CHAPTER ONE
IN A NAVYsundress and nude sandals, Phoebe Copeland ambled up the Tuscan country road, opera blasting in her earbuds, living out herdolce vitadreams. Money was tight but she’d made it to the second-to-last day before almost running out and, given she’d dined like a queen at her singular restaurant splurge two nights ago, the perfect plump peach she’d stuffed in the side pocket of her cross-body bag would be enough stop her stomach rumbling. She crossed the road to take advantage of the shade as she toiled up. Her parents would be appalled at her pace, but this wasn’t a race, this was relaxation. In twenty minutes she’d be sitting by the small pool, eating her fruit, reading her book. In other words, she’d be in heaven.
Before she’d left London her besties, Elodie and Bethan, had joked she needed a holiday fling, but Phoebe didn’t need a man to make this her ultimate overseas escape. She’d not opted for a tourist resort, or a pumping city with party-all-hours nightlife, but rather rented a small cottage on the outskirts of a small village for the week. She’d haltingly chatted to market vendors each morning and spent her afternoons reading and relaxing alone. She’d never prioritised self-care before but, when she got back to London, she was maintaining it and that was actually possible now she’d finally quit the job where she’d been taken advantage of for years.
No more push-over Phoebe. No more pleaser Phoebe. No more desperately seeking approval from her parents or employer and certainly not her cheating ex-husband. Nor any other man for that matter. No more reliance on everyone else for a sense of self-worth.Shewould valueherself.And here she was, doing exactly that. Pleasure rippled as she zoned out in a blissful dream state.
The cannon ball came out of nowhere.
The world went black. She blinked. Three times. Then the world went blue. Bright blue.
Oh, there’s an angel…
He was hovering above her, his face swimming in and out of focus, an arrested expression in his espresso-brown eyes—oh, they were rich and deep with a hint of bitter at the edge. She felt no pain. Felt nothing at all as an angelic choir sang. She’d quietly died and gone to heaven and the dude at the pearly gates was other world gorgeous.
For some reason he was also shirtless. As he leaned closer she sank beneath the spell of his bottomless eyes, sculpted cheekbones and fleetingly wondered whether his close-cropped hair would feel soft or spiky beneath her fingers. His mouth moved but she couldn’t hear him. She just stared into his eyes, fascinated by their endless depths. She could stare into his eyes for all eternity. Happily, he stared back in a timeless moment of heavenly connection. But then his hands obscured her view of his stunning face and her head moved slightly.
Sensation returned and the operatic chorus was silenced. Oh. He’d removed her earbuds. She gazed at him, fuzzily trying to work out what was going on, only her limbs felt oddly weakened and the longer she looked into his eyes, the weaker her bones became. She blinked again. His facial structure really was very chiselled and the slight shadow on his jaw emphasised it. His sensual lips curved as he murmured something, but she still didn’t catch what. She watched his gaze drift down and then felt every cell within her reawaken simply by that caress of attention, not even touch. More than reawaken—something intense ignited. Something hot. Something she’d not felt in ages—if ever, actually.
It took far too long to realise the blue behind him was the sky. Which meant she was flat on her back. He’d come sprinting round the corner as if the devil was at his heels. Which probably meant he wasn’t an angel. And she definitely wasn’t dead.
Another couple of faces appeared over his shoulder. More chiselled men. Her pulse jumped. Had she inadvertently walked into a military exercise? They looked like lean, muscled elite soldiers—though the one who’d collided with her was the only one without a shirt.
A volley of Italian began. Questions. Answers.Orders. None of which she understood. Her ‘Easy-to-Learn Italian’ app really hadn’t prepared her for the speed at which the locals conversed even though she’d diligently done daily lessons for almost two years and was top points scorer in the league. But she didn’t need to understand Italian to know who was in command.
And whowasn’t. It finally registered that she was sprawled on a quiet, dusty road with her dress rucked up in front of a bunch of big, strong, potentially scary men. The non-angel hadn’t taken his focus off her, despite his authoritative instructions to those guys behind him, and now his frown deepened. He said something snappy and the other faces disappeared, leaving just that blue sky haloing his perfect face.
‘Okay,’ he said in perfect but sexily accented English. ‘Where’s home?’
A tiny flat in North London.She’d bought it a couple of years ago. She’d worked so hard to get the deposit, taking leftovers for lunch, saving every penny, working an extra job at the weekend. She’d been able to give that up when Bethan had moved into her spare room. Not that Phoebe charged her much rent—Bethan had hardly been able to afford anything after her marriage had ended so badly. But the flat was hers and she was so proud of owning it.
‘Where are you staying?’ her non-angel asked slowly.
A slight edge in his voice brought her back to the present. She drew a breath, embarrassed by the way she’d been staring. He wasn’t some celestial creature. He was a man. A good-looking one, yes, but she could get a grip. She wasn’t irrevocably altered. Much. Was she?
‘It doesn’t matter. I can get there.’ She was delighted to hear her voice sounded almost normal. ‘What were you doing?’
‘Sprint sessions.’
‘And crashed into me.’ She stared at him. ‘How could you not see me?’
‘How could you not hear me?’ He held up her earbuds and added a damning drawl to his suddenly supercilious look. ‘Oh, because you weren’t paying attention. Plus, you shouldn’t have been walking on this side of the road.’
So this was her fault? She didn’t think so. ‘Well, you shouldn’t…’Be so ridiculously good-looking.She sighed. ‘You should just carry on with your sprints.’
‘Can’t do that.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘You’re white as snow.’
That was actually a normal state of affairs for her. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Really?’ He couldn’t sound more sceptical as he offered his hand. ‘Stand up then.’
She froze while her heart hammered. She didn’t need belatedchivalryfrom him. Only there were all those guys watching, and he had an implacable expectation that she would do as he decreed, which gave her the feeling that if shedidn’the might do something worse. As in even more embarrassing.
She compressed her mouth, hoping to hide the effect he had on her, and put her hand in his. It wasn’t just electricity that shot up her arm, it was magnetism. As in the strongest pull ever. Startled, she glanced up just as his long lashes lowered, veiling his gaze as he easily helped her to her feet.
Pain lanced her ankle—the old injury came back to haunt her at the worst moment. She smothered the wince and strove for a bland expression. He didn’t release her as she expected but instead drew her closer, keeping her hand in his while circling his other arm around her back until they stood as if they were about to slow dance. She didn’t know where to look—into his eyes was spellbinding; into his bare chest was scorching and both options simply stoked the heat flickering in her belly. His gaze slid slowly down her again and her inner response went wild.
‘Your ankle—’
