‘Clutches!’ His face in the mirror chuckled then disappeared as he came round to stand beside her. ‘You make me sound like the Dark Lord.’
‘I didn’t say evil clutches.’
‘Good...’ His gaze pinned her for a cloudy beat. ‘Because I’m only trying to look after you.’
Way to melt her heart and all of her bones.
‘I know. And I appreciate it.’ She offered up a smile. ‘You’re very noble...’ Not that she could let herself linger on that confusing thought. ‘So, did you buy anything?’
He flashed empty palms. ‘No. I flirted with buying something from the Fado section but then I remembered that I don’t like super cheery music.’
She felt her insides vibrating. Last night’s Fado show was lovely, but after four consecutive slow, impassioned ballads, which to their untrained ears had sounded more or less the same, they’d slipped out to explore the Alfama streets.
‘It was all quite heartfelt, wasn’t it?’
He grinned. ‘Just a bit.’ And then his eyes flicked to the mirror. ‘So, are we buying that, or what?’
‘Not today.’ She set it down, smiled an apology at the woman, then propelled him on before the woman could start a sales pitch. ‘It’s given me an idea or two though, so all good. I’ll come back when I know what I’m looking for.’
‘Fair play.’ And then he was looking over. ‘So, what’s on the agenda now?’
Aside from crushing on him every single second?
She shook herself. ‘If your feet are willing and able, I wouldn’t mind seeing the pink street...’
His gaze narrowed. ‘I remember seeing that...’ And then the guidebook was coming out, absorbing his attention. ‘Oh, yes... Rua Nova do Carvalho, former red-light district and crime centre, now über-trendy nightspot. Bars, cafés... Located Cais da Sodré.’ His eyes snapped up, full of teasing light. ‘Super, a mere ten thousand steps away!’
She felt warmth bursting inside, happiness. He was so good-natured. Such perfect company.
She aimed a smile into his eyes. ‘Yes, but then after that, I was thinking we could jump in a tuk-tuk, spend the rest of the day cruising.’
‘Yes!’ His fist shot up, punching the air. ‘I’ve been waiting for ever for you to suggest that!’
Quinn was eyeing him over her glass, patently trying to hold in a smile. ‘Are you dancing?’
He checked in with his body, felt a chuckle coming. ‘I might be...’ Because how could he not when the music was this catchy, and the sun was this warm, and the Tagus was yards away, glinting blue? When he was with the kindest, loveliest girl he had ever known. He grooved his shoulders at her for fun. ‘What’s wrong with a little chair dancing?’
‘Nothing...’ A smile broke across her face. ‘I suppose I just...’
‘What?’
She looked shy suddenly. ‘I guess I just don’t see you as the dancing type.’
‘Thanks. No offence taken.’
‘Will—’ admonishing him with her eyes ‘—I didn’t mean it as a—’
‘Black mark on my character?’ He took a sip of his beer, letting his smile out slowly. ‘Chill. I’m just teasing.’
She gave him the side-eye. ‘Not nice!’ But then her expression was warming again, brightening with interest. ‘So you do dance?’
He felt a little sagging sensation inside. ‘Well, no, not routinely, so I see your point, but I’ve had my moments on the dance floor—admittedly, mostly drunken ones when I was a student—but I’ve been told that I don’t totally suck in the rhythm department. What about you? Are you the dancing type?’
‘Am I...?’ She leaned forward, fixing him with a merry deadpan stare. ‘Will, I like dancing so much I dance with my vacuum cleaner.’
In which case...
His heart pulsed. Did he dare? Would the people around them laugh? He felt a smile coming. Maybe he was crazy, finally losing it, but right now he couldn’t care less.
He set his glass down and got to his feet. ‘Come on then. Show me.’
Her face stretched. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘Do I look like I’m joking?’
She let out a giggle. ‘Sadly, no.’
‘So, let’s dance.’ He held his hand out. ‘Unless I’m to be bested by a Hoover.’
‘Oh, God!’ Rolling her eyes at him, but in the next breath she was parking her glass and getting up, letting him lead her onto the promenade that separated the tables from the river, and then she was standing, staring at him, laughing. ‘You’re mad, you know that?’
‘Yep...’
And if this was madness, then happy days, because it felt great—great to be moving his hips to the beat, letting himself go, seeing amusement shining in her eyes. And now she was moving too, extending her arms with graceful hands, swaying her sublime body this way and that, laughing into his eyes.
So lovely!
Hair up today, loose tendrils grazing her neck. Green vest with a white one underneath, showing those kissable collarbones and that delicious dusky hollow between her breasts. Turning now, rotating her hips, hips he wanted to feel moving under his hands, hands that wanted to slide over that neat gyrating rear, that rear smoothly encased in blue jeans, jeans cropped mid-calf above her white trainers—simple...elegant. Beautiful.
