Six Naughty Nights Read online

  “And what talents do you have, Toby?” Her eyes gleamed as she placed a forkful of pasta delicately into her mouth.

  Trying to tear his eyes away from her soft lips, he said, “I don’t want to say. You’ll laugh.” She was ten times cleverer than him, with a mountain of knowledge compared to the anthill-high pile of information in his head. He couldn’t bear it if she poured scorn on him too.

  She put her fork down with a frown. “I’m many things, but one thing I’m not is a snob. God gives us all gifts, and I believe it’s our role in life to discover what they are and to use those to help our fellow man. Let’s face it, what does being able to quote most of King Lear line by line really add to humanity?”

  “I suppose,” he said doubtfully.

  “So what’s your gift, Toby?”

  “Buildings talk to me,” he said, sitting back.

  Her eyebrows rose. “Okay.”

  “Not literally, I hasten to add. I mean the materials, especially wood. When I hold a piece of wood, I can almost feel the tree talking to me. I love wood, I love holding it, working with it.” He smiled as she giggled. “Yes, all carpenters are used to erection jokes. But the thing is, different woods have different patterns and textures and smells. I can tell by touch which part of the tree it comes from, and I have to take that into account when I carve it or the shape won’t look right.”

  He stopped talking, embarrassed. He’d never tried to explain himself before. When he put it into words, it sounded stupid.

  But she just said, “Go on.”

  He cleared his throat. “Look, I know this is probably a terrible thing to admit, but Christchurch has held a strange fascination for me since the earthquake last year. Collapsed walls reveal old, sealed doorways and intricate timber ceilings. The marks of craftsmen, long forgotten. I like to think about them while I seal that history in with plywood. I don’t know much about history, but I feel connected with the past, when I work on buildings like that. I’d love to help rebuild the cathedral.”

  Her expression had softened, and her eyes looked at him with something like wonder. “Why on earth would you think you don’t have a gift?”

  “Dunno. Nobody else seems to think so. It’s not written on a piece of paper anywhere. You can’t grade something like that, or get a certificate for it. And that’s all that seems to matter, to most people.”

  “So that’s why you’re going to university.”

  He nodded, tucking into his pasta again. “I figure if I get a qualification, maybe people will take me more seriously. And then maybe I can take myself more seriously.”

  “I understand why you would think that. But to be honest, I think you’ve got it the wrong way around. If you were to take yourself more seriously and accept you don’t have to have a piece of paper to prove you’re special, everyone else would follow suit.”

  They said nothing for a while, watching Charlie pushing the train around the carpet while he related stories. Toby thought about what she’d said. Was she right? His parents loved him, his friends and family adored him, but nobody had ever told him he was special before. Was that because he didn’t believe it himself?

  His gaze fell on Esther. The buttons of her new blue pyjamas strained slightly across her breasts—they’d grown since he last saw her, changed no doubt by motherhood. How else would her body have changed? He was surprised that the thought of stretch marks and the loosening of her previously tight, fit body didn’t put him off. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d carried Charlie for nine months before giving birth in the fascinating, scary way women did. He’d put the baby inside her. He still couldn’t get his head around that. It truly was a miracle.

  She’d had his baby, and now they were linked for life in a way he’d never considered before, never expected. And in spite of the fact that she’d kept Charlie from him, and obviously still bore him resentment, suddenly, as he studied her slight form and remembered the smell and taste of her, he wanted her.

  Chapter Nine

  Esther saw him studying her pyjamas and remembered the receipts she’d meant to give him. She pulled them out from under the bowl on the counter. “Here. This is what I bought today.”

  He looked at them without taking them. “I don’t need those.”

  “Of course you do. You need to know what I spent.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Toby.” Exasperation flooded her. “I bought some clothes for both of us, a couple of toys, bathroom stuff, bottles…” She told him how much she’d spent, wondering if he’d exclaim that she’d cleaned him out.

  His eyebrows rose. “Is that all?”

  “Well…” She couldn’t think what to say to that.

  He finished his pasta and pushed his plate away. “That was lovely, thanks.” He stood, went over to the fridge and extracted two beers, then held one out to Esther inquiringly.

  She blinked. “I haven’t had a drink for three years. It never seemed right, when I was the only person Charlie had.”

  “Way overdue then.” He popped the top, passed it to her and sat back on the stool.

  She studied it doubtfully. “I don’t know if I should.”

  He waved it in front of her nose. “Drink me. Driiiink meeeee…”

  Giving a small laugh, she took the bottle. “You like tempting me, don’t you?”

  “Oh yeah.” His eyes gleamed.

  Realising as soon as she’d said it how it could be misconstrued, she sent him a remonstrative glance and sipped the beer, sighing as the cool liquid slid down her throat. “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “It certainly is.” There was a hint of heat in his expression, and she wasn’t entirely sure he was talking about the beer as his gaze ran briefly down her. But he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he stretched out his legs and took a long swig from the bottle before continuing. “So I guess we should talk about where we go from here.”

  “Literally, spiritually or metaphorically?”

  “All three, probably.”

