Authors: Rosalind James
“I don’t give a toss about the bloody bet,” he said in
exasperation. “Be glad to say I lost. I’m ready to lose here and now. Just say
the word. And how do you know what I do or don’t do? I’m not interested in
recreational sex with you either, if that means we have a quick root from time
to time. I want more than that from you. I’m not seeing anyone else just now,
if that’s what you’re worried about. And I like you too. Should have my head
examined, but I do.”
“This is hard,” she said, shivering in the cold. “I’m
wondering why it seemed like a good idea to have this conversation. But I don’t
think it’d work. We’d have at least two strikes against us already. I’m not really
ready for any relationship yet. And I’m sure not ready to take on somebody with
as much baggage as you have.”
“What baggage? And you’re freezing. Let’s walk up so you can
get changed. Can’t hear what you’re saying if your teeth are chattering, can
I.”
“Your checkered romantic history,” she explained as they
moved toward the changing rooms. “I know something about risk analysis, and
you’re a lousy risk. Not to mention trying to have a relationship with a pinup,
some kind of female fantasy. Like all those poor guys who married Marilyn
Monroe. I’d say that would make me the poster child for Women Who Choose Badly.
As if I weren’t already.”
“I’m not a pinup, or a fantasy either,” he objected. “Just a
man. What do you want me to do, get ugly so you feel more comfortable?”
She sighed. “I don’t want you to do anything, Koti. You’re
fine. Great, in fact. Just be my friend, OK? Go find another model to date.
Call me gutless, but I’m not secure enough to go out with you. And you’re
right, I’m freezing, and I have to get to work. See you later.”
She ducked into the changing room. Running away, she thought
guiltily. She hoped she had cleared the air, though. Selfishly, she didn’t want
to stop seeing him. All right, maybe her hands longed to touch the spectacular body
he uncovered every time he pulled off his wetsuit. Maybe she had impure
thoughts about him at night, even the occasional dream she tried not to think
about later. Not too much, anyway. But that didn’t mean she had to act on her
feelings. She’d had enough complications in her life for one year. She didn’t
need to add to them. She’d just put those thoughts out of her mind, that was
all. She could be rational about this. Surely she could.
Koti stalked back to his car in frustrated impotence. Pulled
off his wetsuit with jerky motions and threw it into the boot with unnecessary
violence. Wrapped his towel around himself, started the car, and turned the heater
up. Then sat and stared into space, not going anywhere.
Damn, she frustrated him. Her curvy, athletic little body,
her golden skin, her shining dark hair all seemed to have been made just for
him, inviting him to slide his hands over her. And all that prickly honesty,
her quick mind, her fierce independence only added to the fascination. He’d
been fantasizing for weeks about having her in bed. Or out of it. When he watched
her pull off her wetsuit, he wanted to keep going, to pull her togs off her
too, hold her against him to warm her, feel her wrap those small, lithe arms
and legs around him.
Most of all, he wanted to be inside her, feel the heat of
her energy surrounding him. It would be so easy, he thought, to slip inside.
She was so small, he could hold her there, move her over him. He’d thought
about it so much, it was as if he’d already done it. Only he hadn’t. And it
looked like he’d never get the chance.
He groaned and rested his head on the steering wheel. He
was in trouble. He hadn’t felt this randy for a woman he couldn’t have since he
was fourteen. Since he’d been passionately in love with Miss Johnston, his
maths teacher. He’d walked around for months in a state of perpetual arousal, unable
to concentrate on anything else. And this wasn’t any better. Worse, because he
had a fair idea now what it would feel like, with Kate.
Get a grip, boy, he told himself. He should call somebody
else. He could do it, he knew. Even Dena. Despite what Kate believed, Koti was
fairly certain that he could get Dena back if he wanted her. The problem was,
he didn’t want her, or anyone else. He wanted Kate.
He put the car into gear at last and pulled out of the
carpark. She still wanted to be friends, anyway. He’d take advantage of that. He
knew she was bloody interested too. He had too much experience not to know when
a woman was aware of him, attracted to him. He’d have to keep trying, that was
all. She hadn’t told him to go away, after all. That had to be a good sign.
“Right, then,” he told her the next day on the phone. “How
about doing something with other people, reduce the chances of our jumping each
other?”
