LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      YAWNING, Penny opened the fridge, her eyes widening when she clocked the contents. ‘I wouldn’t have picked you to be so into yoghurt.’

      ‘I’m not.’ He reached past her for the milk. ‘But you said you like it, only I didn’t know which sort so I got one of everything.’

      He wasn’t kidding. There was an entire shelf crammed full of yoghurt cartons.

      ‘I’ve got cinnamon and there’s a ton of fruit in the bowl,’ he added. ‘Although I got tinned as well, just in case.’

      When had he gotten all that exactly? She’d only told him her breakfast choices yesterday by the pool—he must have gotten them in before getting back to work after they’d finally escaped the place. That was efficient. And it deserved a reward.

      She leaned closer to where he stood at the bench. ‘What do you like for breakfast?’

      He swept his arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her smiling mouth. ‘You, sunny side up.’

      Yeah, she liked that too. She’d woken swaddled in his arms again and the runny honey, so-relaxed-she-could-hardly-stand feeling was still with her. ‘You need something more to sustain you.’

      ‘Toast. Eggs. Fruit. Cereal. Breakfast’s a big deal for me, especially on the weekend.’ His brows pulled together. ‘You know I have to work through.’

      ‘I’d figured that already.’ She smiled.

      ‘But I have to have your assistance.’ Both hands on her waist now, he hoisted her up to sit on the bench.

      ‘Well, Mason did instruct me to do whatever you needed me to do,’ she said, giving him a less than demure look from under her lashes.

      ‘Excellent.’ His hands wandered more freely. ‘Then you’re staying right here.’

      It was two hours later that Carter sighed and slid out of the bed they’d tumbled back into. ‘Come on, we have to go to the office for a few hours.’

      Her cherry lips pouted irresistibly.

      ‘I’ll get you a coffee from the café on the way,’ he said to sweeten the deal.

      But it felt like hours later and Carter was sprawled back on the bed still waiting—fully dressed and ready to go. Penny could shower for all eternity, testing his patience even more than when he had sex with her. But then she made up for it by dressing in front of him. She was super quick then and he wouldn’t have minded if she’d taken longer … so he avidly watched her every movement. He’d never have guessed that her perfect appearance would take only minutes to achieve. Her well-practised fingers twisted her hair into a plait. He reached across and undid it—earning a filthy look—but it was worth it to watch her weave it again. She had the most beautiful long neck and shoulders.

      He drove the rental car he’d picked up at the airport and ignored ’til now, detouring to her flat on the way so she could pick up some clothes. He insisted on enough for the week and to his immense satisfaction she didn’t argue. He glanced round her shoebox while she expertly packed a small case. He looked at the few tiny knick-knacks she’d gathered on her travels. It seemed everything was small enough to fit into a couple of suitcases. Hell, the whole apartment could fit in a suitcase. It didn’t surprise him that she lived alone, but he was disappointed not to discover anything much more about her from her few possessions. An ebook reader lay on the arm of the sofa. His fingers itched to flip it open so he could check out the titles she’d loaded.

      After he’d stowed her bag in the boot, they stopped at the café just down from the office. He didn’t want to take away, gave the excuse that he didn’t want to face all those files again just yet, but really he just wanted to relax and hang with her some more. It was peaceful. They split the papers and he skimmed headlines, glancing at her as she concentrated on the articles that really caught her interest—in the international affairs section mostly. He asked and she talked through the list of places she’d lived in. He refused to believe her so she proved it by telling him who was prime minister or president in every one of those countries. Mind you, she could have made a couple of them up and he wouldn’t have known. But she spoke bits of a billion languages and was totally animated when she talked about the highlights of each place.

      It was almost another two hours and another coffee before they moved on. He picked up the little paper crane she’d made out of the receipt and pocketed it before she noticed.

      In the office he had to force himself to pay attention. But every few minutes his mind slipped to the sensual. He’d woken her through the night, warming her up again. He’d let her set the pace—initially—forcing his patience to extremes so she got so involved there was no pulling back, getting her used to letting go. She was starting to get a little faster already—turning easily into his arms, trusting him with her body. But not quite enough.

      He wanted to please her all kinds of ways. He wanted her to trust him to do anything—and for her to enjoy it. She still tried to give more than she took, which was as wonderful as it was difficult. But he was determined to get her to the point of just lying back and letting him make love to her. Of becoming the pure hedonist he knew she could be.

      As he had less than a week, he had to go for the intensive approach. Not that he had a problem with that either. He was having a ball thinking hard about ways to tease her into total submission. The trick was taking his time over the stimulation. Not too much, too soon. And maybe he needed to take her where she was at ease the most—on the dance floor or in the water. He liked the water idea. She spent hours in the shower. Uh-huh, he had some serious shower fantasies going.

      Back at his apartment that night he cooked a stir-fry as fast as possible so he could focus on her. They hit a bar and club for a while but before long went home and continued their own dance party. She wouldn’t let him put the jazz back on, instead she let him in on her favourite radio station—some Czech thing she listened to over the Internet. He’d never have imagined that having sex with Euro-techno blaring in the background would be such an amazing experience.

      Early Sunday, Penny walked with him down to the craft and produce market that burst into being this time each week in the local primary school grounds.

      Carter swung the bag. ‘Free-range eggs and fresh strawberries—I’m happy.’

      She was happy too, but not for those two reasons.

      ‘There are some amazing markets in Melbourne,’ he said. ‘You ever been there?’

      She shook her head.

      ‘You’ve been to all these other capitals of culture and not Melbourne?’ He looked disapproving.

      She hadn’t gotten there yet and she wouldn’t ever live there now. When this week was over she didn’t want to see him again. He would become the perfect memory. That was all this could ever be.

      To stop suddenly melancholic thoughts sweeping in, she paid more attention to the products on display—organic honey, bespoke tailoring, spices, sausages, pottery, glass, jewellery … She lingered over them, tasting the samples, touching the smoothness of the craftsmanship.

      ‘Perfect for Nick,’ Carter called from a couple of stalls away. He waved a bright-coloured, hand-crafted wooden jigsaw puzzle at her. ‘Help him learn his numbers.’

      ‘But he’s how old?’ she teased, walking over to join him.

      ‘Eight

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