‘No,’ she rushed to assure him, a laugh building in her chest.
‘I’ve obviously been singing to myself for too long – I mean, I’ve been on my own a lot for a long time.’
‘Why is that? And don’t tell me it’s because you eat too many radishes?’ She smeared sun cream on her nose as she waited for him to gather up what looked to be a long answer.
He finally began with a shrug. ‘I live alone; I work alone.’
She moved on to her arms, the echo of things he wasn’t saying hanging in the air. ‘Why don’t you join a mah-jong group – or get a dog?’
‘So I can talk to a dog?’ He looked up from where he’d apparently been distracted by her application of sun cream.
‘No one would judge you for talking to a dog – except maybe your mother?’
His eyes were bright with amusement. ‘I chose this life, so I can’t complain about it.’
‘Ididn’tchoose my life – and I’m almost never on my own, even though I’m always alone, if you’re talking about adult company – but I still say you’re allowed to complain if you need to.’
He was silent for long enough that her skin prickled, his gaze so intent, she almost felt as though he were touching her. ‘That’s very gracious,’ he said softly. ‘I’m not sure I deserve it. I would never get a dog precisely because Ilikebeing on my own. Ineedto be on my own.’
‘Perhaps you’re right, you shouldn’t complain about it then,’ she said, studying his pained expression.
She tried to concentrate on her sun cream again, rather than the odd conversation that seemed to be skirting around so many topics, but she quickly encountered a problem: the plunging back of her swimsuit. She flushed just imagining him helping her, but she also didn’t see any other option.
She must have hesitated for too long because he peered at her and asked, ‘Allora, do you want me to put the cream on your back?’
Handing him the tube wordlessly, she was determined to feel nothing when his fingers touched down on her skin. She even succeeded for a moment, distracted by the force of his hand, almost strong enough to make her stumble forward, but a moment later, the movement of his palm along her spine feltmore like a massage, sending endorphins shooting through her nervous system, waking up receptors in her skin she’d forgotten existed.
He took his time, working the cream in. He was a full arm’s length away and didn’t take a step closer, which she appreciated, since she suspected the proximity would have awakened more than just her dormant need for touch.
It was divine, the way his fingers danced over her shoulder blades. She was out of breath, but also slightly woozy with the serotonin – and melatonin and the rest of the cocktail of natural chemicals suddenly rushing through her system.
She didn’t want to think about the last time someone had touched her like this.
‘Fatto,’ he murmured as his hand dropped away. Clearing his throat, he translated, ‘You’re done.’
‘Thank you.’ The words came out a scratchy squeak.
They said nothing as they set out the picnic blanket and parasol. Toni’s head spun, thoughts of her life at home and this enigmatic, shirtless man who was trying so hard to be her friend mixing up together – and the striking blues, greens and golds of the cove punching her in the gut with their beauty every time she turned to look.
Perhaps her mum had been right: she was desperately in need of a relaxing holiday.
She was also uncomfortably warm now the sun was high in the sky and she’d spent ten minutes on the exposed beach. There was a convenient solution to both problems only a few feet away.
‘Last one in is a rotten egg!’
Bolting for the water, she felt him close behind her and upped the pace.
‘You didn’t give me any warn?—’
The rest of his grumble was drowned out as she tripped and crashed into the waves. The taste of salt touched her tongueand the sun-warmed water enveloped her. Pebbles shifted as she flailed for purchase to push herself up to sitting position. But she was buoyant – in her chest, if not the rest of her body. She came up laughing.
‘I think you received your punishment for calling me a rotten egg.’
She took his hand and let him haul her to her feet, refusing to think about those hands – that chest.Don’t touch the thistle.
‘That wasn’t an insult. It’s a childish dare,’ she explained. He was tanned everywhere, which only made her wonder how often he got about without being properly dressed, since being alone all the time would make clothing optional.
‘I would say the last one has to buy the drinks,’ he replied with a grin, before slipping into the water and heading out with strong swimming strokes.
