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his rare, devastating smiles, and trying to control the flutter in her stomach, she followed him to his car.

Chapter 5
    La Cocina del Diablo was small, dark and intimate. The maitre d’ came straight up to Cal with a wide smile. ‘ Bienvenido amigo ! Another victory – well done. I heard on the radio you had twenty-nine possessions, so I know you’re hungry. Your table is ready.’ He led them to a table in a private alcove near the rear of the room.
    The small space glowed by the light of a brace of candles. As Cal studied the menu, Merise peeped over the top of hers to watch his face. He was studying the list as if his life depended on it. He seemed to do everything with such intensity and concentration. She liked that about him, and she liked his lips. She couldn’t help noticing them. They were so well defined, so beautifully shaped – like the rest of him.
    Just then she realised what she was doing – staring at this man – a mere recent acquaintance, as if she were in thrall to him. What was going on? She’d better get a grip on herself. Now where was she?
    As she examined the menu he suddenly reached out and touched her ear. Involuntarily she whipped back with a sharp intake of breath. He paused for a second, looking hard at her. ‘It’s only your earring – it was coming out.’
    ‘Oh, sorry. Great. Th . . . thanks.’ Her voice betrayed her – it sounded so husky. Trying hard to regain her composure, she fiddled with her cutlery.
    She felt the hot blush of red rising in her cheeks. He had to have noticed it, but he just asked in a matter-of-fact way, ‘So, are you enjoying your modelling work?’.
    She pulled a face. ‘Well, I suppose . . . it’s not too bad. But it’s really not something I want to have in my life for too long. It’s serving a purpose at the moment, but as soon as I make enough money to cover my uni fees and my living expenses, I’ll drop it.’
    ‘But what about the female face of Yarraside? If you desert us, we could just plunge to the bottom of the ladder,’ he said with mock alarm.
    She smiled easily. ‘Then you’ll just have to kick a few more goals to ensure that doesn’t happen.’ She had a sudden thought. ‘By the way, what did the maitre d’ mean, “twenty-nine possessions”?’
    He smiled back. ‘The number of times I got the ball tonight.’
    ‘Oh yeah, of course.’ She paused for a second, then asked, ‘Why would they bother to count that?’
    ‘I take you knew nothing much about Aussie Rules before this?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, and I must say, I had no idea it would be so exciting, or have so many different aspects to it.’
    ‘Such as?’
    ‘Marking, for a start. It’s so thrilling to see a player leap into the air, right up on the back of another player. I presume that’s legal?’
    ‘It’s legal. Yeah, marking is certainly one of the glories of the game. If AFL is a religion, then marking is evidence of the transcendent impulse. Whenever I’m going for the ball, rising off the ground, above someone’s shoulders, it feels as if I’m reaching towards the gods, with all the barrackers urging me on. And sometimes, I can’t help it – I think of an old Irish prayer my grandma used to say:
    I fly today
    Through the strength of heaven:
    Light of sun,
    Radiance of moon,
    Splendour of fire,
    Speed of lightning,
    Swiftness of wind,
    Depth of sea,
    Stability of earth,
    Firmness of rock.
    That’s exactly what it feels like when I’m up there, going for the ball.’
    Merise was riveted. He was the first man under forty she’d ever met who could quote poetry, and with power and feeling. She felt something inside her shift and she suddenly saw him in a new light. His eyes were shining, his face transfigured from its habitual scowl, and she knew that he was revealing something secret, something sacred about himself.
    ‘That’s so beautiful, Cal. And maybe lots of players feel like that, but I doubt that any of them have articulated it in that