Fatherhood Fever!

“Definitely a corrupting influence,” Peta declared.

“And you are a spoilsport,” he retorted in some exasperation. “A pity the jug on the table isn’t full of prune juice. I could have offered you some.”

She laughed and sat down. “Put out, are we?” she tossed at him teasingly.

“Matt, you promised to give up smoking...”

“Mum, if you nag me about one more thing today...”

“Well, if you want to have a baby...”

“You want to have a baby?” The cornflower blue eyes stared incredulously at him.

“Matt would make a wonderful father,” his mother enthused.

“Pass the salt back, please,” he thundered down the table.

“Salt? Who’s got salt?” someone appealed from across the dining room.

“Got everyone cheating now,” Peta muttered darkly.

Matt didn’t care. At least he’d diverted the talk about babies. He gave his mother a baleful look. It was perfectly obvious babies were the last thing on Peta Kelly’s mind. His freewheeling bachelor image would be far more likely to appeal to the rider of the red Ducati. If he was to get to first base with her, he had to shut his mother up on the subject of grandchildren. The problem was, she was so obsessive about it.

“Please forgive me,” his mother gushed to the object of his desire. “I can’t stop looking at your hair. I’ve never seen anything so daring.”

Peta grinned at her. “Well, nobody can take me for a blond bimbo anymore.”

More like a blond bombshell, Matt thought.

His mother was astonished. “You’re really a blonde? I thought the copper red part was natural.”

“Nope. Straight out of a bottle. It’s called flaming chestnut.”

“What are the other shades called?”

“The first band is crushed orange and behind it is papaya.”

Very exotic, Matt thought. He reached for the jug of juice on the table and poured her a glass. “You’ll like this. Tropical fruit.”

She laughed. No mocking lights in her eyes this time. Pure amusement dancing at him. Matt’s heart did cartwheels. There was definitely a connection here. He could feel it. He smiled at his mother.

“Why don’t you do something exciting with your hair, Mum? Peach with cream highlights would look good. Much more fun than grey.”

“Oh, Matt! I’m at the stage in life where there’s nothing left to do but grow old gracefully.”

“Nonsense! Who says the mature woman has to be dull? You admire Peta’s daring. Put some colour into your hair. Splash out on some bright clothes to go with it. Start a new life.”

“It can make you feel better,” Peta said in support.

Matt grinned at her, delighted with her help in encouraging his mother to do something for herself. Peta looked quizzically at him, probably assessing his motives for using her as a glowing example to be emulated.

“Well, I’ll think about it,” his mother said dubiously.

It wasn’t the usual flat negative. No negative vibrations coming from Peta, either. Matt sensed a burgeoning of interest. He munched into the sandwich he’d made with more appetite than he’d experienced for days.

“You must have a colourful job,” his mother remarked to Peta, still in the grip of fascinated curiosity.

She shrugged, doing instant damage to Matt’s resolution not to focus on her breasts. “Not really. I’m an airline stewardess with Qantas.”

Fortunately his mother held Peta’s attention. “On international flights?” she asked.

“Yes. Mostly to London or Rome.”

Ah, the Italian influence, Matt thought.

“That must be a very responsible job, taking care of a planeload of people on such long trips,” his mother said appreciatively.

Matt frowned. It was a fair comment. Somehow that kind of responsibility did not gell with the powerful sportster, black leathers and exotic hair. On the other hand, there was a lot of action in London and Rome. They could be very wild cities for those on the prowl for excitement.

“Yes. And it plays havoc with one’s sleep patterns,” she said. “Which is why I’m here. Maybe this place will help to regulate them.”

Matt could think of other, more satisfying ways of regulating them than programmed exercises and lettuce leaves. He carefully kept his gaze lowered as his imagination took fire and hungered through several erotic fantasies.

“Try some massages, dear,” his mother advised.

Yeah...slow and sensual would be great, Matt thought.

“I’ve just had the Reiki massage,” his mother went on. “It does the most amazing transference of energy. The heat it generates in some places...”

Couldn’t possibly be as good as sex.

“...I’ve had quite a lot of backache recently...”

Matt was jolted out of his private reverie. He frowned at his mother. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh, you fuss so, Matt.”

“You mean you don’t want to hear that backache is often related to weight. And, of course, sitting around doing nothing instead of getting some proper exercise can exacerbate the problem.”

“And you have the gall to call me a nag,” she flared at him. “I’ll have you know I didn’t exercise when your father was alive, either.”

“You didn’t have to. You had a good sex-life.”

“Oh!” That flustered her.

“Maybe Vida’s right,” Matt went on, enjoying his advantage. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you to a health farm to encourage good habits. I should have got you a toy-boy instead.”

“Matt! How could you? Your father...”