Perfect People by Peter James Read Free Book Online Page B

some moments after take-off and John had just been able to make out a woman’s face through the darkened glass window. Taking a couple away who had changed their minds, they speculated.
    ‘Do you want lunch?’ Naomi asked.
    John shook his head. He wasn’t hungry, but it wasn’t to do with the motion of the ship; it was the stress of worrying constantly about doing the right thing. Making the right decisions.
    ‘Me neither. Why don’t we sit out for a bit – it’s warm enough to sunbathe,’ Naomi said. ‘And have a swim? And try to talk this compassion thing through?’
    ‘Sure.’
    A few minutes later, swathed in the clinic’s white towelling dressing gowns and daubed in suntan lotion, they made their way back outside and around to the stern. Naomi gripped the handrail to walk down to the pool deck, then stopped suddenly and turned to John.
    George and Angelina were lying on loungers by the otherwise deserted pool. Tanned and beautiful, in sharp swimsuits and cool sunglasses, they were both reading paperbacks.
    Moments later Naomi heard a click. Her eyes shot back to John, who was surreptitiously jamming something into his dressing-gown pocket.
    ‘You didn’t take a photograph?’
    He winked.
    ‘That’s bad. You shouldn’t, you know the rules. We could get thrown off if you—’
    ‘I shot from the hip. Nobody saw.’
    ‘Please don’t take any more.’
    They walked over to a couple of loungers near them. ‘Hi!’ John boomed cheerily. ‘Good afternoon!’
    For some moments there was no reaction at all from either of them. Then, very slowly, the man they had nicknamed George lowered his paperback a few inches, then, equally slowly, he inclined his head a fraction, as if to confirm the source of the greeting. His expression did not change and he returned to his book, giving them no further acknowledgement. The woman did not move a muscle.
    Naomi shrugged at John. He opened his mouth as if to say something further, then, appearing to think better of it, peeled off his dressing gown, went to the edge of the pool and dipped a foot in.
    Naomi joined him. ‘Friendly, aren’t they?’ she hissed.
    ‘Maybe they’re deaf.’
    She sniggered. John climbed down into the water and began to swim.
    ‘How’s the water?’ she asked.
    ‘Like a sauna!’
    Naomi tested it gingerly with her foot, remembering that John was used to freezing lakes in Sweden. His idea of warm was anything that didn’t have ice floating in it.
    Ten minutes later, when they emerged, George and Angelina had gone.
    Naomi lay on her lounger, pushing her hair back and wringing out the water, letting the heat of the sun and the warm air dry her body. ‘I think that was incredibly rude,’ she said.
    Towelling his head, John said, ‘Maybe Dettore should insert a politeness gene into their child.’ Then, sitting down on the edge of Naomi’s chair, he said, ‘OK, we need to get our heads around compassion – we have to get it resolved by three o’clock – that gives us an hour and a half.’ He stroked her leg, then ducked his head down impulsively and kissed her shin. ‘You haven’t sucked my toes for a long time – remember you used to do that?’
    ‘You used to suck mine, too,’ she grinned.
    ‘We’re getting too middle-aged!’
    Then, looking at him a little wistfully, she asked, ‘Do you still fancy me as much as you used to?’
    Caressing her navel suggestively, John said, ‘More. It’s the truth. I love the way you look, the way you smell, the way you feel when I’m holding you. When I’m apart from you, if I just think about you I get horny.’
    She lifted his hand and kissed each of his fingers in turn. ‘I feel the same about you, too. It just gets better with you all the time.’
    ‘Let’s concentrate,’ he said. ‘ Compassion .’
    ‘And the sensitivity part as well,’ she said. ‘Look, I’ve just been thinking in the pool—’
    ‘Uh-huh?’
    Dettore had this morning presented them with modifications that