Exotic Nights

He turned a startled gaze on her. ‘What do you mean “heaven forbid”?’

She grinned, hoping to come across light but inside kind of terrified about his response. ‘That’s what you said at the bar on Waiheke when I asked if you had a live-in lover.’

He lifted a large iron casserole dish out of the oven, using a couple of tea towels to cover his hands. He carefully placed it on a protective mat on the bench. Only then did he answer—equally light in tone. ‘Bella, we were in a bar flirting and being flippant.’

He began ladling the steaming contents of the dish onto their plates. ‘I never knew you remembered everything I said so perfectly.’

Everything he’d ever said she’d committed to memory. If only she could learn her lines with the same skill.

‘Anyway, you’re only staying here till you sort out a new place of your own, right?’ Not as his live-in lover, but a temporary guest. He was making the point subtly, but nonetheless still making it. Fair enough.

‘Absolutely,’ she agreed. They were just confirming everything—mainly because she felt the need for well-defined boundaries.

‘So,’ he added, ‘we don’t need the labels, right? You’re a friend staying here.’

‘Sleeping with you.’ There was that small point.

‘Till you’ve got your new place sorted,’ he continued, ignoring her comment, starting to sort eating utensils.

‘Is that when we stop sleeping together?’ She held her breath.

He stopped fussing in the cutlery drawer and looked at her. ‘We stop sleeping together when one or other of us says the word.’ He fished out another fork, put it by the plates and caught her eyes with his own once more—not that it was hard; she couldn’t seem to stop staring at him. ‘And says the word gently, right?’

Right.

He left the tray and put his hands around her waist instead. ‘Rules established?’ he asked softly.

‘I think so.’ Better late than never, she figured.

Bed buddies. An indefinite series of one-night stands. Except if she thought about it she’d wonder whether this might be more to her than a one-night stand. She might not be that old or that experienced, but even she could see this could lead to trouble—for her at any rate. So she vowed to keep that limit on it—two weeks. She’d have as much of him as she wanted—and she really wanted—then she’d move out and end it all. Before her heart as well as her body got entwined.

Early the next morning she went to the flat and cleared out the last of her belongings. Gave the whole place a final clean, but even so the burnt-egg smell lingered. Back at Owen’s warehouse she ran a bath, sank into it for the best part of an hour and appreciated the beauty of the room. The dark colour scheme could be austere, but it wasn’t. The flashes of red here and there hinted at a touch of passion—the fire she knew burned inside him. He was full of vitality, ambition, discipline, drive. The bathroom designer had got a good handle on him. It was very, very masculine. It screamed bachelor—for life. And yet, there were twin hand-basins, side-by-side mirrors—one for him and one for the lady currently in his life, huh? The overnight guest.

All his toiletries were in the drawer beneath the basin, leaving the bench space clear and uncluttered. Minimalist. With a spurt of defiance she lined up her bubble bath, shower gel, shampoo and assorted moisturisers in pump bottles. So she wasn’t his live-in lover? She was just a friend staying? Fine, but she was quite determined to make her mark.

He was working at the computer when she got home from the café late in the evening.

‘You’ll get square eyes,’ she teased.

‘You’re not even into the Internet?’ He spun on the chair to face her. ‘What about the social pages?’

‘I have no interest in communicating with the people I went to school with when I was five.’ Not when they’d all be wealthy lawyers or doctors or married to some famous person, or anything like that, when she was just a waitress.

‘But it’s a necessity in today’s market. You need computer skills to work.’

‘I’m not saying I don’t have skills. I can point and click as well as anyone, I’m just not interested. Why would I want to stare at a screen all day?’

‘What about online shopping?’

‘I’d really rather go to the movies.’

‘And that’s not staring at a screen?’ He looked sardonic.

‘OK, show me, then,’ she challenged. ‘One thing that’s really interesting.’

He grinned. ‘Did you know your sister has put photos of the wedding up on her chat page?’

‘No.’ Bella froze. ‘Has she?’