Holiday With The Mystery Italian

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She wasn’t sure why, but somehow she found the idea that they were staying in his house more unsettling than if the production company had hired somewhere neutral. As if it handed him a massive advantage over her. And that wasn’t the only thing unsettling her. There was the memory, too, of what had happened in the airport. The way that she had sat in his lap, hypnotised by his mouth. The slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, the way his tongue had moistened them, readying them to meet her own.

If they’d not been interrupted...

But thank God they had, and she didn’t have to think about how that sentence could end.

As Mauro gave her a guided tour of the property, she was blown away by the sheer luxury of the place. The gleaming chrome of the coffee machine, the soft, supple leather of the sofas, the expansive cotton and silks on the beds. Every now and then a detail caught her eye—a handrail, a switch to lower a kitchen counter, a tile underfoot that felt particularly grippy—that made her realise all the subtle adaptations that had been made to the villa in order for it to function perfectly as Mauro’s home. A million miles away from the clunky white bars and red strings she’d seen in the disabled loos at work.

‘And I thought you might like this room.’

He opened the door into one of the guest suites and Amber caught her breath at the view of the ocean from the wall of windows. The water stretched green-blue as far as she could see. The view drew her in, closer to the windows until her fingertips were resting lightly on the glass. There was nothing between her and the horizon. No one but a handful of fishermen in their brightly coloured boats between her and the edge of the world. Mauro crossed the room and pressed a button on the side wall, upon which the glass doors concertinaed until the whole wall was gone and there was just a few hundred feet of terrace and sand between the bed and the ocean.

‘Mauro, it’s incredible.’ Amber’s voice caught in her throat, and she cursed herself. She didn’t even understand why she was feeling so emotional. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d lost her home, that she didn’t even have that West London shoebox to her name any more. Perhaps it was the knowledge that all of this had come from Mauro’s many successes, when she was barely keeping a job using the one talent that she had. Maybe it was the fact that she’d spent the last eight hours on edge, desperately trying to keep her hands to herself, her libido in check, and her thoughts from wandering to Mauro.

At least he seemed to be shying away from the issue as well. Since that moment in the airport they’d both been studiously well-behaved. It all added up to exhaustion, physical and emotional.

‘I was going to offer you dinner. My housekeeper will have left something in the fridge, or I can arrange something to be brought in.’ He took another look at her. ‘Or I can let you crash and see you at breakfast?’

She knew the relief on her face had shown when he gave her a concerned smile.

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ He showed her how the controls for the window wall worked and let her know that he’d be in the pool if she needed anything.

Once he was gone she sat heavily on the bed, still in awe of the understated splendour of Mauro’s home. If she had been unsure before about whether she wanted to succumb to Mauro’s advances, this had been the wake-up call she had needed. Their homes couldn’t be more different, their lives couldn’t be more different. She absolutely would not get involved with him.

CHAPTER THREE (#uf7f5e6c3-4321-5445-ae47-2ceca2e80bdb)

MAURO WOKE TO the smell of rich Italian coffee percolating through the house—Amber was up already, then. He gave a half-smile. He hadn’t expected her to be awake first—had thought that she would be making the most of the holiday with a long, lazy lie-in. He had planned to be in the pool, fifty laps in, before she emerged and wanted to float on a lilo with a cocktail in hand. So she’d caught him out already. He didn’t like it, the way that she kept him guessing, kept proving his assumptions wrong.

It had made him wonder what else he’d been getting wrong lately.

His bedpost certainly wasn’t lacking in quantity of notches, but, now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been much variety, much challenge. He’d left hospital after his accident with the single goal of achieving and seeing as much as any person could in a lifetime, and now a whole aspect of it seemed...samey. Dull.

But those meaningless flings had been exactly what he had wanted. His ex-girlfriend had made it perfectly clear that his ambitions and commitment to his sport didn’t leave room for a partner or romance. He had failed at it once, and he had no interest in revisiting that disaster.

He pulled himself up in bed and transferred to his chair with a quick push of his arms. They still had a little time together before everyone else arrived. Once they’d had a quick breakfast and he’d done his laps for the day they were to meet Julia, Ayisha and the cameraman for that day’s filming. The usual stuff, he supposed—by the pool, on the beach, and a ‘romantic’ dinner for two. And in the meantime? He still couldn’t satisfy his curiosity, his need to understand more about her.

He wheeled through to the kitchen and found Amber sitting at the table, espresso cup in hand.

‘Morning,’ he called out to her as he came into the kitchen and headed for the coffee pot, still hot on the stove. There was something about being home in Sicily that brought his Italian blood out; if he were in England, he might start the day with a cup of tea and toast, but as soon as his feet were on Sicilian soil it was espresso or nothing.

He pulled up to the table with his coffee and reached for one of the pastries she’d piled onto a plate in the middle of the table. He expected his fingertips to meet flaky, buttery pastry, but instead they landed on impossibly soft, slender fingers as Amber reached for the cornetto at the same moment. He pulled away at the same instant that he registered her flinch. He couldn’t help the sting of rejection at that tiny movement; whether he wanted her to be interested in him or not, that small pull away from him hurt. It was just his pride, he thought as he met her eyes, daring her to acknowledge the contact, the electric flicker that he had felt when their skin had touched.

But she backed away from the challenge, lowering her eyes and snatching her hand back.