  She picked at the label on the bottle, unsure whether she was ready for this discussion, but there were only a couple of days until he left, and she was just putting off the inevitable. “I’m not sure what to say,” she admitted.

  He took another mouthful of beer as he watched Charlie playing. Her gaze lingered on the impressive width of his biceps as he lifted the bottle, and the defined muscles under his tight T-shirt. He swallowed the lager. “I suppose the main question is, do you want me to play a part in Charlie’s life?” His eyes came back to hers, gentle and calm.

  His generous query tied her tongue in knots. He could easily have demanded his rights to see Charlie. Accused her of denying him the years he’d missed. Told her he didn’t want anything to do with her. But instead he’d asked her what she wanted. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to argue with her answer, but she appreciated he was thoughtful enough to ask.

  She cleared her throat. “I can’t say I’m not nervous about this. It’s only been Charlie and me—since Dad died anyway, and I’m honest enough to admit I feel uneasy about sharing him with anyone else.”

  She looked down at her hands, not wanting him to see the rawness she felt inside at the thought of someone taking Charlie away from her. What if Charlie loved Toby more than her? It was a stupid thing to worry about, but all boys wanted to be like their fathers, didn’t they? What would happen if Toby visited them and then Charlie wanted to go with him when he left?

  “I would think that was perfectly normal,” Toby said. “And honey, there’s no way I’d want to come between you and the boy.”

  The tears came in a rush, surprising and embarrassing her. Jeez, this was the second time she’d cried in front of him in as many days. She pressed her fingers to her lips and struggled to control the emotion that flooded through her.

  Toby put down his beer. “Time for chocolate,” he said. He walked over to the fridge and retrieved the bar he’d put in there when he first came in, as well as a packet of buttons. Waiting
until she nodded her assent, he opened the packet and gave them to Charlie before taking his seat and opening the chocolate bar. He broke it into pieces, popped one into his mouth and pushed the rest over to her.

  She blew her nose, then took a cube of the chocolate and sucked it. “Why does chocolate always make things better?”

  “Dunno, but it does.” He turned the bottle in his fingers. “Look, why don’t we be honest with each other? This isn’t the easiest situation. Basically, if we hadn’t met in the supermarket, I’d be none the wiser and you’d still be on your own. But we did, and everything’s changed. I’m not quite sure how it’s going to work, and my gut feeling is to give it a little while for us to come to terms with what’s happened and to think about what we want from the relationship.”

  She nodded, wiping away the remains of her tears. “That sounds sensible.”

  “With that in mind, I have a proposal for you.” Her eyes must have widened, because he gave her a wry look. “Don’t look so alarmed—it’s not that sort of proposal. I know you well enough to guess what the answer to that would be. Look, I’ve already told you I’ve booked flights for this weekend. Dan gets married next Saturday, and I have to go.”

  “Of course.”

  “But here’s an idea… Why don’t you come with me?”

  She stared at him.

  “With Charlie,” he added. “Obviously.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You mean…to the Northland?”

  “Yeah. It doesn’t sound like the university’s going to be open any time soon, so you probably won’t be working for the next couple of weeks at least. You don’t have a place to stay, and it will take a few days to sort out your insurance. It will be a break for you to get away, especially after the earthquake.”

  “I…I couldn’t.”

  “Because…”

  She couldn’t think of an answer.

  “It would give us time,” he said. “For Charlie and I to get to know each other.”

  “We’d stay with you?”

  “If you wanted, or I can arrange somewhere else. You can decide when you get there, if you like.”

  “But I’d have to meet your friends and family…”

  His eyes were calm but firm. “Don’t you think it would be nice for Charlie to meet his grandparents? And for them to meet him?”

  Fear made her words dry up. He had every right to want to take his son to meet his family. But the thought filled her with panic. She glanced at her son, who was feeding buttons to Thomas Tank while he gave a running commentary about them being bad for Thomas’s teeth. She didn’t want to share him with anyone. But she had to think about what was best for Charlie, and surely having an extended family was a good thing?

  To her surprise, Toby reached out and took her hand. “I’m not going to take him away from you.”

  His sincere words brought a lump to her throat. She’d never be able to forgive or forget the fact that he’d walked away from her, but he’d said to her, “I was very young, Esther.” Perhaps he’d changed. And even if he hadn’t, he was still Charlie’s father.

  She went to say something, but Charlie interrupted her with a complaint that a chocolate button had somehow “got stuck” in Thomas’s wheel. She spent a minute levering it out with a spoon, sighing as he returned to the floor. She’d forgotten what she was saying.

  “Having an extended family does have its benefits,” Toby said. “Like babysitting.”

  She gave a short laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I had an hour to myself when I wasn’t working.”

  “There you go. Perhaps we can go out for a meal or two, to talk things over.”

  She met his gaze. His warm brown eyes held a very small hint of mischievousness. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned. “This morning’s kiss was a mistake. It won’t be happening again.”

  “Of course not.” But the twinkle didn’t disappear.

  For some reason, the box of cards he had in his bedroom jumped into her mind. Naughty Nights. Even the name gave her goose bumps. How exciting it would be to play that game with him. But it had been a long, long time since she’d had sex. Would she remember how to do it if she ever got back in the saddle?

