Unsuitable (29 page)

“I
call him—”

Etta
put her hand over Flip’s mouth, cutting whatever she said into a blur of mumble,
which Mia thought was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. She was almost on
the floor with giggles.

Reece
started straight in on instructions for dinner, for entertainment, for snacks,
for Mia’s bedtime. He told Etta when they’d be home, to call if she needed
anything and not to let Mia boss them around too much.

Then
he picked up his coat and held a bunch of roses so red they were almost black
out to her. She took them, her smile so big she was probably blinking mascara stripes
onto her cheeks.

“Ett,
there’s a vase on top of the fridge,” he said. He would’ve put it there
especially.

Audrey
handed the roses to Etta and took the hand Reece held out. She bent to kiss
Mia, then wiped the lipstick she left on her cheek off with her thumb. She let Reece
usher her out of the door. Let him close and lock it behind him. They took his
car and this time there was no anger in him as he took the wheel.

She
watched him drive. “You are so handsome in that suit I almost wet myself when I
saw you.”

He
cough laughed with a quick turn of his head to look at her.

“I
never imagined you owned a suit.”

“Weddings.
I can count the times I’ve worn it. Sky got it made for me, some family friend
who’s a tailor in Vietnam. Are you sure it looks okay?

“If
you want to skip the night out, drive directly to a daggy motel with wash-faded
linen, a saggy bed, a mouldy plastic shower curtain, and TV without reception,
I would not complain.”

He
laughed again and it had the same nervous quality he had about the suit, and it
all came together, the flowers, the mystery of where they were going. He had a
plan. He was trying to blow her away with this date and he’d already done that
by the way he’d looked at her when he arrived. She had to turn her face away
for a moment or there’d be further mascara ruination.

He
took her to a quiet, expensive little bar in the city where he drank a beer and
she had champagne as lights on the harbour twinkled. He held her hand and told
her how much he liked her dress. Then he pulled his stool closer to hers and
while he dragged his big thumb softly over the back of her hand, he asked what
she was wearing underneath it.

“Tell
me every detail, baby.” His voice dropped so deep she pressed her legs together
to hold onto the way it made her feel. Like her body was made of molten gold,
slippery, shiny, valuable and searing hot.

She
flowed into him. He leant down so her mouth was close to his ear. She
whispered, “Nothing,” and his whole body jerked, the arm she rested on turning
to forged steel.

He
squeezed her hand so hard she yelped then he brought it to his lips to kiss it
better. “If that’s true, how hungry are you?”

It
wasn’t strictly true, but it’d been worth it to see the lust flare in his eyes,
to know she could impact him too.

“I’m
wearing the suspender belt and stockings.”

“I
love that belt. I love how you look in those stockings.”

“I’m
wearing panties that are mesh and lace.”

He
grunted on the word panties.

“They’re
high cut at the back. Very, um, cheeky.”

“Jesus.”
He closed his eyes momentarily. “I know what those look like.”

“Do
you?” She shoved her shoulder into him, slightly annoyed but not enough to quit
tormenting him. “There are three straps across the back, across where those
dimples are. And three tiny satin bows running up the centre of—”

“I
want to feel them.” He dropped her hand and his arm circled her back.

She
squirmed. “You can’t. Not here. You have to wait.”

But
he didn’t. He stroked down her spine, slowly, his hand warm through the fabric
of her dress. He stopped at her waist and she held her breath. His hand slid
lower. He centred it over her sacrum and his thumb found the topmost bow.

“I’m
not waiting. These are for me and I want to touch them now. You said there were
three.” He worried the bow with his thumb. “One.” He slid his hand down to wrap
over her butt cheek. Anyone in the bar could see what he was doing; though it
wasn’t brightly lit, it wasn’t in blackout either.

She
held still, worried if she moved she’d call more attention to them. He found
the bottom bow, strategically located and ran this thumb in a circular movement
around it. She couldn’t stop a breathy Oh. He used his other hand to turn her
face so he could kiss her. He said he word, “Two,” just before he did.

By
the time he found the middle bow, she was a quivering mess of need and they’d
been out of the house for ninety minutes, half of which included travel time
and they’d had one drink and a chocolate-covered strawberry each. She was ready
to skip dinner, and let him eat the damn bows off her body.

She
put her hand dangerously high on his thigh. “I’m not wearing a bra.” He had to
know that already, his hand had been up and down her back. But it was worth
saying aloud. He slammed his hand on hers and gave her a playing with fire look
that made her glad for the surprise of the net camisole she had on. He wouldn’t
be expecting it.

They
walked hand in hand, a short distance from the bar to a restaurant fronting the
harbour. Modern Chinese and so elegant she hesitated a moment before walking
inside. This night was costing him a small fortune. She’d have loved him for
takeaway on the beach. She adored him for this.

They
sat across from each other, but his legs were so long he managed to get a knee
between hers. No one could see beneath the long white starched tablecloth, she
felt comfortable slipping off her shoe and playing her toes under the cuff of
his pants and against his shin and the back of his calve. He didn’t pretend not
to notice. He closed his eyes and she had to reach across the table and put her
hand to his face to stop him from looking so lust drugged.

“We
should talk, or we’re going to embarrass the staff,” she said.

They
talked about Mia, about how she’d gotten hesitant about swimming for no
particular reason, then Audrey’s work, how she felt about starting again
Monday, how difficult she thought the week would be. She told him about Barrett
being in town and that he wanted to see Mia, and about Cameron’s broken
engagement and arrival home heartbroken.

She
talked, he listened, he watched her closely and he asked insightful questions. He
was in turn concerned, supportive, carefully noncommittal and saddened. She
didn’t have to question or puzzle his feelings out. He put them on a plate for
her, a simple serving, devoid of fancy ingredients but unconsciously designed
to be nourishing.

