black lashes. Straight brows added to his no-nonsense look, as did the thick, closely cropped black hair.
Most people would see him as the solid, dependable type, but Peta wasn’t about to trust that image. She’d seen and felt the simmer of sexual speculation emanating from him and no way was she about to fulfil the fantasies flying through his head. Giorgio was definitely the last man who would ever lead her down the garden path, whispering sweet nothings that came to precisely that. Nothing. From now on she was taking charge of her life and she was not going to have her judgment seduced by sex appeal.
“Speaking of singles...are you?” she asked, looking for feet of clay under the magnificent masculinity now revealed in navy shorts and a white sports shirt. His tan, she noted, was not of the sun-lamp variety. It had the natural glow of healthy outdoors activity. However, that did not preclude lots of indoor activity, as well.
He frowned incomprehension. “Pardon?”
“Single, unattached, on the loose?” she rolled out with a quizzical little smile. “I mean the wife could be taking a separate vacation while you do your filial duty. Or you might have an understanding lover sidelined until further notice...”
“No,” he cut into her flippant little speech. “I’m not in a relationship at the moment. Haven’t been for quite some time.”
“Prefer to be fly-by-night, do you?” she tossed at him.
He hesitated. “Is that what you prefer?”
She arched her eyebrows and shook her head. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about air hostesses and pilots.”
“I was asking about you in particular.”
“And I was asking about you. Some guys are take it and run specialists.”
She heard the bitter edge on her voice and saw it give him pause for thought. She didn’t care. If he was of that ilk, let him be warned the only thing he’d get from her was frustration.
“That’s not my style. Though I guess there could be circumstances that might influence me,” he answered slowly, his eyes sharply scanning hers.
“Well, it’s my guess you do whatever suits you, Matt Davis. Like the salt and the cigarette,” she said dryly.
And like Giorgio, keeping her on a string with a stack of cheating lies. Two years she’d wasted on him while he’d kept his real life hidden from her, holding out the promise of a future that was never going to happen. She’d hung on every flight to Rome, wild for the intense romance he showered on her, and all she’d been to him was a bit of fluff on the side.
She thought of her sister and the husband who adored her and their new baby and felt almost sick with envy. Why couldn’t she meet a decent man who didn’t shy clear of commitment? Just the mention of the word, baby, over lunch, had made Matt Davis bolt for a different tack in the conversation.
Her eyes flashed icy derision at the man who’d taken one look at her today and got bed on his brain.
“You want to know about me? I’ll tell you straight before you start nursing any ideas of fun and games.
The next guy who wants to get in my pants will have to put a wedding ring on my finger first!”
His jaw visibly sagged.
Peta smiled. “Ready to play now?”
CHAPTER FOUR
A WEDDING ring?
She wanted marriage? Actively wanted it?
The tennis ball whizzed past Matt so fast he was left totally flat-footed, his racquet still balanced in both hands. Her first serve and she’d aced him!
He saluted her, graciously conceding her the point. She grinned, her face alight with triumphant pleasure at surprising him. Her jaunty walk to the other side of the service line gave warning this had not been a fluke shot. Peta Kelly could really play. Strong arm for a woman, too. Great coordination. He wished she would take her tracksuit off so he could watch her fantastic body in action. The baggy trousers and sweatshirt frustrated his...
The next ball shot down the centre line, leaving him standing again!
“Okay! So I’ve got the cannonball express on the other side of the net,” he remarked appreciatively.
She laughed. “Should I slow up for you?”
“No. I’ve just got to adjust my pace a bit.”
A lot, as it turned out. She was dynamite on the court. Not only could she hit the ball with considerable power, her tactical play was terrific, running him around, lobbing over his head, killing him with deft drop shots. He’d just managed to catch up with her at three games each when she decided to strip off and his concentration was blown to pieces.
Underneath the tracksuit was one of those jazzy little aerobics outfits, stretch shorts and a midriff top in shiny lime green and lemon, very tart and spicy. She blitzed him for the rest of the set and Matt couldn’t bring himself to care. People talked about poetry in motion. Her cute sexy bottom, her flashing, fabulous legs, and her bountiful bouncing breasts would have made the most illiterate man in the world wax lyrical.
“Had enough?” she asked sweetly, having trounced him six games to three.
Matt couldn’t help blurting out what was on his mind. “Are you counting on a long celibate period or are you ready for marriage right now?”
It stunned her speechless for several seconds. They’d met at the net after the last point played and he could see her cornflower eyes glaze in disbelief at the up-front question. She recovered slowly, the glaze giving way to a mocking challenge.
“Given the right man, I’d marry him like a shot. The problem is in finding him. At my age, that’s akin to finding a needle in a haystack. The best ones are already taken and the rest have other agendas.”
A touch of bitterness there. Matt figured she’d been recently let down and was still hurting from it. “How old are you?”
She shrugged, uncaring what he thought of her. “I’m twenty-eight and the years are getting faster.”
“Not so old that you’re out of the race.”
“My sister is twenty-six, married to a great guy, and she’s just had her first baby. Right now I’m feeling very old, very alone, and totally depressed with life in general. A roll in the hay will not fix me up so don’t bother thinking it. On the other hand, another set of tennis...”
“You’ve got it.”
He grinned to himself as he headed down to the end of the court, ready to play again. He had her pegged now. She was using him as a whipping boy for the guy who’d punched out her self-esteem. Several things she’d said over lunch fell into place. Dying her hair I made her feel better. No one was going to take her for a blond bimbo anymore. Matt figured her last lover had done a real number on her, no doubt about it.
But she’d come out fighting.
Choosing such flamboyant colours for her hair was not only a rebellious statement but an aggressive one. She was showing plenty of aggression on the tennis court, too. As for riding a Ducati...Peta Kelly had a lot of guts. No way was she going to hide in a hole and lick her wounds. Her attitude reeked of thumbing her nose at the whole damned world.
Matt admired her for it. He’d always admired people who picked themselves off the floor and got on with life. He wished his mother would do it. With any luck, Peta Kelly might be a good influence on her. She might also be the needle in the haystack he’d been looking for.
The lust she stirred gathered an exhilarating edge of excitement. He played particularly well in the second set of tennis, giving her the workout she wanted and enjoying every minute of it. Sweat made her even sexier. He could see her being very athletic in bed, not the passive type expecting him to do all the work. Making babies with