“It's always the accent that drives you American women crazy. I'd no idea you fancied it, too…” he trailed off.“Oooh, fancied it. Say more like that,” I begged, smiling into the pillow.“Like what, Grace?”“Talk British to me,” I whispered, only half joking.“Dustbins.”“More,” I encouraged.“Crumpets.”“More!” I demanded.“Knickers.”If I could hear Jack Hamilton say a second word for the rest of my life, it would be knickers.“Say put another shrimp on the barbie!” I cried.“Grace, that's Australian,” he chided.“Say it!”“Fine. Put another shrimp on the barbie. Bloody hell,” he muttered.“Aaaahhhhhhh!” I screamed into the phone.””
The Unidentified Redhead