Page 10 of Possession Under the Southern Stars

I lower my gaze to the printed sheet and study the options.

In the end, Fraser opts for an Eggs Benedict, and I choose the fruit-and-nut porridge with cream.

“Not great for the waistline,” I joke after we’ve given our coffee orders and the waiter has retreated.

Fraser frowns. “You’re not worried about your weight, surely?”

I look down at my generous curves. “Every woman is worried about her weight.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be.”

“Because I’m gorgeous?” I’m teasing.

But he says, “Yeah. And your ex is an idiot for not appreciating you.” He’s referring to the fact that I told him at the dinner party that Ian had criticized me for putting on weight.

My jaw drops. He really thinks I’m gorgeous? No, he’s just being kind. I fiddle with my cutlery. “Well, I think so.”

“You’re well rid of him,” he states. “Every woman deserves to be with someone who worships the ground she walks on.”

His words fill me with a deep longing. “I never had that feeling from Ian, not even in the beginning,” I admit, a little puzzled. “I appreciate that you’re trying to make me feel better, but I’m sure you’re just saying what you think I’d like to hear. I’ve never witnessed a relationship like that, and I’m not sure they actually exist.”

He leans back in his chair, turning a packet of sugar in his fingers, and doesn’t say anything.

The waiter arrives with our coffee, and I busy myself with adding sweetener to my latte and stirring it. I don’t know how Fraser drinks long blacks without milk or sugar.

“How many boyfriends did you have before Ian?” he asks.

My eyebrows rise. “That’s not very polite.”

He frowns. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I thought maybe limited experience might account for your poor view of men.”

I sip my coffee, tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and sigh. Oh, what’s the point in being coy? “Ian was my first,” I admit. “We met when I was eighteen. And we’ve dated ever since. Nearly ten years.” I wince at the thought.

“Hmm,” Fraser says.

I straighten my cutlery. “I have something else to admit.”

“Oh?”

“We actually broke up a month ago.”

“But… I thought that was why you were upset on Friday night?”

I rest my chin on my hand, feeling the usual wave of frustration and despair I get whenever I think about Ian. “I thought it was temporary, that we were on a break while we cooled off. It wasn’t the first time it’s happened, you see. We’ve broken up twice before, for a few weeks each time. I texted him and tried to talk about what went wrong, but he wouldn’t talk to me, so on Friday I went to his mate’s house where he was staying to try to talk to him face to face. He told me then that the break was permanent, and made it very clear why. He didn’t like that I’d put on weight. He was frustrated with me working late some nights. And he said…” I told Fraser this on Friday evening, but even so, I feel embarrassed as I say it again, “I was bad in bed.” I suppose it’s a stupid thing to admit to a man, but it’s not like there’s any hope I’ll ever end up in the sack with Fraser. “I’m sure he’s right,” I add. “I don’t have much to compare to.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but our breakfast arrives, and so he closes his mouth again and takes his glasses off as he waits for the waiter to put our plates before us. The porridge is steaming hot and filled with chopped fruit and nuts, and accompanied by a tiny jug of cream and a small bowl of brown sugar. I busy myself with adding a spoonful of the sugar and pouring the cream over the porridge, then stirring it in. Only when I’m done do I realize Fraser hasn’t moved, and I lift my gaze to see him still staring at me, and his eyes are blazing.

“Tell me where he’s staying,” he says. “I’ll go around there and sort him out right now.”

My eyebrows lift. I can’t imagine that he’s ever been in a fight. He might joke about being Indiana Jones, but he’s the professor version who lectures to students and researches archaeology, not the fighting version with a whip.

Fraser with a whip… OMG. I’m not kinky in the least, but just the thought of him doing unmentionable things in the bedroom to give a woman pleasure brings me out in goosebumps all over.

I shake off the image, concentrating on the fact that he’s just offered to beat up my ex.

“I mean it,” he says.

“Wow.”

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