KURT GLOWERED AT NOSA. Juvenile and slow were two of the words to describe him. Didn’t he have even a little self-control? Slobbering Farida’s cheeks with wet kisses... as if that would hurtle him into her bed. Ach nee! What a joker.
He yanked his eyes away from the maddening sight. It wasn’t his business. She could kiss him as much as she liked. It had nothing to do with him.
Dinner had ended hours ago and the party had officially begun. They were sitting on the beach, ranged around a circular wooden table that groaned under the weight of the platters of roasted fish and crabs, the bottles of rum, brandy, whiskey, Irish cream, white wine, red wine and champagne. The green water sparkled with the reflection from the lights of the lanterns that ringed the edge of the beach. A sound system
