had thought she was in pretty good shape. She went to the gym at least a couple of times a week and opted to walk around London as much as possible instead of jumping on public transport, but by the time she’d climbed what seemed like a thousand steps leading away from Amalfi—pausing on her journey to walk through the ancient brick-walled walkways hung with canopies of vibrant greenery in the Villa Cimbrone gardens—then on to the quaint little town of Ravello, she realised her fitness levels were nothing like as good as she’d imagined.
Still, she’d made it here without incident, and after wandering around the quiet streets crammed with cool artisan shops and visiting the simple but atmospheric cathedral, it was a relief to walk downhill to the little village of Pontone and stop for a rest and to eat her lunch.
Sitting on a wide grassy viewpoint which looked out over the dramatic drop down to the coast, she was just about to take the final bite of the sandwich she’d made out of the food she’d filched from the breakfast buffet when she noticed a familiar figure making his way across the grass in the direction of the trattorias that, according to her guide, were favoured by walkers on the route because of the incredible views from their balconies.
After spending the whole morning trying not to think about the sight of Julien lying bare-chested on the sofa, looking utterly divine in repose as she tiptoed past him, she was disconcerted to see him again in the flesh. Not that she was going to let that stop her from being friendly. She’d made that promise to herself to check he was okay here on his own, so that was what she was going to do. Just because he was ridiculously sexy and ever so slightly intimidating it didn’t mean she couldn’t have a friendly chat with him.
‘Hi there,’ she called as he came level with where she was sitting.
He didn’t appear to hear her.
‘Julien! Hey, Julien, over here!’ she shouted this time. She could have sworn she saw him flinch before turning to look over to where she was sitting. He raised a hand and gave her a nod of acknowledgement, before turning back and continuing on his journey.
Huh.
Perhaps he assumed she wouldn’t want to be disturbed whilst eating her lunch. Yes, that must be it; he couldn’t be deliberately avoiding her.
Could he?
No—she was being paranoid.
Jumping up and grabbing her daypack, she made after him, having to pick up her pace in order to catch up with him before he strode out of sight.
‘Hey, Julien, wait!’ she called, a little out of breath by the time she reached him.
He turned around and gave her a look of expectant concern. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his gaze flicking behind her as if he was worried she was being pursued.
‘I’m fine,’ she panted, ‘just wanted to check you’re enjoying your day. You seemed a little—er—’ she flapped a hand at him ‘—stressed yesterday.’
He took a small step backwards and let out a sharp snort. ‘Yes, I’m enjoying it so far.’ A small frown flickered across his face. ‘Thank you.’
There was a pause while she waited for him to ask if she was having a good time too.
He didn’t.
‘Okay, good.’ She clapped her hands together awkwardly. ‘Well, I just wanted to say hi. So, hi!’ she blurted, sincerely hoping he’d assume the blush travelling up her neck was a flush from the sun and her mad dash across the grass.
‘Hi,’ he replied flatly, folding his arms across his chest.
There was another heavy pause where he blinked at her, as if waiting for her to make her excuses and leave. Well, she wasn’t going to. She’d learnt over the last year whilst working at the café that just because someone seemed unfriendly when you first spoke to them, it didn’t necessarily mean they didn’t want to talk to you. They were probably just distracted by something they’d been thinking about, or they were hungry, or concerned about the tightness of their trousers or something. Not that it appeared as though any of his clothes weren’t fitting him perfectly. In fact, he looked as if he’d just stepped off a page in one of the hiking gear magazines she’d pored over whilst preparing for the holiday, before realising she could afford exactly none of the items in it.
‘Did you like Ravello? All those steps up to it nearly killed me!’ she joked, cringing inside at the hint of desperation in her voice.
He didn’t even break a smile. ‘Yes, it was an interesting place.’ His brow creased into a frown. ‘They told me at the reception desk you’d checked out. I didn’t expect to see you on this circuit today.’
She stiffened, wondering why on earth he seemed so irritated about her walking the same route as him.
‘I have another hotel in town booked for tonight. A better organised one, I hope,’ she said, shrugging off her discomfort and forcing a smile on to her face.
‘Okay. Bon.’ He took a deliberate step backwards, then froze as her words seemed to sink in. ‘Do you mean you’re staying in Amalfi again tonight?’
Another wave of warmth began to creep up her neck. ‘Yup.’
His brow crinkled in confusion. ‘Then why are you moving hotels after only one night?’
She shifted uncomfortably. ‘I like to change things up. It keeps me on my toes.’
And I can’t afford to stay in that hotel again, not that I’m admitting that to you, Monsieur Moneybags.
He nodded slowly, his gaze searching hers as if he was trying to rootle out a lie.
She just raised both eyebrows at him, determined not to give in and blurt out the truth, trying to ignore the way her pulse had sped up.
Letting out a sharp huff of a laugh, Julien broke eye contact and glanced behind him as if looking for an excuse to leave. Not that she could blame him; the conversation wasn’t exactly flowing well and she was tempted to slink away herself. But she wasn’t going to; she was going to see this through to the bitter end, as a matter of personal fulfilment.
‘So, are you going to try one of those trattorias for your lunch?’ she pressed, nodding in the direction he’d been heading.
He closed his eyes for a second and pulled in a sharp breath, then smiled politely. ‘Oui. I didn’t have the forethought to bring any food with me.’ He gestured towards the remains of her sandwich, which was still clutched in her hand. ‘Where did you get your lunch today?’ The dry irony in his tone suggested there was more to his question than a simple polite query.
He must have seen her take the food from the buffet. The realisation sent a prickle up her spine. Normally she would never have done such a thing, hating the idea of stealing anything from anyone, but with the limited funds she had available until her bag turned up, it was necessary to bend her rules a little.
‘I purloined it from the breakfast buffet,’ she admitted, forcing herself to keep her chin up and her gaze locked with his. ‘I thought the least the hotel could do was gift me a lunch after their mess-up with the room last night. Anyway, a place like that always puts out more than is consumed. I was helping with their wastage problem,’ she finished, aware that her tone was edged with defensiveness.
His
