“At the risk of being repetitive, do you want me to get a pizza?”“Pizza? Did the man say pizza? I might propose.”“Can’t. You’re wearing ...n engagement ring. What sort of topping?” He got the menu that had come with the first box. “Green peppers?”“Yes.”“Mushrooms?”“Mmm,” she said, “mushrooms.”“Anchovies?”“Are you going to read me the whole list?”“Why not?”“Pepperoni. That should be enough.”“And cheese?” he asked.“And cheese. Isn’t a pizza without cheese.”“Cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms, green. ’ ‘See you soon,’ she grinned. I messed around for ten minutes or so, washing and drying the glasses, tidying up in the lounge, before going back upstairs. Helen was lying in the bed, the duvet pulled up under her chin, wearing her sexy grin. I slipped into the en-suite to take a shower myself. Once I was dry again, I considered putting on a bathrobe. Then I decided it would be ridiculous to wear a robe for the four steps from bathroom to bed and opted for a towel around my waist. In the end. More

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