Just for Fun (18 page)

“She did. My house,” he explained.

“What did you do? Ring somebody?”

“Nah. Drank.” He grinned at her ruefully. “Why I look so
bad. You should’ve seen me yesterday. Least I had two days to get right
afterwards. Not meant to do that, the week before a big game.”

“And at least you didn’t get on any planes, have any
ill-advised flings,” she offered with a little smile of her own.

“That’s right,” he remembered. “You
did
do that,
didn’t you? What did you do with the ring?” he asked suddenly. “After—what’s
his name? dumped you?”

“David. Best thing that ever happened to me. I’m not saying
that’s true for you,” she went on hastily. “But wow, thank goodness we didn’t
get married. It wouldn’t have lasted. At least I hope it wouldn’t, because I
think all the spirit would have been crushed out of me by now.”

“Oh, and the ring,” she added. “I gave it back, of course.
Didn’t think of it at the moment. I’d have liked to have thrown it at his head.
Not that it would’ve made much of a dent. Pretty small. But yeah, I left it
with my dad to give back to him. He probably turned right around and gave it to
Karen. Would’ve had to have it resized first, though. She had fat fingers.”

“And a pig nose,” he reminded her.

She laughed, saw his answering smile. “I told you that, huh?
Yeah. Why? Did Claudia not give you back the ring?”

“Nah. She did. Of course. She’s very . . . tidy. She’d never
leave a loose end like that. But I have to tell you something terrible,” he
confessed. “I chucked it out, after about the fifth beer.”

“What?”

“It was in my pocket,” he explained. “And I went to sit
down, felt it in there. And chucked it in the rubbish.”

“You dug it out again, though, surely. Once you sobered up.”

“Nah. Collection day today. I put the bag in the bin, forgot
it was in there. Realized a couple hours later.”

She stared at him, aghast. “You’re kidding. How much did it
cost you? Oh, whoops,” she realized. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “Not sure if I’m sorry, or glad.
Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty . . . thousand . . .
dollars?
” she asked
incredulously. “And you accidentally chucked it
out?”

“Yeh,” he said, a smile growing now, turning into a laugh.
“Reckon Claudia was right after all. I’m undisciplined, eh.”

She began to laugh herself, pointed a finger at him. “You .
. . are . . . an . . .
idiot,”
she got out.

“I know, right?” he managed to say before they were both
overcome with helpless laughter.

“The divorce would’ve cost at least that much,” he said at
last, reaching for a paper serviette from the holder on the table and wiping
his eyes. “Once I got over kicking myself, I decided maybe I got off cheap, at
that.”

“Mum!” Emma heard from the other room. She got up hastily. “I
forgot all about Zack,” she told Nic. “Can you check those muffins, and give
that chili a stir, please? Should be about ready.”

They didn’t have another chance to talk until Zack was in
bed. “I haven’t seen anything about your breakup,” Emma said. Nic was on the
couch, and she’d reclaimed her afghan, was snuggled with it in her chair. “I’m
sure it’ll be in the
Herald.
Because I remember reading about the
engagement there, when you announced it.”

“Yeh. Rang the publicist today. That’s one good thing.
She’ll take care of all that, ‘alert the media.’ Least everyone’ll know then. I
won’t have to explain to everybody.”

“What about your family?”

“Yeh.” Nic sighed. “My family. They weren’t rapt about it.
They like Claudia. Specially my dad. I rang them today too.”

“They wouldn’t want you to marry somebody who didn’t love
you enough, though,” Emma objected.

“Dunno. My dad probably thinks she’s right,” Nic said
glumly, no laughter now.

“That’s terrible,” Emma said sharply. “Though I know what
you mean. I got some of that too, when David dumped me. The distinct impression
that I’d screwed up. Again.”

“That’s it,” he agreed. “’What did you do?’ That’s what he
said. As if it couldn’t possibly have been her.”

“I can’t imagine, though,” Emma said slowly, running her
fingers over the crocheted trim on the afghan. “Being a mum, I just can’t
imagine not having my first instinct be to support Zack. If I had to choose who
was right and who was wrong, I’d be choosing him, every time. Unfairly, I’m
sure. But a mother bear doesn’t stop to think about whether somebody has a
right to approach her cub, does she? She just charges right in there to protect
him. If bears know that, why don’t human parents?”

