She was lonely, despite the people taking up all the corners of her heart. She was a different kind of lonely – the kind that missed casual touches. The kind that had enjoyed falling off the windsurfing board and into his arms this morning.
He might be a commitment-phobe who seemed a little set in his ways, but right now, the stroke of his fingers was enough to steal her breath and fuzzy her thoughts. It didn’t matter if he didn’t like kids and wanted to escape from the difficult parts of life if they were only spending a few days together.
Her thoughts felt dangerous as she turned back to the camera and smiled, leaning into him.
‘Ecco,’ Cristina said, handing the phone back. After a few more pleasantries in Italian that Toni didn’t understand, Gabri waved her off.
As soon as she’d disappeared around the corner, Toni blew out an enormous breath and fell back against her seat. ‘That was awkward.’
He peered at her over the rim of his beer glass as she quickly sent the photo. ‘Your mother doesn’t know about me, then?’ He had the audacity to look amused.
‘No,’ Toni answered flatly. ‘And she won’t find out. Would you have preferred I told her everything and she started imagining our wedding?’
Daphne probably wouldn’t go quite that far, not after everything Toni had been through, but Gabri’s sharp grimace suggested her words had had the desired effect. Her thoughts went to the pack of condoms in the pocket of her suitcase, to what Daphnewouldencourage her to do in this situation, but she didn’t want to know how he would react to that information. She’d just seen Cristina and although Toni knew that comparing herself to others was a recipe for resentment, it was a fact that Cristina had a much nicer tan.
‘Didn’t you say your mum was coming here next week?’
It was her turn to choke. ‘I’m sure there won’t be cause for you to meet her. She’ll be looking after Cillian while I’m working.’ She forced in a breath and tried to believe her own words. ‘Are you going to tellyourmother that your visiting friend is a woman?’
‘Touché,’ he mumbled, taking a long sip. ‘She would be sewing clothing for our children.’
‘We agree it’s best to keep this… whatever it is, between ourselves.’
She was a little sick of the embarrassment, the subtext in every conversation. Thinking back to the day they’d met, when Gabri had come right out with it and admitted he was attracted to her, she wondered if more of that openness was necessary,now they’d spent more time together and the magnetism wasn’t going away.
‘You don’t mind that Cristina obviously thinks this is something other than friendship?’
He straightened, sending her a pained look. ‘No.’
‘Have you dated much since your divorce? Or just “windsurfing lessons” that ended in the bedroom?’
He spluttered, coughing as he set down his beer. ‘That was one time!’
‘Did you give her flowers?’
‘Who? Cristina or the windsurfing woman?’
‘Either. Both?’
‘When I taught the woman to windsurf, it was autumn. I didn’t have many in my garden and you know how I feel about imported flowers.’
‘You’re a divorced wedding florist who doesn’t like roses.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed with a wince. ‘And I’m certainly not emotionally intelligent enough to date. Cristina can probably tell you that – not that she was looking for anything more than I was.’
‘You just… meet women and they fall into your bed? Is that the power of the moustache?’
‘You don’t know the power of the moustache,’ he quipped, rubbing a finger over the bristles and flashing her a smile. ‘But you make it sound like it happens often. Trust me, it doesn’t.’
Trust me… They were big words he was throwing around. Shecouldn’ttrust him; that much was clear. He’d told her that himself.
Even so, she took a deep breath and blurted out the words that had been creeping up her throat since he’d touched her that morning: ‘Gabri, do you think we should kiss?’
14
He’d heard her wrong. There was no other explanation.
But his animal brain had heard what it heard and he clenched a fist to stop from reaching up to her face and giving her a reply in actions rather than words.
