Catch (6 page)

"Okay, fine."
 
He'd forgotten about the garden.
 
Matthew made a mental note to look up a few facts about herbs.

Carrying his glass and half bottle of soda, Matt realized he no longer had a hand free to pull the new chair out for her.
 
He told himself to relax and enjoy her company; otherwise he'd be looking like a complete prat by the end of the afternoon and Matt certainly didn't want that.

"So, having poured my water all over your chair, all that remains is for me to trip up and pour the balance down your back and we'll have gotten off to the perfect start, don't you think?"

At least she giggled at his lame joke, seating herself as close to the garden as she could manage.
 
"Well, I spend most of the day with my hands in water, so what's a bit down the back between friends?"

"Ah, so you think we're going to be friends then?"

"I'm reserving judgment.
 
But from all accounts, my friend Gina hates you."

"I'm doomed." He’d been right to worry about that little rat at reception.

She laughed again.
 
"No, actually that's quite good.
 
Gina's taste in men is absolutely awful."

"So I don't have to worry about the water-cooler gossip she brings home about me?"

"Gossip? Do tell."
 
Tamsen leaned forward, her elbow on the table, her chin resting between her thumb and forefinger.
 

His eyes were drawn in an instant to the texture of her lips; he had an intense desire to taste them. "Honestly, nothing you really need to know about.
 
The story of my life will bore you to tears."
 
He needed food.
 
Needed to get his mind back on track.
 
"I'll just grab the menus from the table we've abandoned so we can order, and then you can tell me all about yourself."

She'd only just arrived and his desire to shag her senseless gnawed at him, extreme and intense, almost as if he'd already tasted her - some illogical sense of knowing he couldn't fathom.
 
If he didn't find something to distract himself with soon he'd be in big trouble.

Back at their table, he watched her open her menu.
 
"So, what do you fancy for lunch?" He hoped like hell she fancied him.

"You eat here all the time." She gave him back the menu. "Surprise me." She looked him square in the eye. "I love surprises."
 

The words rolled off her tongue and his mouth went dry.
 
Half of him screamed he should run in the opposite direction, but the other half demanded he stay.

Knowing the menu inside out did not help; he was having trouble thinking coherently.
 
"Er, is there anything you don't eat?"

"Meat," she teased mercilessly.

"You don't have a problem with fish, do you?"

He noticed a blush appearing at the base of her lovely earlobes.
 
"No, I mind them all day, but fish is fine."

"Good."
 
He felt in charge again.
 
"We'll have the smoked salmon and scallop linguine then."

"You didn't ask me about shellfish."

"You said the only thing you don't eat is meat."

"Well, not on the first date anyway." He nearly inhaled the soda he’d been about to drink and she giggled. "Am I upsetting you?"

"No, not upsetting me, driving me to distraction."

"I'm sorry.
 
I'll try to behave myself."
 

He smiled. She was the most provocative and endearing woman he'd met in a very long time.
 
"Please don't, not on my account. I'm quite enjoying myself."

Steve arrived to take their orders.
 
"Hey, Matt, how's it goin'?"

"Great, thanks, Steve.
 
Can we both have the linguine and I'll have another water.
 
What about you, Tamsen?"

"A water will be fine, thanks."

"Be back shortly."

"Does he do anything quickly?" Tamsen watched Steve saunter away, clearly in no hurry to get back to the kitchen.

"Drive vehicles I think is about the only thing.
 
I feel sorry for him being stuck here.
 
He likes it when I come in - he can drop the pretense of being a uni student on speed.
 
It's the look they like out front."
 

Steve returned with their water, poured Tamsen a glass and removed Matt's empty bottle.

"Hey, sorry mate," Matt said, "but I poured most of that over the table and chair by the pond. You might want to clean it up."

"No problemo.
 
If that's the worst thing that happens to me today I'll be sweet."

Matt raised his glass. "Here's to getting to know you, Miss Fish."

Tamsen joined him in the toast. "And to getting to know you too.
 
May I call you Matt?"

He was touched she’d asked his permission. "I'd like that."

"Here's to getting to know you too, Matt."

She took a sip of the water and he was drawn to her mouth again.
 
In an irrational moment of jealousy he wanted to be the glass.

"So, tell me," she asked, "how does someone who obviously doesn't like the city and has a hankering for the outdoors and fish end up being a corporate lawyer?"

"What makes you think I don't like the city?"

"You spend your lunchtimes hiding out in an inner city garden talking to the fish."

"I don't just talk to the fish."

"You talk to the plants too." He blushed. "It's okay, I won't tell Gina - she can think you're the bastard from hell. It'll be our little secret."
 
Tamsen tapped the side of her nose.
 

"You’d better not," he warned.

"Or what?"

He couldn't help himself; she was playing with him and he liked it. "Or I'll have to punish you."

"Really?"
 
A smile creased the edge of those engaging lips.

He leaned back in his chair, taking pleasure in playing back.
 
"Yes.
 
Really."

"I might enjoy that."

"Then we might both be in real trouble."
 

Steve made a timely appearance with their lunch.
 

Matt said, "You're looking a little harried, mate. Lunchtime rush getting to you?"

"I'm over it." Steve mopped his brow, and shuffled off at twice the speed he he'd moved last time.

Matt watched Tamsen delicately pick a scallop out of the tomato-and-caper sauce, allowing the fork to linger far too long in her mouth for his liking.
 
He decided to attack his own lunch before the temptation to attack her overcame his appetite for food.
 

"So you still haven't told me what a potential tree hugger's doing in corporate law."

"My mother told me I was going to law school."

