Love on the Rocks Read Online Free PDF

The air hung thick with the smell of tinned soup, which duly arrived in mock earthenware tureens decorated with smiling root vegetables.
    ‘There.’ Mrs Websdale stood back proudly, then peeled the cling film off a plate of white sliced bread and butter. ‘Lovely minestrone. That should warm you through. Would you like a nice sherry to go with it?’
    George bit back the urge to reply that yes, a crisp, dry Monzanilla would be perfect, as it was obvious that his and Webby’s idea of a nice sherry were two different things.
    Lisa beamed at her, anxious to avert an incident.
    ‘Actually, Mrs Websdale, what I’d really love is a nice cuppa.’
    ‘Webby, remember.’
    ‘Webby.’
    ‘And I only do Typhoo. None of your herbal rubbish.’
    ‘Good thing too,’ Lisa assured her. ‘Just a splash of milk and two sugars, please.’
    ‘Strong and sweet, eh? Like your man?’
    Webby waddled off, cackling. George raised his eyes to the ceiling, then wished he hadn’t. It was Artexed to within an inch of its life, with a monstrous false ceiling rose from which hung a heavy wooden chandelier with red tasselled lampshades.
    ‘Where are the taste police when you need them?’
    Lisa kicked him under the table.
    ‘Get real, George. You’ve been in Bath too long. You can’t be surrounded by perfection all your life.’
    ‘I don’t see why not. You do realize there are proper encaustic tiles under this ghastly carpet?’
    ‘For heaven’s sake, just relax. We can find somewhere else tomorrow.’
    George ploughed his way reluctantly through the lukewarm soup, then tackled the subsequent pork chops, boiled potatoes, frozen peas and puddles of Bisto as best he could. Lisa was beside herself with mirth. George, who was an inveterate foodie and had never touched a gravy granule in his life, tried not to mind that he was having the mickey taken out of him.
    Webby cleared the plates away.
    ‘The best I can do for dessert is tinned fruit cocktail.’
    ‘My favourite,’ said Lisa, before George could decline.
    Moments later two metal bowls brimming with squares of peach, pineapple and the odd cherry were deposited in front of them, along with an aerosol can. George looked askance as Lisa picked it up and squirted a whirl of cream on to her fruit with a flourish.
    ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t look so po-faced.’ She brandished the can playfully. ‘Do you think she’d notice if we took this to bed with us?’
    She gave her best dirty chuckle and George managed a smile, despite himself. Although he didn’t show it, he was grateful for Lisa’s chirpy optimism. She’d managed to make him see the funny side of their situation, and he knew he deserved it when she teased him. She was right, after all. He did live in a perfect little world of his own making. He needed bringing down to earth from time to time, and she was just the girl to do it. He watched her spooning the fruit cocktail into her mouth, as if it was the finest selection of fresh tropical fruits prepared by a top chef. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, licking away the last of the cream, and George felt his heart beat a little faster.
    He put his hand over hers.
    ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and crash.’
    She put down her spoon.
    ‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘I’m exhausted. It’s been a crazy day.’
    Ten minutes later, he cuddled her to him. She was deliciously warm and snug. She smelt gorgeous, of the cocoa butter body cream she rubbed on religiously every night. He could feel her skin through his T-shirt. He ran his hand up her inner thigh, stroking her gently.
    ‘How exhausted are you, exactly?’ he whispered.

Two
    L isa woke the next morning with a racing pulse and a burning sensation in her stomach that could have been the indigestible supper from the night before, but was more likely to be stress. She felt a sudden onset of panic as her actions of the day before replayed in her mind. What the hell had she been thinking of, walking off the