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She shook her head. “I guess I presume you must be. I would find this kind of life stifling.”
“Why?”
She traced an imaginary pattern over his arm. “I like to be by myself. I like to go where I want, when I want. I like to make a decision on the spur of the moment and act on it.”
“I would find that kind of inconsistency unsatisfying.”
“Then I guess it’s just as well we’ll be going our separate ways in ten days.”
The number revealed more than their timeline; it showed that she was thinking in days of how long they had together.
He smiled, despite the unease her words evoked. “What is this dinner you have arranged? I am hungry.”
She was too, but not for dinner. He caught the look in her eyes and laughed deeply.
“Do not tempt me. I am trying to be honourable.”
“I liked it better when you were pushing me up against the wall.”
He nodded. “Me too.” He stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his hips. He reached for another and held it out. When Cassie stood, he surprised her by towelling her body dry all over. He was gentle and thorough. A lump formed in her throat at the unexpected kindness.
He went to hang up the towel and then laughed. “Better to keep you covered, or I doubt I’ll make it two minutes into dinner.”
She waited until he’d hooked the towel under her arms and then deliberately slid her fingers under the top and loosened it. She stepped out of it and walked with seductive tilt of her hips into the lounge area.
Layth’s soft laugh followed her the whole way, sending goosebumps down her skin.
He was more than surprised by her choice of dinner. “Burgers?”
“And onion rings,” she said with grave import.
He nodded seriously. “I see.”
“And French fries and proper tomato sauce.”
“A true gourmet, I can see.”
She giggled. “I know, I probably should have ordered something appropriate for your royal tastebuds, but this truly is my favourite meal in the world. And you said to get what I wanted.”
“It’s perfect,” he promised.
“I used to work at a burger place. One of the oldest in Adelaide. It was an institution in the fifties, decked out like an American diner, with a juke box and vinyl booths and black and white tiles on the floor. We made the most amazing cheeseburgers. I guess I never got over my love affair for them.”
He resisted the urge to probe too obviously. “What makes a burger the most amazing cheeseburger?”
“Hmm, an excellent question.”
He sat on one of the chairs, and she arranged his burger and fries on a plate. She shunned the seat beside him, and instead settled on his lap. “It has to have the right kind of burger – not too thick, nor too thin. The cheese should be proper cheese, not plastic. Enough diced onions to give it kick, but not so many it’s overpowering. Pickle. It’s an art form. Truly, it is.” She picked up his burger and held it in front of his mouth. “Taste it.”
His eyes held hers as he bit down on the creation. It was good, but he could barely focus on anything with the seductive, naked form of Cassandra Walton on his thighs, with only a flimsy towel between them.
She smiled with such pride it made his gut twist. “I hoped you’d like it. You do like it?”
“Yes,” he said, just because she wanted to hear it. “How long did you work at this burger emporium for?”
“Burger emporium?” She laughed. “A few years. It was my first job.”
“It’s a long way from that to famed art agent.”
