Riccardo's Secret Child by Cathy Williams Page A

fantasies run more along the lines of joining the football team or acquiring a new computer game.’
    â€˜Shame. And what about your male teachers? Do they look slyly at you when you walk into the staff room? Do they entertain thoughts of stripping you naked and watching you come to them?’ He was treading a very fine line here, he knew. He had never dreamed of asking any of his past conquests whether men had fantasised about them. Their responses would have been tediously predictable. A coy laugh and the knowing look in their eyes that told him just how fanciable they knew themselves to be, just what they could do for him .
    He enjoyed knowing that his risqué questions were probably throwing her into a tizzy of embarrassment and confusion. The lighting was too subdued for him to see whether she was blushing or not, but he would put money on it. He discovered, with a pleasant little jolt of surprise, that the thought was electrifying.
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ Julia laughed nervously, feeling out of her depth now with this turn in the conversation. ‘We only have three male teachers. Two are over fifty and the third,from what I gather, enjoys going on wildlife tours more than he enjoys going out with women. We think he might well be gay.’
    â€˜Hmm. That’s not very stimulating, is it?’ He dipped his hand just slightly under her blouse so that his fingers brushed her spine. ‘So where do you go to find men who don’t enjoy wildlife tours and might not possibly be gay? Mm?’
    â€˜I don’t have much time to go scouring the city of London for men,’ Julia replied vaguely. Teachers were, at least at her school, a fairly sociable lot and her last boyfriend she had met through a friend. It was a subject she did not want to talk about because she knew that he would begin questioning her, and in so doing would discover her appalling lack of an exciting sex life. She had never felt the sizzle of instant attraction, preferring to cultivate a friendship before launching into the dubious waters of romance.
    â€˜It’s very warm here, isn’t it?’ she said, desperately trying to find a way of diverting the course of the conversation, and she was relieved when he agreed with her instantly.
    â€˜So shall we go back to the table?’
    â€˜I have a better idea. Why don’t we wander outside for a while? The gardens at the back are quite extensive, believe it or not. One of the advantages of not having a nightclub in the heart of the city. And I could use a bit of cool air.’
    Julia hesitated, but in the end she followed him out of the club and round the side, where the thought of cooling off had occurred to a number of people. On the way, they had collected her jacket from where it had been discarded by the table and their waitress had obligingly placed a reserve sign on the table.
    The cold air hit her face like a balm and she stood still for a minute, breathing it in with her eyes closed, unaware that he was watching her and the way her slightly old-fashioned outfit emphasised the slenderness of her body. She had a naturally boyish build but seemed refreshingly unaware of how many women would have given their right arm for it. Almost no curves, he thought. Or none that was immediately apparent, although the feel of her breasts on the dance floor, pushing against him, was evidence enough that she was all woman.
    He led her past the small groups of people cooling down after the heat inside, and towards the back garden, which was landscaped cleverly to convert a modest-sized plot into the illusion of a small copse. The ground was laced with trees, some evergreen, some bare of leaves, with intriguing, winding paths running between them.
    â€˜Perhaps we should head back in,’ Julia said nervously as the solitude of their situation hit her. In summer she had no doubt that this garden would be teeming with people relaxing outside with their drinks before