“Dunno,” Nic said again. “My dad isn’t much of a bear, I
guess.”

“My mum either. My dad’s a bit more supportive, thank
goodness, though my mum talks more, so you get her opinion first. Her
strong
opinion. What did your own mum say?”

“She never says too much, when my dad’s there,” Nic
admitted. “He can be a bit of a bully. She’ll be kinder, I’m sure, when I see
her alone.” He stood up, stretched. “And if I’m going to be any bloody use
tomorrow at training, I need to go home now, get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Me too.” She set the afghan aside, got up to walk him
to the door. “And if I didn’t say it already, I’m sorry. I know how bad it
feels, even if you’re a bit relieved at the same time.” She reached up to give
him the hug she’d been longing to offer all evening. His own arms went around
her in response, and he held her close for a moment, then let her go and
stepped back.

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes a bit damp. “And cheers for
dinner. Next time, though, I’m bringing a couple beers with me. If I’m going to
bare my soul like that, we could both use a bit of alcoholic help.”

“OK. How do I look?” Emma asked Zack on Friday night,
coming out of her bedroom and giving a little pirouette.

“Pretty,” Zack said seriously. “I like your hair.”

Emma gave the thin silver headband holding back her curls
the barest nudge, making sure it was securely in place. “I like this too. What
about the dress?” She cocked a hip, struck a pose. “Pretty good for half price,
huh?”

Zack examined the coral-colored dress, her high-heeled
sandals. “Yeh. You look pretty,” he repeated. Emma pulled the door leading to
the hallway closed so she could examine herself in her only full-length mirror.
The close-fitting bodice with its sweetheart neckline and wide straps
was
pretty, and the skirt wasn’t
that
short. She shouldn’t have bought it,
back in the after-Christmas sales. But it had been too good a deal to resist.
And now she had a chance to wear it at last.

She pulled on the delicate pale apricot shrug with its
ribbon edging and eyed her image with satisfaction. “I think so too,” she
decided. “It’s fun to get dressed up, isn’t it?”

Zack looked at her dubiously. “Don’t answer that,” she
laughed. The doorbell rang, and she picked up her clutch. “That’ll be Mrs.
Harrison.”

Her landlady stepped inside, looked her over with approval.
“Don’t you look lovely,” she told her. “Your date’s going to feel like a lucky
fella.”

“I hope so,” Emma smiled. “Thank you so much for minding him.
We shouldn’t be too late. It’s just dinner.”

“No worries,” Lois assured her. “We’ll get on famously,
won’t we, Zack? Besides,” she held up the package in her hand and gave the boy
a conspiratorial smile. “I brought chocolate biscuits. As I know they’re your
favorites. Once you’ve had your bath, we’ll have a cozy time of it, make a bit
of cocoa and eat our bikkies.”

Zack was enthusiastic in his endorsement of the evening’s
program, and Emma laughed again. She still had her doubts about Ryan’s
potential as Mr. Right, but it had been months since she’d been on a proper
date. Their lunch had gone pretty well, and it would be nice to be taken out, have
somebody look at her with some heat. Somebody she could actually have, if she
decided she wanted him.

Ryan, when he arrived a few minutes later, didn’t
disappoint. His blue eyes lit with appreciation at her appearance, a slow smile
spreading over his face. The coral dress and high heels clearly worked for him,
too. A few words to Lois, a parting hug and kiss for Zack, and they were off.

Ryan had spared no effort, Emma found, to make the evening
romantic. She’d heard of Clooney’s, but had never been taken there before. It
was a far cry from her last dinner date, the hamburgers with Zack and Nic. She
really should get out more.

He couldn’t have chosen a more intimate dining experience,
she saw as they entered the restaurant. Strings of black beads separated each
table into its own little enclave, while the semicircular maroon banquettes and
low lighting, cleverly offset by a small spotlight that allowed them to see
their menus, encouraged murmured conversation.

Ryan was looking especially handsome tonight, his dark shirt
tucked into dark gray slacks a contrast with the blond hair that shone in the
glow of the little spot. He kept up a flow of conversation, mostly about his work,
as they drank a spicy, savory Marlborough Pinot Noir that had her tastebuds
humming in delight, and ate their small but exquisitely presented portions of
meat and vegetables.

