dance?? He grabs my hand and leads me to the dance floor.
David has never been that great at dancing. We went to Starsky and Hutch, the seventies nightclub, once a couple of years ago and he was dreadful?funny, but dreadful. But our Italian singer has finished with the Bee Gees and is now crooning Frank Sinatra numbers.
I don?t know how he does it, but with his hands holding me tightly round the waist David soon has me moving all over the floor, spinning around and everything. It?s intoxicating. I feel like I?m in a Sophia Loren movie, with the man of my dreams smoldering at me as I glide around the dance floor.
I say glide, in reality I?m not actually the best dancer, but I?m definitely getting the hang of it. And to be honest, I think if I practiced I could be really good. Maybe David and I could go to classes when we get back home. And when we get married we can impress everyone with our amazing dancing?all our guests will just stand round the dance floor watching and clapping, and we?ll smile modestly and say ?Well, we do like going out dancing. . . .?
I let go of David?s hands to twirl round, and when I spin round again I feel some unfamiliar hands round, my waist. It?s Carlo.
?You come to Carlo?s, you ?ava to dance with Carlo,? he grins. As we dance, I look at David watching us. He?s smiling broadly and winks at me when I catch his eye. What is he thinking, I wonder. What do I really mean to him?
When the singer starts on ?That?s Amore,? I break off from Carlo and walk back to David.
?You looked beautiful dancing,? he tells me as I wrap my arms around his neck.
?Why don?t you take me home,? I say simply.
?Home?? David says, surprised.
?Home as in your hotel. I don?t want to dance with my clothes on anymore.?
?Just what I was thinking,? murmurs David and places his hand firmly on my bottom, leading me to the door. Carlo meets us with our coats and puts us in a cab. ?You?ll sort out the Vespa for us?? David asks him.
?Of course!? He grins, then winks at me. ?Too dangerous for a beautiful young lady like you to be on a scooter, no? I think a car is better.?
I smile politely. To be honest, I?m a teensy bit disappointed. I was looking forward to jumping on the Vespa and putting my arms around David again. Still, I suppose a luxurious cab isn?t too bad either.
?Hotel Inghilterra,? David says to the driver and turns to look at me. He stares into my eyes as if looking for something.
?So, did today meet with your expectations?? he asks me.
I kiss him. ?It did much more than that.?
?And you?re happy?? He is still looking at me intently. As if he wants to ask me something important. He couldn?t be about to pop the question, could he?
?David, I?m always happy when you?re around.? I take his hand and look up expectantly.
?I don?t want to lose you,? David says softly.
Lose me? What?s he talking about.
?David, you?re not going to lose me,? I whisper in his ear, then kiss him, nibbling his earlobe. He kisses me back urgently, wrapping his arms around me. Then he pulls back slightly.
?Darling, there?s something I need to tell you.?
?Mmmm??
Before he can answer, the cab draws up in front of an impressive-looking hotel. David pulls away and gets some money out of his pocket for the driver.
As we walk into the hotel, I nestle my head in his shoulder.
?What was it you wanted to tell me??
?Oh, nothing. It can wait,? David says, stroking my head.
As we walk into the hotel, I stifle a yawn.
?Oh no you don?t,? David says firmly, and picks me up over his shoulder.
?David! Put me down!? I yelp. There are a few people in the reception area looking rather taken aback.
?Room number Thirty-four,? David says calmly to the concierge as if it was completely normal to have a girl hanging over his back.
?Put me down!? I squeak as we move toward the lift, but David just pats me on the bottom and presses the button.
?I am not having you yawn, Miss Beauchamp,? he says sternly. ?I have a number of activities planned for this evening and I think you need to conserve your energy.?
As the lift doors open, David concedes defeat and puts me down again.
?No yawning?? he asks.
?No yawning,? I agree. David picks me up again, but this time he has his arms securely under my bottom and my legs wrap round him. I can feel his slight stubble graze my cheeks as we kiss, our tongues exploring each other?s mouth.
For a moment I wonder if we?re going to make it to the bedroom, but the lift doors open and David carries me down the corridor.
