LITMIR.BIZ

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of phrases in your ears, and you’re just going to repeat them. You won’t be able to hear yourself so you won’t be able to criticise yourself. Head back.’

      Mick eased all the way back on to the sofa and rested his head on the edge. Julia chuckled as she held the headphones over him.

      ‘Easy, this isn’t a lap dance.’

      ‘What is a lap dance?’ he asked, but the twitching at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

      ‘Nice try,’ she said, and dropped the headphones over his ears before her giggle could escape.

      She grabbed the remote and took a step back, only to bump the edge of the sofa. Hot coffee splashed her leg and she jerked, then toppled forward, right into Mick’s lap.

      The oof! sound he made matched his befuddled expression, but neither could compare to her scattered nerves as she felt the sting where his hand had landed on her ass with a slap.

      He scowled, but there was something playful in that expression. ‘I ask for answer, not demonstration, but I will not complain.’

      ‘Oh…shush.’

      He offered her no assistance as she tried to get up, instead looking infuriatingly pleased with her efforts as she wriggled over his lap.

      Julia rolled her eyes. ‘Can you let go?’

      ‘If you fall and hit your head on the table, I might go to jail. No more French and no more hockey for me.’

      His big body quaked against hers as he laughed, and Julia gave up with a groan.

      Humiliation aside, his lap wasn’t a bad place to find herself. Beneath her thighs, his made a hard seat, and through his sweater she caught the tick of his heartbeat speeding up. He had yet to remove his hand from the curve of her ass, and she could appreciate the irony that the hand that had delivered the blow was the one that soothed the ache now. She’d never needed a code of conduct before when it came to her tutoring work, but as the compulsion to wrap her arms around his neck struck her, she had to admit that a list of dos and don’ts had merit.

      Don’t fall into the lap of enormous Russian on my sofa.

      Do speedily rise from his lap and apologise.

      Don’t even think about making things worse by entertaining how easy it would be to unzip that fuzzy sweater and reach inside.

      Do outlaw all thoughts of crazy-hot sex on living-room floor with hockey player you’ve only just met.

      ‘Jesus, Julia, most businesses just use coupons to sweeten the pot.’

      As Kris clomped to the bottom of the stairs, Julia vaulted herself out of Mick’s arms and sloshed even more coffee across the table to stain his textbook. She managed to save his laptop from the puddle just in time, but there was no saving her dignity as she looked from her student to her roommate.

      Still looking like a horror show, Kris waved as she headed for the kitchen. ‘Good morning, Russian guy.’

      ‘Hello…’ He leaned aside and watched Kris’s disappearing act, then looked up at Julia. ‘Crazy-haired woman in fluffy bunny slippers?’

      Julia dropped his laptop on to the sofa and sighed. ‘That’s just my roommate. She’ll go back upstairs in a minute. I’ll – I’ll be right back with a dish towel.’

      She raced into the kitchen and met Kris’s cheeky smile head-on.

      ‘I fell, and I have nothing more to say.’

      ‘Please, another thirty seconds and he would have had his hand in your bra. It’s cool, Julia. All that teaching the language of love and eventually you were going to come across someone who knew how to use it.’

      ‘First of all, he’s terrible at French. Second of all –’ She snapped a tea towel from the oven handle and thrust it in Kris’s face. ‘Second of all, shut up.’

      Mick stood as she returned to the living room and stretched out his arm. ‘Let me. My fault for not letting you loose.’

      Julia waved the towel like a flag. ‘I’ve got it. You just sit back and put those headphones on.’

      She held her breath until the video played, her computer recorded and Mick recited one bland phrase after another. She signalled to him that she was stepping out of the room for a minute.

      Kris hadn’t moved, save for the addition of the cup of coffee she slurped from.

      Julia thumped her head against the fridge. ‘This never would have happened if I kept my job at the bookstore.’

      Cackling, Kris shoved away from the counter and slung her arm over Julia’s shoulders. ‘I don’t think you could find anyone who would put grinding on top of a hot Russian on the con side.’

      ‘I didn’t grind,’ she said in a sigh, then groaned. ‘OK, so I did a little unintentional grinding.’

      ‘And did he grind back?’

      ‘I can’t remember. It’s all one big blur now.’ She shrugged away and ducked into the fridge for something cold. The water would probably have served her better dumped over her head, but she settled for guzzling back half the bottle.

      ‘Bien, merci,’ came from the living room in that rich baritone shambling over the words. ‘Comment vous appelez-vous? Où sont les toilettes?’

      Both women giggled, and Julia shook her head as she headed back to the living room. ‘Better. Not much better, but better. Oh, remind me to tell you about the hairy palms later.’

      Kris gurgled on her mouthful of coffee. ‘The what?’

      With Kris alive and kicking – and probably eavesdropping – from her bed fort at the top of the stairs, the lesson finished without a hitch, save for Mick’s insistence that the recording of his lesson sounded like ‘robot trying to seduce bank machine’.

      Still, he smiled as he packed up his satchel. ‘It was good day, even with disorganised and clumsy teacher.’

      ‘Hey, this disorganised and clumsy teacher just taught you how to ask where the nearest police station is. You’ll thank me if you’re ever on the run from assassins through Paris.’

      He slung his satchel over his shoulders and marched towards the door, his gait far less rigid than his entrance.

      ‘You were nervous when you showed up, weren’t you?’

      He turned before the door, sheepish as he raked his hand through his wild hair. ‘A little. You are my second French tutor. Last one frustrated me, was no help at all. I was worried to find out that I am too stupid to learn French.’

      ‘Are you serious? This will be your third language. That’s one more than I have. As motivated as you are, you’ll be translating for the United Nations in five years if you put your mind to it. I take it I’ll see you next Thursday?’

      ‘Eight o’clock.’ He raised his brows. ‘Or is it nine o’clock, after bathtime?’

      There was something naughty about the way he teased her. She liked it.

      ‘Or,’ he went on, ‘maybe we meet sooner. Monday?’

      Her first inclination was to refuse a date from a student, but quickly reminded herself that he wasn’t proposing a date. She didn’t think. She was pretty sure.

      ‘I’m on campus on Monday,’ she explained, peering up at him to gauge his expression. She thought she caught some disappointment, but he was so hard to read. ‘I’m in the library until about four, but I can grab a spot in the language lab for five.’

      He hesitated. ‘Lab? Other people there to hear me?’

      ‘There are private resource rooms.’

      Mick didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. ‘I will meet you there at

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