Just for Fun Page 7

  She was ready to go, he saw. Already made-up, and dressed in casual but snug crop pants that flattered her willowy, elegant figure. “Done with this?” she asked, reaching for his plate.

  He held onto it. “In a minute. Geez, Claud, you could at least let me finish first.” He took another sip of tea, looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the terraced garden, the sun shining on the foliage in the large square planters set around the spacious patio area. “It’s a gorgeous day out. Want to bunk off here, run away to the beach with me?”

  “Mum’s expecting us,” she reminded him.

  “Maybe we could do it tomorrow,” he suggested.

  “That won’t work. You’ll be lying on the couch half the day.”

  “Maybe she could come here. While I lie on the couch. Come on,” he coaxed. “We could swim, fool around in the water. Find a quiet spot to get up to a bit of no good.”

  “You have a game tonight.”

  “And I need to relax, get right for that. Long Bay in the sunshine sounds perfect.”

  “It’ll be full of people,” she objected. “If I wanted to watch Polynesians play rugby, I’d be coming tonight, wouldn’t I?”

  “Sorry,” she amended at his shocked expression. “It’s been a long week. I’m getting a lot of pressure on the Fonterra deal. And all the wedding details . . .” She trailed off. “I need to get the guest list sorted. I need to tick this off the list, make some progress.”

  “If it’s really Zack you’re upset about, we should discuss it,” he said. “We hardly got started, the other night.”

  “Nothing to discuss. Not till you get the results, and talk to Oliver again. Are you going to get ready to go? We need to leave in fifteen minutes.” She motioned at him, and he heard the click. “Get a move on, Nic, or we’ll be late.”

  “Did you just snap your fingers?” he asked incredulously.

  Her defenses came up in a flash. “You’re being so slow. Finish your toast and get dressed, please. We need to go.”

  “Don’t snap your fingers at me,” he said quietly. “And don’t talk to me like I’m a kid. I know you aren’t too happy with me just now, but I hate that. Both things. Please don’t do them again.”

  He was looking out a different window an hour later, but still wishing he were at the beach. Sitting in his future mother-in-law’s painfully correct lounge, filled with the latest modern decorating trends, from the inevitable black leather couches to the completely transparent Plexiglas coffee table.

  “I need at least eighteen more spots for clients,” Claudia was saying. “I can’t see any way to cut this down. Nic, do you really have to invite so many of your teammates?”

  “Yes,” he said briefly.

  “I understand you want your friends there,” Elizabeth, Claudia’s mother, said in a tone that was obviously meant to be soothing, but that set Nic’s teeth on edge. As if he were a recalcitrant child who needed coaxing. “Maybe we could free up some spots if everyone didn’t bring a partner.”

  “You want me to tell them they can’t bring their partners?”

  “Of course not,” Claudia put in hastily. “Not if they’re married, or have a real girlfriend. But does every twenty-two-year-old have to bring a date? I can understand inviting the senior players, anyway. But between the Blues, and the Chiefs, and the All Blacks . . . “

  “They can bring whoever they want,” Nic said. “I’m not going to quiz them on their bloody relationship status. I’ve played with some of those blokes for four years now. They’re mates. Look. I gave you two hundred fifty spots. I only have a hundred fifty. Use your two-fifty however you want, but my teammates are invited. With any date they may want to bring. My list is sorted.”

  He looked out the window again. Long Bay, he thought with another inward sigh. He wouldn’t go so far this afternoon, of course. Wouldn’t have time. He’d take an hour to walk the Narrow Neck shoreline, then sit with his exercise book, quietly visualize everything he planned to do tonight. He’d need the time anyway to put his mind right, after a couple hours of this. The beach would have been so much better. Especially if there’d been a bit of fun attached.

  The weekend chores could wait until tomorrow, Emma had decided. This would be a special night for Zack anyway, his first Blues game, so why not make the whole day fun? She hadn’t had any trouble talking Zack into a trip to the beach, though she hadn’t been able to round up any adult companionship.

