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‘All right. Let’s say that’s what you did and I took umbrage and demanded an apology. I turned up at your offices, sweet-talked my way past the front desk and...’
‘You’d never have got past my PA.’
She glared at him. ‘OK. I lingered behind a potted plant until she left to make a cup of coffee—or maybe she was on holiday, so it was a temp and...’
‘You got into my office and I was so intrigued by your initiative I agreed to listen.’
‘Perfect. We got talking and decided to continue the conversation over dinner.’
‘Italian. I think we had spaghetti marinara and fettucine Alfredo.’
Dammit, he could almost taste the tangy tomato sauce, smell the oregano, picture her forking up the spaghetti with a twirl, her laugh when she ended up with a spot of sauce on the tip of her nose.
‘And then a tiramisu to share, with coffee and a liqueur.’
There was a silence, and he was suddenly intensely aware of how close Holly was. Somehow during their conversation they had moved closer to each other, caught up in the replay. Now the animation had slipped from her face, left her wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. One hand rose to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear.
She looked exactly as she would have looked on that mythical first date.
‘And then this...’ he said and, moving across he turned to face her, cupped her face in his hand and kissed her.
Imagination and reality fused. The surrounding scents of the garden combined with the idea that this was really a date. The kiss was sweet, and yet underlain with a passion that heated up as she gave a small moan against his mouth. In response he deepened the kiss, felt the pull of desire, the caress of her fingers on the nape of his neck.
He had no idea how long they kissed until the real world intruded in the shape of a terrier. The small dog bounded up to them and started barking, leaping up, desperate for the remains of Holly’s abandoned bacon sandwich.
They pulled apart. His expression was no doubt as dazed as hers, and her lips were swollen, her hair dishevelled. The dog, uncaring, continued to target the bacon, and within minutes its owner had hurried up, hand in hand with a toddler.
The little girl beamed at them. ‘Hello!’
Stefan pulled himself together. ‘Hello. Is this your dog?’
‘Yes. He’s called Teddy.’
‘What a lovely name.’ Holly leaned down and patted the dog, which promptly rolled over and presented his tummy.
‘He likes you.’
‘I like him too.’
‘Come on, Lily. Come on, Teddy.’ The woman grinned at them. ‘Sorry for the interruption!’
‘No problem,’ Holly managed.
Once the trio had receded into the depths of the gardens she
put her head in her hands. ‘I am beyond embarrassed.’
‘The exiled Prince of Lycander and his fiancée—caught necking like a couple of teenagers.’
‘On a bench over a bacon and avocado butty!’
Suddenly Holly began to giggle and, unable to help himself, Stefan chuckled. Within minutes they both couldn’t stop laughing. As soon as his laughter nearly subsided he would catch her eye and he’d be off again. In truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so freely.
Eventually they leant back, breathless, and Holly shook her head. ‘I’m exhausted!’
Stefan glanced at his watch. ‘And we’ve still got loads to do if we’re going to catch a plane tomorrow morning.’
‘Tomorrow morning?’
