to saturate the air around them and, staring past him, she said quickly, ‘The basket’s on the bench.’
She watched as carefully he halved the peach, then pitted and sliced it, his profile a pure gold line against the intense blue sky. The creamy golden flesh was still warm from the sun and heavy with juice, and as she bit into it the intense sweetness ricocheted around her mouth.
‘Wow! They don’t taste like that in New York.’
Folding the knife, he dropped it back into the basket. ‘No, they don’t. But then everything tastes better here.’
She frowned at the edge that had entered his voice. ‘You make that sound like a bad thing.’
A light breeze stirred between them and the air felt suddenly over-warm, the sunlight suddenly over-bright.
He shrugged. ‘It’s not a bad thing—just a consequence of living in a fantasy. When you go back to civilisation, reality doesn’t quite match up.’
Her heart was pounding against her chest. He was referring to the peach, but he might easily have been talking about their marriage—for wasn’t that what had happened? They had married on impulse, without really knowing anything about one another—certainly not enough to make till-death-do-us-part vows. And even before the honeymoon had been over it had become clear to both of them that what they’d shared in all those hotel rooms across America was too fragile to survive real life.
And yet here they both were in this idyllic sun-drenched garden sharing a peach.
She felt a flutter of hope. Okay, this wasn’t real life, but they weren’t newly weds either and Aristo wanted to make this work. They both did. And that was the difference between now and then. Four years ago they hadn’t wanted the same things, but that had been before George.
Remembering how at breakfast Aristo had answered their son’s questions about his motorboat patiently, giving him his full attention, she released a pent-up breath.
‘I think you’re looking at it the wrong way,’ she said slowly. ‘I mean, peaches in New York might not taste like the peaches here—but what about the cheesecake? You can’t tell me that they have cheesecake here like they do at Eileen’s.’
He frowned. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve never eaten there. Actually, I’ve never had cheesecake.’
‘Really?’ Teddie stared at him in disbelief. ‘Well, that’s not right. As soon as we get back to New York we’re going out to have to fix that.’
Aristo laughed. ‘We are?’
He seemed pleased.
‘They do all kinds of flavours. When I was pregnant I had these terrible cravings for baked cheesecake and it just kind of carried on. Now it’s a regular thing. Last Saturday in the month. You could come too.’
‘It’s a date,’ he said softly.
Her heart was suddenly beating too fast. ‘I didn’t mean just the two of us,’ she said quickly.
Was that how it had sounded? Or was he just accepting her invitation?
Aristo held her gaze, but the anticipation that had been flickering through his veins had abruptly dissolved. His shoulders tensed. After the moment of intimacy the swift rejection was unsettling, but it was the confirmation he needed that he couldn’t be casual with her in the way he’d been with other women in his life.
She had been his wife, and he was determined that she would be again. Only, he wasn’t going to get emotionally played.
He turned and looked at her, his expression unreadable. ‘Of course not. Are you supposed to be picking something for Melina?’
Reaching down, he picked up the basket and she nodded, grateful for a shift in conversation.
‘Yes, I was—lemons and thyme.’
For a moment she thought he was going to offer to help her. Instead, though, he held the basket out to her. ‘Then I’ll leave you to it.’
And before she had a chance to respond he had turned and was walking back towards the villa.
* * *
‘Hurry up, Mommy.’
For the second time in so many minutes Teddie felt George’s hand tug at the edge of her shorts.
‘I’m trying, sweetie. Just let me check this one last pocket.’
Fumbling in the side of her suitcase, she smiled distractedly down at her son, who was sitting on the floor of her dressing room.
Her hat was great when she was sitting on the sun lounger, but it was difficult to wear in the pool and she was trying to find the hairbands that she’d packed—or at least thought she’d packed—so that she could put her hair up to protect her head.
‘Mommy, come on!’
‘Darling, the pool will still be there—’ she said soothingly,
But, shaking his head, George interrupted her. ‘I don’t want to go to the pool. I want to see the pirate boat.’
Pirate boat! What pirate boat?
Giving up on her search, she pushed the case back into the wardrobe and turned to where George was sitting on the floor beside a selection of toy vehicles, his upturned eyes watching her anxiously.
‘What are you talking about, darling?’ Gently, she pushed a curl away from his forehead.
‘The pirate boat.’ He bit his lip, clearly baffled by his mother’s confusion. ‘Aristo—I mean, Daddy…’
He paused, and her heart turned over as he looked up at her. The word was not yet automatic to him.
‘They left it behind and Daddy said he’d take us to see it.’
Teddie frowned. She had some vague memory of Aristo talking about pirates when they were eating breakfast that morning, but she’d been only half paying attention, she thought guiltily. Most of her head had still been spinning from that almost-kiss they’d shared last night.
‘Okay—well, we can do that. I was just going to tie my hair back.’ Leaning forward, she gave him an impish grin. ‘But I’ve had a much better idea!’
Ten minutes later she was walking through the villa with George scampering by her side. Both of them were wearing blue and white striped T-shirts and Teddie had drawn a moustache and stubble on their faces.
‘Shall we scare him?’ George whispered, accelerating into a little run.
He seemed giddy with excitement at the prospect, and Teddie nodded. But as they crept out onto the terrace the giggle she’d been holding back subsided as she saw that the pool was empty.
‘Where is he?’ George’s hand tightened around hers and instinctively she gave it a squeeze.
‘He’s probably getting changed.’ She gave him a reassuring
