‘Okay.’ He’s nodding. ‘So what do you suggest?’
I swallow. ‘If you tried dressing for the beach not the city, that would be a start?’
He gives me a sideways glance. ‘I’mnotwearing my wet suit.’
‘Obviouslynot.’ I take time for an eye-roll. ‘Shorts or surf pants might put people more at ease.’ I see his doubtful look and try again. ‘Jeans and a T-shirt then? A linen jacket instead of a suit one?’
‘Jeans?’
‘You do have some?’
‘Of course.’ He pulls a face. ‘At least one pair.’
I exchange glances with Shadow.
Kit lets out a long breath. ‘I’ll have to give this some thought.’ He runs his finger along the crease in his chinos. ‘Like what the hell would I do with two hundred redundant white shirts?’
And he’s definitely got me there.
I take a spoonful of cake and ice cream, close my eyes and let the sweet tang of the jam melt onto my tongue. When I open my eyes again a long time later his gaze is locked on my face.
My stomach turns three somersaults before I manage to speak. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Not at all.’ He shakes his head and drops his eyes.
I follow his sightline. ‘You’re looking at my cup.’ It takes a moment to figure out what he’s thinking. No need for the cartwheels after all then. ‘You’d like to try the Victoria sandwich?’
He holds out his own cup. ‘You can have some of mine in return?’
As I look across at him I can see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles and I’m trying not to think about Milla’sGraziaarticles. If his eyes are blurred and slightly out of focus, it’s only because he’s enjoying his pudding, or he’s totally knackered after a really long day.
‘You’ve got more than me. If we split fifty-fifty, I get the better deal.’ I’m trying not to enjoy this.Then my practical mind catches up. ‘Shall I go and get more spoons?’
He frowns. ‘Why?’
It spills out before I can stop it. ‘Anyone with more shirts than minutes in the day is likely to be germ obsessed too.’
His low laugh resounds through my chest. ‘I don’t give a damn about contamination. The numbers are outrageous because I’m naturally messy and prone to spills.’ He laughs again. ‘If we talk about it much longer the ice cream will have melted.’
‘So you’re good to share?’
‘Absolutely. I am.’ He pushes his chocolate pile towards me, I hitch my stool closer, and a second later we’re dipping into each other’s sweets.
As I watch him scoop one of my raspberries and shiver as it slips between his teeth, I wonder whatGrazia’s take on this would be. So long as we aren’t feeding each other, I reckon we’re okay. But this close up his scent is overlaid with entirely different notes and as we work our way down our portions, I can see the pores on his skin where the stubble grows. And each individual dark eyelash.
As expected, mine runs out first, then a few moments later he’s scraping up the remnants of his.
I shake my head and let out a sigh of relief that it’s over. Then instantly regret that too. ‘Leave the glaze on the china, Kit.’
When he finally raises his spoon from the cup it’s loaded to the max. Then he pushes it towardsme. ‘This last one is yours.’
My tummy drops. ‘You have it.’ Any excusenotto cross that line of him putting food into my mouth. I try again. ‘You’re missing that my kitchen isburstingwith chocolate fudge cake.’ And I’m missing that he might have saved my house from burning, but he’s technically still on the enemy side. This is so much closer than the distance I intended to keep.
‘No really – you made it, it has to be for you…’
Oh my.I pull back, then decide it’s quicker to get this over than protest and go forward, parting my lips. An inch before I reach the target, I totally lose my nerve and veer off. As my cheek collides with his wrist it jogs the spoon and sends the large dollop of melting chocolate ice cream sliding straight down his shirt front.
‘Shit, I’msosorry!’ How can so little ice cream go so far? ‘You look like you’ve been mud wrestling! I’ll get the kitchen roll.’
