Musical Beds (Food Of Love 2)

“What happened?”

“Can we talk about something else? These are bad memories. I hope to keep them in the past.”

He was such a closed book, she thought, opening up a tiny fraction then slamming shut again. How long would it take to understand this man?

“If I want to get to know you, though…”

“You are getting to know me. I’ve told you my fatal flaw. What’s yours?”

“Oh, that’s a good question. Fatal flaw. Hmm. I think I’m probably stupidly naïve. Does that count?”

“It can do.” Von Ritter sighed. “Especially when your naïvety gets you mixed up with people who are wrong for you.”

“You’re thinking about Milan again. What is it with you and him?”

Von Ritter pulled her into an embrace, kissing her long and sensually.

“Let’s not talk about that.”

Chapter Eleven

“Let’s row under those weeping willows. I’m a bit worried about sunburn.”

Vanessa lay full-length in the boat, staring through film-star sunglasses at the clearest of blue skies. Beside her were a basket of strawberries and a half-drunk bottle of champagne. In front of her was Ben, wielding the oars in a manner that showed off his taut upper arms and chest to perfect effect.

“I could do with letting it drift for a while,” he said. His forehead was streaked with perspiration, patches of it under his arms.

“Take off your shirt,” suggested Vanessa. “You look boiling hot.”

He curled his lip playfully. “So do you, ma’am,” he said. “Any hotter and you’d catch fire.”

Vanessa smiled lazily and prodded his crotch with the toe of her sandal.

“Hmm, somebody’s enjoying the view.”

“Ness!”

“What? Nobody can see us. The shore’s deserted.”

“Are you trying to give me ideas?”

“Would I?”

He put down the oars, having reached the shade of the overhanging branches. They glided through dapples of light, slender green leaves dropping onto them from above.

“Okay, well, this shirt is a little surplus to requirements, I must admit.”

He unbuttoned slowly, revealing his long, lean torso, which lacked even an ounce of spare flesh. His pale, freckled arms were strong and sinewy, and Vanessa propped herself up and drank in the sight of them.

“But if I’m going to get naked,” he continued, smiling roguishly, “I think you should too. How about taking off that dress?”

“Ben!” She looked around. The shores were still deserted. No other vessel floated on the lake’s surface. “What if another boat comes by?”

He shrugged. “They’ll think you’re just sunbathing. Now, are you going to get that dress off or do I have to come over there?”

She retracted her feet from him, giggling as he tried to make a swipe for her ankle. Pouting, but feeling the race of her heartbeat, she lifted the light cotton dress over her head, revealing her polka-dot bra and knickers. Thank God they match, she thought, but then Vanessa’s underwear always did.

Ben purred in appreciation.