days—just not yet. And that was okay. He could wait until the time was right.
And, in the spirit of honesty, he knew the more time he had between his break-up and sleeping with her, the better handle he’d have on this entire situation. Damn, it would all be so much easier if he didn’t like her quite so much—and if she didn’t make his junk want to do a happy dance whenever she breathed.
So. Much. Easier.
Finn’s expression turned serious. ‘I have the sense that your flirty nature doesn’t often translate into bedtime fun.’
Callie tipped her head. ‘How do you figure?’
‘Well, if it meant less to you then we’d have already ripped each other’s clothes off.’
Callie looked out at the stygian darkness. ‘It wasn’t always like that. I was a lot more impetuous when I was younger.’ She held up her hand to explain. ‘I wasn’t a slut—I just didn’t take sex as seriously as I do now. It used to just be a romp … some slap and tickle … fun …’
‘It still can be,’ Finn said, his eyes locked on her face.
‘I know, but these days I prefer to have a little bit of friendship with my sex. Just a smidgeon—I don’t expect more than that—but liking is a prerequisite, respect is a bonus.’
‘I like you.’
‘I like you too, but …’
Finn quirked an eyebrow. ‘But?’
‘But …’ Callie sighed. ‘I’m just not—’
Callie stopped speaking and Finn waited for her to finish her thought. She just wasn’t what?
Callie sighed. ‘Ready. I’m just not ready.’
Yeah, and that was a lie. There was another reason why she was hesitating, why she was treading carefully. She wanted him—he knew that … had no doubts about that. So something else was causing her to hesitate. What was it and why was he so desperate to know?
Callie was waiting for his reply, buy there was nothing that he could say except, ‘We won’t be doing anything together until you are a hundred per cent comfortable with me, Cal. So try and relax, stop worrying, go and get warm. We can share a bed without me jumping you, I promise. Actually, tonight I’d love to sleep in this hammock. It looks super-comfortable and I’ve slept in far worse.’ Finn took a long sip of his beer. ‘Go and put something warm on, honey.’
Callie nodded, put her untouched beer on the table and walked to the stairs leading to the sleeping platform. Finn watched her gorgeous ass moving up the spiral staircase and felt the action in his pants.
All he had to do was follow her, start kissing her, and she’d be his. He knew that. God, it was tempting. But he didn’t want to have to coerce her, tempt her, persuade her. When they made love it would be because it was a mutual decision.
It had something to do with the respect that Callie had been talking about earlier.
‘Finn! This bedroom is amazing!’ Callie called down to him. ‘Come up here and look at this place. It would be like having sex in the clouds—I mean, sleeping with you in the clouds—I mean … Aaarrrgggh! Dammit!’
Finn grinned, happy that he wasn’t the only one who had his mind in the bedroom.
‘Ignore me.’ Callie’s low voice drifted down to him.
Yeah, not easy to do, Finn silently assured her as he swallowed his chuckle.
Callie pushed her plate away and groaned as she leaned back in her chair. She’d expected a cold supper. She hadn’t expected delicious prawns, spicy fish fillets and perfectly cooked steak. There’d also been a couscous salad and a watermelon, olive and feta salad, along with crusty bread and a variety of dips.
After the flight from Cape Town and two glasses of red wine she was feeling lazy and hazy and very sleepy. At nearly eight it was fully dark, and the soundtrack of the African bush had started to play. The crickets chirping was a familiar sound, and there was the power saw noise of the African cicada beetle. Occasionally a fish eagle would let rip with a heee-ah, heeah-heeah, and from somewhere that sounded far too close they heard the yelping, woofing and whining of what Finn said was a family of black-backed jackals.
It was noisy, Callie realised. Very noisy.
Finn, his strong features looking even more handsome in the low light of the paraffin lamps, looked at her across the table. ‘There’s chocolate mousse in the cool box.’
‘I wish I could. I’m stuffed.’
Like her, Finn had pulled on jeans and a hooded sweatshirt against the cool night air. The blazing fire in the pit kept the worst of the chill off, but this was a place that invited you to have a warm shower and then to snuggle under the down duvet on the bed upstairs, warm in each other’s arms.
It was an attractive proposition, Callie thought. But Finn had reiterated his wish to sleep in the double hammock. He’d found another down duvet in a storage cupboard on the bathroom platform and announced that he’d be super-warm wrapped up in it in the hammock.
‘You look tired,’ Finn commentated, lifting his glass of red to his lips.
‘I am.’ Callie leaned her arms on the table. ‘It’s been an interesting week.’
‘You should’ve been in Paris by now.’
Tearing around the city, rushing from designer to designer, not having a moment to enjoy the city in the spring … Callie thought that she would much rather be here.
‘You never told me what happened that you could suddenly take me up on my offer to be a fake wife.’
Could she tell him? Would he understand? Callie ran her finger around the rim of her full glass. He was treating her to three weeks in luxury—maybe he deserved an explanation. And, geez, they were going to be in each other’s company for three weeks—they were going to have to talk! They were going to be friends whether they liked it or not. It was up to her to keep things casual.
‘I’m running away—trying to avoid someone,’ she said, looking into the fire pit. So much for keeping it casual!
‘Yeah, I sort of realised that.’ Finn stretched out his legs and rested his wine glass on his folded arm. ‘So, who is Laura and why are you avoiding her?’
Callie jerked her head up. ‘Where did you hear that name?’
‘The other day, when you were arguing with your brother. Who is she?’ Finn asked again.
Well, she’d started this conversation, she couldn’t shut it down now.
‘My mother,’ Callie said, slouching down in her chair, crossing her feet at the ankles. ‘She left us. We haven’t heard from her since I was seven. Seb, my brother, has been tracking her movements around the world for years—he’s a hacker and can do that—and they started exchanging emails. The result of which is that Laura is coming home for a three-week visit, landing—’ Callie checked her watch ‘—in