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

  The beer was starting to have an effect, and some of her reservations died away. This man was the father of her child. He was hardly a stranger. She leaned her head on her hand and sighed. “I was thinking that the last time anyone touched me intimately was to put stitches in.”

  He winched. “Ouch!”

  “Yeah. It would be nice to have a memory of being touched down there that didn’t include rubber gloves and forceps.”

  He chuckled. “Well, if I can help, you only have to say.”

  She took another swallow of the beer and studied him dreamily. He’d been so good in bed. Considerate and gentle, and yet also a delicious mixture of commanding and the right amount of forceful. The memory made her shiver.

  One night in Fiji, a few nights after their almost-exhibitionism on the beach, they’d had a drink on the balcony and got talking about women’s rights. He’d purposefully adopted a misogynistic attitude to wind her up, which had worked to the extent that she’d eventually thrown her wine in his face and risen to leave. In reply, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, ignoring her complaints. He threw her onto the bed, pinned her there and kissed her, refusing to let her go, and eventually he took her with a luscious roughness, in spite of the fact that she’d already given in.

  His gaze fell to her lips, and she couldn’t stop herself moistening them with her tongue. He noticed, and his eyes grew a few degrees hotter.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.

  He said nothing, but his lips curved.

  Her heart thumped wildly. “You’d be disappointed in me. I’ve had a baby—I’m all stretch marks and saggy boobs and belly.”

  His gaze dipped to her breasts. “They still look pretty good to me.”

  Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Toby!”

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  “I’m an old mother now. I should be knitting and making flans.”

  He gave a short laugh. “You don’t look bad for a pensioner.”

  “I mean it. You’re all young and…vibrant. I’m—”

  “Twenty-three?”

  “-four,” she said lamely. “But I feel seventy most days.” She sighed and studied the beer. “I’ve grown so weak. One bottle and I’m practically comatose.”

  “Cheap date,” he said.

  “I guess.” Self-pity washed over her. “I don’t want to feel old. I mean, I don’t regret having Charlie at all, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me, but my whole world revolves around him and daycare and feeding times and what’s on TV, and sometimes I just wish…”

  He leaned closer to her. “What do you wish?”

  She moistened her lips again. “When we were in Fiji, you made me feel so…”

  “So…?”

  “Alive. You’re like the sun.” She was almost asleep.

  He reached out a hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you’re like the moon.”

  “Cold and distant?”

  “Breathtakingly beautiful.” He slipped his hand into her hair and cupped the back of her head as if he was afraid she might pull away, but the warmth of his compliment spread through her, and as he lowered his lips to hers she gladly moved the last inch to meet him.

  He tasted of chocolate and beer, summer and happiness. She let him kiss her slowly, closing her eyes, and enjoyed the movement of his lips across hers, the stroke of his tongue into her mouth. What are you doing? yelled her brain, but he was such a good kisser that her body refused to move.

  “Kissing’s yuck,” said Charlie.

  She pulled back, wondering if Toby would look exasperated, but he only seemed amused. He turned to face his son, who stood before them, Thomas Tank in his hand. “Hey, buster.
” Toby lifted him up and sat him on the breakfast bar, placing the engine beside him. “Kissing’s not yuck. Not when you like the girl.”

  Her cheeks grew warm, and she stood to clean away their dishes, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face.

  “I’m never going to kiss anyone,” Charlie stated as she started to run the hot water.

  “Fair enough,” Toby said.

  “I’m not going to sex anyone neither,” Charlie announced.

  Esther stared at him, startled, as Toby burst out laughing. “Charlie!” she exclaimed. Where had that come from? She’d never heard that on Thomas Tank.

  “That’s very wise,” Toby told the boy. “You’ll save a fortune in condoms.”

  “What’s a conbom?”

  Toby lifted him down from the breakfast bar. “It’s kind of like when Thomas enters a blocked tunnel,” he said. “And about as reliable, apparently. Now look, you’ve missed two chocolate buttons. If you don’t eat them, I’ll have to eat them, and I’ll end up looking like the Fat Controller. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  Charlie giggled and ran off to get the buttons. Trying not to laugh, Esther glared at Toby. “For God’s sake, stop leading him astray.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll keep that for his mother.” He winked at her before turning away, giving her a splendid view of his tight ass as he bent to fight Charlie for the last button.

  She sighed and went back to cleaning the dishes, smiling as Charlie tripped over the carpet, followed two seconds later by Toby. Going to the Northland with him would be a huge mistake. Because Toby himself was like a packet of Cadbury’s Buttons, and she hadn’t had even a taste of chocolate for three years. Once she opened the packaging, how was she going to stop herself eating the whole lot?

  Chapter Ten

  Esther had only ever been to the Northland once and that was fifteen years ago. She’d forgotten how different the climate was compared to Christchurch.

  As soon as they stepped down from the small plane at Kerikeri’s tiny airport, the warm air wafted over her. She slipped off her jacket and hung it over her arm as she helped Charlie down the steps. “Wow, that’s warm.”