Lovers' Dance (29 page)

“It’s no one’s business but mine,” Matt said curtly.

“For God’s sake, Matt. She’s black.”

“And?” Matt asked, face darkening in anger. “It’s the bloody twenty-first century. Race doesn’t matter, or maybe it would be better if I said it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Adam glared at him.

Matt glared back. “It’s none of your business, Adam.”

“None of my—” Adam exhaled loudly, shaking his head slowly. “You’re my brother, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make a very public mistake—”

“Why is it a mistake to love her?” Matt asked in frustration, running a hand through his hair. He froze, realizing what he said and avoided his brother’s incredulous stare.

“I’m sorry. I must have misheard you. Did you say love her?”

Matt clenched his jaw and turned away, mentally kicking himself for the slip of words. He walked over to one of the cupboards and pulled out a saucepan.

“Matthew,” Adam hissed. “You’re having me on. Right?”

Matt remained silent as he walked over to the stove to place the pan. He eyed the amount of chopped chillies and scooped half up in his hand with a little frown. He needed to be firmer over the level of heat she insisted on infusing into her dishes. But she was damned cute with that enticing pout of hers.

“Matt.” Adam’s virulent tone made him pause. He shot his brother a bland stare before dumping the chillies in the bin.

“Adam,” he said calmly, washing his hands under the faucet. “I’m tired and hungry. I don’t want to argue with you about something you have absolutely no control over. Madi’s going to come down soon and I don’t want you upsetting her. She’s had a hard enough day already. So, big brother, are you going to act like an adult and stay for dinner or shall I throw you out?”

“You said you love her.” Adam brought the full dustpan over to empty in the bin. “Did you mean to say ‘shag’? I can understand the mix-up, but you don’t really love her. Right? I mean, bloody hell, she’s ten years younger than you. And poor.”

Matt tried to control his rising temper at Adam’s behaviour. He surveyed his brother coolly. The family resemblance between them was strong, although Adam’s eyes were more blue than grey and his hair a dark brown, not black like Matt’s. Matt had a couple of inches more, height-wise but, other than that, they were almost the same build. Bradley men.

“What’s offending your sensibilities, Adam?” Matt asked. “The fact she’s black, the fact she’s much younger than me, or the fact she’s not in the same financial bracket as I am? Which one is it?”

Adam huffed, folding his arms as he stared at the countertop filled with the ingredients for their dinner. Matt waited silently for his response. When he didn’t speak, Matt continued in a firm voice. “Because none of that matters to me. You know nothing about her.”

“Neither do you. I’ve seen the news, Matt.”

“Now who’s being ridiculous?” Matt scoffed. “The media is doing what they do best, and that’s blow everything out of proportion. Adam, I don’t expect you to understand or like it, but I do expect you to accept it. You’re my big brother. It’s your responsibility to support me, no matter what.”

Adam scowled at him for a long moment. Matt kept his expression neutral. He could hear Madi coming back.

Adam exhaled loudly before muttering in resignation, “I’ll stay for dinner, then.”

Matt grinned at him. “Good. She’s a great cook when she’s not trying to kill you with chillies.”

“Got a great arse, too.” Adam mumbled, shrugging when he noticed Matt’s narrowed glance. “What? Don’t tell me that wasn’t one of the reasons you—”

“Shut up,” Matt growled, then adjusted his expression into a pleasant one as she re-entered the kitchen, fully clothed.

<><><>

I felt nervous. Matt’s older brother must think I was crazy. In my defence, he should’ve known better than sneaking up on a woman. How long had he been standing there, watching me in my cartoon underwear and t-shirt. I hoped Matt’s big brother wasn’t a weirdo. With a strained smile, I walked into the kitchen.

“Adam’s staying for dinner, poppet,” Matt advised casually. I glanced at Adam, trying to keep the smile on my face. He didn’t look as if he wanted to stay.

“Oh, okay,” I said, gliding back to my post. “There’s more than enough for the three of us. Matt, can you get a pot for the linguine…what did you do with the rest of my chillies?”