“Sounds like a good idea,” she agreed cautiously. “What did
you have in mind?”
“Want to go blackwater rafting with me, down at Waitomo?”
“Blackwater rafting? How is that different from whitewater
rafting? Is this some kind of only-in-New-Zealand thing again?”
“Yeh. Exactly. Cave exploration as an adrenaline sport.
Sweet as. A bit scary maybe, but you’ll be well looked after. All guided. The
full tiki tour.”
“I’ve made a rule now, not to back down from anything. And
I’m not claustrophobic, so cave exploration sounds fun. What does it involve?”
“We’ll drive a couple hours south, spend a few hours jumping
around in a cave. All you need is your togs and a towel. Saturday suit you?”
“No, sorry,” she said reluctantly. “I have plans.”
“What . . .” he started. “Right. Not asking. How about
Sunday?”
“Good job not asking,” she said approvingly. He didn’t need
to know that her plans involved her work colleagues. Let him think it was a
date. “Sunday’s fine. What time?”
“The tour’s about five hours. I could pick you up about
seven-thirty. That way we could get something to eat on the way, still get
there well before eleven. Won’t be back till evening, though. You may want to
rethink your principles, let me pick you up at home this time. I promise to
forget your address straight away.”
“All right,” she conceded. “It’s starting to feel a little
silly. Whatever I might say, I know you’re safe.” Despite that, dictating her
address felt like a big step.
“Brilliant. Safe,” he said gloomily. “See you at seven-thirty
Sunday, anyway. Good as gold.”
“I’ve never done karaoke,” Kate told her three coworkers nervously
as they entered the lively Japanese restaurant on Saturday night. “I don’t have
a great voice, either. Do I have to sing?”
“Not unless you want to,” Corinne grinned. “But somehow,
after a few drinks, I always want to. The boys look hotter and my voice sounds
better when I’ve got beer goggles on.”
“On that note,” Heather suggested, “first bottle of wine is
my shout. It’ll be easier after that.”
How she had missed this, Kate thought as she sipped from her
glass of Sauvignon Blanc and listened to the women’s lively chat. She’d almost
forgotten what it was like to go out with a group of women, to be silly and
laugh until she cried.
The karaoke portion of the evening was kicked off by a young
man in skin-tight jeans and a bright yellow Dinosaur Comics T-shirt with the
slogan, “Feelings are boring. Kissing is awesome.” His blond hair tumbling over
his forehead, he performed an over-the-top rendition of ‘Billie Jean’ that had
the whole crowd laughing and clapping along.
“That was awesome. Come on, then. Who else wants to have a
go? Don’t be shy,” the DJ urged.
“What the hell.” Brenda finished her wine and hopped up on
stage. To Kate’s envy, she had a brassy, confident delivery that made up for
whatever her voice lacked, as she belted out “Stand By Your Man” to an
enthusiastic audience. Several others followed her example. The DJ was quick
to turn down the volume when it was kinder, but the crowd good-naturedly
applauded even the feebler attempts.
“Should I try?” Kate asked after another glass of wine.
“Definitely.” Corinne encouraged. “It’s just us. We won’t
remember anything tomorrow anyway.”
“Just don’t do ‘I Will Survive,’ Heather counseled. “Most
overdone karaoke song ever.”
“Whoops. Thanks for the tip. Because that was my choice. OK,
I’ll try ‘Mamma Mia.’ Loud and fast. That’s the ticket. Wish me luck.”
A few bars in, though, and she was losing her confidence.
What was she doing up here? She couldn’t sing. The DJ began turning down the
volume as she floundered, and Kate looked around in wild panic. The young man who’d
sung first, seeing her distress, jumped back on stage, put his arm around her,
and began to sing along. Kate laughed aloud and joined in with relief. Soon,
caught up in the moment, she was dancing with him as well. If Pierce Brosnan
could risk his dignity by singing the way he had in that movie, so could she,
especially with help like this.
After their big finish, she threw her arms around her new
friend and gave him a hug that he enthusiastically returned, adding a smacking
kiss that had her grinning as she left the stage to whoops from the audience.
“I don’t know who that was,” Kate told the group as she came
back to the table, flushed and laughing, “but he saved my life.”
“Have another glass of wine,” Brenda told her as she poured.
