‘It happened a very long time ago.’
Only someone who’d lost a loved one could fully appreciate what his crisp words hid. For a second his eyes looked haunted. Without thinking Stella covered his hand with hers, feeling the tension in his bunched fist. Dark eyebrows rose at her spontaneous sympathy.
‘My mother died when I was ten and that was a long time ago. But the hurt never goes completely.’
His gaze held hers for the longest time, then he nodded. ‘I was five when I lost my mother. You’re right, the hurt’s still there. But I’ve moved on. I’d rather not dwell on the past.’
‘I understand.’
It was what she’d tried to do too, throwing herself into her new life. She withdrew her hand, ignoring the frisson of longing as her fingers slid from his.
‘So, no talk of families.’ His mouth curled at the corner. Even that hint of a smile made something unfurl inside her, like a flower opening to the sun. She leaned in, needing to be closer. ‘What shall we discuss, Stella? The weather? Or something truly important, like what you’d like to do for dinner? Shall we go to a restaurant or eat here?’
A restaurant would be safer. Being alone with Gio felt incredibly intimate.
She didn’t fear he’d overstep a boundary, but that she would. Watching the play of light across his features and experiencing the impact of his smile made her feel more vibrantly alive.
Did he know how she felt? She wasn’t very experienced with men, something that had worked to her disadvantage in the past. But meeting his questioning look, Stella saw only good humour. He had no hidden agenda.
That was one of the things she admired about Gio. He was honest.
‘Let’s eat in. The kitchen’s very well stocked.’
His slow grin was a reward in itself. ‘Exactly what I was thinking. After all that work I fancy relaxing, maybe having a swim.’
‘Why don’t you? I’ll organise a meal while you swim.’
‘So you cook as well?’
‘As well as work? A woman has to eat. Besides, I enjoy it.’
Cooking with her mother had been one of her favourite things. Her father’s housekeeper hadn’t encouraged her to be in the kitchen but as soon as Stella moved out she’d taken pleasure in catering for herself and expanding her skills.
‘That sounds perfect.’
He picked up the wine bottle and gestured to her glass. Stella hadn’t even noticed it was empty. The delicious wine had gone down so easily. She nodded and held the glass out, watching him serve her then himself.
‘But with one adjustment,’ he added. ‘Let’s prepare the meal together. I wouldn’t relax, thinking of you slaving in the kitchen alone. There’s no rush. We can watch the sunset then swim in the pool.’
Stella’s gaze settled on the extravagant infinity pool seemingly suspended above the ocean. She imagined being with Gio in the warm, silky water and excitement ran through her veins like a trail of bubbles.
‘That works for me. I haven’t tried it yet. I swam in the cove.’
Something glinted in his eyes, as if he read her eagerness and knew the real reason for it. But then he tilted his head as he raised his glass and she realised it had only been a stray gleam from the setting sun.
Stella didn’t want the evening to end. They’d watched the light display as the sun went down, marvelling as the sky turned deep indigo then black, scattered with stars. Though there was a town a little further down the coast it had felt as if they were the only people on the planet.
They’d talked easily, as they had in Rome, like old friends. Her earlier hesitancy had disintegrated and it seemed the easiest thing in the world to be with Gio. She loved the sound of his deep laugh and the way he listened to her instead of rushing to monopolise any conversation.
They’d swum and it had been every bit as intimate as she’d imagined. Whether it was the night, or the company, or the wine, she was aware of Gio at the most visceral level. When he passed her, swimming laps, the water surged, stroking her like a caress, and her body responded with a deep-seated thrill.
Her nipples hardened and it wasn’t from cold. Goosebumps rose on her bare skin, and low in her body she felt a twisting ache, a hunger for something more tangible than the phantom brush of water displaced by Gio’s honed body.
She couldn’t remain unmoved by the sight of his leanly muscled frame, naked but for a pair of black swim shorts. He might be a successful businessman but his body showed he took time out to keep fit.
Now after dinner, sitting under the vine-covered pergola, in the soft ambience from tiny lights threaded through the greenery, she felt sheer happiness.
‘What are you smiling about, Stella?’
