‘It stands for my name.’
‘Your parents named you after an insect?’ Sexy, cocky brow much?
‘Nope, but Bea is all you need to know.’
‘That’s absolutely not true.’
How does he make a simple sentence sound so sensual? Like innuendo dipped in sexy and rolled in a little rumbling belly flip?
Or maybe it’s just his way, and I’m a complete idiot.
‘Beatrice,’ Kit purrs, though it sounds more likeBea-a-triez,the final consonant rolled so luxuriously in his rumbly accent it feels like a breath across my neck.
‘Sorry?’ My fingers touch my collarbone. ‘Were you talking to me? Because—’
‘That’s not her name,’ choruses Fin in her rendition of The Ting Tings’s hit. ‘That’s not her name!’ She finishes by pointing both index fingers at Kit and sings, ‘You’ll never guess. You’ll never guess!’
‘And I’ll never tell,’ I add so coolly that no one sitting at this table would suspect my ridiculous attraction to him
Kit’s gaze narrows infinitesimally, his tailored grey jacket stretching tight across his broad chest as he moves. Not that I noticed. Much. Or even at all, really.
Okay, maybe just a little bit.
‘Belinda?’ Kit says, bringing a finger to his full bottom lip. Fin snorts.
‘Just Bea,’ I return serenely.
‘It’s got an interesting life, the bee.’ At the random interjection, three pairs of eyes swing to Rory. ‘What?’ he asks, looking up from the glass in his hand. ‘I read it somewhere.’ Kit politely coughs. ‘I read sometimes,’ he adds, rather defensively. ‘Just not always theFinancial Times.’
‘More likely you’ve been watching kids TV,’ rumbles his brother’s response.
Rory doesn’t answer but begins to scratch his nose. It takes me a beat to realise he’s flipping him the bird furtively. ‘This little snippet did not come from kids TV.’ As Rory cocks a brow, I see firsthand what Fin meant.The pair is so similar. Spookily so. ‘The male bee’s only function is to service the queen.’
‘Totally the way it should be,’ Fin says, holding out her hand for me to high five. ‘I should hope Mr Bee takes out the trash and does his fair share with the baby bees while his queen... queens.’
‘He’s not around long enough, titch.’
Fin’s brow furrows in confusion, but as she opens her mouth, Rory speaks again.
‘I’ll rephrase. It has an interesting sex life, the bee.’
‘How so?’ Fin asks, looking unconvinced.
‘Because his sole purpose is to service the queen. Sexually.’
‘That can’t be true. Bees collect pollen for honey production, silly!’ This time she elbows Rory’s arm rather than slap mine, but she doesn’t spill her drink. Mainly because her glass is now empty.
‘Titch, the queen bee has a harem.’ Rory’s gaze is lustrous, but it’s hard to tell whether from desire or humour. ‘Multiple partners all with one objective.’ Leaning in, he lowers his voice, the moment a touch too intimate for our small table. I look away, my own gaze drawn to Kit, and now more than ever, I know I imagine things as his dark lashed eyes slip to my lips.
‘A harem?’ Fin’s voice is slightly breathless, though neither Kit nor I look her way.
‘Multiple partners. Her consorts die satisfying her insatiable needs.’ In my periphery, Rory leans back in his chair. ‘They basically fuck themselves to death.’
‘Rory!’ chastises Fin.
‘But what a way to go, hey?’
‘Bernice?’
