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“I hope you enjoy your stay,” Ralph says. “Please, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I booked you a table at the vineyard for six.”
“Thank you.”
He smiles at us both and heads out of the villa, closing the door behind him.
“Wow.” I walk across to the sliding doors that open onto the deck. “Look at that view.”
She comes to stand beside me. “It’s a gorgeous place. Thank you so much for organizing it.”
“My pleasure.” I turn and slip my arms around her waist. She rests her hands on my chest again, and she gives a little shiver. “Are you cold?” I ask.
“No.”
Aw. I kiss her forehead. Then her nose. Then, finally, her mouth.
She sighs and lifts her face to me, and we exchange a slow, gentle kiss that sends a frisson running down my back. It would be so easy to turn and direct her back into the bedroom, strip off her clothes, and throw her straight onto the bed, but I don’t want to do that. Even though that’s why we’re here, and we’re not strictly on a date, I want to romance her a little.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s walk slowly down to the vineyard. We can have a drink before we eat.”
She blows out what I think is a relieved breath. “Okay.”
We lock up the villa and head out into the sunshine. The path leads around the buildings and then along the top of the ridge, with the Pacific sparkling to our left and the vineyards rich and green to our right. The sun is sinking gradually behind the hills of the mainland to the west, and it’s still warm. I hold out my hand, and she looks at it for a moment, then slips hers into it.
“How’s your day been?” I ask as we walk slowly along the path.
“Yeah, good, thanks. I was talking to Titus today about the new English investment opportunity.”
She continues to chat about business for a while, and I’m happy to let her. She tells me about the IVF treatment she’s working on, and how Titus is hoping to develop the use of Artificial Intelligence to improve the choice of embryos. I know that her sister, Penelope, is on her third round of IVF after a few years of failing to fall pregnant with her husband, and that’s one reason why Elizabeth has chosen it as a project.
I ask lots of questions, and I can feel her relaxing as she explains, using her free hand a lot to gesture. She’s the smartest woman I know, and damn, if that isn’t the hottest thing ever.
She stops speaking and gives me a wry look. “I’m talking too much.”
“Not at all.”
“You haven’t said anything for, like, five minutes.”
“I’m listening. You’re very articulate. I like that. It makes me hot.”
She laughs. “Only because you haven’t self-administered for a whole week.”
“I concede that might be a factor.” I squeeze her hand. “But I like your brain.”
“That’s the first time anyone’s ever said that to me. Okay, here’s a question: brain or boobs?”
That makes me laugh. “Brain,” I say.
She blows a raspberry. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m being polite.”
“Figures.” She smiles, though.
We approach the vineyard, which consists of a collection of low brick buildings around a central courtyard paved with flagstones. It looks as if it’s been transported straight out of Italy, with hanging baskets filled with a riot of colorful flowers, and vines threaded across a wooden frame above the outdoor seating area, so that the burgeoning grapes hang down in rich clusters.
We walk through to the main restaurant. Only half a dozen tables are occupied as it’s still early.
“Good evening,” a waiter says with a smile as we walk up to the desk.
