‘You can’t handle strong flavours?’ He pressed his hand to his chest. ‘What’s my name?’
‘Edo. Why?’
‘Just double checking your concussion status given your unfathomable dislike of olives,’ he purred. ‘You look dazed. I remain unconvinced you should be alone tonight.’
If she had her wits she’d dive into that pool and cool off. Instead she read sensual intent in every word he spoke. ‘Stop staring at me,’ she muttered. ‘I’m not going to faint.’
‘That’s not why I’m staring at you,’ he replied softly.
Heat built in her cheeks. He was a prime flirt but the slash of colour building in his cheeks suggestedhisdiscomfort. Which couldn’t be right.
‘You’re very beautiful,’ he cocked his head. ‘You don’t believe I’m telling the truth?’
She didn’t believe any man told the truth.
‘It’smytruth,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re beautiful to me.’
She bit the inside of her lip. Of course this would happen at theendof her holiday. Elodie and Bethan’s teasing encouragement rang in her ears. They’d told her to indulge and she had—in sunshine and good food—but this was a different kind of temptation.
Edo lifted the silver lid off the last covered dish. A very plump peach sat solo on a small board—not her bruised one that he’d discarded. A knife gleamed beside it. He picked up the blade, brandished it with a jump of his eyebrows and sliced off a bite-sized chunk. He put it on her side plate and sat back with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
She was unable to resist the offering. She savoured the flavour of paradise. It was pure nectar and she couldn’t not smile.
‘Finally, you’re pleased,’ he said.
Not quite, actually. But close enough.
‘I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,’ she murmured.
‘I didn’t think you were. I think you’re guarded.’ He cut another wedge of the peach. ‘There’s a reason people don’t like to depend on others. Usually because someone’s let them down.’
Her heart skipped and her gaze flew to his face. ‘And you know this because…’
He kept calmly slicing the peach, placing piece after piece on her plate. ‘I let someone down, so I know the impact of that kind of pain.’
She blanched. There was absolute honesty in that admission. And he’d been honest before too. ‘That’s why you feel guilty all the time.’
His expression shuttered. The shrug he offered was too considered. She almost didn’t want to know but she couldn’t ignore that raw revelation ofhurt.
‘Regrets are part of being human,’ she murmured. ‘And there’s not much that can’t be forgiven.’
His gaze shot to hers and his mask slipped. The heat in his eyes was now snuffed, his mouth compressed into a tight line. His pain was more than visible—it was so very real.
‘Have you forgiven the one who hurt you?’ he asked, almost belligerently.
‘One?’ she noted softly.
He inhaled sharply. ‘I’m sorry.’
She didn’t want to dwell on the past. Not her parents’ absences, not her ex-husband’s adultery. Not all thoserejections.
‘Release your guilt,’ she said, pulling herself back from the verge of emotional intimacy. Ofembarrassment. ‘You’ve done more than enough to balance the scales. Not that I was measuring anyway.’ She waved her hand about. ‘I’ve got to see another vineyard. An amazing villa. Eaten this…’ She gestured to the plates—the best meal of her life.
He stared at her for a long time before finally placing the last piece of peach on the plate for her to take. ‘Then here’s to enjoying the fruit when it’s in season.’
‘Right.’ She ate the morsel and licked the tips of her fingers.
He watched, moodiness darkening his eyes. ‘I suppose I ought to take you back to your cottage.’
