‘Can’t I?’
‘Okay, technically you can, but do you want to turn up unexpectedly, getting the ladies all hot under their hijabs over your hotness and fab hair?’
‘Is that even English?’
‘ ‘Course it is, I’m a teacher. Got a certificate with my name on and everything.’
‘Then let’s hear those advanced English skills. Tell me a secret and I’ll let you go.’ Heat blooms in my chest, but before I’ve a chance to think, Kai speaks again. ‘Or you can tell me what you liked best about last night.’
I glance uncomfortably at the partially open door, answering in a whisper and without thought, ‘Not knowing what was coming next.’
‘Thank you,’ he murmurs, lips light against my knuckles again. ‘And you’ve never...’
I shake my head.
‘I love first times.’ His eyes shine amber as he glances to his thumb caressing the knuckles of my hand. ‘But maybe I’m not ready to let you go.’
‘Pity you didn’t bring your tie-thingies, ‘cos I’ve—’
‘I’ll let you go if you’ll do something for me.’ Please let that something be him, though not here in the car. ‘I’d like you to accompany me to an event tonight. A charity thing at a local art gallery. Short notice, but it would mean a lot to me.’
‘That’ll be three dates in a row, you know.’ Sort of.
He seems taken aback but laughs. ‘I’m sure we’ve already negated the parameters set by the three date rule.’
‘You mean I put out too early.’ This sounds harsher out of my head and his responding tone is dry in the extreme.
‘Too early for whom? I don’t hold to socially constructed prejudices and neither should you.’
What guy would complain?I clear my throat. ‘So what’s it worth to you, this third date that would appropriate another of my evenings? A girl’s got to make time to wash her hair and stuff.’
‘Shave?’
‘Unless you’re into spiky legs.’ I snort.
‘I am, as you say, into all kinds of things but, no, spiky doesn’t do it for me. What is an evening of your company worth?’ Eyes cast heavenward, he taps his bottom lip in mock contemplation. ‘Actually, quite a lot.’
‘That’s not very specific.’ I’m not entirely sure how to interpret his response or the pensive look his face wears now. ‘Come on, whatexactly is it worth?’ His hand is passive as I pull mine away, pushing my shoulder against his. It seems I have the wheel and I’m steering this conversation down Silly Street.
‘Sorry?’ His brows react in bemusement, his thoughts returning from wherever they’ve been. ‘You want a fiscal amount, the actual dollar equivalent on what an evening with you would be worth?’ Not surprisingly, he looks a little stunned.
‘No, obviously.’ I tut and roll my eyes. ‘What would that make me?’
‘Expensive.’ he laughs. ‘Are we talking an evening with or without the silks?’
‘Be sensible. Say I was Layla from the book. You know, your Layla and Kais? If you had to pay my dad to date me, what would it be worth in sheep or shi—I mean, whatever?’
‘Thirteenth-century dating would certainly get you stoned,’ he chuckles, ‘and not in a good way. And you want to know what an evening with you would be worth inlivestock?’
‘Something like that.’
This is stupid. My idiocy knows no bounds, it seems. Like an accident about to happen, there’s no avoiding the inexorable follow-through, the scene unfurling in a torturous slow-mo effect. I’ll no doubt suffer my indignity later, and probably often, my flirting endeavours about as successful as my dancing.
‘How about, for an evening in your company I would gift your father a thousand camels and bestow upon you, a pearl—’
‘Necklace.’
I clap a hand over my mouth as the sound of his laughter fills the entire car, deep and loud. Meanwhile, I consider crawling into the glove box to hide.
