Page 59 of Two to Tango

‘You play the guitar?’

He nods.

‘Me too! We do have something in common. I had you down as more of a wicky-wicky dance track kind of man.’

‘What was that? That thing you just did with your hand on your ear?’ I chuckle as I do it again.

‘It’s a turntable. I was being a DJ.’

‘You’re a real crazy kind of cute,’ he says, pulling me to straddle his hips.

‘Shut up. Not cute. Cool.’

‘Whatever you say.’ He runs his hands down my thighs, and my skin is sensitive under his gentle touch. ‘And I do like dance music when I’m working out. I like country and rock too. I try out most stuff.’

‘Can I hear you play sometime?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe?’

‘We’ll see.’

Shaking my head, I get back to continuing my exploration of his tattoos, following another tree down his right arm. Next to it is a rabbit and a clock. An image I recognize. ‘This is the ticktock clock, right?’

He nods again.

I notice the tensing of his muscles. ‘FromAlice in Wonderland?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why would a tough guy like Brooks Adams haveAlice in Wonderlandtattooed on his arm?’

He stares at me for long seconds. In them, I see a story he doesn’t want to tell. He shifts beneath me.

Though he kisses the tip of my nose as he moves me off him, I can sense his mood has changed dramatically. He moves to sit on the edge of the mattress, picking his boxers up from the floor and pulling them on.

‘I’ll start breakfast. I have to get to the gym,’ he says without looking back at me.

‘Have to, or want to?’

Now, he faces me. ‘With you naked and that little sheet the only thing between me and you, I think it’s safe to say I need to go.’

I watch his mighty fine buttocks flex as he strides out of the room. I guess I can’t ask him to tell me everything overnight. It was only last night we were fighting. Does sex really change everything? Or was I already falling before then? Was I smitten from the first time I met him?

Rolling onto my back, I cover my face to hide my delighted giggle. Never before have I felt the way he made me feel last night. All four times.

As I make his breakfast shake, his eyes are piercing me through the white T-shirt I am now wearing, his T-shirt, which he wore to the bar last night. He still hasn’t spoken since theAlice in Wonderlandquestion but he doesn’t seem to be brooding, either. Maybe there was nothing to it after all.

I switch off the juicer and pour its contents into a glass before placing it on the counter in front of Brooks, who is staring at me with hungry eyes – hunger that could be related to food, or the fact I intentionally forgot to wear any knickers.

Finally moving his eyes from my thighs to his glass, he says, ‘My breakfast is purple.’

‘I know, I made it. It’s beetroot and there’s a shot of protein in there, so drink up and stop complaining.’

‘Grand,’ he says sarcastically, wincing through his first mouthful. ‘There I was thinking, if I slept with you and relieved some of that pent-up frustration, you might cheer up.’

He takes another mouthful of smoothie that empties half the contents of his glass. ‘Do you have any idea how many calories the body burns having an orgasm?’ he asks.

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