Exotic Nights

He slung the dress back over the chair. ‘They’ll have it back in twenty-four hours.’

Just as he turned away she caught sight of his wicked grin and the suspicion that he’d done it deliberately flew at her. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her tongue as she thought about it. She loved that dress. She needed that dress. She could pay him back after the party, couldn’t she? She really had no option.

‘I’m starving.’ He stretched. ‘Let’s do pizza.’

Take-out pizza she could handle. It was cheap; it was yummy. Her sense of independence surged. Hell, she could even buy it.

‘Just give me a couple of minutes to shower and change,’ he called as he headed to his room.

She was opening all the kitchen cupboards and drawers when he got back.

‘Looking for something?’

‘Phonebook,’ she muttered.

He stared at her quizzically for a moment. ‘Ever heard of the Internet? Anyway, we’re not ordering in, we’re going out.’

‘We are?’ Nonplussed, she stared at him. Since when? But he was halfway to the door already.

She called after him as he sped down the stairs. ‘Going out where?’

He grinned up at her as she descended the last few hundred steps. ‘My favourite.’

It was a colourful Italian restaurant about five doors down from his warehouse. Not quite the cheap and cheerful she’d imagined. More refined than relaxed, but they didn’t seem to mind his casual jeans and shirt and her charity shop special skirt.

Bella had kittens as she read the menu—and saw the prices.

Owen seemed to read her mind. ‘My treat. A further apology.’

That was the point where she finally baulked. ‘No.’ She was not going to have him call all the shots like this, and certainly not have him pay for everything. It made the situation sticky.

‘Pardon?’ He looked at her. The air almost crackled.

‘No, thank you,’ she enunciated clearly. ‘You’ve already done far too much for me, Owen.’

He’d frozen. Clearly he didn’t hear the word no very often. She was going to have to remedy that. ‘You don’t have any brothers or sisters, do you?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said, surprised. ‘How did you figure that?’

‘You’re too used to getting your own way.’

He stared at her; she met the scrutiny with a determined lift to her chin. ‘You think?’ He suddenly stood. ‘Let’s get out of here, then. We’ll do your precious takeaway.’

‘I’m paying.’ Assertiveness plus, that was the way.

‘Fine.’ His lips were twitching again.

The rooftop was as warm and seductive as the night before and Bella soon realised she would have been far safer in the overpriced restaurant. Desperately she went for small talk—anything to distract her from how hot he looked, how hot she felt. And to stop her from making a fool of herself. ‘Where are your parents?’

‘Mum’s in Auckland, Dad’s in Australia.’

So they’d split up. Somehow it didn’t surprise her. ‘Were you very old when they busted up?’

He looked cynically amused, as if he knew how she was analysing him. ‘I was nineteen.’

‘Really?’

Owen smiled at her surprise. ‘Twenty-three years of marriage gone. Just like that.’