Every move was so significant, every word loaded, the morning after you had sex for the first time.

She could see her underwear strewn down the beige hallway in pleasingly provocative satin crumples. “Look! Matching underwear!” she’d slurred proudly through a red-wine induced haze the night before. “Well done!” Charlie had said, although he didn’t waste much time looking at it.

There was movement next to her, a hand reaching for her hip

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

She wondered how his postsex personality was about to manifest itself. You never could tell. She hated it when they woke up wary, with that now-don’t-you-be-thinking-this-is-a-relationship look in their eyes. If she saw even the slightest hint of that sort of look, she’d dump him on the spot.

“That was very lovely,” she said, watching 8:31 snap over to 8:32 on his bedside digital clock. “Last night, I mean.”

Most men, Gemma knew, were convinced they were extraordinarily talented lovers and simultaneously terrified that maybe they weren’t. It was important to pay them lavish compliments about their abilities. It put them in a good mood.

Actually, now she thought about it, it had been very lovely. Quite surprisingly lovely.

“That second time,” she continued thoughtfully. “I had a rather startling orgasm.”

There was a dry chuckle from next to her, and suddenly she found herself flipped over and enveloped in a gigantic bear hug, her face pressed against Charlie’s wide chest. He had a body like a footballer, except for his legs, which were heartbreakingly skinny. She breathed in the faint leftover scent of his aftershave.

“A startling orgasm, did you? Why, did you feel it in your left ear?”

“No. It was just startlingly delicious.”

“And why the surprise? I’m a locksmith. I have trained hands. Trained to unlock delicious orgasms. You should have been lying there thinking, Yep, just as I thought.”

Thank God! Postsex Charlie was still presex Charlie.

“I like to keep my expectations low to avoid disappointment.”

He reached over for the blind by his side of the bed and pulled hard at the cord so that sunlight instantly flooded the room. Gemma put her hands over her eyes. “Bright light! Bright light!”

“Perfect weather,” he said, uncovering her eyes. “Now. Gemma Kettle. Sweet Gemma Kettle. Here’s my proposal for the day. First, I think I’d better give you another startling orgasm. Then I think I should make you breakfast while you’re in the shower. Then you’ll be so turned on by my cooking skills—especially in light of your own shameful efforts last week—you’ll probably want to seduce me back into the bedroom. Then I think we should go down to the beach and have a boogie board. I’ve got a spare one. Can you boogie board? Then back here for a siesta and more startling sex. Then maybe a movie?”

Gemma stared at him. “Goodness.”

“Not enough sex?”

“No. That seems like quite a substantial amount.”

Charlie’s face changed. “Or you might have plans, of course. You probably have plans. My little sister tells me I’m too domineering. So you know, that’s fine, off you go to your plans, I don’t mind.”

He smiled at her, lines deepening on either side of his brown eyes with their ridiculous eyelashes. “I’ve got plans myself actually. Now I think about it.”

It seemed like everything he was feeling was right there in his eyes—a hint of nerves, a touch of laughter.

No secrets. She hated secrets.

“Sisters,” she said, pulling him to her. “Who cares what they think.”

They followed Charlie’s proposal to the letter.

To: Cat; Gemma

From: Lyn

Subject: XMAS

1. I bought Mum a David Jones voucher for Christmas. You both owe me $50.

2. Please do not get Maddie anything edible. She’ll be sick.

3. Could you both bring salads and wine on Christmas Day? Can you confirm what sort of salads?

4. Gemma—are you really bringing your new boyfriend? Can you confirm?

To: Gemma; Lyn

From: Cat

Subject: XMAS

I confirm that I’m not coming Christmas Day.

To: Lyn

From: Gemma

Subject: XMAS

OH MY GOD! Does she mean it?

P.S. I confirm I will bring a VERY SPECIAL, VERY EXOTIC SALAD. I confirm that Charlie will just drop by quickly so you can all admire and gasp at his eyelashes but then he has to go to his own family lunch.

To: Gemma

From: Lyn

Subject: XMAS

If she means it, it’s your fault. You fix it.

To: Lyn; Cat

From: Gemma

Subject: XMAS

Excuse me but YOU did it. You’re the one having multiple orgasms with her husband.

To: Lyn; Gemma

From: Cat

Subject: XMAS

IS THIS LIKE SOME SORT OF SICK JOKE???

“Multiple orgasms with my husband”?

GEMMA: YOU’RE STUPID. LYN: YOU’RE A BITCH.

To: Gemma

From: Lyn

Subject: XMAS

YOU FIX IT.

“Nope. Won’t do,” Charlie announced as they sat down opposite each other in a café. “You’re too far away.”

He moved his chair from the opposite side of the table, so he was close enough to entwine his legs around Gemma’s.

He could make her melt like warm caramel.

Three weeks since she met him. Six dates. Two nights at his place. Two nights at hers. A lot of kissing. A lot of fine-quality sex. A lot of stupid jokes.