  “I’ve had enough kids for one week,” Lucy had declared when Emma had invited her along during their ferry ride home from their early-morning gym class. “No offense, Em. You know I love my nephew. But I’m looking forward to some serious adult entertainment this afternoon.”

  “Told you the thigh soreness would get better,” Emma said with a smile.

  “Plus, Tom’s loving the new me,” Lucy said with satisfaction. “Nothing like a bit of honest appreciation to get the motor running.”

  “Not to mention the body confidence,” Emma pointed out. “That’s probably not hurting either.”

  “True. I’m definitely getting more comfortable with the lights on. And wearing what he likes, too.” Lucy stretched out a leg in its spandex capris, pointed her toe. “Look, calf muscles.”

  “But you can’t have any body confidence issues,” she continued. “No excuse there. So what’s the story with your love life?”

  Emma turned to look at the wake disappearing behind them as the ferry sliced through the harbour toward Devonport. “My what? That fell overboard a ways back, I’m afraid.”

  “Why? You used to date a fair amount, when you lived with me.”

  “I still do, some, but it isn’t much. Having to get someone to mind Zack is part of it. But it seems like it’s getting tougher anyway. How excited do you think most guys in their twenties are to go out with somebody who has a six-year-old? A lot of them have barely moved out of their own parents’ houses. They’re living in a flat with three other guys. Zack and I are way outside their comfort zone.”

  “What about older guys, then?”

  “Yeah, they might be living in Grown-Up World. Though I mostly know engineers these days. Bad enough if he’s going to be ten years older than me. I don’t need him to be boring too. I don’t need somebody else who eats the same breakfast every morning, and thinks I’m flaky because my kitchen table isn’t cleaned off.”

  “Lots of people eat the same breakfast every morning,” Lucy objected. “I pretty much do.”

  “I like a little spontaneity. Sue me. David always had the same exact three spoonfuls of plain yoghurt on his muesli. And then he’d take this little knife, and slice his banana in half. Half a banana, every day. I used to want to scream at him, just eat the whole frigging banana! Or, I don’t know, get all wild and crazy and go for strawberries! I wanted to grab that banana and throw it right out the kitchen window.”

  “You had a lot of hostility there,” Lucy commented. “Good thing he dumped you.”

  Emma laughed. “They sent me a birth announcement, can you believe it? They waited to have a baby until she finished her Ph.D. Of course they did. And who knows what they did to get it timed so perfectly. Born at the start of the summer holidays.”

  “I shudder to think,” Lucy admitted. They grinned at each other in perfect accord as they stood to exit the ferry, docking now. “Point taken. No engineers. But maybe one of Tom’s mates?”

  “Like Mr. Sucktoes?” Emma asked, causing heads to turn in the boarding queue, and both sisters to burst out laughing.

  “OK, the foot fetish was a surprise,” Lucy conceded when they were free of the crowd and walking along the wooden wharf together. “What are the odds of that happening again, though? Isolated disaster. I’ll make Tom vet them better for kinkiness next time.”

  “Well, bad kinkiness.”

  “Is there a good kind?” Lucy asked, staring at her sister.

  Emma shrugged and smiled, waited till Lucy popped the lock on the car, then swung in with her gym bag.
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  “Don’t answer that,” Lucy decided. “TMI.”

  So that was no Lucy on the beach trip. Graham’s mum Stephanie was a washout, too. “I think that cold of Heather’s has turned into an ear infection,” she’d sighed on the phone. “Looks like another fab Saturday in the doctor’s office.”

  “Let me take Graham,” Emma urged. “Then at least you’ll only have the one.”

  “Thanks,” Stephanie said. “I owe you.”

  “Nah. It all evens out.”

  Now she sat at a picnic table with her grid-lined sketchbook, working on a design and casting an occasional eye at the distant play structure where Zack and Graham were happily scrambling, climbing, and taking turns zipping down the long flying fox with the other kids. She found her attention straying as well to the group of young men playing an enthusiastic game of touch rugby in an open space nearby. It would be exciting to see Nic play at Eden Park tonight, she had to admit. Zack wasn’t the only one looking forward to that performance.

