‘I guess there is.’
Francesca gestured up ahead and to the right, behind a particularly thick patch of cacti. ‘We are going to stop over there. I want you to try something.’
She pulled Sophia over to the shoulder and the two got out, with Francesca carrying her wicker basket over her arm. Alessio immediately felt the sting of the morning summer sun. ‘That’s unforgiving,’ he said, flicking up the collar of his short-sleeved white linen shirt.
‘But it’s hot where you’re from too, no?’
‘Yeah. But this heat feels different.’
‘You will grow accustomed to it sooner than you think.’ She looped her free arm around his and led him to a point along the road where the dry grassy roadside was overrun with dense green foliage. ‘Did you have breakfast?’
‘No, not yet.’ On cue his stomach rumbled. ‘I am holding out for today’s pasticciotto.’
‘I may be able to tempt you away for a day.’
He scoffed. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Close your eyes please, Signor Ranieri.’
‘Seriously?’ The spirited glint in her eye stirred that familiar tingle in his middle. Feeling a little self-conscious, he did as she asked. ‘Is this the part when you walk me off the edge of a cliff?’
She gave her trademark chuckle. ‘No! Just walk a little with me.’ Alessio succumbed to her gentle pull. It was intoxicating, the way he barely knew her, yet somehow trusted her so completely. ‘Stop, per favore. But keep your eyes closed.’ He felt her grip release for a moment or two, then he heard the rustling of foliage. A few steps, another rustle. ‘Ahh, eccole,’ she said, and then he felt her by his side once again. ‘Now, open your mouth. I want you to try something. Careful, it has a pit.’
Open my mouth? Is she kidding?
Suddenly, this all felt too much. Too intimate. His self-consciousness morphed into embarrassment. ‘Francesca, really?’
‘Alessio, you want to know these lands? You need to try this.’
With an effort of will he relinquished his final shred of control and gently opened his mouth, unsure of what was to come.
Then he felt it press against his lips. It was warm, sun-kissed, having absorbed the morning’s rays. The scent rose to his nose, unmistakable, even before he took a bite. Its smooth exterior. The size and shape.
‘You know that smell, no?’
The scent of that cherry held to his mouth, or her smell? The all-encompassing, magnetising redolence of Francesca, teamed with the press of her fingers which grazed his lower lip. It was all too much, yet not enough. Part of him wanted to open his eyes and see how close she was to him. Where was she looking? Was she studying him, taking in his finer details? Or was she respectfully distant?
There’s nothing respectfully distant about this. What’s she doing to me? What’s changed today? I feel . . . possessed.
She pressed the cherry into his mouth, and he caught it between his tongue and top teeth. Alessio carefully bit through it, releasing the intense fruity hit of cherry across his palate.
Sweet, bright, subtly tangy.
Like sunshine.
‘How is it?’ Her finger dragged its way from his lip and caught his chin, giving it a gentle caress.
Alessio felt his middle flinch in response.
Fuck . . . Just breathe.
He blinked his eyes open to find her standing just inches from him. And he watched as her eyes traced lines over his face, as if recognising him for the first time after a long separation. Alessio cleared his throat. ‘You know that was good.’
The cherry, or that touch?
He wanted more of both.
She hadn’t moved, but her eyes simmered. In her left hand she held another smaller cherry. Locking his gaze with hers she brought it to her lips and took it in one, closing her eyes. ‘These are my favourite. Wild. Untamed. They grow here where no one suspects them. I found the tree by accident one day.’
