By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс

tried not to think of his lonely childhood, his family moving towns in the dead of night, and those periods of abject poverty when his father had been in gaol.

      ‘Oh!’ She was not slow. The smile she threw him would have lit the whole harbour in a power failure. ‘In that case, we need to really make a night of it.’

      She grabbed his hand and dragged him down the stairs. ‘It’s Coney Island for you. I want to see you in the rolling pipes and if you don’t get motion sickness I’m going to stick you to the wall in the Rotor.’

      And the darkness was gone. Lifted from him by the light of her joy. He followed her, soaking in her delight in silly games, ridiculous rides and fairy floss. Her hand in his, laughing and looking at him to be sure he too enjoyed the night. A strange feeling to savour that she cared so much that he was the happy one.

      He kissed her as she reached the end of the wacky walkway, kissed her after the slippery slide, and leant her back into the wall and kissed her thoroughly after another ride on the wild mouse.

      The most memorable kiss—though not the most successful—was upside down in the centrifugal chamber where the forces glued them to the wall while the floor fell away. They only just made it back to upright before the floor came back and gravity returned.

      From there it seemed natural to walk her back to his flat, hold her as they ascended the lift, and lean her against his outside wall while he opened the door.

      Emily was in a fairy floss coloured daze. She hadn’t laughed so much for years. She knew it wasn’t real, it was all an illusion like the wacky mirrors that made you first fat and then thin. She was happy at this moment and she refused to look into the future and see the end of this night.

      She’d never felt so silly, so beautiful, so protected. But she hadn’t intended to come back to his flat. Tomorrow was a little too close for that.

      And then they were inside and the door was shut. ‘Now, how did I end up here?’

      He watched her indulgently. Like she was a child. She may have behaved like one but so had he. Make no mistake, though, she was a woman.

      Marco said, ‘It is your fault. You and your amusement parks exposing me to the testosterone of teenage boys and the flirtatiousness of a woman who could be a teenager herself.’

      ‘I did not flirt.’

      ‘Did you not? Then you were yourself. Incredible, whimsical, amazing self, and I am enthralled.’

      She turned her back on him. Stared through the glass across the room at the harbour and thought of stopping this right here. Not taking this to the logical conclusion for a man of the world and a woman who had always wondered what good sex would be like.

      She had to remember this man was heading off to the other side of the world very shortly. But maybe that was a good thing.

      His arm dropped around her shoulders. ‘Let us view the harbour.’

      She glanced at his face. ‘You didn’t say come.’

      ‘Perhaps later.’

CHAPTER FIVE

      HE OPENED the sliding glass door and she went ahead to stand out on his terrace. A soft sea breeze ruffled her hair and he smoothed it with his hand.

      The last few hours had tilted his axis. Twirled his thoughts like the rides had twirled their bodies, shifted his plans from conquest to surrender, made him see that taking this woman to bed when they had no future could harm her, and he didn’t want to do that.

      Soon he would move on to the next city. Needed to. Was unable to form a trusting relationship because so much trust had been broken in the past and the scars were deep. Had crippled him for the emotional agility a relationship needed.

      But he wanted her badly.

      She leaned back into his body, her slender neck enticing his mouth, and he dropped a kiss under her ear. She tasted so good, felt like silk, and her body pressed back into him so that they both felt his hardness rise.

      She wriggled some more and he bit back a groan as he strove to speak normally. ‘Perhaps we should go in. Would you like coffee?’

      ‘It’s not coffee I was thinking about.’

      ‘Really?’ His mind was lost to conversation. Was fixated on the woman in his arms. The need to create distance fading as the heat built between them.

      He spoke into her hair. Desperate for one of them to be sensible. ‘I leave in a few weeks. I may not return.’

      She spun in his arms and looked up at him. Unflinching. So courageous. Her head up. Green eyes burning like the starboard lights of ships in the night and he’d never wanted another woman more than at this moment when she offered herself to him.

      Then unexpectedly she said, ‘I’m a little rusty so you’d better be good.’

      And his heart cracked open just a little more. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled his cheeks and made him shake his head in wonder. Feel the pound of his heart and the jump in his groin.

      ‘I am good.’ Marco closed his arms around her and Emily’s silver shoes left the ground.

      Suddenly she was trembling with her own audacity but it felt so good. So different from going home alone tonight and regret and an empty bed.

      He spun her like she’d been spun so many times in the last two hours and the lights of the harbour blurred as he swept through the doors with her hard against his chest, carried like a child, placed her like a princess in the middle of a gorgeously pillowed bed.

      She watched him and he watched her. Pulled off his shoes and socks, unbuttoned his shirt, never taking his eyes from her face, until the shirt fell open to reveal the breadth of his chest, undid his trousers so that they flapped open to reveal the curling hairs that snaked down, slid them off to reveal his black briefs. Then he stopped.

      She moistened her lips. Oh, my goodness. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. In black shorts, just like she’d imagined. Her throat closed and she swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. ‘I had hoped you might wear those black trunk things.’

      ‘So you wondered.’ He smiled at her and never had he looked more like the gypsy king as he did then with his dark chocolate eyes burning down at her. Just one word as he held out his hand.

      ‘Come.’

      And suddenly it was easy. To reach and take his hand. To stand in front of him as he undid the covered buttons on her blouse until it too hung open. Allow his big hands to slowly slide over her hips until she stood before him in her underwear. The only indulgence she allowed herself.

      The tip of one long finger slid slowly from her throat, between her lace-covered breasts, to the top of her ribboned bikini. ‘What is this delight?’

      She blushed. Her secret was out but she doubted he’d be telling anybody. He’d better not.

      ‘Such beautiful underclothes.’ He brushed her face with his lips and bent to breathe his way down between her breasts. Tasting and murmuring. ‘Such a beautiful body.’ He looked up at her. ‘You are exquisite.’

      She should be doing something. Touching him, but she didn’t know where to start. Shouldn’t be just having all the fun. Tried not to look at the bulge in the dark briefs in front of her. She hadn’t thought this far. To her inexperience. Her shortcomings as a lover. She could feel the beginnings of shame, left over from her rigid upbringing, left over from the horror of coldness and disgust from her parents the last time she’d lived with them.

      She turned her head. She didn’t want to think of that. Especially now.

      Marco felt the change come over her. Looked swiftly at her face, straightened and drew her against him.

      ‘What