Susan Johnson: Wine, Tarts & Sex

“Janie sent a postcard,” he noted, picking up a card from the tray and handing it to her when she’d had her fill of tart. “She sounds happy.”

While Liv studied the picture, then read the card, Jake ate.

“Do you really think they’re in Monaco?”

“God knows, with Roman’s rerouting abilities. They could be next door. I didn’t get that part about her shoes, though.” Janie had mentioned green beach sandals.

“Oh! I know where they are then! We both had sandals made for us in Florence years ago. They’re in Florence!”

“There you go. We’re gonna have to read her cards for clues. Like the Hardy Boys.”

“Do you think it’s serious with them?”

Jake shrugged. “Hard to tell. You know Janie; she’s not exactly trustworthy over the long haul. Although Roman’s seen it all; he can take care of himself.”

“It would be nice, though, wouldn’t it?”

“Not as nice as it is for us to be in it for the long haul. And I mean that in the most romantic sense,” he said, his gaze over the rim of his espresso cup, amused.

“I may prefer a smidgen more sentiment.”

“I’ll go online to one of those poetry sites. They write anything you want.”

She snorted. “Now, there’s the personal touch.”

“If you want personal, babe, just let me know when you’re done eating, and we’ll get as personal as you want.”

“Maybe I want poetry.”

“You’ll have to settle for food and sex. I don’t do poetry. ”

“Okay,” she said. Really, there was no contest.

He grinned. “No equivocation?”

“Do I look stupid?”

“No. You look sexy as hell, and I’d really be happy if you’d finish your breakfast pronto so we could get on with my schedule for the day.”

“Schedule?”

He smiled. “It’s a euphemism.”

“Ah.”

“Damn right.” He nodded toward the tray. “You could finish later.”

“Okay.”

“You’re easy.”

“You make it easy to be easy. I’m not about to turn down a couple dozen orgasms.”

“Wow. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

“There’s no doubt in my mind you can do it.”

His smile was wolfish. “You got that right.”

And she was.