Dio, he was losing it.
He reached for the bottle to pour her a glass of chilled Chablis.
‘No, thanks,’ she said.
His hand tightened around the bottle. ‘You have nothing to fear by drinking around me, Ruby.’
She raised her head and he saw a mixture of anguish and sadness displayed in her eyes. In that moment, Narciso wanted to hunt down the parents who’d done this to her and deliver unforgettable punishment.
‘I know, but I’d like to keep a clear head, all the same.’
He set the wine aside and reached for the mineral water. ‘Well, getting blind drunk on my own is no fun, so I guess we’re teetotalling.’
She rolled her eyes and smiled, and his gut clenched hard.
‘We haven’t discussed wines yet. When we’re done meet me at the upper deck. And wear a swimsuit. The sun may have gone down but you’ll still boil out there in that dress.’
The tension in his body eased when she nodded.
After dinner, he made his way up to the deck. They could do this... They could have a conversation despite the spiked awareness of each other. Or the hunger that burned relentlessly through him—
Five minutes later, she mounted the stairs to the deck and his thoughts scattered.
Madre di Dio!
The body he could see beneath the sarong was spectacular. But he couldn’t see enough of it. And he wanted to, despite the off limits signs he’d mentally slapped on her.
Seeing doesn’t mean touching.
‘Drop the sarong. You don’t need it here.’
She fidgeted with the knot and his temperature rose higher. It loosened as she walked over to the lounger. She finally dropped it, sat down, and crossed her legs. Minutes ticked by. She recrossed her legs.
‘Stop fidgeting.’
She blew out a sigh. ‘I can’t stand the tension.’
‘Well, running away won’t make it go away.’
‘I wasn’t planning to run,’ she replied. ‘You wanted to talk about wines, remember?’
He nodded, although he’d lost interest in that subject. Forcing himself to look away from the temptation of the small waist that flared into very feminine hips and long, shapely legs, he stared at the moon rising over the water.
‘Or I could easily return to my cabin and we can continue to treat each other like strangers.’
He considered the idea for exactly two seconds before he tossed it.
‘What the hell, Ruby mio, let’s give civility a try.’
She exhaled, sat up and poured a glass of mineral water from the jug nearby. ‘Okay, first, I have to ask—what the heck is up with your name, anyway?’
He smiled despite the poker-sharp pain in his gut. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘It’s...different.’
‘It was Giacomo’s idea of a joke. But I’ve grown into it, don’t you think?’ Despite his joviality, the pain in his chest grew. Her eyes stayed on him and he saw when she noticed it. For some reason, revealing himself in that way didn’t disturb him as much as he’d thought it would. In fact, talking to her soothed him.
‘You’ve never wanted to change it?’
‘It’s just a name. I’m sure a few people will agree I can be narcissistic on occasion. I have no problems in pleasing number one.’
Her eyes gleamed with speculative interest. ‘It really doesn’t bother you, does it?’
‘It may have, once upon a time,’ he confessed. ‘But not any more.’
Sympathy filled her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
He tried to speak but words locked in his throat. Two simple words. Powerful words that calmed his roiling emotions. ‘Grazie,’ he murmured.
His eyes caught and held hers. Something shifted, settled between them. An acknowledgement that neither of them were whole or without a history of buried hurt.
‘The email on the plane. What was that about?’ he asked abruptly.
She slowly inhaled. ‘Before I tell you, promise me it won’t affect the outcome of this test run.’ Her imploring look almost made him reply in the affirmative.
He hardened his resolve when he realised she was doing it again. Getting under his skin. Making a nonsense of his common sense.
‘Sorry, amante, I don’t make blind promises when it comes to business.’
Her lips firmed. ‘Simon sold his share of the business to a guy who doesn’t see eye to eye with my business plan.’ In low tones, she elaborated.
He jerked upright. ‘You’re being threatened by a loan shark?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you didn’t think to inform me?’ he demanded.
‘Would you have believed me? Especially in light of how I approached you?’
‘Perhaps not right then, but...’ The idea that he was prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt gave him a moment’s pause. ‘What’s his name?’
‘I don’t know—he refused to tell me. All he wants is his money.’
‘So I own twenty-five per cent of your business and a loan shark whose name you don’t know another twenty-five per cent?’
‘Yes.’
He slowly relaxed on his lounger and stared at her. ‘You do realise that our agreement is transforming into substantially more than a talent-contest-prize delivery, don’t you?’
A flush warmed her skin. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
‘What I mean, Ruby mio, is that in order to realise my twenty-five-per-cent investment, it seems I have to offer my business expertise. Writing you a cheque after next week and walking away is looking less and less likely.’
Why that thought pleased him so much, Narciso refused to examine.
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