  Some of the guys here didn’t look too bad with their shirts off, she decided. But none could hold a candle to Nic, the way he’d been in Fiji. Brown and hard-muscled, impressive even then. He’d added a few more kilos of power in the years since, she’d noticed. The shoulders and thighs might be a bit bulkier now. His arms, too. Her gaze became abstracted as her mind drifted to those powerful forearms, the bit of bicep showing beneath the hem of his T-shirt sleeves, all she’d really seen of him so far. She’d bet the rest of him still looked as good as ever, though.

  She glanced across at the water, the long stretch of beach that gave Long Bay its name. Pity she hadn’t been able to arrange some additional adult supervision. She’d have liked to have a real swim herself. Or something else, she thought as she felt the tug of desire. To be with Nic again, the way it had been.

  They’d taken one of the resort’s kayaks out one morning, had paddled to an isolated beach on the other side of the island, pulled the boat up high on the fine white sand. Had gone for a swim in the clear turquoise sea, diving down to look at shells, picking up live sand dollars where they lay humped just under the sandy bottom, then setting them gently down again. Nic made her laugh by kicking up into a handstand, then walking on his hands, strong brown legs waving in the air.

  “Show-off,” she chided as he shot back up to the surface in a spray of salt water.

  “Race you,” he said with a grin. “To the other side of the bay.”

  “You have to give me a head start,” she objected. “You’re too fast.”

  “OK. I’ll count to 20. Ready . . . steady . . . GO!”

  She’d set off, using her fastest crawl, putting all she had into it, knowing he’d beat her anyway, her heart thudding at the thought of him behind her, catching up.

  She’d got more than halfway across when she felt the hand on her leg, pulling her to him. She turned, treading water. “No fair,” she protested, still breathing hard with effort. “We aren’t done.”

  “I was winning anyway,” he pointed out. “Decided I didn’t want to wear you out this way.”

  “Maybe I had a burst of speed left in me. Did you think of that?”

  “Nah.” He was pulling her with him now, sidestroking toward shore. “Think you’d better accept it. You lose. And you know there’s a price for that.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she got out through the rush of excitement as he reached to hold her, the water shallow enough for him to stand here. “I didn’t agree to any rules like that.”

  “I just changed them,” he told her, that gleam in his eyes again. She tried to stand herself, realized the water was still too deep for her. So she held onto his broad shoulders instead as his mouth came down over hers in a long, heated kiss.

  “What are they, then?” she asked, playing along, when he pulled his mouth from hers again, moved his lips over her cheek, his teeth closing on her earlobe. She had her legs wrapped around him now, her hands stroking over his shoulders and back, loving the feel of the shifting muscle under her palms. She bit his neck with an open mouth, felt a pulse jump there as she licked the salt from him.

  “Hmm? What are what?” he asked, distracted, his hands cradling her bottom, rubbing her against him through the layers of wet fabric, each movement of his body bringing with it another flicker of sensation where he touched her.

  “The rules. For when I lose.” She licked again, used her own teeth.

  “You take your togs off,” he decided. “And then give me the prize. Which is whatever I want.”

  “Oh,” she sighed. “Those are some pretty harsh rules. But I guess if I have to . . .”

  “Oh, you have to,” he assured her. “I’m dead serious about the rules. Take off your top.”

  “I’ll go under and drown,” she objected.

  “I’ve got you. Take it off.”

  She kept her legs around him, reached behind her to unhook the back, then shrugged out of the wet garment. Reached around his neck again, one hand clutching the wet bikini top, and looked up into his eyes. “Is this right?”

  “Oh, yeh. That’s right.” He kissed her again, no laziness now. Then shifted his mouth to her throat, pulling her up higher, the salty water helping to support her. He bent his head further, took a breast, white against the tanned skin around it, into his mouth.

  “Nic,” she groaned as his mouth moved over her, as she felt herself melting. “If somebody came by, they’d see me.”

