Page 202 of Lovers' Dance

He rolled his eyes at her one word answer before prompting with a polite, “Why?”

Finally she raised her head and glanced over at him. “He needs me to stop by his place to pick some stuff up. I can’t believe he’s not coming home with me for Thanksgiving.”

Matt ignored her obvious desire to have her friend accompany her on the trip home. What was he? Chopped liver? He checked the time on the dashboard.

“You do know it’s gone ten, and I’ve told my pilot we’ll be flying out at five am. You haven’t finished packing, Madison.”

She shrugged, fiddling with her mobile. “I’ve probably got clothes at Aunt Cleo’s anyway. I don’t need to pack much.”

Matt snorted and focused on the road ahead. “So we’re heading to Greenwich, then.”

She looked at him. “No, hon, you don’t need to do that. We’ll head back to yours, then I’ll drive to Dante’s.”

Matt arched an eyebrow at her. He didn’t like that plan. It was late and she drove like a boy racer sometimes. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re not going to let me go on my own, are you?”

Matt smiled, reaching over to pat her leg lightly. “No, poppet, I’m not.”

She sighed loudly, rolling her eyes at him, before turning her attention back to her mobile. Matt watched her out the corner of his eyes. This trip would be full of surprises. He simply needed to charm her family, and he had every intention of being successful in that endeavour. By the time this brief holiday drew to a close, things with his poppet would be different…

TWENTY

MATT’S PRIVATE JET was as impressive as I remembered and the pilot had given me the same curious look like last time. You would swear I was another life form or something, the way he looked at me. Belinda, the woman who had accompanied us on the trip to Venice, was also there. Her hair was a rich burgundy now instead of the strawberry blonde from those months ago. She was rocking her new hair-do and surreptitiously watching my knight with longing etched on her face. Those secret looks she sent Matt’s way had me wondering if the two of them used to get it on. The manner in which she observed him was that intense. Matt seemed utterly oblivious to it. Bar his pleasant greeting and brief rundown of how he expected our flight to go, he hadn’t paid her much attention. I hadn’t missed the disappointment on her face when Matt didn’t glance at her creamy cleavage peeking from under her suit. Big boobies. Damn. What had I been doing when God was handing out the big boobs’ gene? Obviously not getting in line. I’d also missed out on the big, curvy ass gene that my hot black sisters had. I consoled myself with the fact I had the required figure for a ballerina. Frustratingly flat, everywhere. I twisted my head back, checking out my jeans-covered ass. I wasn’t white girl flat, but I wasn’t the expected black girl bountiful, either.

“Two hours late, poppet,” Matt groused, shaking his head at me as we took our seats. I ignored the slight irritation in his voice and peered out the window. It was best to pay no heed to Matt when he got like this. By the time we took off, his mood had improved considerably.

“You’re a bad influence, Matt,” I joked, and he blinked his beautiful eyes at me. I continued. “How can I happily travel with normal airlines when I’m used to a private jet? I mean, I don’t have to worry about overweight luggage or liquids in my carry on. Or being squashed next to a smelly person who wants to tell you their life story, never mind the fact you won’t see that person again. Or the horrible food they serve…” My voice trailed off as he leaned across to kiss me, slowly exploring the contours of my mouth with his skilful tongue. When he pulled away, we were both a bit breathless.

“As you can see,” he murmured. “There are many benefits to being with a man such like myself.”

I snorted at his smugness and stroked his smooth jaw line. The stubble from last Monday night had been gone when I returned to his house Tuesday evening.

“Lack of sleep?” I suggested.

Matt kissed the corner of my mouth.

“Being bossed around all the time?” I added.

He trailed soft kisses over my cheek.

“Forced to attend boring—eww!”

Matt stuck his tongue in my ear, uncharacteristically playful, then chuckled huskily. “Are you hungry, poppet? We didn’t have breakfast earlier.”

I nodded in acceptance and, with a kiss over my temple, Matt rose from his seat. I couldn’t stop my gaze of admiration. Even though his clothes were casual, they were a catwalk sort of casual. The dark-grey sweater he wore over his shirt served to accentuate the muscular lines of his upper body, his matching pants loose enough to be comfortable but unable to hide his current arousal. Hmm, my kisses were damned good, too. But the thing that I loved the most about his look today was the tousled waves of his silky, black hair. Whenever the locks weren’t brushed back into sleekness, I knew he was relaxed. Carefree. Not Matthew Bradley, gazillionaire business tycoon, who was the perfect example of what an intelligent, sophisticated man should be, but my Matt—sweet, goofy and lovable.

I sighed and fingered my French braid. Would Aunt Cleo accept him? I knew she would be outwardly polite. She would die before acting in the manner I knew she expected him to view her in. We hadn’t spoken. My message had been followed by a return message from her. One asking if I’d lost my mind. I had left another message stating Matt was definitely coming with me and, if she didn’t want him staying there, I would book us a hotel room. She had in turn left a message saying I was coming home, and home was where I would be staying.

It was almost funny the way we would time our calls in order to ensure the chances of the other person picking up the call were next to none. A couple of times when I called and someone answered, I had hung up sweating like a marathon runner and scared like a chicken facing a beheading and, ultimately, ending up in the fryer.

I stared at the clouds, remembering the engagement party yesterday evening. Matt’s parents were cold, well, his mother was frigid and his father perhaps thawing. William Bradley, Jr had smiled at me once…I think. Maybe he had gas and it was a grimace, not a smile. Whatever it was, it had been fleeting and possibly a figment of my imagination. They hadn’t spoken much to me, nothing more than a polite “Hello, how do you do?” and a “Goodbye.”

Matt was crazy if he believed they would eventually come around. Portia Bradley did not like me, and I doubted she ever would. Then there was Medusa; oh, yes, she had been at the engagement party, too, looking like every man’s wet dream and constantly finding herself next to Matt whenever I wasn’t near. He hadn’t given me any cause to be jealous though, maintaining a cool demeanour with his beautiful ex. Another sigh fell from my lips as I chewed my bottom lip. She was a part of his crowd, a long-standing friend. As much as I hated the fact Matt use to sex her up, I couldn’t expect him to give her and her family the cold shoulder. That would be unbecoming.

“Here you go, Ms DuMont.” Belinda’s voice startled me out of my musings. She took plates and cutlery off the trolley that was laden with fruits, yogurt, French toast, a selection of jams and meat, and runny eggs. I gagged in the back of my throat at the eggs as she efficiently laid out the food.

“Thank you, Belinda.” I managed a smile which she didn’t return. “Where’s Matt?”

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