will. She dipped my hands into a wax bath and it’s made them feel soft and silky, not old at all.”

This was good news. “You aren’t old, Mum. No reason to feel it, either,” he pressed pointedly.

“I might try getting my hair coloured, too.” She held up her hands to assess them again. “Not as bright as my nails, but something like this peachy shade. It does suit my skin.”

This was even better news, taking a positive interest in her appearance. “Great idea!” Matt enthused. He reminded himself to give his secretary a box of her favourite Belgian chocolates. Her health farm idea was turning out to be a winner, in more ways than one.

“Oh! You’ve got your really classy sweater on.”

“Mmmh...”

“Did you have a nice game of tennis with Peta, dear?”

“Yes, I did. She’s a top ‘A’ grade player. Almost wiped me off the court.”

His mother looked delighted. “How wonderful to find someone who can match you. It’s so important to be able to play together. Your father and I...”

Matt switched off from the list of fond recollections, his mind wandering to the games he’d really like to play with Peta Kelly.

“Where does she live?”

He snapped out of his fantasies. “Who?”

His mother sighed in vexation. “Peta.”

“Haven’t got a clue.”

An exasperated roll of the eyes. “Where is she now?”

He shrugged his ignorance. “She went off on her own after our tennis match.”

“I don’t know where your mind is, Matt.” Her tone was loaded with reproof. “You meet an extremely attractive woman. She’s competent enough to hold a responsible job, athletic, obviously very bright, and the right age for you, too. It’s opportunity handed to you on a plate and you just let it go past you.”

“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.





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