Matt smirked and pointed to the bin while Adam observed us from suspicious eyes.

“Binned them, poppet. I couldn’t subject Adam to the fiery torment you’ve been inflicting on me.”

I huffed, shaking my head at him. He winked and my mouth crinkled at the edges as I tried to smother a giggle. Matt was cute sometimes. My gaze wandered to Adam, who’d moved away to give me space in front of the island.

“You’re tiny,” he said.

I gave Matt wide eyes. He shrugged and rolled his eyes before saying, “That’s Adam’s way of saying, ‘Hi Madi, tell me something about yourself.’ He was dropped on the head as an infant and has never recovered from the injury. Excuse his behaviour, poppet.”

I giggled, then tried to stop when I saw Adam’s face. My attempts to curb the giggles ending up in unladylike snorts, which made Matt laugh and Adam’s expression became stonier.

It took effort, but we did stop our childish laughter. Matt lounged against the island, watching me work and handing me stuff when needed. He liked hanging around whenever I cooked for us. I liked that he did.

“Adam,” I began, silently vowing to kill him with niceness. “Has Matt always been bossy?”

“Infuriatingly so,” Adam replied, with a malicious smile in Matt’s direction.

Matt sent me a mock glare, and I nudged him playfully with my hip.

“Do you work with him and Nathan?” I asked politely. It would be correct to assume Adam had a problem with me being black. Before going upstairs to change, I had hovered outside the kitchen. When he’d exclaimed to Matt “she’s black”, I knew where things stood and left them to it. It was better not hearing what else he had to say about me.

“I’m co-president with Matt at the company.”

“Do you enjoy what you do?” Another polite question that earned me a suspicious look from him. He probably thought I was after Matt’s money.
Idiot.

“Yes, I do.”

And so it went on while I cooked. Me trying to engage him in polite conversation and receiving stilted answers in return. It seemed Matt had had enough by the time he drained the linguine for me as I stirred the prawns in the saucepan, because he suddenly said, “Stop being an arse, Adam. If you’re going to act like this, you should leave.”

I blinked at the anger in Matt’s voice. I didn’t want to be the cause of an argument between them so I murmured, “It’s fine, hon.”

“No,” he said, shooting Adam grey lightning bolts. “It’s not, poppet.”

An uneasy silence descended as the two brothers exchanged heavy glances. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Right,” I said brightly. “I hope everyone’s hungry because we may have gone overboard on the pasta. Adam, do you mind getting plates? Matt’s hands are full, and I don’t want this sauce to burn.”

Adam did as requested, and the three of us worked putting the food on the plates like an awkward conveyor belt. There were two red splotches on Matt’s cheeks, indicative of his silent fuming. I elbowed him lightly to get his attention, then mouthed “It’s okay.” He slammed the pot of pasta on the stove and scowled. I hoped he didn’t stay angry. I’d never participated in angry sex before with him, and the thought wasn’t an appealing one. Matt brought cutlery out while Adam made himself busy by taking the full plates over to the table. I, feeling horrible because this tension between them was because of me, morosely found wine glasses and trudged over to the table. Matt brushed past Adam roughly, who glowered at his younger brother as Matt went to get wine. He got some water, too. Smart man. Seeing him with the water reminded me more glasses were needed so I brought some to the table.

By the time we all sat down in front our plates, the atmosphere was so thick only an industrial sized chainsaw could cut it. Matt and Adam were exchanging death stares. I sighed softly and began to eat. The men tucked into their food, frosty silence between them.

Until Adam finished his second forkful. He blinked, then cleared his throat softly, as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. He coughed, then tried to clear his throat again. Matt eyed him while casually sticking another forkful into his mouth.

