Standing in the center of the room is a man. He is tall and commanding. His face is serious and tense by the look of his square jaw and stern brows. A straight nose and full lips are accented by light hair and bronzed skin. His body is well built, broad at the top and narrow at the waist.
And if there’s one thing I notice it’s his piercing gaze.
So piercing because of golden eyes.
You know how yesterday I said the view of Capri was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen in my life?
I take that back.
He is the most beautiful thing I have ever, without a doubt, seen in my entire life.
chapter FOUR
“What are you doing?” Those full lips let out a sound that’s deep, thick, manly, and frightening as all hell.
I freeze for a second before remembering what I came in here to do. Staggering my words, I try to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry. I was looking for Devon.” I grab the paper off the top of the piano and hold it up. “I am supposed to bring this to him.”
“Well, he’s not in here, is he?” Golden Eyes looks right through me. Even referring to him like that in my head makes him sound like a character out of a James Bond movie.
He is intense and way too annoyed with my being here. He is wearing black shorts, a white polo, and boat shoes. I’m assuming he is one of the crew. Surely he must understand how overwhelming this boat can be to a newcomer.
“I was looking for him when I saw the cello . . . I just had to see it, and then I saw the piano, and I . . . I just had to play.” I am rambling like a ninny.What is wrong with me?
It’s the eyes. They are definitely setting me off-kilter.
“You play the cello?” he asks.
“Yes . . . no. Well, not any more. It’s a long, awful story. And the piano was just calling me. I can’t explain it.”
“You play beautifully,” he says, his voice deep and melodic.Ugh, that sounds so ridiculous, even in my head.
I stop to think about what he just said. I don’t play beautifully. I suck at the piano. Clearly this guy needs to be schooled in music if he thought that was good.
“Thank you.” Even though he has no idea what he’s talking about, it’s best to be polite.
I rise from the bench and become very aware of my attire when his gaze skims my robe. I swear I see his pupils dilate, and I suddenly feel very, very naked.
“Can you tell me where your boss is?” I ask, trying to break the unwanted stare.
His head pops up. “My boss?”
“Devon. I don’t know his last name. My sister and I fell into the water, and I lost my bag. He was kind enough to bring us back here and let us change. I think someone is drying our clothes too.”
The man looks at me perplexed. “Let me get this straight. My boss—Devon, you say—rescued you and brought you back here to change?”
Clearly this guy is not going to bring me to his boss until I explain the whole story. “My bag fell in the water and it’s gone. We lost our passports, money, credit cards, everything.”
“We?”
“My sister Leah and I. She’s downstairs.”
He is just staring—hot-molten-lava-of-lust staring—and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His right arm is bent at the elbow and he is massaging his wrist with his left hand.
“Devon said he knew someone at the consulate and could help with the passports.” I hold the paper out to him, again, and try not to make direct eye contact for fear I’ll go into cardiac arrest. “These are our passport numbers. If you could just give them to him I’ll go back downstairs and wait in the room.”
Golden Eyes takes a few steps closer. His hand brushes mine when he takes the paper; I swear I actually gasp when his skin touches my fingers.
Why am I acting like this? I must have really hit my head hard when I fell into the water earlier.
