AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He laughs. “I’m not going to dissuade you, am I?”
“No.” My answer is loud and decisive.
The carriage clock on the mantel chimes six p.m. I yawn and stretch, mimicking the cats. “We need to think about dinner.”
“Let’s go upstairs and have a starter.” The sly smile disarms me. “Then we can go out for dinner.” Max puts his arm around me, kisses my temple, and murmurs, “Are we good?”
I nod, and he guides me up the stairs. Truce—for now.
* * *
Max
JL perches on the edge of the armchair and tosses me a wary glance while he sips a cappuccino. His frown creates deep furrows in his forehead. Either he doesn’t like the coffee or he’s wondering whether I will tell Cress about Nasim Faez. I give my head a minute shake. He called while we were at dinner and asked if he could drop by. He’s been seeing Micki, Cress’ best friend. She’s working late, and he’s at loose ends.
I move into the room and stand next to where Cress stretches out on her chaise, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. The scent of her hair, rain and citrus, reminds me of foreign markets. Rainy days, orange rinds littering the ground as vendors squeeze fresh juice for lines of customers. I nuzzle her neck, murmuring, “Here’s your coffee. With a good slug of Bailey’s.”
She takes the cup and sniffs. “Yum, I love after-dinner coffees.” Her gaze turns feral as she appraises my tight T-shirt and loose tracksuit bottoms. The corners of her mouth quirk upward and my neck muscles loosen.
She takes a sip, then sighs. “I sense a romance novelist moment coming on.”
I grin.
JL shifts in the armchair, an exaggerated grimace spreading across his face. “J’ai les shakes. Please. Don’t do this, Cress.”
“T’affoles pas!” When I throw the phrase out, JL shakes his head. Amused, I translate for a puzzled Cress. “Means don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
She takes that as permission to go on, sensuality dripping with every word. “If I were describing you to my readers, I would wax rhapsodic about how your shirt hugs your biceps. And that your sleek runner’s physique makes my heart flutter.” She runs a finger down from the base of my neck to my waistband.
“Hey!” JL shouts, shielding his eyes. “Save it for the bedroom.”
“Jealous?” I tease. “You invited yourself over, so suck it up.”
Scowling, he sips the excellent single malt we’re drinking. Cress swallows the last of her coffee.
Plopping onto my made-to-measure sofa, I bask in the lust radiating in my direction. Heat fills me and my fingers itch to strip off my shirt. But not to cool down. I swallow my drink and lean toward Cress. “More? Or some whisky?” She shakes her head no.
I fix on her extraordinary hazel eyes. Eyes that captured me the first time I saw her, over twenty years ago. when she crashed her bicycle into me. Looking up from the floor on that street in Oxford, into her flashing eyes. The same tingle of electricity runs through me now.
Then, with an inward chuckle, I throw out the joke. “Why is England the wettest country?”
Face morphing from adoration to displeasure, she puts down the cup, closes her eyes, and puts her fingers in her ears, humming some slightly familiar ditty.
“Because the queen has reigned there for years!” I chortle.
“Oh my God, they get worse every time.” Cress groans while JL laughs in the background.
“By the way, what was the music you were humming to drown me out?” I don’t really care, but it should be a safe topic.
“Bizet, ‘The Toreador Song’ fromCarmen. Why?”
“Thought it sounded familiar.”
“It should sound familiar. You’ve heard it about a million times.” Cress’ long-suffering tone ends with the heavy sigh of a music lover exasperated with the obtuse friend. Then she gets up, cooing at the cats. “Come on, Dorothy, Thorfinn. Let’s leave the philistine alone.”
They raise their heads, stretch, and sidle up to her, expecting treats. “I couldn’t do much work today. I’m going to do a little research.” She flounces out, the cats stalking after her.
JL eyes me warily. As soon as Cress’ footsteps disappear up the stairs, he asks, “Are you going to tell her?”