"That was it?"

"You haven't met my mother; she's not a woman to be crossed."
 

"Sounds like she could have taken lessons from mine."

"Oh, great, more things we have in common - tortured, dysfunctional childhoods."

She smiled.
 
A drop of tomato sauce hung to the side of her lip; he wanted to lick it off.
 
She said, "I don't really remember mine being too tortured, but then I did spend a lot of time in fantasy land, playing with fairies and elfin folk."

"Interesting.
 
I'd never have gotten away with that."

"Why not?"
 
She looked puzzled.

"Fairy folk are all a bit too pagan for my family.
 
Staunch Roman Catholics and all."

"Hellfire and brimstone, huh?"

"Absolutely - I spent most Friday nights sitting with my mother saying decades of the Rosary.
 
I could never understand why the other kids never had to do that."

"On your own?" She asked.

"I'm an only child." He laughed. "Mom said she'd never go through that again after I arrived." He'd always had guilt about the pain he caused his mother, she'd never let him forget it, either.

"Do you think it taught you anything,the Rosary stuff? You know, helped you with life?"

"I haven't ever really thought about it." He pondered the question for a couple of moments. It intrigued him that he'd forgotten those countless Friday nights.
 
"I suppose it taught me discipline and that you didn't have to go to church to have some sort of contact with God - you could talk to Him anywhere."

"But you still did the Sunday church deal?"

"You betcha, the whole damn nine yards.
 
We'd traipse off to church on a Sunday – Mom and me."

"What about your dad?"

"I don't know.
 
He always seemed to get out of it for some reason that escaped me.
 
He used to drop us off and then pick us up, but we were never told why he didn't have to go."

"You didn't ask him?"

"Er, no."

"Enough said."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the garden and their meals.
 

As driven as he was by a lustful desire to tear the clothing off her, Matt found himself happy to just sit and watch this beautiful woman consume her food.
 
She had an incredible sensuality and grace about her, savoring every mouthful.
 
He found it unimaginably erotic watching her.

 
Tamsen glanced up at him. "Why are you watching me eat?"

"Because I can."

"Do you always invite people to lunch so you can stare at them?"

"No, only beautiful, intriguing, intelligent people."

"Sheesh, you're forward."
 
Tamsen put her eating utensils down.

"I haven't even started with you yet."
 
He steepled his fingers, appraising her from over the top of his manicured fingernails.

"What do you mean?"

"You're still wearing your dress, aren't you?"

"I was the last time I looked."
 
Her eyes never left his.

"Why don't you come to my place for dinner tonight and we'll see if we can't fix that small problem?"

"There's a bit of a food theme going on here, don't you think?"

"I was hoping for a bit of a sex theme, actually, but having you right here would get us both locked up."

"What for?"

"Indecent exposure, doing an indecent act, offensive behavior - you want me to carry on?"

She laughed.
 
He liked the sound when she laughed and the look on her face. "No, I get the point."

"That's what I was hoping." He couldn't help winking. "At home, later on, maybe over the dining room table."

"You're awful."

He read mischief on her face and hoped she'd accept his outrageous proposition. "So that's a yes?"

"Why not?
 
You only live once, right?"

"Absolutely."
 
He couldn't believe what he'd just done.
 
Insanity.
 
But he couldn't get enough of her.
 

"I suppose I'd best get back to the salt mine if I'm going to get finished in time to prepare some gastronomic delight for dinner."

"You cook too?"

"I'm a man of many talents."

"Sounds promising."
 
Tamsen got up from the table. "If you're getting dinner, then I'll get lunch."

"No way."

"You bought coffee yesterday, so it's my turn and no arguments, or I'll renege on the dinner date."

"Jeez, you drive a hard bargain."

"I do.
 
So no arguments."

Matt followed her out of the garden, discomfort mounting at the prospect of not picking up the tab.
 
Steve cast a quizzical look in his direction, as Tamsen paid for lunch.

"Where do you live?" She tucked her credit card back into her purse. "I don't think your address was on the card you gave me yesterday."

"You mean you haven't looked me up in the phonebook yet?"

She blushed. "No."

His legal instincts told him she was lying.
 
He scribbled it down on the back of another business card and handed it to her.
 
Their hands lingered on the small piece of card.
 
Excitement bubbled inside him; he could barely wait for this evening.

It seemed ridiculous to shake her hand, so he made a fuss of pecking her on the cheek.
 
She smelled of lunch and something earthy, something he craved. "Now, don't you dare change that dress - I have dibs on it."

"I'll try to remember."
 
She smiled in a wicked way.
 
"What time do you want me at your place tonight?"

"How does seven suit you?"

"Seven it is.
 
I'll see you then."

"I'll look forward to it."

She turned and strode away with purpose and he was left gazing at her sensual, swaying derriere.

"Shit, Tams, this just gets worse." Gina was on her high horse again, yelling from the kitchen. "I was floored that you went to lunch with him, but this - his place for dinner?
 
Why don't you just tattoo across your forehead 'I shag on first dates'?"

"It's not a first date - technically it's our third."
 

"He's even got you talking like a lawyer. This is scary."
 
Gina arrived on the terrace with an open bottle of chardonnay and two glasses.

"I don't want a drink - I'm driving."

"Well, on the strength of this news I need one and I'm not drinking alone."

"It's never stopped you before."

"Don't start that again, Tams. You can at least have a glass."

Tamsen sighed. "Pour me half then."
 
If Gina needed to pretend she didn't drink alone that was her problem.
 
Anyway the wine would take the edge off her anxiety about what she was getting herself into.