Debbi Rawlins - Red-Hot Honeymoon - The Honeymoon Arrangement / Marriage in Name Only? / The Honeymoon That Wasn't

The second floor held comfortable couches and chairs, a hammock strung between two branches, and a small dining table covered with cloche dishes and champagne bottles in ice buckets. There was a small chest freezer containing soft drinks and beer, and a steel wine rack holding five bottles of exceptional red wine.

How much did they expect them to drink in one night? Finn wondered.

‘I’ll leave you to explore the bedroom on your own,’ Sarah told him, gesturing to the mobile and the radio on a side table. ‘You’ll hear lions and hyenas, typical bush noises, but do not hesitate to radio or call me if you are uncomfortable or encounter a problem. Nick will collect you at six a.m. for a guided tour—which is a pretty big deal because he rarely does them any more.’

‘Why not?’ Callie asked.

‘Pretty wife in his bed …’ Finn explained, and was enchanted by her blush.

‘Also the fact that he has two kids under the age of three who are up and roaring around at that time,’ Sarah added, before bidding them goodnight and leaving them to their night under the African stars.

Within minutes they heard the Land Rover pulling away and Finn turned to Callie and gestured to the view. ‘So, what do you think?’

‘Pretty shoddy digs …’ Callie teased. ‘They’ve gone to absolutely no trouble at all.’

Finn watched as she walked to the edge of the platform and placed her hands on the safety railing. ‘Want some champagne?’

Callie looked at him over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. ‘No, thanks. Actually, I’d love a beer.’

Finn poured beer into a glass for her and brought it and his own bottle over to where she stood. In silence they scanned the river, saw a pod of hippos on the far bank, and watched as the sun tossed ribbons of gold over the treetops.

Finn saw her shiver as the temperature dropped further and allowed the backs of his fingers to drift over the bare skin of her shoulders. ‘You’re cold … This wind has a bite to it. Why don’t you change into something warm and I’ll start a fire in the pit?’

Callie looked around. ‘Where are our bags?’

‘Sarah took them to the bedroom area,’ Finn replied.

‘Ah, the bedroom area. Bet you it’s a massive bed covered in white linen and a mosquito net, surrounded by candles.’

‘That’s a sucker bet,’ Finn replied.

Callie took a nervous sip of her beer before lifting her eyes to Finn’s. ‘So, are we still paying it by ear?’

He’d never met a woman as direct as Callie before. He liked that—respected it. He didn’t need to play games with her.

But she wasn’t ready to share herself with him yet, Finn realised. He could see reluctance in the hitch of her shoulders, the slight shake of her fingers—although that might be from the cold—and in the worry in her eyes. She would share his bed one of these days—just not yet. And that was okay. He could wait until the time was right.

And, in the spirit of honesty, he knew the more time he had between his break-up and sleeping with her, the better handle he’d have on this entire situation. Damn , it would all be so much easier if he didn’t like her quite so much—and if she didn’t make his junk want to do a happy dance whenever she breathed.

So. Much. Easier.

Finn’s expression turned serious. ‘I have the sense that your flirty nature doesn’t often translate into bedtime fun.’

Callie tipped her head. ‘How do you figure?’

‘Well, if it meant less to you then we’d have already ripped each other’s clothes off.’

Callie looked out at the stygian darkness. ‘It wasn’t always like that. I was a lot more impetuous when I was younger.’ She held up her hand to explain. ‘I wasn’t a slut—I just didn’t take sex as seriously as I do now. It used to just be a romp … some slap and tickle … fun …’

‘It still can be,’ Finn said, his eyes locked on her face.

‘I know, but these days I prefer to have a little bit of friendship with my sex. Just a smidgeon—I don’t expect more than that—but liking is a prerequisite, respect is a bonus.’

‘I like you.’

‘I like you too, but …’

Finn quirked an eyebrow. ‘But?’

‘But …’ Callie sighed. ‘I’m just not—’

Callie stopped speaking and Finn waited for her to finish her thought. She just wasn’t what ?

Callie sighed. ‘Ready. I’m just not ready.’

Yeah, and that was a lie. There was another reason why she was hesitating, why she was treading carefully. She wanted him—he knew that … had no doubts about that. So something else was causing her to hesitate. What was it and why was he so desperate to know?

Callie was waiting for his reply, buy there was nothing that he could say except, ‘We won’t be doing anything together until you are a hundred per cent comfortable with me, Cal. So try and relax, stop worrying, go and get warm. We can share a bed without me jumping you, I promise. Actually, tonight I’d love to sleep in this hammock. It looks super-comfortable and I’ve slept in far worse.’ Finn took a long sip of his beer. ‘Go and put something warm on, honey.’

Callie nodded, put her untouched beer on the table and walked to the stairs leading to the sleeping platform. Finn watched her gorgeous ass moving up the spiral staircase and felt the action in his pants.

All he had to do was follow her, start kissing her, and she’d be his. He knew that. God, it was tempting. But he didn’t want to have to coerce her, tempt her, persuade her. When they made love it would be because it was a mutual decision.

It had something to do with the respect that Callie had been talking about earlier.

‘Finn! This bedroom is amazing !’ Callie called down to him. ‘Come up here and look at this place. It would be like having sex in the clouds—I mean, sleeping with you in the clouds—I mean … Aaarrrgggh! Dammit!’

Finn grinned, happy that he wasn’t the only one who had his mind in the bedroom.

‘Ignore me.’ Callie’s low voice drifted down to him.

Yeah, not easy to do , Finn silently assured her as he swallowed his chuckle.

Callie pushed her plate away and groaned as she leaned back in her chair. She’d expected a cold supper. She hadn’t expected delicious prawns, spicy fish fillets and perfectly cooked steak. There’d also been a couscous salad and a watermelon, olive and feta salad, along with crusty bread and a variety of dips.

After the flight from Cape Town and two glasses of red wine she was feeling lazy and hazy and very sleepy. At nearly eight it was fully dark, and the soundtrack of the African bush had started to play. The crickets chirping was a familiar sound, and there was the power saw noise of the African cicada beetle. Occasionally a fish eagle would let rip with a heee-ah, heeah-heeah , and from somewhere that sounded far too close they heard the yelping, woofing and whining of what Finn said was a family of black-backed jackals.

It was noisy, Callie realised. Very noisy.

Finn, his strong features looking even more handsome in the low light of the paraffin lamps, looked at her across the table. ‘There’s chocolate mousse in the cool box.’

‘I wish I could. I’m stuffed.’

Like her, Finn had pulled on jeans and a hooded sweatshirt against the cool night air. The blazing fire in the pit kept the worst of the chill off, but this was a place that invited you to have a warm shower and then to snuggle under the down duvet on the bed upstairs, warm in each other’s arms.

It was an attractive proposition, Callie thought. But Finn had reiterated his wish to sleep in the double hammock. He’d found another down duvet in a storage cupboard on the bathroom platform and announced that he’d be super-warm wrapped up in it in the hammock.