‘Right.’
She opens her mouth slightly as if to explain further but then closes it again. But I get it. Sadie is one ofthoseflatmates, and she doesn’t want a confrontation with her.
Oh well, I’m sure we can keep each other warm underthe bedcovers ...
Florence begins picking up books and straightening various objects around the room and seems nervous all of a sudden. Like now that she’s invited me in, she’s not quite sure what to do with me. Her provocative manner has disappeared, and she seems younger somehow, inexperienced.
‘Hey.’ I grab her hand as she waltzes past me for the third time, clutching a vase, apologising for the room’s disarray. ‘Your bedroom is fine.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, it’s cool. But if youdowant to have a lie-down, we should probably get into bed at some point,’ I say, attempting to lighten the mood. ‘But only if you want to. And nothing needs to happen.’ I add, ‘You know ... sexually.’
The word hangs in the frigid air between us. She doesn’t say anything. Her violet eyes bore into mine as if she’s considering that statement, and I blush.Oh god, I’m so bad with this stuff!
Fortunately, Florence nods slowly in agreement. ‘OK.’
She sits on the side of the bed and starts unlacing her boots, and I follow suit with my trainers but remain upright, leaning against the wall. However, I’ve made tight knots in my shoelaces as I’m terrible at tying them and they alwayscome undone. I struggle to unpick the knots and end up hopping and yanking my trainers off my feet, leaving the laces tied. I chuck them off to the side by the wall, where they land in a jumble. How I’m going to get them back on my feet, I don’t know.
Florence’s mouth twists, watching the performance. I’m glad my antics amuse her. She flips back the red satin bedcover to expose white silk sheets beneath. Fancy!
‘Should I slip into something more comfortable perhaps?’ Her hand hovers at the neckline of her black blouse and fiddles with one of the pearl buttons. The seductive way she’s looking at me is causing my groin to stir. She seems older now; the temptress is back.
‘All right,’ I say eagerly. ‘I mean, uh, sure, that sounds like a good idea.’
Florence huffs a laugh as if she knows exactly what I’m visualising in my mind. Then again, I’m a guy—it’s not like I’m that hard to figure out.
She disappears behind the wooden changing screen in front of the armoir. Its white panels are decorated with painted flowers and naked cherubs. Moments later, there’s the rustling of material.
I sit on the edge of the bed, looking around the room, absorbing the details properly. It’s all so old-fashioned. The leatherbound books, the sideboard with a crystal decanterof port, the antique clock ticking away on the mantelpiece. A strong feeling of déjà vu washes over me, like I’ve seen all this before. That I was even offered a glass of port. But how could I have? This is the first time I’ve set foot in here. I shake my head, feeling confused.
Florence’s dress is flung over the top of the screen and some kind of undergarment. A wooden drawer opens, and there’s a rummaging sound.
I feel like a sleazy gentleman in a lady’s boudoir.
‘Hop into bed if you like.’ Florence’s voice floats out from behind the screen. ‘I won’t be a minute.’
I thought ‘slip into something more comfortable’ was a euphemism for sexy underwear, but when Florence appears in a floor-length white cotton nightgown with ruffles at the wrists, it suddenly strikes me that she might actually be serious about napping.
Unfortunately, by this time, I’ve taken off my coat, jeans, and shirt and am lying in my boxer briefs underneath the silk sheets. Now I realise I’ve been way too eager, and my previous assertion that ‘nothing needs to happen’ is going to look like a massive fib. But it’s too late now; she’s sliding into bed next to me. Florence props her head on her elbow.
‘Are you feeling a bit warmer now?’ she asks.
‘Well, not really.’
She peeks under the covers and giggles. ‘Why, DrRhodes, you seem to have lost your clothes.’
‘And you seem to have gained some different ones,’ I say, eyeing the complicated ties on the front of her nightgown and wondering how they undo. This isn’t how I envisioned us getting together at all.
I jerk as the tip of Florence’s icy finger touches my shoulder and traces the outline of theJentwined with a thorny rose.Crap, I forgot about my tattoo.Her fingernail circles it.
‘What’s the significance of this?’ she asks.
‘It’s ...’ I swallow. But my throat closes up, and for a moment, I can’t speak. Florence looks at me curiously, completely unaware of the emotions unleashing inside me. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. She reallyshouldn’thave asked, but she deserves to know what she’s signing up for if she gets involved with me.I want to tell her.
‘It’s my girlfriend’s initial. She ... she died two years ago,’ I choke out.
Chapter 16
