“Lovely,” I mutter. I wipe my fingers on my napkin and reach out to take it from him. “Let’s have a look.” I read quickly down the list and then more slowly, my heart sinking. “What the fuck?” I say, looking up at him where he’s leaning back against the balustrade, his eyes alight with mirth. “Watercolour painting, brass rubbing. I bet that’s not half as dirty as it sounds.” He laughs, and I carry on reading. “Cordon bleu cookery lessons and clay pigeon shooting. I wish I’d seen that earlier. If I’d known there was a gun on the premises, we could have shot our way out.”

“Like Bonnie and Clyde,” he says lightly.

“No, that ended badly,” I chide him. “And double-breasted suits don’t flatter me.”

I look down at the list again and shake my head. “Fuck,” I grumble and he laughs.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“I’ll tell you another. This week is going to be torture.”

An hour later and I know I spoke the truth. We’re lying in bed. It’s quiet with the only sound that of the breeze in the trees outside the open balcony door. The room is washed in moonlight, giving me just enough light to see that he’s sleeping peacefully with no sign of agitation. I shoot a glare at him which is obviously wasted but makes me feel a bit better. How can he sleep? I’m wide awake, mainly because the sheets smell of him, and I can feel the heat of his body even with the foot of space between us.

He sleeps on his side facing me. In deference to the heat, he stripped off his top earlier, so I get a good view of that glorious hairy chest and wide shoulders. His hair is tousled and his arm is flung out with his hand palm up and looking somehow vulnerable. His lips are softly pursed, and he looks delicious.

I roll onto my back and sigh before scrubbing my face with my hands. My cock is throbbing like a fucking toothache. I want to slide in next to him and fit my body against his. I want him to strip me naked, and I want him to fuck me. Unfortunately, none of that is going to happen because I’m apparently too young and chaotic. I huff. Maybe if I walked around with a bar chart and a protractor he’d want to sleep with me. Maybe if I was distinguished and kept my paperwork organised he’d stick his cock in me.