Catch (4 page)

"You bloody would.
 
You've got it bad for him, haven't you?"

"Let's just say, I'm simmering."

"Potentially stalking more like."

Tamsen giggled, "Careful, I could always have one of your bosses sue you for libel."

Gina poured herself a glass of iced tea.
 
"Oh, Tam, what have you put in here tonight? It looks like I'm drinking the floral arrangement."

"Just a couple of marigold petals and some heartsease. Don't you love the way the purple and orange set each other off?"

Gina pulled an orange petal off her bottom lip. "I just worry that one of these days I'm going to drop dead as a result of some of the weeds you feed me."

"Trust me, Gina. It's the only thing that keeps your liver going, the amount you drink."

"Hey, steady sister, it's your bad habits we're discussing here. Leave mine out of it."

Tamsen poured herself a glass of tea and realized she'd eaten far too much.
 
"Actually, I don't think he’s a bad habit.
 
In fact, he's not even a habit yet.
 
But if you must know I'm meeting him for lunch tomorrow, so it does look promising."

Gina flung her hand across her forehead and swooned dramatically. "I can see my wisdom and experience of dating the worst possible bastards on earth is wasted on you.
 
But at least know that I'll be here to pick up the pieces after he's done the dirty on you."

Matthew's honest attempts at wading through the lease and franchise agreements strewn across his desk seemed fruitless.
 
Strange, he mused, he hadn't been in the mood for a lot of things about the practice lately; it was all rather disturbing and out of character.
 
He'd spent years working his way through the system, from top graduate through wet-behind-the-ears associate to attaining partnership at 31.
 

Maybe he'd achieved everything too quickly.
 
The firm had taken a gamble on him, but he'd been pretty clear he'd have moved on to greener pastures if they hadn't supplied a sufficient carrot to keep him.

Matthew looked out the seventh-story window. The moon hung in the evening sky though he couldn't remember the sun setting.
 
The remnants of the sushi he grabbed for a quick bite in his office lay amongst the offending paperwork.
 
To make matters worse, he must have walked out to the aquarium in the foyer at least half a dozen times in the last two hours.
 
It drew him like some kind of liquid magnet.
 
Sod it, he thought, he needed to check once again how the newbie was doing - at least that was his excuse to walk away from tedious paperwork.

He made his way down the long corridor. At this late hour he knew he would be the only idiot still in the office, but that wasn't unusual; workaholism ran in the family.
 

Passing the thin office partitions, he felt the need to scurry.
 
They always reminded him of those awful mazes he built for rats in Psychology One when he’d spent months spent torturing the poor beasts. Unlock the puzzle pathway for a reward of food.
 
He shuddered.

The aquarium looked beautiful.
 
He marveled at how Tamsen had rearranged it. It wasn't just an aquarium with fish and plants in it; she'd created a complete environment - a moving, magical work of art.
 
The entire structure stood a little taller than him, which must make it quite difficult for a petite woman like Tamsen to manage.
 
He measured in at just under six feet, so he picked her at about five foot four.
 
It hadn't occurred to him before now, but that would have been why she carried a small stepladder with her.
 
A minor miracle she didn't kill herself wearing those lethal heels.

Three panels of clear glass and three panels of black, a tall pentagram, made up the unusual aquarium.
 
Tamsen had filled the structure with long aquatic grasses that swayed gently in the currents from the filter.
 
Fish idled in and around the weed - playing hide and seek, he imagined, with each other.
 
There were nine residents in all, including one unusual black suckerfish that seemed to spend most of its time vacuuming the glass.
 
The tiny bright Comet Tamsen had delivered that afternoon nosed the glass at Matt's nostril level.
 
Every time he came out here to look it had been the same; the pint-sized fish would rush out from wherever he hid to greet him.

"Hey there, little fella." Matt placed his finger against the glass, careful not to tap and scare any of the occupants. "How's your new home?
 
Have you settled in okay?"
 

He almost imagined the little guy was making an effort to connect with him, frantically wiggling in the water to catch his attention. Matthew ran his fingers through his hair.
 
He must be tired; he really needed to go home to bed - standing here talking to fish.
 
If anyone in the office saw this, he'd be a laughing stock.
 

A random thought struck him -
he wouldn't mind if Tamsen caught him.
 
Matthew exhaled through his teeth.
 
Oh boy, this was all about her; it had nothing to do with the fish. He was trying to find some way to connect with her again and this water vertebrate with gills was the nearest he could get.

Matthew realized he wanted to get to know her, discover what made her laugh.
 
Tamsen was charming and witty and off-center in the most intriguing way.
 
Areas of life he knew nothing about fascinated her, and he wanted her tell him more.
 
She sparked something inside him - something decadent and dangerous and terribly alive.

Tamsen lay listening to the crashing of the waves on the beach, the symphony of the ocean competing with the orchestral maneuvers of the first birds singing in the dawn.
 
She especially loved the pre-dawn chorus, the birds and waves battling it out for her attention.

Little illumination came from the terrace windows, though a light covering of muslin barely hindering the breaking light of dawn.
 
It was enough, however, to make out the shape of the Victorian bedstead, a gift from her grandmother.
 

She had, one uneventful Saturday afternoon, voiced a request that Mary Ellen leave it to her in her will and was more than a little surprised when the woman who loved her so unconditionally arranged a week or so later for the entire bedroom suite to be delivered to her apartment.
 
Any attempt to return such a gift given in love would be useless and so she graciously accepted the goods.

Tamsen stretched, overwhelmed by an immense sense of gratitude, lying there in her grandmother's bed, listening to the birds beginning their day and contemplating the start of her own.
 

