‘Farah, hell...’ He raked a hand through his hair and levered himself off her. ‘I was at least planning to feed you first.’ Her stomach grumbled and he rolled her over so that she was on top of him. ‘Sorry, sweetheart.’
‘It’s okay. It was...’
‘Good?’
‘Yes.’
‘Shockingly good?’
‘Yes.’ She sighed, trying not to think too hard about anything. ‘Is sex always like this?’
‘It’s called making love and, no, it’s not.’
Making love? ‘Ah, Zachim?’ She wrinkled her nose as she smelt something burning.
He stroked his hand down the curve of her spine. ‘Mmm?’
‘Did you turn the stove off?’
‘Holy—’ Unconcerned about his nakedness, he vaulted from the bed and ran to the other room.
Grabbing his T-shirt again, she quickly donned it and followed, to find him rinsing a steaming pan under a tap, the inside charred to black.
He looked over his shoulder at her. ‘I hope you like your bacon well-done.’
She laughed.
* * *
Later, they finally ate, and not a minute too soon, because Zach was sure his stomach had been about to feed on itself while he fed on her.
He looked across at her curled in the window seat, nursing a fresh cup of coffee and a faraway look as she gazed out over the tranquil blue waters of Talamanca Bay. The remains of their breakfast—eggs sans bacon—were pushed away on the breakfast table between them.
The air was balmy with late morning, the waters calm, and his thoughts somehow just as peaceful. The restless emptiness he’d been experiencing a few weeks ago strangely settled. By this woman?
The question threw him a little because he had no idea how she felt about him.
It was a surprisingly angst-ridden thought for a man who was used to women who would watch paint dry if he told them he found it fascinating. Not that Farah would. She’d no doubt roll her eyes and tell him a camel had more brains than he did. The thought made him smile and he was determined to remove the pensive look on her face.
Feeling strangely bereft of the skills that had led him arrogantly to claim that he was good with women and horses, he cleared his throat. ‘You look troubled, habiba. Want to share?’
She glanced at him, her eyes guarded. Slowly she set her mug down on the table. ‘It’s nothing.’
He cocked an eyebrow and waited, resisting the need to haul her into his lap to comfort her and pet her. ‘Nothing seems to get us into trouble. How about we try some other word?’
A faint smile tugged at her lips. ‘Okay, I was... I was thinking that we don’t really know each other very well.’
‘Well, we do,’ he corrected lazily. ‘But that’s not what you meant.’
Her smile turned wry. ‘No.’
‘Okay, well, I know that you take your coffee white with one and you know I have mine black. What else would you like to know?’
‘I don’t know.’ She made a face. ‘What is your favourite breakfast?’
‘Bacon,’ he delivered, deadpan. ‘Yours?’
She laughed and he took it as a small victory. ‘Eggs with sumac, hummus on flatbread, yoghurt and dates.’
‘What about toast with Vegemite?’
She frowned. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s something I discovered on a tour of Australia. You will love it.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Naturally.’
He smiled. ‘Favourite colour?’
‘Too many to choose. You?’
He looked at her hair. ‘Chestnut brown.’
She blushed beautifully. ‘Favourite pastime?’
‘Tinkering with engines. Yours?’
‘Reading.’
Zach smiled as he felt some of the tension ease out of her. ‘See? Already the marriage is working.’
‘What about love?’
He stilled, his heart hammering. Was she about to tell him that love was important to her? That she didn’t love him? ‘What about it?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Your mother said you always wanted to marry for love.’
‘My mother talks too much. Tell me how you came to use a sword so well.’
It was an obvious change of subject but Farah let it go because for some reason talking about love bothered her as much as it seemed to bother him. ‘How is your arm?’ she asked. ‘I noticed this morning it still had a mark. I’m sorry I sliced you.’
‘It was more of a nick, but I’m sorry I underestimated you. You’re very good.’