We're going to have to order in 'cos I gave up on the cooking idea."
She led him into the kitchen. Sudden visions of her naked on his kitchen bench invaded his mind, a corresponding recollection and interest registering in his trousers. "Hmm, nice kitchen. Shall we christen this one too?"
"Can you talk about anything except sex?"
He needed to behave himself - he could be such a jerk. "Yes. If I want to."
"Why don't you try?" She rummaged in a drawer and found a bottle opener.
"Have I discussed with you the advantages of investing in unit trusts?"
"Forget it, talk more smut."
It was his turn to laugh. "I can't talk investment strategies then?"
"No, it's deathly dull and boring." She handed him the corkscrew and he made short work of the opening, the cork coming out with a resounding pop.
"Don't you love that sound?" He looked round for glasses. "Come on, out with the best crystal then."
"A nothing-but-the-best man? I have to wonder what you're doing with me then." She held his gaze, passing him a flute as unconventional as her. It was made of stained glass, with small green, yellow and red triangles made to look like tiny leadlight windows.
Disentangling himself from her gaze, Matt poured the wine. "You, beautiful lady, happen to be the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."
"Such a flatterer."
"Well, don't tell me you weren't hunting for compliments."
"I won't." She gestured toward the terrace. "You want to sit inside or outside?"
"You decide."
"You're the guest, so it's your decision."
"Outside." He threw her a devilish look. "So does that mean I get to decide where we do what all night?"
"You plan to go all night, do you?"
"Stop it." He was giddy at the thought of wallowing in her body all night. "You know what I mean."
"It depends." She sat herself down on the wicker two-seater facing the beach, patting the red-and-white-striped cushion next to her.
Being defiant, he leaned up against the glass panel that saved him from plummeting four floors to the ground. "On what?"
"On how well you behave yourself."
"Oh, I see." He took a slow sip of the wine, eyeing her over the rim of the glass. She reminded him of a porcelain doll, her legs tucked up under her, bare feet poking out from under the ornately embroidered material of her dress. "And what happens if I'm naughty?"
Mirroring his movements, she took a sip of her wine, eyeing him over the rim. It intrigued him, the way she played this version of Simon Says with him. "Maybe I'd have to spank you." She said.
His pulse raced. All manner of depraved thoughts played in his head. "I don't believe you'd do that."
"Well, behave - " she patted the seat next to her again " - and you won't have to worry about it, will you?"
He decided to park himself next to her. "Now I don't want you thinking I'm a pushover, all right?"
"I know you're a pushover. Her eyes never left his. "But don't worry about it."
They packed the last of the takeout curry boxes in the rubbish. Tamsen was stuffed and she hadn't laughed so much in a long time; Matt was funny, intelligent, articulate, caring and sensitive. How the man who'd carefully lectured her on the benefits of owning a worm farm could be the same man Gina swore and cursed about was hard to see.
She was giddy with wine, but her careful attempts at engineering a retreat to the oasis that was her bathroom were failing.
"Hey, you." Matt's hands were streaked in curry sauce. "Lead me to yonder bathroom - I recall that this morning you promised me a sensual soak."
"Girly manipulation's lost on you. I've been trying to get you there for the last twenty minutes, in case you hadn't noticed."
"All you had to do was ask."
"Where's the romance in that?"
"Ah." He smiled. "The lady wants romance. I can do romance. I can do anything you want me to do."
Her insides went to jelly. She took his hand and led him down the short hallway to
She led him into the kitchen. Sudden visions of her naked on his kitchen bench invaded his mind, a corresponding recollection and interest registering in his trousers. "Hmm, nice kitchen. Shall we christen this one too?"
"Can you talk about anything except sex?"
He needed to behave himself - he could be such a jerk. "Yes. If I want to."
"Why don't you try?" She rummaged in a drawer and found a bottle opener.
"Have I discussed with you the advantages of investing in unit trusts?"
"Forget it, talk more smut."
It was his turn to laugh. "I can't talk investment strategies then?"
"No, it's deathly dull and boring." She handed him the corkscrew and he made short work of the opening, the cork coming out with a resounding pop.
"Don't you love that sound?" He looked round for glasses. "Come on, out with the best crystal then."
"A nothing-but-the-best man? I have to wonder what you're doing with me then." She held his gaze, passing him a flute as unconventional as her. It was made of stained glass, with small green, yellow and red triangles made to look like tiny leadlight windows.
Disentangling himself from her gaze, Matt poured the wine. "You, beautiful lady, happen to be the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."
"Such a flatterer."
"Well, don't tell me you weren't hunting for compliments."
"I won't." She gestured toward the terrace. "You want to sit inside or outside?"
"You decide."
"You're the guest, so it's your decision."
"Outside." He threw her a devilish look. "So does that mean I get to decide where we do what all night?"
"You plan to go all night, do you?"
"Stop it." He was giddy at the thought of wallowing in her body all night. "You know what I mean."
"It depends." She sat herself down on the wicker two-seater facing the beach, patting the red-and-white-striped cushion next to her.
Being defiant, he leaned up against the glass panel that saved him from plummeting four floors to the ground. "On what?"
"On how well you behave yourself."
"Oh, I see." He took a slow sip of the wine, eyeing her over the rim of the glass. She reminded him of a porcelain doll, her legs tucked up under her, bare feet poking out from under the ornately embroidered material of her dress. "And what happens if I'm naughty?"
Mirroring his movements, she took a sip of her wine, eyeing him over the rim. It intrigued him, the way she played this version of Simon Says with him. "Maybe I'd have to spank you." She said.
His pulse raced. All manner of depraved thoughts played in his head. "I don't believe you'd do that."
"Well, behave - " she patted the seat next to her again " - and you won't have to worry about it, will you?"
He decided to park himself next to her. "Now I don't want you thinking I'm a pushover, all right?"
"I know you're a pushover. Her eyes never left his. "But don't worry about it."
They packed the last of the takeout curry boxes in the rubbish. Tamsen was stuffed and she hadn't laughed so much in a long time; Matt was funny, intelligent, articulate, caring and sensitive. How the man who'd carefully lectured her on the benefits of owning a worm farm could be the same man Gina swore and cursed about was hard to see.
She was giddy with wine, but her careful attempts at engineering a retreat to the oasis that was her bathroom were failing.
"Hey, you." Matt's hands were streaked in curry sauce. "Lead me to yonder bathroom - I recall that this morning you promised me a sensual soak."
"Girly manipulation's lost on you. I've been trying to get you there for the last twenty minutes, in case you hadn't noticed."
"All you had to do was ask."
"Where's the romance in that?"
"Ah." He smiled. "The lady wants romance. I can do romance. I can do anything you want me to do."
Her insides went to jelly. She took his hand and led him down the short hallway to
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