Page 69 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Come on, then.”

We get in the car and drive back into town, and I park back near my apartment, then we walk to Courtenay Place and choose an Italian restaurant. As we walk in, Linc takes my hand, and he keeps hold of it as he enquires whether they have a table for two, and also as we follow the waiter to a table in the window. He’s trying to reassure me, and I appreciate the gesture. I also like being able to touch him, even in such an innocent way.

I opt for Lasagna, and he chooses a Carbonara, and we eat our meals slowly as we chat about our day, our conversation meandering from one topic to another with the ease of two people who’ve known each other a long time.

When we’re done, Linc orders a Tiramisu for two.

“Are you flirting with me?” I ask as we dip our spoons into the creamy coffee dessert together.

“Yep.” He has a spoonful and his lips curve up.

“Fair enough.” I also have a spoonful and sigh at the rich, creamy taste.

“Careful,” he scolds, “it contains rum. I’ll have to carry you home.”

“That’s the unfortunate side effect of not drinking. One teaspoon of alcohol and I’m immediately singing ‘Show me the way to go home.’” I grin as he laughs. “So, what’s the plan for Queenstown, then?”

“I’ll book a flight,” he says. “And a hotel for a couple of nights.” He gives me a direct look. “I can book you to fly straight back if you’d rather, if you’re uncomfortable staying away.”

“I’d like to stay, if it means I can go to Arrowtown with you, too.”

“Okay.” He scoops up another spoonful of dessert. “Do you travel much?”

“No. Hardly at all. I drive back to Hanmer Springs about once a month. I have done it on my own, but it’s usually with Fraser or Joel. That’s it, really.”

“Are you okay staying in a hotel?”

I concentrate on collecting as much of the creamy dessert as I can from around the edge of the glass dish. “Yeah.” It’ll be tough for me to stay in a strange room where the door can be locked and there’s no way out. But I’ll cope.

He eats the Tiramisu while he thinks. “So be honest. What would you rather me book you? A room next to mine? One on another floor? Or would you rather we share an apartment with separate rooms so I can… you know… be there if you need me? I’m not sure if that would make you feel more or less unsafe.” He’s half-joking and half-serious.

“Would you do that?” Relief floods me at the thought. “I’d feel much safer if you were there.”

He meets my eyes, his brows drawing together. “Of course. I’ll sleep on the floor outside your room if you want me to, so I can protect you from intruders.”

That makes me smile. “You’d do that?”

“I would. I’d do anything for you.” He eats a spoonful of Tiramisu. His eyes hold a touch of mischief.

I press my lips together and have a swig of my Sprite. “Do you think you’ll be able to get a flight that quickly?”

“I’ll book a charter flight.”

My eyes widen. “Really? Wow. That’s flash.”

“I’m not flying cattle class when I have the money,” he scoffs.

“Did you fly here business class, then?”

“First class,” he says with a touch of the old Linc swagger, the cool businessman who gets everything he wants. Then his eyes light up. “It was amazing. It’s like having your own apartment on the plane. A real bed and everything. So cool.” Now he speaks with the enthusiasm of someone not used to money. He never had any when he was young, having come to the school on a grant, and I know he often felt conscious that my brothers and I—while being limited to an allowance—had pretty much whatever we wanted. We were always happy to share with him and the others, but he was a little stiff with gifts, with the pride of those who don’t have much to begin with.

“Jeez,” I say. “I can’t imagine flying all that way. Twenty-four hours?”

“Yeah, plus the stopover in Dubai. Much easier when you have a bed.”

“How much did that set you back?”

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