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“When did you arrive?”
One eyebrow rose in response to my rude question. So maybe I hadn’t got my intonation quite right. Maybe I should have started with the small talk first. But I was drowning in a serious case of hives. If he had come home, he would have seen me. His room looked right into the pool. Maybe he came later …
He watched me with his dark, intent eyes while he took his time to sit down and reach across to grab the newspaper next to me. Even his wrist spoke of strength and masculinity with a dusting of hair on olive skin.
He let his hot gaze burn me, leaving a flaming trail on my lips, my neck, my breasts, my … there might be a table in between us, but there was no mistaking the sudden heat in my core.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
He had come in last night.
Embarrassment and fury crawled up my heated skin. The thought of him seeing me in nothing but my bikini threw me from hot to bothered to hot. I felt like flinging the pancake on my fork at something, preferably him.
“You came in last night.”
“Sì,” he let his wicked glance flick to my breasts. “It was an unusually hot night, no?”
Leaning forward, he took my abandoned fork from my hand and put the pancake elegantly in his mouth. The way he bit into it made me imagine him doing the same to my lips.
Rosa came over and put his espresso in front of him and swatted his hand, releasing a stream of Italian. Chuckling, he said something back. Whatever it was, it was something about me because both pairs of eyes turned in my direction.
“What did she say?” I demanded.
“She pointed out that I never have breakfast. If I want some, she can make me something.”
“You should do that.”
“Ah! But I told Rosa that yours is….” He licked the caramel off my fork before dropping it onto my plate again. “So much sweeter.”
Bastard!
“A gentleman would at least pretend—”
“Tsk tsk, Divya. I am no gentleman.”
He took a sip of his espresso, dark brown on his full lips. When his gaze settled on my heavy breasts, my skin prickled with awareness, and I just knew. Knew that my nipples were standing sharp.
Couldn’t he look away? Did I even want him to?
I hoped they were not visible through my silk blouse. It took all my will not to take a peek.
I had the feeling he woke up this morning with the sole intention of embarrassing me. What I needed was a distraction.
“Cora is trying to crawl,” I said quickly.
“Is she?” He looked over at Cora, a smile pulling on his lips. How did he do that? With Cora, he was gentle and soft. With me, pfff, I didn’t really know what he was with me. Except I felt stuffy. Hot. Bothered. Like I was about to do something in public that I wasn’t supposed to.
“The other day, she almost crawled, but she went backwards.” I laughed at the memory and how her chubby legs would wiggle all the time. My laugh died on my lips when his eyes fell to mine. I didn’t feel like continuing with my pancakes anymore. Not with that look on his face that told me he would lick anything that came in the vicinity of my mouth.
I squirmed in my chair and looked beyond him to Rosa in the kitchen. Now would be an ideal time to have a third person in here. Someone who I could speak to.
Small talk. That was what I needed.
“So, how was your trip?”
“Interesting. I stopped by in Portsmouth.”
The sudden stab of nostalgia bombarded me out of nowhere. Just like that, I was back in my childhood home, having pancakes on a Sunday morning. I could almost touch Mum's weathered hands from too much stitching and feel the warmth of Dad's smile. I tried to remember the sound of their voices, but already it was slipping away from me.
