LITMIR.BIZ

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‘I would never have guessed that.’

      She smiled back at him, grateful that the tension between them had abated. ‘I don’t blame you. I’m terrible at it. I buy things and plant them, but mostly I pay someone to look after them.’

      He laughed, and Callie couldn’t believe how attracted she was to him when he looked so carefree. ‘So you plant things but don’t look after them? And that makes you happy?’

      She nodded, remembering the first time she had done it.

      ‘Yes, it does. It reminds me of my mother. We used to do it together—though I was just as bad then as I am now.’ She stared out to the ocean, memories making her forget where she was. Who she was with. ‘But my mom would just let me plant, and then she’d fix what I did wrong. When I was old enough to realise, I asked her why she let me do it.’ She looked down, barely noticing how her hands played with the end of her top. ‘She told me that it was because it made me happy, and that if something makes you happy you should do it.’

      She looked up at him and saw compassion in his eyes, before she realised that tears had filled her own. She lifted her head, embarrassed and raw from what she’d told him, the way she’d reacted, and only looked back at him when she was sure she had her emotions under control.

      He took a hand from her lap and squeezed it, but before he could say what he clearly wanted to their order number was called.

      They grabbed their lunch and without saying anything ate as they walked back to the car.

      She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to tell him that. Maybe it had been the moment...the setting. But the more likely answer—the one she didn’t want to consider—was that maybe it was him. He made her feel things—things she would fight as long as she could. Feeling safe enough, secure enough to open up to someone would take a lot more than just a few hours with him.

      And it wouldn’t be with her boss. No, she thought as she threw away her half-eaten wrap. She couldn’t open up to her boss.

      * * *

      Blake had wanted to say something to her from the moment she had told him about her mother. He wanted to comfort her, tell her that it was okay that she’d told him, that the fear and surprise he’d seen in her eyes when she’d realised what she’d said wasn’t necessary. But instead, like the coward he was, he stayed silent and went along with the rest of the tour as though she hadn’t just let him see such an intimate part of herself.

      On their way back from the beach she drove him up to the Bo-Kaap, where colourful houses lined the streets. She told him about the rich cultural heritage of the area—how it had come to be a place of refuge for the Islamic slaves who had been freed in 1834. She pointed out the museum that had been established over a century later, and had been designed according to the typical Muslim home in the nineteenth century.

      ‘The design is in the process of changing at the moment, but the museum will tell you quite a lot about one of the most thriving cultural communities in Cape Town.’ She turned the car around and drove back down the hill. ‘You should make an effort to visit it some time.’

      After that she took him to the V&A Waterfront—another cultural hub of the city. It was both a mall and a dock, he discovered as they walked past a mass of shoppers to get to the actual waterfront. The large boats there were either docked for repair or in to pick up cargo, and the smaller ones either belonged to private citizens or were available for hire.

      They also transported people to Robben Island, he discovered as he climbed into a boat and sat next to Callie.

      Since it was the last trip of the day the boat was quite full, and he was forced to sit closer to her than he would have liked. Her perfume made him feel a need he had never felt before. Even mixed with the salty smell of the sea, its effect on him was potent. He wanted her to turn to him so that he could kiss her, just so that he could make his need for her subside.

      He couldn’t shake it off even when they arrived at the island where Nelson Mandela had famously spent twenty-seven years of his life. His thoughts were filled with her as the tour guide walked them through a typical day in the prison, as he told them about the ex-President of South Africa and showed them his cell.

      By the time they had got back to the waterfront, it was late enough for their day to end. But he didn’t want that. No, he didn’t want the day to end. Because then he would have to go back to the hotel...back to being her boss.

      ‘We should go for dinner,’ he said, without fully realising it. ‘It’s been a long day and we’ve barely eaten. I think the least I can do for you after today is take you out.’

      Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and his heart pounded at the prospect of her saying no. But then she answered him.

      ‘Yeah...okay. Where do you want to go?’

      ‘Somewhere you love.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I want to see more of Cape Town, but not just the side that your guests see.’

      ‘Um...’ She looked lost for a second, and then she nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll take you to one of my favourite places. But you can drive this time.’

      He nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat, following her directions until she’d finished typing the location into his GPS.

      ‘You weren’t lying when you said you haven’t seen much of Cape Town, were you?’

      The question was so random that he didn’t take the time to think his answer through. ‘No. My father and stepmother moved here when he retired, which was about eight years ago. I’ve probably been here twice a year since then to see them, and a few more times for the hotel. But that’s the extent of my travels to Cape Town.’

      ‘Where did you live before?’

      ‘Port Elizabeth, for the most part. But, like I mentioned, I travelled a lot between hotels.’

      ‘Do you miss it? Port Elizabeth?’

      He thought about telling her the truth—that he didn’t miss being there because it reminded him of his relationship with Julia, and how he had failed at that and let his business down. But that would only open himself up to more questions, and force him to face things he didn’t want to remember.

      Luckily the GPS declared that they had arrived, and he used the opportunity to deflect the question.

      ‘What is this place?’

      She tilted her head, as though she knew what he was doing, but answered him.

      ‘It’s called Sakari—which means “sweet” in Inuit. They specialise in dessert and have the most delicious milkshakes—though the food is pretty incredible, too.’

      They walked inside, and Blake took a moment to process the look of the restaurant. It wasn’t big, but it comfortably fitted its customers without seeming stuffy. There were even a few couches in front of a fireplace. Since it was still summer, the fire wasn’t lit, but the couches were filled with people ranging through all ages. The doors were open and a slight breeze filled the room, causing the candles that had been lit for atmosphere to flutter every now and then.

      It was a perfect summer’s evening, he thought, in a perfect—and intimate—restaurant. He shrugged off what the thought conjured inside him and returned his attention to the hostess, who was greeting Callie with a warmth that he’d never witnessed before.

      ‘Hi, Bianca, how are you?’

      Callie spoke to the hostess as though she were her best friend.

      The woman had a full head of black and blue curls that complemented her gorgeous olive skin.

      ‘Great, thanks. Ben and I just found out we’re having a girl!’

      Blake only then realised the woman was pregnant as he looked at the slight bump under her apron. He figured she was probably around four months, and waited as Callie congratulated Bianca and asked if she could squeeze them in.

      ‘Of

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