So she really wasn’t out here to play that game. Good. He decided to get them back on more neutral ground. ‘All ready for your day as a reality TV star?’

She groaned, and he laughed at the look of horror on her face.

‘I’m not sure I’m ever going to be ready,’ she admitted. Her face had relaxed, and he could tell that she was relieved he hadn’t called her out on what had just happened between them. Well, she didn’t have to worry on that front. Ego had made him hold her eye just then, but that didn’t mean that he had any intention of actually exploring that spark further.

‘So why sign up in the first place?’ he asked. She looked as if she had been regretting her decision ever since, after all.

‘Sign up? I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it. It was more like...railroaded, or threatened. Definitely something that doesn’t count as volunteering. And it’s for charity. How could I say no? It’s not like I ever thought...never mind.’

Oh, he knew exactly what she’d never thought, whether she was going to finish that sentence or not. She’d never thought she’d be here, never thought that she would be the one chosen. Well, in fairness she hadn’t been. The TV company had had it all worked out—of course he’d been meant to pick contestant number two—but then with the cameras rolling and a live audience—what could they do when he picked the wrong woman? His agent had given him an earful, of course, but it had been worth it.

And what were a few booked flights and cancelled reservations when you had earned a fortune and were willing to use it to get what you wanted?

‘Sorry I spoilt your masterplan. What can I say? I like a challenge.’

He instantly regretted his words, because he absolutely didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t seduce her in a heartbeat if he had thought that she might be up for a fling. But it couldn’t be more clear that a simple dalliance wasn’t on the cards with her. There was too much hurt behind those eyes, too many defences built around her. The ghost of romance past haunting her expression.

And as much as he wanted to back away slowly, keep his distance from the big scary emotions that were clearly behind that controlled front, there was something in there calling out to him. Some vulnerability that made him want to protect her. To find out if there was anything that he could do to help.

He didn’t want to think too much about why.

Perhaps, if nothing else, he could give her an ego boost. She clearly needed one. He could see it in her dropped eyes, the way she pulled her shoulders in to protect herself. Someone had given this beautiful woman cause to doubt that she looked like an absolute goddess. And as he couldn’t give the person who had done that to her the hiding he no doubt deserved, then maybe he could at least get her to see what he saw, without any danger of either of them wanting to be any more involved.

‘So you’re not dating anyone? There’s not some boyfriend hiding away somewhere while you raise money for the kiddies?’

‘No.’

That wasn’t a ‘not right now’, or a ‘nobody special’. That was ‘never’, ‘definitely not’ and ‘not ever’ all rolled into one. He had been right: there was a world of back story behind that one word.

His voice dropped to a gentle murmur. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

What was he doing? Talking about a bad break-up ranked right up there with sticking needles in his eyes on his list of enjoyable activities. But there was something about this woman that he couldn’t ignore. He couldn’t brush her pain away and pretend that he hadn’t seen it. If spilling her heart over her breakfast was what she needed he had a horrible feeling that he was signing up for the whole messy performance.

She took a long gulp of her coffee, and painted on something approximating a smile. ‘There’s nothing to tell, really. I broke up with someone a year and a half ago and have no intention of repeating my mistakes. I think maybe I’m just one of those people who are happier alone. Independent.’

Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Because as she spoke he could see the lurking shadows of grief and disappointment in her expression. The memory of someone who had let her down. Had left her feeling...less than she was.

‘Or maybe you just need to—’

‘Get back on the horse? Because there are plenty more fish in the sea? And someone better is just around the corner? Sorry but I’ve heard the clichés all before. Perhaps some people are just better suited to not...riding. Sorry, I’m better at the metaphors when I’ve had more coffee.’

She laughed, but it sounded hollow, thin. He had been right when he’d assumed that a quick fling would never be on the cards.

‘I’m going to head out to the pool for a few laps before the cavalry turns up,’ he said, trying to get them onto safer ground. ‘Can I tempt you with a dip?’

For a second he thought she was going to say no, but then a smile appeared on her lips, a real one this time. ‘Actually, that sounds good. I’ll go get changed and meet you out there.’

The day was already warming up as he made his way out to the pool, unseasonably balmy for this time of year. He was going over his conversation with Amber again. He wanted to make her see how beautiful she was. After a decade of mutually satisfying but emotionless seductions and flings, this was new ground. He might have had a sensitive side once. It’d just been so long since he’d had any call to get in touch with it he wasn’t sure that it was even still there.

He lowered himself into the pool and lay back in the water, letting it take his weight as he soaked up the warmth of the early autumn sun. His eyes drifted closed as he enjoyed the freedom to power himself around the pool, moving effortlessly in the water in a way his body didn’t allow him on land. He heard her before he saw her, the flip-flop, flip-flop of her sandals on the tiles at the water’s edge, the soft rustle of cotton as her towel hit the sunbed. Looking up, he saw the fluffy dressing gown she was wearing, and realised that he had been hoping for something else, something revealing, maybe. A better look at that body that she normally kept so well hidden beneath skimming silk.

She dropped the robe only at the last minute, as she slipped into the water. He had the briefest glimpse of a utilitarian one-piece in black and white, with thick straps and a racer back. Most definitely built for speed rather than decoration. Disappointed as he was, he had to admit to feeling a little pleased at finding that they had something in common.