Reversing Over Liberace by Jane Lovering Page B

going out in a bit, Clay,” I called over the banister. “If Ash rings back, tell him I’ll be around tomorrow.”
    â€œOkay.” Clay came halfway up the stairs. “Are you meeting up with Katie and Jazz then?”
    â€œNo. Well, yes, maybe.” I certainly wasn’t about to tell my brother, in his fragile, midlife-crisis state, that I was going out for a frenzied evening of passion with my new fiancé. Clay had begun to recover, slowly, from the shambling, questioning heap that had got off the plane a few days ago, swearing never to go nearer to any financial institution than the local ATM. I didn’t want to rub his nose in anything by pointing my own good fortune at him.
    â€œGreat. Enjoy.” He went back down to sample early-evening TV a little further, while I changed into a stunning little asymmetrical tea dress and pink heels to celebrate my first ever outing as an affianced woman.
    Luke turned up driving a huge black car which looked like the Batmobile. “What is this?” I climbed into the passenger seat, wide enough to accommodate even the bottom of Vivienne Parry.
    Luke grinned. “An investment is what this is. There’s people queuing up to buy this honey, so I thought we’d be the first ones to take her out for a spin.”
    I felt a tremble of excitement start somewhere near the base of my stomach. “It does look pretty sleek.”
    â€œYeah. And there’s plenty of room in the back, too, for any extra-showroom activities, if you see what I mean.”
    The tremble turned to something of a sinking feeling. I had hoped that our first sex as a proper couple might have been somewhere more salubrious than the backseat of a car. “We could always go back to mine,” I said. “If you want. I mean, why don’t you move in for a bit? It’d save on all those hotel bills, until we can get the flat sorted out.”
    Luke put his foot down and the car sleekly responded, growling its way out of town. “Well, you’ve already got your brother staying, haven’t you. Besides”—he turned the car so we were heading north—“the hotel is a tax-deductible expense. Patience, Willow, things will come together soon enough. Anyway I’m really looking forward to christening this gorgeous hunk of metal somewhere quiet. There’s a spot above Pickering, looking out over the moors. There’ll be no one there this time of evening. How about it?” He grinned manically.
    The tremble was back, this time an unmistakeable craving. “Mmmmm.” I slid down in the leather seat so that the dress rode up and showed my thighs. “Definitely.”
    â€œAnd after that”—almost without looking, Luke reached across and put his hand on the smooth skin above my knee—“there’s a great restaurant out that way. Been meaning to try it.”
    I wriggled again, aware of his gaze leaving the road to play hotly over my exposed legs. Slowly and deliberately I bent one knee and rested a high heel on the edge of the seat so that the dress fell away to reveal the tiny thong I’d chosen purposefully to go under it. “Sounds delicious.”
    We broke the speed limit all the way to Pickering.

Chapter Thirteen
    When Luke dropped me back at the house, it was past midnight, and Clay had gone to bed, which was just as well. My asymmetric dress was now far more asymmetric than it had been when I left, more creased and crumpled, too. My knickers were in my bag and one of the pink heels was decidedly wonky. But it had, all in all, been a very satisfactory experience.
    As I turned to push the door closed behind me my foot slipped across the doormat and I sprawled untidily into an attack of the splits. Hauling myself to my feet, I found that I had stepped onto an envelope, the resulting lack of friction being the cause of my skid.
    It was plain brown, no name or address, the sort of envelope pushed through