“It’s about the stock market,” she says. “Prince’s Kiss is a stock market term. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before.”
Surprise bursts in my chest and I laugh out loud. “Is that right? And the guy on the cover,” I lean over, trying to see it again, “the muscular one wearing only breeches, is he a stockbroker?”
She giggles, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Fine,” she says. “I read romance novels. I happen to like them.” She raises her chin, challenging me. Christ, she’s adorable.
“Nothing wrong with romance,” I say, deliberately sounding serious. We stare at each other for a moment.
“Sorry.” She sounds flustered all of a sudden. “I lost track of the time. Were you waiting for me?”
“There’s no hurry. Especially if you need to catch up on your stock market knowledge.” I grin. “Though there’s somewhere I want to take you before we head inland.”
“ Where are we going?”
“No questions. Just follow me.” I get up, holding out my hand.
She doesn’t say anything, but that smile is still there as she stands, gathering up her things. She pauses, taking the elastic band out of her ponytail and re-tying it. Then there’s a snapping noise and her hair tumbles free around her face, in shimmering oaken waves. She stares at me, the broken elastic in her hand.
“I should get another,” she says.
“Leave it,” I say, my groin already stirring. “You have beautiful hair.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
Zara
The shop is airy and modern yet still has a traditional feel, with plastered walls and smooth tiles underfoot. I’d passed it the other day in the village but hadn’t bothered going in, as I was sure I wouldn’t be able to afford anything.
I glance at Myles. A smile plays at the corners of his gorgeous mouth. “You’ll need a swimsuit today. And it seemed to me you might like a new one.”
My mouth drops open. “You don’t have to buy me a swimsuit!”
“Company expense. This is a business trip, after all. I like to look after my employees.” But there’s heat in his gaze as he says the words.
“But—”
“No buts. You need a swimsuit, a cover-up and a bag to put everything in. Plus some trainers. Those sandals are very pretty, but they’re not going to work where we’re going.”
Oh God. I watch his broad back as he turns away and starts taking things off the racks. Myles is famously fit; please don’t let him be taking me on some sort of nature hike or something.
A few minutes later I have an armful of clothing and accessories, most of it chosen by Myles, though there are a few things I picked as well. I head into the fitting room and hang everything up.
“You don’t have to come out and show me anything.” Myles’s voice comes through the wooden door. He’s settled himself on a plump sofa upholstered in soft cotton, lounging against the cushions. “Just choose whatever you want. Whichever swimsuit you choose, keep it on. Just hand me the tags.”
I survey the collection of swimsuits. Oh my God. I’m not going out of this changing room, or anywhere in public, wearing these. Myles’s bikini choices are… skimpier than anything I would usually wear. One of them is even crocheted. I’m curious, considering how fierce the ocean is, where we could be going that I would need a bathing suit but it would be fine for me to wear one as flimsy as these.
I put them all to one side, trying on a two-piece that I picked up. A tank top with built-in bra, and a matching pair of low-slung bikini bottoms. It still feels slightly indecent, the bottoms sitting low on my hips, my breasts swelling from the low-cut top. But it’s the best of all the options, plus is deep red, like a cherry. There’s even a pair of cherries embroidered on the bottoms, with a little green leaf, close to my hip. I try on a couple of the cover-ups, settling on a loose cotton one in the same colour as the swimsuit, with a drawstring that pulls in under my breasts. It’s wonderfully cool and airy, but covers me up enough. There’s a straw hat with a floppy brim, and a matching woven bag with red tassels. I put the cover-up and hat in the bag, then pull on my red dress and sit on the little stool, trying on a pair of cotton canvas trainers in pale blue. They fit perfectly, and seem comfortable. Again I wonder where he’s taking me.
And why I’m so excited to go with him.
I take in a breath and blow it out, trying to calm my pounding heart. After a moment I feel a bit calmer. I gather up the rest of the clothing and push the changing room door open.
Myles’s eyes widen. “That was quick.”
“I knew what I wanted.”
He smiles. “Good. Come on, let’s pay and get out of here. You have the tags?”
I give him the tags, and we take everything to the till. Myles insists on paying and I protest again when I hear the total. Myles just reaches out, not looking at me, and places his hand on my forearm. It shocks me to silence, every part of me focused on the warmth of his hand, the slight calluses I can feel on his palm.
