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He looked across the square in the direction Nick had taken.
Julia put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘I don’t think he meant to hurt me, Silas.’
‘But he did. Your arms are black and blue—’
Julia started to laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’ Silas demanded.
Mischievously, Julia reminded him, ‘As my bottom deserved to be, according to you.’
Silas looked at her. Her lips were parted and her face was flushed. There was a look in her eyes that told him…
He put down the carriers and said softly, ‘Something tells me that you find the prospect of a little spanking rather erotic.’
Julia laughed and looked away demurely. ‘You’re the one who keeps threatening to punish me,’ she told him breathlessly.
Heavens, she couldn’t really be flirting like this with Silas, could she?
‘Mmm, but you’re the one who keeps reminding me that I haven’t carried out my threat as yet,’ Silas murmured. ‘And the one who keeps on provoking me…’
‘Provoking you?’
‘You certainly provoked me this morning, with that cute, peachy little butt of yours.’
Now it wasn’t just her flirting with Silas. He was flirting right back. And the heady excitement of what they were doing was irresistible.
‘You said I was thin,’ Julia pouted.
‘I guess maybe I didn’t make a close enough appraisal.’
He was actually moving closer to her and reaching behind her, and—oh, lordy—he was sliding his hand right down her back and cupping—no, caressing—one firm buttock. Helplessly Julia leaned into him, even her shoes forgotten.
This was definitely not part of his game plan, Silas recognised as he looked down at her closed eyes and parted lips. He wanted his—their—kids to be conceived after they were married, not before.
He bent his head and kissed her briefly, ignoring the look of disappointment in her eyes when she opened them as he released her.
‘We’d better get back. I saw Lucy at the hotel, and apparently Dorland’s in a sweat because the necklace he had on loan from Tiffany has gone missing.’
‘Oh, no! Poor Dorland. Maybe they’ll have found it by now,’ Julia suggested, as Silas picked up her bags. ‘Stuff like that happens all the time. These big stars have such a huge retinue that no one ever seems to know what anyone else is doing. One of the PRs has probably put the necklace somewhere safe.’
She was growing more sexually attracted to Silas by the hour, Julia admitted to herself—or had the attraction always been there without her wanting to recognise it?
‘Oh, there you are. Nick’s gone over to the villa to see if he can be of any help to Dorland,’ Lucy began as they walked into the hotel, only to look accusingly at Julia’s carrier bags before exclaiming, ‘Jules—not more shoes!’
‘I had to have them.’
‘How often have I heard that before? You do realise, I hope, Silas, that Jules has a very serious shoe habit?’
‘Lucy, wait until you see them. They’ve got the perfect toe cleavage shape,’ Julia burst out enthusiastically. ‘And the heels—they had one pair with the cutest little kittens, and another with serious stilettos…and…’
‘You had to buy them both!’
Julia hung her head.
‘No wonder you snuck out this morning without telling me where you were going,’ Lucy accused her. ‘You’re going to have to find a way of restraining her, Silas,’ Lucy warned him, mock seriously.
‘Yes, I think I am,’ Silas agreed gravely, but when Julia looked across at him the wicked glint in his eyes told her that the kind of restraint he was envisaging, had nothing whatsoever to do with preventing her from buying shoes.
What in the world was happening to her? She didn’t really know—but she certainly knew what she would like to happen, Julia admitted ruefully as she looked discreetly but very interestedly at the tell tale bulge that no amount of expensive tailoring could completely hide.
Sex with Silas. Mmm…
‘Jules, will you please stop looking at Silas like that? You’re embarrassing me.’ Lucy laughed.
‘So, tell me some more about this shoe fetish thing you’ve got.’
It was after lunch and Lucy and Nick had gone upstairs to pack, and Julia and Silas were still sitting outside, finishing the bottle of wine Silas had bought to go with the alfresco lunch they had eaten in the small hotel courtyard.
‘It isn’t a fetish. It’s just that I can’t help wanting to buy shoes.’
‘Uh-huh. And toe cleavage? What exactly is that?’
Honestly—men. They didn’t know anything! Julia shook her head and explained in a kind voice, ‘It’s when the front of your shoe shows a bit of your toes, and it’s seriously sexy.’
‘Show me?’
‘I can’t—not properly anyway—because I’m not wearing the right kind of shoes,’ Julia told him. ‘You’ll see what I mean when I wear them.’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘I’d better go up and pack. We need to leave for the airport for our flight to Naples at five.’ Would he offer to come with her? And if he did…
‘I’ve got a few phone calls to make.’
Julia tried not to feel disappointed.
‘And, by the way, I’ve cancelled your booking at that guest house and booked us both into the Hotel Arcadia instead.’
‘The Arcadia? But that’s the most exclusive hotel in Positano. It costs the earth to stay there, and Lucy—’
‘Stop panicking. Naturally I shall be paying the bill. Did Lucy say that Dorland was going to come over?’
‘Yes. About three.’
Upstairs in the suite, Julia packed quickly and efficiently—leaving plenty of room for her new shoes. Her normal travelling work ‘uniform’ consisted of her current favourite pair of jeans, (her love affair with jeans came a close second to her shoe addiction—Julia was simply not what she called a ‘suit and two veg’ fan), several tee shirts and strappy tops, a swimsuit just in case she got the chance to have a lazy day, and a long, sleek, very plain jersey dress that rolled up into a ball, which she wore when she needed to be dressed up. Added to these basics were casual cut-offs and a few boho-type tops, plus a much loved floaty skirt.
Julia adored accessorising her clothes with one and sometimes more of her trademark boho ‘finds’. Her personal look was very different from the designer ‘footballer’s wife’ style adopted by so many of their clients. One of her most cherished moments was the time a stylist for Sex and the City had stopped her in the street to ask where she had got the top she had been wearing. Julia’s current favourite accessory was a dark brown wide leather belt, ornamented with leather flower petals sewn with tiny turquoise beads to form the flower stamens. She had bought it from a stall
at Camden Market, and wore it at every opportunity. She had been seriously tempted to buy a pair of Aztec-inspired turquoise earrings she had also seen on the stall, but had managed to resist.
Her packing finished, she looked at her watch—the plain but oh, so elegant Cartier that Lucy had so generously insisted on buying for all three of them out of her first profits.
Those had been happy, heady days, filled with fun and laughter. Julia frowned. The initial success of the business seemed to have been replaced by a series of financial problems, causing poor Lucy to have to dig deep into her trust fund to provide Prêt a Party with more capital. No wonder her friend was looking so stressed.
It was almost three o’clock. She might as well go back down and wait for Dorland to arrive. Most of the necessary organisation for his end-of-summer party had already been done by Dorland himself, but, as Julia knew, he liked to fuss and fret over every tiny little detail, and virtually every day she received anxious urgent e-mails from him.
She had just stepped out of the lift into the guest house’s dusty, faded hallway when her mobile rang.
‘Darling!’ She heard her mother’s voice exclaiming. ‘How naughty of you not to tell us about you and Silas. I couldn’t believe it at first when Mrs. Williams showed me the article about the two of you in that celebrity gossip magazine she buys. Such a lovely photograph of the two of you, darling, but I must admit I was rather shocked. Not that we aren’t all thrilled. We are, of course—especially Daddy. I drove straight round to see him, and he was so pleased that he instructed Bowers to open a bottle of the wine he put down when you were born, to celebrate. It’s what he’s always longed for. Of course I had to ring Nancy. So silly of me to get the time difference wrong, but naturally she is as excited as we are. You’ll be married at Amberley, of course—every Amberley bride always is, but have you decided on a date yet? I do so think that winter weddings have a certain élan.’
