Our Kind of Love

By: Victoria Purman



Joe closed the bedroom door behind him and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest. Damn. He’d hoped Anna might have acted out one of his fantasies and would be lying on the white sheets wearing nothing but a smile. But no. To his huge disappointment she was fully dressed. She’d pulled on last night’s party dress and he studied once again how it hugged her body. He openly admired the curves he’d navigated and conquered the night before. As his gaze travelled down the tight red fabric to those unbelievably sexy leopard-skin stilettos, he let out a low whistle.

Those shoes. Hot damn. They were follow-me-home-and-fuck-me shoes.

And they’d worked.

When Anna tapped one toe impatiently on the wooden floor, he remembered that stiletto was Italian for ‘dagger’. And judging by the look on her face it felt like she might be about to aim one right at him.

‘Well? Is the coast clear?’ She looked furious and it was tantalising. Her arms were pulled tight under her breasts, anger all over that gorgeous face. Her hair spilled wildly all over her shoulders in a glossy trail and her eyes, like a black cat’s, were trained on him. Suspiciously.

‘Don’t worry. Lizzie’s in the shower. And if I know my sister, we’ve got at least half an hour. More if she’s washing her hair.’

‘That’s good. That’s very good.’ Anna turned, grabbed her huge handbag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder. He noticed it was almost as big as she was. ‘I’ve gotta get out of here.’

‘Anna, wait.’ Joe took a step to the left to block her path. She craned her neck to look into his eyes.

‘For what? I can’t let her see me here. Like this. With you.’ She eyed him up and down and swallowed. ‘Every time I’ve seen your sister I’ve humiliated myself. Last night she found me in the toilets crying and as if that wasn’t enough mortification for one weekend, if she finds me here now? With you?’ Anna threw her hands up in the air. ‘I’m outta here.’

Joe reached out to grab Anna’s wrist and held it, gently. It was so small that his fingers met around it and then some. ‘Hey, hold on.’ He moved closer, just a little. She didn’t look at him.

‘Anna.’ Joe couldn’t let her go like this, angry and embarrassed. ‘What happened to you yesterday? Why were you crying in the ladies’ last night?’

A flash of something terrible passed across her face and she shook her head. Her hair moved independently in waves with the motion. He fought back the weirdest urge to bury his fingers in it.

‘C’mon.’ He didn’t want her to go. Where was the rule that said a one-night stand had to end before breakfast? And anyway, he wanted her back in that bed and kind of urgently.


‘You don’t want to tell me what happened?’ His grip on her arm became a caress and he inched his fingers up from her wrist, past her elbow, to her bare shoulder.

She pulled her lips together and shook him off. ‘It’s a long story, Joe.’

‘I love long stories. Made a living out of writing them. C’mon Anna, we haven’t even had a cup of coffee. Give me a minute to get dressed and we can go and grab one. Or, if you want, we can go back to bed …’

She held up a hand to stop him. ‘Once was more than enough.’

He gave her a sly grin. ‘Think it might have been more than once.’

‘Stop it.’ Anna stepped around him, opened the door slowly and stepped into the hallway. From two doors along, they could both make out the sound of the shower and Lizzie’s off-key singing, Dancing Queen.

‘Anna, wait.’ Joe stopped, suddenly confused about what to do next. He didn’t want to be a bastard about it, but he wasn’t sure anymore what to do after a one-night stand. Man, he’d been out of circulation too long. Should he get her number in case he felt like hooking up later? Should he say he’d friend her on Facebook? ‘Where can I reach you?’

Anna closed her eyes and seemed to shiver. ‘You can’t, Joe. Ever.’ Her stilettos clickety-clicked on the wooden floor of the hallway and she fished around in her handbag before pulling out car keys attached to a giant red plastic heart, almost as big as her hand.

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