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‘What are you teaching me?’ he asked. ‘What recipe are we creating?’
She opened a cupboard and lifted out two wine glasses, taking a bottle from the fridge. ‘I’m teaching you how to make Malaysian spicy chicken noodles.’ She poured the wine. ‘But I want you to know that I have an unusual way of teaching.’ She took a sip from her wine glass and winked at him.
A smile automatically came to his lips. She was flirting with him, always a good sign. ‘What’s unusual about your teaching methods?’
She let out a laugh. ‘I don’t actually do anything. I just watch you do it. I’m like the ultimate lazy tutor.’
He moved from chopping the chicken, to shredding the cabbage and carrots, all the while feeling her gaze on him. He might be a prince, but he’d learned to fend for himself over the years. He wasn’t above throwing some ingredients together. And somehow he liked being under her appreciative gaze.
She nodded towards the sesame oil next to the wok and smiled. ‘Better get started.’ It was as if her gaze was dancing across his skin, leaving tension in the air between them, and he’d never liked it so much.
He shook his head and poured some oil into the already smoking wok, watching while it spat instantly. He added the chicken, the vegetables and some of the baby bok choy, chilli paste, garlic, soy sauce and finally some hokkien noodles. Last thing he wanted to do was mess up dinner.
‘Wait!’ Arissa smiled. ‘You’ve forgotten my favourites.’
She grabbed a packet of peanuts and sprinkled them over the dish.
He gave a little frown. ‘Are you sure these are a good match?’
She raised her eyebrows knowingly as she put out two place settings. ‘These are my secret ingredient.’
He dished out the stir-fry into the two white bowls she’d set next to him and carried them over to the table. ‘Do I get to drink my wine now?’
She nodded as he sat down opposite her and he lifted his glass to hers. ‘To friends,’ he said. ‘You’ve made this holiday a whole lot more...’ he wasn’t quite sure what word to add—what word would be entirely appropriate ‘...special,’ he finished with a broad smile.
She clinked her glass against his. ‘Special,’ she repeated as her gaze connected with his. ‘To think I could have spent two weeks entirely on my own.’ She took a slow breath, as she held his gaze. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘Me too.’
They ate as the sun set on the horizon sending streaks of orange and red across the sky. When they finished they carried their glasses outside and sat on the cooling sand on the beach.
‘Last time around you didn’t tell me you owned a whole beach,’ he joked.
‘Last time around I didn’t know you that well,’ she replied. ‘And I don’t own the whole beach.’ She drew a little square in the sand between them. ‘Maybe just, this much.’
He didn’t hesitate, he closed his hand over hers, guiding a finger to draw a wider square. ‘Or maybe you own a little more. This much?’
She laughed and lay back on the sand. ‘Heard of snow angels? How about some sand angels?’ She was still smiling; she started swishing her arms and legs over the sand. ‘Maybe it’s this much.’
He moved over slightly, lying back too and copying her actions. ‘Or maybe it’s this much!’
She kept laughing as she watched him. He finally stopped and turned around onto his side, putting his head on one hand.
‘We have a whole beach to ourselves,’ he said conspiratorially. ‘Any ideas what to do next?’
She turned to face him, putting her head on her hand too and shaking some sand from her hair as he eyed the rippling ocean.
‘No way,’ she said firmly.
‘Why not?’ He couldn’t hide the gleam in his eyes and sat up straight. ‘Come on.’ He pulled his shirt over his head.
She burst out laughing and he looked down and held out his hands. ‘What? Too much paunch?’ He knew he looked fine; his almost washboard abs had been gained through long hours at work, not long hours in the gym.
She shook her head. ‘There’s no paunch—’ she wagged her finger ‘—but don’t go any further.’
‘Why not?’ He was being wicked and he knew it. He unfastened his jeans and laughed as she put one hand up to her face and looked away. ‘Somehow as a doc, I think you’ve seen it all before.’
He kicked his jeans off and held out his hand towards her. ‘You’re telling me, in all the years you’ve stayed here, you’ve never gone skinny-dipping in the ocean?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Not with anyone watching. Anyhow—’ she sat up onto her knees ‘—I normally use a bathing suit—don’t most people?’
He winked as he looked down at his jersey boxer shorts. ‘Depends on the occasion.’ He checked over his shoulder. The beach was empty and the sun was dipping even lower in the sky, the rainbow of reds and oranges vivid in the dimming light.
‘Thought you were introducing me to Temur Sapora,’ he teased, his arm still outstretched and not wavering at all.
Her fingers went to the top button on her shirt dress as she started to stand. The little flicker in his stomach grew.
She undid the first button. ‘I’m introducing you to selected portions of Temur Sapora. Maybe I hadn’t decided if you were worthy of this yet?’ She was teasing him back. He liked it.
She still hadn’t taken his hand. He stepped a little closer. ‘What do I need to do to be worthy?’ he asked, his voice low.
She blinked, those dark eyes connecting with his. It was mesmerising watching her fingers oh-so-slowly undoing the buttons on her dress, revealing the skin underneath. His breath was definitely faltering.
The red dress dropped to her feet in silence. Her underwear was simple. Black cotton bra and pants. No silk. No lace. He’d never seen anything sexier.
There was a glint in her eye. She pointed over his shoulder. ‘See that buoy out there?’
He turned. The orange buoy was bouncing in the currents. He looked sideways at her, knowing what might come next. ‘Yes...’
She streaked past him. ‘Last one there’s the loser!’
He couldn’t help but admire her curvy figure as she ran full pelt into the waves—the actions of someone who’d done it time and time before. She hit the water with her arms automatically starting to crawl as he was still standing on the beach.
Her swimming was smooth and practised, and it gave him the kick he needed to run and join her. Philippe had always had a competitive edge but this was one contest he was definitely prepared to lose.
He waded through the ocean, sucking in a breath at how deceptively cold it was at first, then put his head down and started out towards the buoy. Arissa was already halfway there.
He kicked his legs more, his arms slicing through the ocean. Every so often he lifted his head to check the position of both Arissa and the buoy. Her laugh carried over the water towards him. He was catching her, but it was clear she was confident.
He slowed his pace a little. She was relaxing around him, flirting a little and he liked it. He liked her. She was interesting, clearly dedicated to her work and home, but there was real old-fashioned goodness about her that he hadn’t seen in years. And it was in everything that she did. Every conversation. Every thought process.
Nowadays, if he said that, it probably wouldn’t be seen as a compliment. But he admired how much the people around her mattered to her, because it was exactly how he felt when he was at home too.
So many people were interested in fame and fortune now. Social media and press seemed to dictate even diplomatic processes and business dealings. It wasn’t that he was wildly old-fashioned, but he’d become a doctor for a reason—because he liked to deal with people.
Nowadays it sometimes felt as if it was turning into an original concept.
She let out a whoop and he looked up to se
e her laughing and touching the buoy. He was only a few strokes behind and joined her holding onto the bright orange float. ‘Cheater.’ He laughed as he spat out some water.
‘Not at all.’ She grinned. ‘If you’re not fast, you’re last.’
He ducked her head under the water and she came up spluttering but still laughing. This time she moved closer, one arm sliding around his neck as she used him as her anchor instead of the buoy.
‘Maybe you just need to learn to swim better,’ she taunted, her legs wrapping around his waist.
