Page 60 of Two to Tango

‘No, how many?’

‘A lot. Which means, not only are we both seriously calorie deficient right now, but if you want me to continue giving you four orgasms a night, you might need to give me some real food.’

‘Well, that’s certainly one way to bring up the awkward next day conversation. You presume there will be a next time, then?’

I can feel him fighting his own amusement as he moves around the kitchen counter and stands behind me, pressing his crotch to my bum, speaking against my neck. ‘The thing is, Coulthard, I prefer when you’re screaming my name in bed to you screaming at me for no good reason.’

He pulls away from me and takes eggs from the fridge. I rest back against the worktop and watch the muscles of his back as he moves, shirtless, around the kitchen and starts cracking eggs.

‘Now, how would you like your eggs this morning? Over easy?’ He flashes me a wink across his shoulder. In return, I launch the damp dish towel at him.

For once, I’m looking forward to my dose of protein. I don’t feel fat today; I feel like I could climb Kilimanjaro.

21

BROOKS

Is there going to be a next time?

I’m sitting at my desk, tossing and catching a ball of elastic bands. I’ve been doing so for the last twenty minutes. Izzy has gone out for a walk because we’ve completed our sessions for today and she’s bored of sitting around doing nothing. I’m waiting for my next PT client and though I may look like I’m doing nothing but tossing a ball, my mind is about as active as it has ever been.

There’s no denying I liked waking up with Izzy in my arms this morning. I enjoyed finally falling into a sated sleep curled around her. I am definitely not complaining about the amazing sex. In fact, I’m not complaining or regretting anything, except maybe the point where I led her to believe it could happen again.

Can one amazing night change who she is, who we are? For years, I’ve dealt with the backlash of falling in love with a girl whose upbringing and parents tore us apart. I had a kid with her, for Christ’s sake. Even that wasn’t enough to outweigh prejudice. I’m okay in my life. Yeah, I get bored and occasionally I wouldn’t mind company, but I have the gym. I’m here every day for most of the day. It keeps me occupied.

I stand up and continue throwing the ball as I wander around my office.

I’ve fallen for Izzy. I knew it before last night, and I knew it definitively when I looked in her eyes as I made love to her. Yes, we fucked, and it was incredible. But there were moments when it felt like more than that. I can’t even describe it. It’s something I haven’t experienced before. More than a youthful desire to have sex or even sex with a first love. More than perfunctory sex with one end goal. It was like I had to be with her. I had to be touching her, inside her, connected to her.

I feel it now even, just thinking about her. And the question I would like my messed-up mind to answer is this: how in the hell did you fall for that pompous, fame-hungry Brit?

She’s funny, my mind shouts back. She’s vulnerable and seems lost sometimes. How can that same person be so obsessed with book sales, best-seller titles, Prada shoes?

She has a shitty attitude and she wants to damage my reputation for her own personal gain. Then again, she said she didn’t come to the bar last night for media attention or more readers for her blog.

Ugh. I launch the ball at the office wall and catch it when it bounces right back at me. Its’s like the back-and-forth of my chaotic brain.

The thing is, it doesn’t matter what my mind tells me, because the erratic thumping in my chest when I think of her wins out. That’s why I’m terrified. That’s why I can’t let myself be in this position, again.

She’s another Alice. In any event, she’s going back to London in just over a week. Why put myself through that? Yet, even as I think that, I’m craving more of her touch. More of her scent. More of her taste. She’s gone for a walk and, unbelievably, I miss her relentless jibing. I’m a horrible person around her. The worst. But she’s like an insatiable craving for something I know I shouldn’t want. It’s a hunger, a thirst, a need like oxygen. Fighting with her, laughing with her, even at her, is the most awake I’ve felt in eighteen years. I’m high on her.

The ringing of my cell is a welcome distraction. ‘Hey, Sarah.’

‘Hey yourself, charmer. I have to tell you, I loved your dramatic exit last night. Slamming down money, sweeping her off her feet. You were like Richard Gere, only without the limousine and billions of dollars. Tell me, how hot was the sex?’

‘Did you call for a reason or can I hang up?’

‘Look what she’s done to you. You’re normally so laid back you’re horizontal, but Izzy Salsa Queen has got you all in a tiz.’

I sit back in my chair. ‘I’m going now.’

‘Wait, wait. I’m just teasing. I did call for a reason. I wanted to say, stop what you’re doing.’

‘Huh?’

‘I know you, Brooks. That’s how I know you’ll be sitting on a weight bench or in your office chair right now, thinking of all the reasons you shouldn’t be with Izzy. Think of me as your subconscious, but prettier. I’m here to tell you to stop thinking of all the reasons not to and concentrate on the reason you should.’

‘Which would be, exactly?’

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