SILK WICKEDNESS 40

She drew them before getting dressed in a little jade silk top that showed just enough cleavage. Her legs weren’t brown enough to flash, however, so she teamed it with a pair of cream linen trousers.

He was acting like mad, but not quite well enough. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he said, almost as if he meant it, and slid an arm around her waist. ‘I can see I’m going to have trouble with that Italian guy tonight. It might even come to a punch-up.’

Anything you can do, I can do better . . .

‘Dear me,’ she said reprovingly. ‘If you’re going to get all horrendously possessive, I might have to think again about this relationship.’

She longed with desperation for him to say roughly, ‘How can I help being possessive? Don’t you know how I feel about you?’

Dream on, Claudia.

His only reply was a tense, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t mean it literally. If you’re ready, let’s go.’

All through dinner, in the open air dining room with just a roof to keep the odd tropical shower off, she acted her brains out, laug