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“Because you’re such a bad boy.” Jo flares her eyes.
“Some would say I am. Plus she’s my best mate’s little sis. She’s out of bounds.”
She sighs. “Shame. She needs a bad boy, and I don’t mean like that twat, Cole. He was shit in bed, by the sound of it. I think all her partners have been. I keep suggesting she get herself a girlfriend. At least most girls know where the clitoris is.”
I give a short laugh. “You’re interested in her?”
“Oh, I love her to bits, but she’s only interested in guys, unfortunately.” She leans forward conspiratorially and whispers, “The other day she was grouchy about something, and I cracked a joke about her needing to get laid. She said no thanks and that she didn’t enjoy sex. I don’t think her previous partners have been great in bed. She needs someone who knows what he’s doing to show her how good it can be, you know? You’d be doing her a favor.”
“Stop meddling,” I scold, with only a little firmness, because she’s obviously looking out for her friend.
She shrugs and winks at me as Belle comes out.
“I’m all ready,” Belle says, pulling her suitcase behind her. She’s put her boots on and donned a jacket, and she looks as if she’s gathered herself together.
“Come on then. Nice to meet you, Jo.”
She grins. “Likewise.” She gives her friend a big hug. “You go and have a wonderful time, you hear me? Don’t give that tosser a single thought.”
“I won’t.” Belle hugs her back, then follows me to the front door. “Did Alex mention that I need to take these?” She gestures at the two large cardboard boxes by the front door.
“Yep. He said you didn’t want to take them on the plane. What’s in them?”
“Stuff.”
“Glad we cleared that up.”
“It’s not drugs or radioactive material,” she adds.
“Okay…”
“I’ll tell you later,” she states. “But it’s not illegal. Is that all right?”
I shrug, intrigued, but not wanting to pry. “Sure.”
“I’ll take one,” Jo says, but I bend and pick them both up. They’re heavy, but I’m easily able to carry them.
“Wow,” they both say together.
I give a short laugh and head out of the door. “Come on, or we’ll miss the ferry.”
I lead the way to the car and unlock it with the key fob.
“Damon!” she says. “Oh my God! I thought you had a Bentley.”
“I do. Just got this beauty.” It’s an F-type Jag, in a gorgeous Ligurian Black. It’s sitting on the roadside like the big cat it’s named after, looking as if it’s ready to pounce on a wounded antelope. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”
She’s always been into cars. As a kid, when other girls were drawing princesses and unicorns, Belle was sketching Porsches and Ferraris. When she was younger, I took her out a couple of times in my E-type, and she spent the whole time looking as if I was flying her to the moon.
“I thought you might like to take it for a spin through the South Island,” I tell her.
She stares at me, her baby-blue eyes widening and her mouth forming an O. “You’re kidding me?”
“I put you on the insurance.”
“Damon, are you serious?”
“Sure.” I slide the boxes onto the back seat, then lift her case into the boot. “Thought we might as well make the most of the journey.”
