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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...”
“My father would turn in his grave if he knew you’d given up on life, Mum. He loved a very vital woman who enjoyed herself in hundreds of ways. You might not miss that person but I do.”
“Well, I certainly don’t need a toy-boy.” She was affronted.
Matt shrugged. “Just a thought.”
“You think sex is the be-all and end-all, do you?” Peta drawled.
The cornflower blue eyes were very cutting, very cold, very cynical. Matt’s spine crawled. This was a loaded question if ever he’d heard one, and coming from this red hot tomato, it had caught him right off-guard.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “But physically it can be a great workout.” Extremely good for deep, restful sleep, he almost added.
The finely arched eyebrow lifted. “No need for weights at the gym to maintain that impressive physique?”
