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‘Yeah, I think I might have.’
‘Well, that’s what’s called progress.’ His voice is warm and full of laughter.
‘By the way, what did you tell the waitress just now that made her look at me?’ I say casually, taking a sip of my perfectly chilled rosé.
‘I told her I was gay but that she was welcome to you.’
I almost choke on my drink. ‘What?’ I burst out.
He laughs.
‘You don’t care if people think you’re gay?’
‘Nope. It’s extremely useful in certain circumstances.’
‘Couldn’t you have just told her you weren’t interested?’
‘Girls like her don’t give up easy; she’d have been slipping her phone number into my hand as we left. And that would have just made you get all jealous and pissed off.’
‘I’m not jealous,’ I deny.
‘Oh, you’re jealous all right, Elizabeth Snow Dilshaw. You’re the kind of woman who would try to make a man wear a chastity belt.’
His statement surprises me. He hardly knows me. ‘What makes you say that?’ I ask curiously.
His eyes are like mirrors, giving nothing away. ‘Experience,’ he says cryptically.
‘Well, you’re wrong. I have never been jealous in my life. Not with Lenny, and certainly not with you. In fact, I found it amusing that all those women were looking at you.’
‘That’s really great to know, because they don’t make chastity belts in my size.’ He grins. ‘Too large.’
‘I wouldn’t have cared if the waitress had slipped you her number,’ I say.
There is mischief in his face as he reaches out, grasps my wrist, and strokes it with what seems to be a seductive promise. It is intimate, delicious, and wonderful. Pleasure ripples over my skin, sizzles into my muscles, and instantly I feel strong desire swirl inside me like dead leaves picked up by the wind and helplessly drawn into another’s world.
The expression in Shane’s eyes changes, becomes so lust-drenched that I am undone by the look. I lick my lips. And we find ourselves lost in our own world. We stare at each other hungrily. Desire shimmering between us like some invisible magic. My blood heats up and I feel wetness pooling between my legs. God, it never crossed my mind that I could be so sexually aroused while sitting in a restaurant just looking at a man.
The waitress comes with the food, and, standing over us, clears her throat loudly.
I snatch my hand away. She plonks the pizza in the middle of the table, slaps a small plate in front of each of us, and stalks off.
I giggle at Shane.
‘I told you what she’s like,’ he says.
We both laugh.
The pizza is beautifully simple and delicious. Once Shane has paid our bill, we walk out and start walking uphill. It is hot, and the hill is steep, but we get to the top. We stand outside the majestic old church, Notre-Dame d’Espérance, and look down at the stunning view over the bay.
‘Want to go into the church?’ Shane asks.
‘OK.’
We pass through the old doors, and inside it feels like we have entered a different world. Even the air is cold enough to make me shiver. The stone walls give the impression of damp chill, and the air is hushed and still. Our footsteps echo. Afternoon sunlight falls dustily from high stained-glass windows into the dim interior and lays in milky shapes of color on the floor. It is deserted except for a woman with a black shawl on her head, bowed in prayer in one of the front pews. She does not turn to look at us. I look at the vast, high-ceilinged space in awe.
‘Vellichor much?’ Shane whispers next to me.
I glance up at him. ‘No, I love it. This is far better than any used bookshop.’
