Snap out of it before he thinks you are some kind of sexual deviant.
‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?’ Oliver eventually roars.
Instinctively, I fling the bag of crisps I’m holding onto his crotch. He holds it in place and sits bolt upright. He’s annoyed. Very annoyed.
‘Well?’
Chapter 9
Oliver’squestionhangsinthe air.
I gulp. ‘Well, indeed.’
‘Is that all you have to say?’ Oliver asks, his face softening. He seems relieved and then, after a moment of catching his breath, slightly amused.
He is so overwhelmingly attractive that it has turned me mute. I chew my bottom lip. It’s all I can do in the face of such beauty. Even his bed-hair is perfect.
‘I wake to find you’ve broken into my room and you’re staring at me from the foot of my bed. I think you should at least tell me what you’re doing here, and how long you’ve been watching me.’ He sounds like a barrister for the prosecution. He’s also making me sound like an awful pervert.
I reach down for the baguette and hold it up as though I’m producing evidence.
‘What’s that? Exhibit A?’
I find his sarcasm quite endearing.
‘Sorry. I was just so hungry. I really didn’t think you’d be in here.’
Oliver breaks into a smile. ‘I couldn’t face the spirit dancing either.’ He indicates for me to turn around. ‘Give me a second.’
I spin round to face the wall as I hear the bed creak under his weight. I reach out with my toe and hook his robe, flinging it expertly behind me.
‘Thanks,’ he says. A few seconds later, I hear him open the door. ‘Here. This is what we need.’
Oliver is carrying his Happy Bunny tray of fruit and pastries over to the bed. He pats the space beside him. ‘Want some?’
My eyes are on stalks. ‘Love some. It’s very kind of you to share.’
‘It’s very kind of you to join me,’ he says formally. ‘I don’t usually make time for breakfast.’
‘Tell me about yourself,’ I say.
‘What do you want to know?’ he says, grinning.
How do men not know what girls want to know about them?How?It’s obvious. We want to know how many girls they’ve been out with. Were they in love with any of them? If so, how many times? How deeply in love? Was there recently a special someone? Is she pretty? Is she still around? Is she still in love with you?
‘Erm, where do you live?’Oh my God. Could I have picked a more boring question?
‘I have a base here in Altea, one of the whitewashed townhouses up near the church in the old town.’
‘A base?’
‘Yeah. I travel a lot. I’m thinking of leaving the company I work for and starting a new business from scratch.’
Now, that should be a very interesting line of enquiry to pursue, shouldn’t it? But my brain has other ideas.
‘Do you live… alone?’
His eyes light up. ‘If you’re asking me if I’m in a relationship then, no. I’m single,’ he says. ‘By choice. My work is very demanding. Anything else?’