“You earned it. And now that we have you well and truly on your way, you can
tell us what the story is with you and Koti. Come on. Spill.”
“You’re bad, Brenda,” Corinne chided. “The rest of us have
been too polite to ask. But now that Brenda’s come out with it, we’re all dying
to know.”
“Gosh. Maybe I should make something up, then. Something
exciting for you. Just friends, though. Sorry.”
“How did
that
happen, though?” Corinne asked. “Somehow
I can’t picture him walking up to a woman and saying, “Oi. Wanna be my friend
tonight?”
Kate laughed along with the others. “Nope. Probably not. We
both live in Takapuna, though, so we’d see each other at the beach. And we both
like to swim, so . . .” She shrugged. She’d never told anyone about their bet,
and she wasn’t going to start now.
“You
swim
with him?” Brenda asked, fanning herself
with her hand. “Oh, my God. So hot. Mental picture here. You’ve seen him in his
togs, and you haven’t jumped him? How can you resist that? Don’t you just want
to lick him all over?”
All four of them dissolved in laughter. “Great image,” Kate
told her. “Thanks. That’s super helpful. You bet, he looks hot in a swimsuit. I
can’t say I don’t enjoy that part. But I’m an accountant. We’re cautious types.
We have to weigh all our options first, make a careful decision.”
“Well, I’m a publicist. I’d weigh my options, then make a
careful decision to lick him all over,” Brenda announced, making everyone laugh
again.
“I don’t know,” Corinne commented. “Setting aside what a bad
risk he is, not sure I’d want to date anyone prettier than me, or who spent
more time grooming than I do.”
“Not actually true.” Kate found herself coming to Koti’s
defense. “I mean, yeah, of course he knows he’s good-looking. It’d be hard for
him not to, wouldn’t it? But he isn’t really stuck on himself. It’s not like
he’s looking in the mirror fixing his hair all the time.”
“Right, then,” Heather said. “One objection accounted for. So
why
haven’t
you jumped his bones?”
“Well, for one thing, I’ve never liked the idea of dating
someone I worked with, or even worked close to. Because then there they are,
aren’t they? All big and awkward, if it doesn’t work out. As we all know.”
“Hmm. Big maybe. Not so awkward,” Heather objected. “I’d
take that risk, for that bit of fun. Except I have a partner,” she sighed
regretfully. “He wouldn’t be too keen. But theoretically.”
“And you’re not here forever, right?” Corinne asked. “This
is just until that boofhead who was stalking you gives up, then you’re going
back home, eh. Which makes it a bit of an OE for you.”
“An OE?”
“Overseas Experience,” Heather clarified. “Didn’t you do
that, after Uni? Kiwis like to go abroad for a year or two when they’re young,
see the world before they settle down.”
“And everyone knows,” Brenda went on, “that you get to have all
those experiences—those
special
experiences—on your OE. What happens in
Vegas stays in Vegas.”
“Hmm.” Kate took another sip of wine, “I never had one of
those. Something to keep in mind.”
“We’d have to hate you, though,” Brenda pointed out. “Nah.
Doesn’t matter,” she decided. “You should go for it anyway.”
“We’d have to hate her more, though,” Heather reminded
Brenda. “Because she’s American. It’s one thing to see a Kiwi girl date a
player. Even if she’s someone in the office. Which does happen.” The other
women nodded in agreement. “But I’ll tell you, your friend Hannah wasn’t very popular,
snaffling up Drew like that.”
“We’d all like to hate her,” Brenda said. “Except she’s so
bloody nice, you can’t. How did she catch him, do you know? I’ve never heard
the story.”
“I don’t know much either. Sorry again,” Kate told them.
“I’m not a very good source of gossip, am I? But from what little I’ve heard,
if there was any catching going on, it was the other way around. Was that
actually a big deal?”
The other women traded glances and laughed again. “You could
say that,” Corinne answered. “The women of New Zealand had a pity party for
weeks over it. And if you pinch Koti from us too . . .” She shook her head.
“Reckon there’ll be some changes to the visa program.”
“Well, don’t worry,” Kate assured them. “He’s a surprisingly
nice guy. But I’m not planning on sleeping with him, so it’s not going to be an
issue. The tall blonde models of the world can go for it.”
“There was a redhead, too, right?” Heather asked. “Are they
still an item?”