  “Nobody here. And that’s only step one. Take the bottoms off.” He held her where she was, playing with her, his strong arms supporting her while she wriggled out of the scant piece of fabric.

  “Tread water for a sec,” he told her. He wrenched his own togs off with difficulty underwater, kicked them free, then grabbed for them and slung them over one shoulder. Reached for her again and pulled her into him, over him.

  “This is the price of losing,” he told her. “And this is what I get for winning. Always going to get it, too. I’m always going to get you.”

  Her mouth was on him again. At his throat, biting his shoulder, as she hung on. They were breathing hard, lost in each other, when the wave broke over them, shocking them, pulling them apart. She tumbled for a moment, then was at the surface again, lungs working, trying to cough up the water she hadn’t been able to avoid taking in at the sudden drenching.

  Nic grabbed for her, began pulling her toward shore. “Are you OK?”

  She coughed a bit more, gasped for air. “Yeah,” she got out at last. He set her on her feet and she stood gratefully, bent to cough some more.

  “Geez. Sorry.” He looked so chagrined, she had to laugh. Coughed a final time, felt her breath returning.

  “That’ll teach you to play games in the water,” she got out.

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he told her, grinning back in relief. “I forgot about that wee small thing called the tide.”

  “Oh, no! My costume! I’ve lost it. Did you?”

  He held up his togs to show her. “Pity. Reckon you’ll just have to make a spectacular entrance, back at the resort. Good thing you are spectacular.”

  “Where is it? I’d better be able to find it. Shoot!”

  He looked around, spotted a flash of hot pink in the distance. “Hang on. I’ll get it.” He bunched his togs in one hand, took off after the bits of pink. She saw him rise in the water again, wave the rescued costume over his head, and swim back towards her again.

  “Success,” he said as he arrived. “Want to try again? Or would that be pushing our luck?”

  She laughed. “Pushing our luck. Definitely. I’m probably getting an interesting sunburn anyway. I didn’t put sunscreen everywhere. Missed a few spots.”

  “Then we should get you dressed again, and back,” he decided. “Because those are some of my favorite bits. I need to keep them in good trim.”

  She held onto him once they were back in shallow water, steadied herself against him while she wrestled the sodden suit bottoms on, then untwisted the
bra top to put it on.

  “One sec.” He put a big hand on either side of her ribcage, ran his thumbs over the pink nipples, watched them harden, took one into his mouth and gave it a gentle nip, then reluctantly let her go. “Just needed one last bit of that, before you put them away. And you still owe me, you know. Going to find a way to collect the full penalty, once we’re back. Get you showered off, then show you what the price of losing really is.”

  She was lost in the memory, heated by it, remembering what the price of losing had been. Her shock when Nic had flipped her over on the big bed and blindfolded her. The heightening of sensation that came with being unable to see, not knowing what was coming next. Everything he’d done to her, everything he’d had her do to him, his big, agile hands guiding her in her blindness. The way he’d turned her, moved her, talked to her, giving her more and more until she was limp, her body resonating with aftershocks, blissfully spent. And how tenderly he’d kissed her, how closely he’d held her afterwards, while she fell asleep.

  She looked up, startled, at the appearance of one of the rugby players. The game had broken up, she realized, blinking herself back to the present and wiping the foolish, absent smile from her face.

  “Hi.” He stood in front of her, shirt still off, a reasonable chest of his own on display. Blue eyes, a good smile too. “Saw you over here, looking lonely. Want to join us?”

  “No, thanks.” She found herself responding to his friendly, ingenuous charm. “I’m not alone, actually.” She gestured toward the play structure in the distance. “Just waiting for the kids to be ready for our swim.”

  “Minding them, are you?” he asked, still not clued in. He sank down on the bench beside her and used the shirt slung over his shoulder to towel his dark hair. Giving a fairly nice display of shoulders and back in the process, she had to admit.

  “Nope.”

  “Mum!” Zack, racing toward her with the speed he’d inherited from his father, easily outpacing Graham. “Can we swim now?”