Fatherhood Fever!. Emma Darcy

was good news. “You aren’t old, Mum. No reason to feel it, either,” he pressed pointedly.

      “I might try getting my hair coloured, too.” She held up her hands to assess them again. “Not as bright as my nails, but something like this peachy shade. It does suit my skin.”

      This was even better news, taking a positive interest in her appearance. “Great idea!” Matt enthused. He reminded himself to give his secretary a box of her favourite Belgian chocolates. Her health farm idea was turning out to be a winner, in more ways than one.

      “Oh! You’ve got your really classy sweater on.”

      “Mmmh...”

      “Did you have a nice game of tennis with Peta, dear?”

      “Yes, I did. She’s a top ‘A’ grade player. Almost wiped me off the court.”

      His mother looked delighted. “How wonderful to find someone who can match you. It’s so important to be able to play together. Your father and I...”

      Matt switched off from the list of fond recollections, his mind wandering to the games he’d really like to play with Peta Kelly.

      “Where does she live?”

      He snapped out of his fantasies. “Who?”

      His mother sighed in vexation. “Peta.”

      “Haven’t got a clue.”

      An exasperated roll of the eyes. “Where is she now?”

      He shrugged his ignorance. “She went off on her own after our tennis match.”

      “I don’t know where your mind is, Matt.” Her tone was loaded with reproof. “You meet an extremely attractive woman. She’s competent enough to hold a responsible job, athletic, obviously very bright, and the right age for you, too. It’s opportunity handed to you on a plate and you just let it go past you.”

      “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Mum.”

      “You’re not even trying.” She turned away in disgust and stared bitterly at the log fire. “You’ll end up a lonely old bachelor and I’ll never get a grandchild.”

      How about four in fairly quick succession?

      Matt didn’t voice the thought.

      Some things were best kept private.

      His mother could be embarrassingly heavy-handed in her matchmaking efforts and he preferred to run his own race. Besides, he couldn’t be certain of winning. He couldn’t be certain it would turn out how he wanted it to with Peta Kelly. But he meant to give this chance a damned good try.

      Driven by furious energy, Peta ploughed through twenty laps of the pool with barely a pause. Only when her chest started aching did she slow down and change to a leisurely sidestroke. Her mind, however, did not ease off its fuming activity. Matt Davis’s poking and prying into her heart, followed by his outrageous advice with the focus on him as her future interest, still made her burn.

      Devious, cocky man! Trying to turn her personal wounds to his own profitable advantage. He’d obviously taken her blunt honesty as a challenge and couldn’t let it pass, worming out how best to get to her, then presenting himself as the answer to her dreams to be gratefully grabbed on the spot!

      Peta knew what he wanted to grab. Did he think she was a fool who could be caught on the rebound if he held out a heap of glib promises? She ought to play him along and keep pinning him down just to teach him a salutory lesson. Yes...she would quite enjoy watching him wriggle on the hook he thought he’d baited for her. Serve him right!

      Except it would be a total waste of her time and energy. Better to ignore him. Though that would be rather difficult if he went along to the same activities she’d planned to enjoy here. His persistent presence could become an irritation, but she wasn’t about to change her choices because of him. At least she didn’t have to share the same table at meals. She could frustrate him on that score.

      Peta hauled herself out of the water and dripped her way over to the wall switch that activated the hot spa pool. Having turned it on, she lowered herself into the bubbling warmth, finding a seat where the powerful jets hit her in all the right places. She needed to relax. It was counterproductive to her whole purpose in coming to the health farm to let Matt Davis work her into a lather.

      The temper he’d raised gradually dwindled into a brooding gloom. It was a pity he wasn’t Mr. Right. Physically he couldn’t be faulted—a fine build of a man, obviously a good athlete, nothing objectionable about any of his features. Any woman would fancy a share of his genes for her children. High on intelligence, too.