Mango Kisses by Elisabeth Rose Read Free Book Online

out in some indefinable way.
    ‘And Rosemary,’ said Fiorella who stood beaming at her clients as they interacted. She placed her hand on the arm of a waif-like woman with wispy white-blonde hair and the big eyes of a Dickensian orphan. Rosemary flushed pink and muttered something inaudible directed at the floor. ‘We just have a couple more men to join us. Typical, isn’t it, girls?’
    Fiorella gave a great shout of laughter and went out. Tiffany put her armful of bedding down against a wall. Opposite was an eye-catching pink blanket and a large pink cushion. She glanced around the room; cream coloured carpet, big windows with Venetian blinds, open at the moment to reveal some gum trees and a stretch of grass outside. At the wall by the door stood a table covered in a white lace cloth, on it a range of small coloured bottles, two wooden bowls, a pile of neatly folded handtowels and two squat, red candles — undoubtedly perfumed. At the far end of the room was a small kitchen area.
    Moments later Fiorella burst in with the latecomers, a very large, moon-faced young man smiling happily and, bringing up the rear with an entrance that could only be termed reluctant, the surf shop guy.
    He scanned the room quickly until his gaze alighted on Tiffany. Her neck grew hot, then her chin and her cheeks, right on up to her forehead. A veritable radiator. Perspiration ran down under the collar of her blouse. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with some sort of private glee.
    Tiffany studied the floor. Fiorella said, ‘Meet Nathan and Boris.’
    Boris? Neither of them looked Russian. Tiffany looked up but not fast enough to see who was who. The two men nodded and said hello as Fiorella ran quickly through the introductions. Boris/Nathan strolled across to her side.
    ‘Hello Marianne,’ he said. He dumped a tartan picnic rug on the floor against the wall behind her. ‘Headache gone?’
    Tiffany managed a stiff-necked nod.
    ‘As we’re all here, let’s get started. Don’t worry if you didn’t catch everyone’s name, by the end of the day you’ll know each other intimately.’ Fiorella paused to let the nervous titter of laughter ripple around the group. ‘I applaud you for doing something positive towards a greater understanding of your inner self, nurturing your love child.’
    Beside her, Boris/Nathan exuded a gigantic magnetic attraction, dragging Tiffany’s eyes towards him. She fought the temptation and kept her attention on Fiorella.
    ‘A reminder of the rules. No offensive remarks, no sexual innuendos either verbally or through gestures, no touching other than where the exercise requires. Respect for your partner at all times. Try to do each exercise to the best of your ability. Relax. Have fun. Release the inner you. We’ll start with a short meditation to remove ourselves from the everyday world and increase awareness of our body and our spiritual being. Please spread out your nesting material.’
    ‘May I make my nest next to yours?’ asked Nathan/Boris.
    Tiffany nodded.
    ‘Why are you here?’ she muttered as people arranged their blankets and pillows.
    ‘You’re not supposed to ask that,’ he said calmly. ‘But I’ll tell you anyway. Fiorella was short a man so she asked me to fill in.’
    That explained his reluctance. But, and her heart leapt, it meant he was single. It also meant he didn’t think he was in need of remedial kissing classes, but meant, mortifyingly, he knew she thought she was.
    ‘Have you filled in before?’ Even worse if he had, he’d be an expert amongst novices.
    ‘Yes.’ He flapped his tartan rug about and a few pieces of dry grass flew onto the floor. ‘Whoops.’ He swished the grass under his rug with his foot.
    Heart thudding, Tiffany studiously turned her attention to her own nest. He was too gorgeous. What would be worse? Kissing horse-toothed Domenic or kissing Nathan/Boris the surf shop guy who already regarded her as a joke and was only here as a favour to