How simple their lives were; not for them the worry of where the next worm came from, or where they would find the right building material for their nests.
 
Did sparrows get migraines fretting about whether or not they'd have somewhere safe to sleep at night, she wondered.
 
No, they just opened their eyes and trusted - singing, she imagined, for the pure joy of being alive another day.
 
Knowing all their needs would be taken care of.
 

This kind of faith Tamsen carried with her often, but some days she found it elusive.
 

Stretching again and reveling in the feel of the cool cotton sheets on her naked body, she noticed the sensation of slightly rough weave from the top sheet across her nipples.
 
Still present was the faint scent of chamomile oil she'd dripped on the edge of her pillowslip to help her sleep the night before - it always reminded her of Juicy fruit chewing gum.

Tamsen ran her fingernails up the length of her stomach and goose bumps prickled her flesh in their wake.
 
A sudden vision of Matthew came to her; she relaxed and played the mental game of undressing him in the cinema of her mind, fingers exploring intimate parts of her flesh as she surrendered herself.
 

Tamsen sighed. Nothing so perfect as the fantasy of vicarious lovemaking.
 

Matthew's day began with an aching sensation in his groin, almost like lover's balls.
 
A ridiculous notion since he'd been nowhere near a woman in months.
 
Angie had seen to that, thank you very much.
 
He'd rather be in an arena with a Rottweiler than take on another woman at the moment - so why had Miss Fish caught his attention?
 

He opened his eyes gingerly, hoping it was still the middle of the night, but no such luck; the luminous digits on his alarm clock glared 5:45, a full half-hour before the alarm usually woke him.
 
What the hell was going on?
 
He must have had some sort of nightmare.

Matt rolled onto his back and groaned out loud; pain wasn’t a welcome visitor at this hour.
 
Trying to ignore the discomfort, he turned his mind to drifting back into unconsciousness for another half hour, then was jolted from his stupor by the sudden vision of Tamsen.
 

No wonder he'd woken up feeling as if he were trying to sleep on a baseball bat.
 
He must have been having some sort of teenage dirty dream about her.
 
How bizarre.
 

True, he found her attractive.
 
Matthew snorted - who was he kidding?
 
He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since coffee yesterday.
 
It was frightening, a little obsessive even, and he didn't like that.
 
Being out of control didn't suit him, especially over a woman – he'd been burned too many times before.

Another attempt to settle back under the covers thwarted, he decided there was little hope of getting any more sleep.
 
With a huge and heavy sigh he threw the crimson duvet cover back from his futon and drove himself to the adjoining bathroom.
 
May as well get the morning ablutions underway, he thought miserably.
 
The day ahead loomed long and large, the only respite another meeting with Miss Fish.
   

He hated conference calls at the best of times – and old man Sheldon would likely try and drag him through the hoops.
 
Then there was Tim's contract and lease, which he’d spent the better part of last night digesting and now had to go over with him.
 
As usual Tim had managed to persuade Danielle to give him an appointment just before lunch; always a pushover for Tim was his Danni.
 
A lot to do with the fact he often arrived at the office with a box of chocolates under his wing.
 

Flushing the toilet, Matthew lowered the seat and headed for the shower, then stopped dead in his tracks.
 
In a sudden moment of defiance he returned to the lavatory and lifted the seat back up.

Matthew spoke directly to the seat itself.
 
"Ha, no one here to demand that you be put down now, is there?"
 
The pleasure of victory surged through him, marking his moment of conquest.

Tamsen repeated the mantra to herself, wishing with all her might she could believe the three simple sentences. "We are the greatest thing that will ever happen to us.
 
Believe it.
 
It makes life much easier."

Sitting on the terrace, she took in the sight and sounds of the ocean, the remnants of her carrot, celery and parsley juice hanging like fluorescent porridge on the inside of her glass. The first spoonful of muesli, fruit and yoghurt had scarcely passed her lips when Gina breezed out, black coffee in hand and doughnut hanging out of her mouth.

She removed the offending pasty. "You know that healthy shit's going to be the death of you, don't you?" Gina said.

"Good morning, G. Did you sleep well?"
 
Tamsen chose to ignore the taunt; it was the same every morning.

"Ah, not bad. You know me, couldn't get to sleep but now I don't want to get up - nothing changes."
 

"Well, you could-"

"Yeah, right."
 
Gina cut her off mid-sentence.
 
"Save your breath for the brethren you'll convert when you get your retreat up and running." She smiled sweetly.
 
"So you still having lunch with His Poxiness then?"

"I know you're just jealous and yes I am."

Gina shoveled the balance of her doughnut into her mouth and sluiced it down with half the coffee. "Don't come running to me heartbroken 'cos he's treating you just like the last poor bitch."

Tamsen could feel the indigestion coming on watching her friend eat. "I won't."

"Gotta go."
 
On the run didn't come close to describing Gina's morning ritual. "Will I see you at lunchtime or is he meeting you somewhere?"

"Meeting me somewhere."

Gina rolled her eyes.
 
"Well, don't say I didn't try to warn you off."

"I won't.
 
Have yourself a great day."

"Yeah.
 
Whatever." And she was gone as fast as she'd arrived.

Finishing the last of her dandelion tea, Tamsen spotted Gina's sunflower yellow VW maneuvering out the secure gates of the apartment complex.
 
On her way to fight the rush-hour traffic into town, clouds of blue cigarette smoke billowing from the driver's window.
 
Tamsen despaired. Her best friend ran on anxiety, adrenaline, coffee and cigarettes, probably the very reason she looked stick-insect thin.
 
"Can never be too thin or too rich," Gina always joked.