Page 8 of Wilde Shorts

His words slithered into my ears and took root like an unwelcome parasite. The parasite lied. But it was a seductive liar, one whose sibilant come-ons could very easily lead me down a dangerous path.

I saw a video once, of a machine whose sole job was to crush cars in a skip yard. I felt like my heart had somehow found its way into one and was being squeezed into nothing.

He didn’t mean this… any of it. Iggy was simply lonely. It didn’t have anything to do with me specifically, and I could prove it.

“You don’t know me,” I insisted. “Not really.”

“Try me.”

“What was my first car?” I asked.

His eyebrows came together. “You didn’t have a car for a long time. You had a bicycle and then a motorbike. Your first car was probably the Lexus my father supplied when we lived in the States.”

I swallowed. Lucky guess.

“And who was the first man I kissed?”

Iggy’s signature cocky grin appeared. “That’s easy. That wanker from Birmingham who tried to convince you to quit your job. You’d waited to hook up with another man all through the military and our time in the States only to end up with that sad sack.”

“False. You don’t know as much about me as you thought, Ignatius.”

His eyes flared. “I didn’t count the time I tried kissing you when I was in college. I was hardly a man at the time. Or so you said.”

My face heated. I needed to get out of his room. Immediately. “And I was right.”Even though it remains the most beloved kiss in my memory because it was you.

“Have dinner with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a command, and I longed to yield to it.

“No, thank you. Have a good evening, si—Iggy.” I’d almost called him “sir,” something I refused to do anymore…

At least outside of my fantasies.

I nodded awkwardly and left. When I made it safely into my own suite again, I let out a breath and clenched my hands into fists.

Why was he doing this? Why come here? Why ruin my great escape? For all his wealth and privilege, my Iggy had never been a spoiled brat.

He’s also never been a liar.

I pushed that thought away. He couldn’t possibly mean the things he was saying.

Could he?

I thought of the question I hadn’t had the guts to ask Iggy when he’d tried to prove how well he knew me:

What would I do for love?

The answer was as wide as the ocean and as vast as the wild lands surrounding us as we raced through the South African night.

5

IGGY

He wasn’t unaffectedby me.

I twirled the thought through my mind as I made my way down the long, hushed corridors of the train to the dining car.

Jon’s hands had trembled as he’d held my cuffs. His cheeks had flushed as they always did when he stood close. And the scent coming off his warm skin was the cologne I’d given him for his birthday last year.