I ignored the sizzle of heat that wound through me at that and the wonderment that we, who had been simmering and glaring at each other for years, were now flirting like pros, and instead eyed the smorgasbord before me. A plate of fat prawns surrounding a small bowl of aioli. Thick slices of crusty bread sitting between a pile of round juicy olives. Slices of cheese, miniature cucumbers and a stack of fragrant chicken skewers.
I hopped onto a stool, my mouth watering and my stomach giving another loud rumble. ‘This looks delicious.’
‘It’s what I like to eat.’
‘Is there anything you don’t?’
‘Potatoes,’ he said, pushing a plate in my direction. ‘I ate a lot of those as a kid. They remind me of being so hungry I hallucinated. I try to avoid them where possible.’
I pulled the plate towards me. ‘What was it like?’
‘Hasn’t Seb filled you in?’
‘I never really asked.’
‘It wasn’t much fun,’ he said with what had to be a massive understatement as he rummaged in a drawer for cutlery. ‘The village we lived in was badly deprived. The school was dismal and there wasn’t a lot else to do. My mother was permanently exhausted. She worked her fingers to the bone but there was never enough money and never enough to eat. And it was always freezing.’
My heart gave a tiny, totally natural squeeze. ‘Is that why you spend so much time here?’
‘Yes. I hate the cold.’
‘I can’t begin to imagine.’
‘And a good thing, too.’
He shut the drawer and turned to grab a couple of napkins and as he moved I noticed on the counter behind him a bottle of chilled champagne standing next to two cups of steaming coffee.
‘What are we celebrating?’ I asked. ‘Off-the-charts chemistry? A truce?’
‘Progress.’
I frowned at that, a ribbon of unease winding through me that I didn’t think I could attribute to hunger. Where did he think this was going? Surely the sex and the flirting weren’t giving him the wrong idea?
‘Notthatmuch progress has been made.’
‘I disagree,’ he said, handing me a knife and fork and a napkin. ‘Look at where we are now compared to where we were yesterday. Imagine where we could be tomorrow.’
‘We’ll be right here,’ I said pointedly. ‘Right where we are. This is just sex, Nick.’
‘There’s no “just” about it.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I do,’ he said and brought the cups of coffee to the island. ‘But I don’t think you quite understand the significance of what we’re doing.’
I bristled and thought about stabbing something other than a piece of cheese with my fork. ‘Are you patronising me?’
‘Not at all. I’m simply streaks ahead of you.’
‘I don’t even know what that means.’
‘Eat.’
Too baffled and annoyed to do anything else, I picked up a spoon and ladled some olives onto my plate, then added a couple of chicken skewers, only to pause when he suddenly said, ‘Tell me something.’
I glanced at him and frowned. He was always trying to get me to tell him things one way or another, yet what could I do? Respond with a blunt ‘no’? That wouldn’t stop him. ‘What?’
‘That guy you were seeing at the time your father lost everything. Is that really the only relationship you’ve ever had?’