The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(74)

“You really like it, then?” Mrs. Hart asked.

“I love it,” Honor said honestly. Every time she looked at the ring (which was often), she seemed to notice something new.

“He’s adorable. Well done, dear,” Mrs. Hart said, beaming.

“I fixed them up,” Goggy announced. “I knew it was Meant to Be. They’re perfect for each other. A perfect match. A grandmother knows about these things. We have a certain sense about us—”

“Okay, Goggy, we should go,” Honor said. “Thanks for the donation, Mrs. Hart.”

“See you soon!” the jeweler said. “For your wedding bands!”

“Right! Yes. Thanks again.”

“I’m hungry,” Goggy said. “Let’s eat. Is it too early for dinner?” She glanced at the man’s watch she wore. “Nope. Four-thirty. That works for me.”

“One more stop, okay? The gym said they’d offer a six-month membership.”

“Why do people go to gyms?” Goggy asked.

“I have no idea,” Honor answered. “But people do.”

And Tom’s car was in the parking lot. Today was the self-defense class. Coincidence? Probably not.

They went into Cabrera’s Gym, Goggy clutching her purse in both hands like she was about to encounter a gang of thugs in desperate need of coupons. It was dark (the less you saw, Honor supposed, the less grossed out you’d be). Music boomed over the loudspeakers. “Can I help you?” said a young man behind the desk.

“Is Carlos here?” Honor said.

“He’s over there with the kids.” The man pointed, and Honor peered ahead.

There they were—Charlie, Helena, Abby and quite a few other kids. The class seemed to have mushroomed.

Tom was there, as well. He wore black boxing shorts and a faded blue T-shirt that said Gulfstream. The bottom of the Union Jack was just visible, and his hair was sweaty. She could see the chain of his Saint Christopher’s medal where it disappeared into his shirt, and the memory of that medal, hot against her own chest, made Down Under clench in a strong, hot surge.

She swallowed.

“Hallo, darling! And hallo, Honor.” He came over to Goggy, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Kids, for those of you who don’t know, this is Honor Holland, my fiancée, and her lovely grandmother, Mrs. Holland.”

“Call me Elizabeth,” Goggy murmured, batting her sparse eyelashes.

“Hi, Auntie,” Abby said.

“Hi, Honor,” Charlie echoed.

Well, well. Charlie spoke to her. Voluntarily and everything.

“Honor, I didn’t know you were engaged to Tom here! Congratulations!” Carlos said.

“Mmm-hmm,” Honor said faintly, dragging her eyes off Tom’s mouth.

“You want a gift certificate for the thing? The ball, right? I’ll go take care of that. Back in a flash.” Carlos smiled and trotted off to his office.

“Darling, will you help me here?” Tom asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. The smell of soap and sweat made her knees nearly buckle. Would it be wrong to lick his neck in front of the kids? Yes. Probably. Maybe not.

“Right, kids, so here’s my lovely Honor, and as I was saying, boxing’s a sport for everyone, isn’t it, love?”

“It so is,” she said.

“Honor herself adores it, though you can’t tell from the look of her. But we’ve seen Rocky at least twenty times, isn’t that right, love?” He grinned at her, and her knees did buckle then, but she managed to stay upright.

“Oh, yes. At least. And Cinderella Man.”

“Right.” He gave her a squeeze. “Don’t forget Warrior.”

“And Raging Bull.”

He leaned in close, his mouth almost touching her ear. “You have no idea how randy you’re making me by knowing all these films,” he whispered, and her breath was suddenly ragged. He turned back to the kids. “And Honor here weighs about how much, love?”

“Nice try,” she said.

“Less than I do, at any rate. But if she knew where to hit—”

“The groin,” she said. “Go right for the nuts, girls. Sorry, boys, but it’s true.” Goggy nodded in agreement.

Tom turned and looked at her. “Darling! I didn’t know you had a violent streak. Yes, the groin is an excellent target. But say you can’t do that. You still have a lot of options. If Honor knew where and how to hit, she could level me. Couldn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes. I could.” Gray eyes. So...unfair, somehow, the gentle color of a rainy sky on a winter morning, and wasn’t someone feeling romantic? That mouth of his. She could do a lot with that mouth. Or rather, he could.

What are we waiting for? the eggs asked.

How about “not an audience of children”? Honor mentally answered.

Don’t get testy with us, the eggs said. We’re just trying to get a little action here.

“Into the ring with you, then,” Tom said.

What? Her stomach lurched. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not dressed for it.” Indeed. A pencil skirt and blouse, the sturdy-heeled pumps that Faith had deemed “not too nunnish” on their last lunch date.

“She’s not, is she?” Tom left her side, unbalancing her a bit, as she seemed to have leaned up against him. It was cold without him there. He bounded up the two stairs to the ring. “But that’s the point. You have to know you could defend yourself whenever you needed to, no matter what you were wearing. Come on, Honor, let’s show the kiddies how it’s done.”