‘Dinner is served, madam.’
Star’s chin dropped to the floor at the sight of Conor appearing in the kitchen in just an apron and nothing else. His peachy bottom was dancing in front of her as he stirred a steaming saucepan on the hob.
‘To what do I owe this pleasure on a Tuesday evening?’ she asked from her front-row seat at the kitchen table.
‘So, I checked the calendar, and it is four weeks today since I first set eyes on that beautiful woman who works in that Ferry Lane Market place – and in my book that’s worthy of my speciality dish and some kind of anniversary toast.’
Star was very touched. Men didn’t do this sort of thing, did they? ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Mrs Harris from the pasty shop will be here in a minute, so if you could just drink up and leave, please.’ Conor carried on stirring his pot.
Star got up and pinched his bum. ‘You are annoyingly funny, as well as bloody sexy, do you know that?’ She pushed herself up against Conor’s bare bottom, placing her hand around and up the front of his apron.
‘Ah, I see madam would rather go straight to the dessert, would she? Or how about some kind of long hard sausage for starters? I know of a very succulent Irish variety.’
‘I would insist on a “try before I buy” kind of basis for a delicacy of this nature.’
Conor gasped at her touch, put down his spoon and switched off the heat. ‘Your wish is my command, Ms Bligh. How can I refuse?’ Turning, he put his arms loosely around Star who, on looking up into his eyes, ripped off his apron then slowly and seductively began to make her way down the big man’s body, kissing every inch of flesh as she did so.
‘Mention of a dolphin wins them over every time,’ Conor teased her.
‘And I have been known to bite right through a sausage,’ she said dreamily.
‘Ooh, my little stóirín.’
‘My big bad leprechaun.’