I bit my lips as a deep red flush started creeping up Adam’s neck until his entire face was red. He snatched the water pitcher up, bringing the whole thing to his mouth and chugging it back like a frat boy chugging beer. Water spilled down his chin, his neck, his shirt and still he drank. Matt arched an eyebrow at my horrified face and took another mouthful of his dinner. Adam was spluttering, shooting me accusing looks over the pitcher as he drained at least one litre of water in under fifteen seconds.

“I told you it was too much chillies,” Matt commented, before smugly taking another forkful and casting a disdaining eye at his older brother.

“Good God, woman,” Adam wheezed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“It’s not that hot.” I popped a prawn in my mouth and smiled sweetly at Adam. Matt chuckled as he chewed, and I started to laugh. Adam wheezed and stared apprehensively at his plate of food.

“Matt doesn’t seem to have a problem with it,” I added.
Was that vindictive of me?

Matt smiled. “It’s delicious, poppet. I might have seconds.” He snorted derisively at Adam. “Your table manners are appalling, just look at you.”

Adam glanced down at his wet shirt and one corner of his mouth tugged up. He started to grin as he watched Matt and myself cheerfully tucking into our dinner. A low chuckle slipped past his lips and the awkward tension disappeared.

Adam picked up his cutlery, saying with exaggerated affront, “If Matthew can bear it, so can I.”

“That’s the spirit. Oo-rah,” I said, and Matt shook his head. The amusement shining from his eyes warmed me all the way down to my toes and, when he mouthed “love you”, my cheeks grew hot and my heart started to race. Damn. I had it bad.

Dinner was nice after Adam’s brush with death—that’s what the two men were calling it. He was actively conversing with me, asking about my dance company, my family, my yearly earnings. Matt told him to shut up after that question. It was fun watching their brotherly interaction. Growing up, I had envied the relationship between my two cousins. Even though I’d lived with them, was technically the middle child of the house, they shared a special bond I was excluded from.

“You can ask Matt,” I told Adam after a personal question about my mother and the picture in the papers. “He had a background check done on me.”

“Poppet,” Matt muttered in frustration. His sexy grey eyes were remorseful though.

I arched an eyebrow at him, daring him to defend his behaviour.

Adam was nodding in support of his brother. He stopped when he caught me scowling at him.

“Madi…Madison…do you have a preference?” Adam asked.

I shrugged and stood up. “Most people call me Madi. Do you want more, Matt?” I asked, gesturing to his plate.

He chewed his lower lip for a moment, then declined my offer. I stacked his empty plate on top of mine.

“What about you, Adam? Think you can handle another helping?”

“I barely survived the last,” he said with a shake of head.

His plate went on the pile and I took the used dishes over to the counter. Hands on hips, I stared at the lower cupboard doors. There would be a dishwasher somewhere, close to the sink, but there were two sinks, one on the island and the other close to the stove.

“Second door from the stove, poppet.” Matt, reading my mind, rose from the table and sauntered over.

“How do you do that?” I grumbled as he grinned at me and opened the door to reveal a dishwasher with more knobs on it than was useful.

He shrugged, then helped me load the dirty dishes in. We stared uncertainly at the knobs and Matt shrugged.

“George will sort it tomorrow,” he said.

I shook my head in amusement, then tried to stifle a yawn.

“Tired, poppet?” Matt murmured as he stepped closer. His masculine scent filled my nostrils and a flicker of arousal went through me.

“A bit,” I answered, glancing at Adam who was getting up from the table. “It has been an eventful day.”

A flash of remorse flitted over Matt’s face before he said softly, “Why don’t you go to bed? I won’t be long.”

I looked over at Adam again, not wanting to be rude, but I was tired and certain Matt wanted to talk to his brother in private.

“Okay then,” I agreed. “Good night, Adam. Um, it was nice meeting you.”

Adam gave me a smile and I hurried out of the kitchen.

When I crawled into Matt’s huge bed, the worry set in. Would Adam make Matt change his mind about me? About us? It was obvious he didn’t think I was good enough to be with his younger brother. Would he bring up the race issue? Or the money issue? Would he make Matt realise the futility of our relationship?