They
ordered and the food came quickly and was fragrant and delicious. She realised
how hungry she was and how skilled Reece was at deflecting conversation away
from himself. Now was the time to ask him about being videoed, when he was
relaxed, when he was secure.

“I
want to talk about you.”

He
topped her glass with water from a carafe. “I’m listening.”

“I
want you talking. You’re very good at making the words come from someone else.”

He
inclined his head. “I’ll tell you anything.” But mischief played beach
volleyball in his eyes. She needed to beware, he might catch her out. She ran
her up foot the inside of his calve. She’d done it a number of times and he
didn’t see the next move coming, clamping his knees together too late. She’d
already gotten her stockinged toes to the edge of his chair just under his
groin. He looked down, and wrapped a hand over her foot to hold her still, to
stop her touching him.

“Was
it a sex tape?”

His
chin shot up, the surprise she’d counted on in his expression. “What?”

“The
recording that got passed around, the thing that made you so mad I’d recorded
you.”

He
frowned. Then, in a grand move to distract her, brought his other hand to her
foot and began a massage. His eyes were down. He wasn’t going to answer. She
wouldn’t force it. She’d do nothing to ruin the date and anything to enhance
it.

“It
wasn’t a sex tape.” He smiled. “I can’t believe you thought that.” He looked up
and he wasn’t mad or embarrassed. He lifted her foot and centred it over his
erection. They both stilled in anticipation, then she pressed gently, his
sitting position widened and they both gasped.

“I
wish it was a sex tape,” he said.

She
moved her toes against him. “I wish it was too. I kept thinking about it. I
kept wondering if you still had it.”

He
flexed his hips into her foot. “Shit no.”

His
hands were still lightly wrapped around her foot. Now he used them to guide
her, to bring her instep and heel into play.

“Oh
God, Reece.” She could hear her own breathing. He closed his eyes again. She
was a thirty-four year old woman who’d been celibate for six years with no
prospects for breaking the drought and no intention of looking for a rainmaker.
She had a healthy daughter who was bright and cute and everything she’d schemed
to have. She’d fought a life threatening disease and won. She had a job she
loved and was about to walk into a promotion with more scope, power and money.

She
had a twenty-seven year old lover and she was going to make him come in an
expensive Chinese restaurant with her stockinged foot. This was the best date
she’d ever been on and it was nowhere near done yet.

As
abruptly as he’d started using her foot he lifted it away with a groan. He gave
her a look that was pure filtered sex. “We have to have dessert whether you
want it or not. There is no way I’m fit to walk out of here.”

She
laughed and he stopped her with a thumb to her instep. “Behave, Audrey.”

“You
started it.”

“You
with your nothing under that dress started it. I’ve had a semi since then. I
know where Mia gets it. That you won’t see me coming till I’ve already got what
I wanted thing. It’s utterly you.” Audrey laughed. “She’s going to be hard to
handle when she’s Etta’s age.”

She
almost said, but you have experience with sixteen year olds. You’ll manage her
better than I will, but she stopped, gulped at her wine instead. That was
altogether too much, in a way that making him come in a posh restaurant was the
more acceptable alternative.

And
he’d done it again, turned the conversation back to her.

“What
do you want to be doing in five years time, Reece?”

He
narrowed his eyes. “If this is like doing math in your head to hold off an orgasm,
it’s okay, I’ve got it covered.”

She
laughed. “It’s a serious question.”

“Sky
used to ask me this all the time. She was never satisfied with my answers. She
thought I lacked ambition, that I had no focus that I was going to wake up at forty
and wonder what I’d achieved. The thing is, I could never give her the real
answer without it coming across wrong.”

“What’s
the real answer?”

“I
want my own kindy, a day care centre.”

“What’s
wrong with that?”

“It’s
not the kind of work a man should want to do, as far as Sky was concerned, but
that’s not all. I want to find a way to encourage more men to feel it’s okay to
want to work with kids as teachers in greater numbers, as nannies without the
idiot manny tag.”

“That’s
admirable.”

“I
want my own family. I want to be there, elbows deep in it. Babies and nappies
and teens and tantrums and moods, fights over nothing and wet towels on the
floor and never a dull moment. I’m good at that stuff. That’s what I couldn’t
tell Sky, because I didn’t want a family with her.”

Audrey
held her breath. Was he saying he wanted a family with her? She tried to read
his face. All she saw was love and it made her eyes sting.

This
was how she’d lose him, because she didn’t want any of that. Pregnancy had been
difficult and she had no intention of doing it again. This is where the differences
between them showed up. She was further along in life than he was, and babies
and nappies and a complex family life wasn’t in her makeup. She had no example
of how that was supposed to work and no desire to experiment beyond Mia.

She
wished she’d drunk more. Wished she’d not asked that stupid question, wished
she’d talked him into checking into the hotel they’d walked past and spending
the hours they had in bed, inside each other in the most intimate way they knew
how because now her heart was breaking.

And
he saw it.

He
sat back away from the table, slumped a little, then she saw him recover; catch
a waiter’s eye, order coffee and dessert. God she loved him for that too, for
not making an issue of what he’d just learned, for keeping the dream of the
date alive, for preserving what they had while they could have it.

Their
third stop for the night was another mood again, this one much less refined,
more drunk and disorderly. It suited her frame of mind. They were dancing on
the bar top in this place, the women more strategically undressed, the men very
handsy and no one appeared bothered by it. It was well out of her comfort zone.
She felt like a delicate hothouse flower amongst mighty robust, fire-retardant
natives.