‘What?’
‘This week,’ he qualified. ‘This week, you answer to no one but yourself. You can be blissfully whatever you want.’
She didn’t know if he realised the effect his words had on her imagination. If she truly answered to no one, she could lean over the table, grasp his face between both of her hands and kiss him, let out this whirlwind that had been gathering inside her since the first time she’d flirted with him at the marina.
It wouldn’t matter that he didn’t like kids, that when love got difficult, he’d escaped to an island paradise instead of facing up to it. She wouldn’t be kissing him out oflove. She’d be kissing him because she wanted to. And she did want to. There was little point denying it.
But twenty-four hours on his island paradise wasn’t enough to make her completely lose her head. She leaned on her elbows,lifting her chin in his direction. ‘There’s a difference, though. I have to go back.’
He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to his plate. ‘You don’t have to go back yet though,’ he said lightly.
He couldn’t have known the direction of her thoughts, but that simple statement rippled through her like an invitation.
‘You’ve discovered I’m the last person to judge you for anything,’ he continued. ‘Even talking about your husband.’ The flicker of a glance was enough to make her come up in goosebumps. ‘You can be selfish for a week. In fact, I insist. Do whatever feels right – whatever you need. No expectations, no guilt.’
She wasn’t sure she was capable of entirely letting go, but the concept had its appeal – even if he had no idea what she imagined when he talked aboutwhatever feels right.
Instead of voicing any of her churning thoughts or unexpected desires, she simply quipped, ‘Are you tempting me to the dark side?’
She wasn’t prepared for the grin he bestowed on her. ‘You’ll love it.’
‘You’re right about one thing,’ she began, retrieving her own fork. She wasn’t certain this conversation had been a good idea, but recklessness seemed to have taken root. ‘This week, I only answer to myself.’
It would be easier if she could remember who she was and what she truly wanted.
‘Allora, how do you want to stay busy tomorrow?’ he asked, rubbing his hands together. ‘We could go hiking up Monte Capanne, forage for some dinner ingredients and take in the views of the whole island?’
‘Your famous foraging tour,’ she commented as she considered the option. ‘I don’t want to miss that, after you told me so much about it.’ But tomorrow, when she was still outof balance somehow? Hiking might involve too much talking. ‘I think I’d like to get back to the water first.’
He fiddled with his wine glass as a cover for studying her, but she felt his assessing gaze anyway. ‘You said you swim? Open water? How well?’
‘Very well,’ she said with a lift of her chin. ‘I used to be a member of a sea swimming club in Weymouth.’
When a smile tugged at his lips, a glint in his eye, Toni could finally breathe again. Gabri could just be a friend, not a temptation or a danger to her hard-fought peace of mind.
‘In that case, let’s go windsurfing.’
12
The wide sky and stunning beach lulled Toni into a false sense of security the following morning as she followed Gabri onto the horseshoe of bright sand stretching along the bay in Procchio, fifteen minutes’ drive from Marciana Marina. The turquoise water lapped gently at the shore; white umbrellas fluttered in the breeze. The air was lighter, fresher than the day before in the cove.
He was five steps ahead of her, a surfboard under his arm and the rolled-up sail attached to some poles in his other hand. There were already a handful of windsurfers out on the bay, clinging to their sails as they zipped over the water.
It wasn’t until she was tugging her hired wetsuit carefully over the waterproof plaster on her leg that she began to wonder if this plan to keep busy might blow up in her face – as everything seemed to this trip.
Gabri was now shirtless, holding the sail in the wind, his hair in his face, and she couldn’t help thinking he could be a pin-up for windsurfing – and his island home. He cooked, he arranged flowers, he looked good all wet and muscular, his hair curling over his ears. The tendons in his arms stood out as he attachedthe mast to the board and the smile he shot her was bright and made her knees wobbly.
But he was also everything she was not: a free spirit, releasing his worries and responsibilities into the wind.
‘Come here!’ He flapped his fingers against his palm. ‘Take a hold of the foil, just to feel what it’s like.’
He hefted the light frame with both hands. She had to step close to take it from him and that unease shivered over her skin again. He was too close, his body warm and present behind her. Her hands wrapped around the mast, her brain mush, and when he let go, she wasn’t prepared, nearly toppling over as the sail pulled wildly away from her.
‘Uffa!’
She felt the exclamation on the back of her neck as his arm curled around her stomach, halting her fall.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, winded. ‘I have it now. I didn’t think this thing was so heavy.’