“So I decided they’d just have to extend the deadline.
Sometimes you have to push back a bit. Don’t you think?” he was asking now, his
hand touching hers lightly to make his point, his foot shifting, coming to rest
against her own.

“Hmm,” she considered, taking another bite of her salmon.
She left her hand where it was, but moved her foot. She wasn’t quite ready for
sexy games under the table. “Well, I’m not in a position to do much pushing
back, so I can’t really say.”

“That’s what I like about you,” he said, taking her hand in
his and smiling into her eyes. “That you don’t do much pushing back.”

She took a final bite, smiled noncommittally, took the
opportunity to move her hand away under the pretext of setting her knife and
fork neatly across her plate. “That was delicious,” she told him. “Thank you.
This was a treat.”

“Nah,” he said. “The treat was having you here with me. Because
you’re pretty delicious yourself.” He smiled again. Wow, she wondered, how many
times had he used
that
line? OK, that went beyond smooth. That was just
cheesy.

“Would you like a sweet?” he asked as the waiter came around
again.

“No, thank you. But you go ahead, if you like,” she said
hurriedly. “I’m happy to sit for a bit.”

“Want to get back, do you? So do I,” he assured her. “We’ll
have the bill, please,” he told the waiter.

 “Thank you,” she said again as he opened the car door for
her. She had been unsurprised to find that he drove a dark, sporty late model
with lush leather interior and all the gadgets. He closed the door after her
before going around to his own side and sliding in. Punched a few buttons to
fill the car with soft, dreamy music, lush orchestrations and a male voice
crooning about love.

It was all fairly effective, and the drive across the
Harbour Bridge, through the dark streets in the warm car, soft music
surrounding her, found its mark. By the time he had pulled the car to a stop in
front of the house, she was feeling warm and had a few tingles. She
had
been
missing being kissed, being touched. And it looked like she’d be getting some
of that tonight.

She climbed out of the car, found Ryan close behind her. A
bit
too
close, his hand touching the small of her back. Something about
his touch sent a shiver down her spine—and not the right kind. Wow, it
had
been
a while.

“Whew. Too much wine at dinner,” she heard him say in her
ear, his arm around her now. “Think you could fix me a cuppa?”

“Sure.” She still had that vague sense of unease. But he was
attractive, he was clearly interested, and a little fooling around was just
what she needed. She was out of practice, that was all.

Not out of practice wanting Nic
, her mind whispered.
That was just memories, she reminded herself firmly. Long gone, and best
forgotten. Time to set them aside for good, and this was her chance to start.
She opened the door with her key, let Ryan in behind her, shrugged off her
jacket and hung it up as she called a hello to Mrs. Harrison, ensconced on the
couch with a paperback.

The older woman carefully slipped a bookmark into place,
then rose to greet them.

“How’d it go, Lois? Any problems?” Emma asked her.

“No worries. A lamb, like always,” Mrs. Harrison said
fondly. “Had his bath, we had our cocoa and bikkies, then he cleaned his teeth
and was off to bed like the good little fella he is.”

“Please thank Fred for sparing you tonight too,” Emma said.

“Hmph. Don’t think he missed me. Anyway, it’s given me a
chance to catch up on my reading, without the telly blaring away,” Lois assured
her. “I’ll be off upstairs, then. Goodnight. Pleasure meeting you, Ryan.”

“Likewise.” He smiled briefly, held the door, then shut it
behind her. Came over to where Emma stood, still near the couch.

“I don’t really want a cup of tea,” he told her. “I know
what I want.” His mouth descended on hers as he pulled her down onto the couch,
coming down over her. No softness, no romance now. She offered an instinctive
protest that was smothered by his insistent mouth, the crushing weight of him.
Her lips opened to tell him to slow down, and he took the opportunity to push
his tongue into her mouth, even as he pulled her back towards the arm of the
couch. His hand went to a breast, and she uttered another ineffectual protest
as she shoved against him once, then again, pushed him as hard as she could
from her prone position. He paid no attention. Instead, he seemed to interpret
her struggles as encouragement, deepened the kiss until she felt as if she
would gag on it.