Was it a background at private school that had accomplished that? No, he surmised. She was simply someone who didn’t put herself ahead of the crowd, despite the way she looked. She was happy to listen, and a good listener was usually excellent when it came to putting people at ease.
His ex-wife had had a tendency to dominate proceedings. All eyes had to be focused on her. She had been raised to expect adulation, and the women he had dated since then? Lush, raven-haired beauties who knew how to flirt but would have been at sea amidst this sort of crowd, where the gentle ebb and flow of conversation they would have found too highbrow and probably boring as hell.
But Sophie...
Niccolo found himself itching to pick up the conversation where they had left off and he did, the moment the last of the guests had retired to their various cabins.
‘As bad as you imagined it was going to be?’
They had left the table at a little after eleven. Now, walking slowly through the yacht, Sophie felt a lazy sense of contentment.
‘I never thought it was going to be an ordeal,’ Sophie returned. ‘I’m accustomed to...well, entertaining, I guess. Cocktail-party small talk. Mixing and mingling with people you know you’re not likely to see very much of again. My dad...’ Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. ‘My parents used to do quite a bit of entertaining back in the day, and they always encouraged me to take part.’
‘Proud of you, no doubt,’ Niccolo mused, ‘and for good reason.’
Sophie blushed and kept her eyes averted, but she was too alert to his presence alongside her to be aware of anything else, including the hushed elegance of her surroundings. ‘I made small talk.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not exactly the same as winning the Nobel Peace Prize or finding a cure for cancer.’
Niccolo burst out laughing. ‘Join me on the upper deck,’ he urged. He looked down at her, his dark eyes warm and amused, and Sophie blushed even more. ‘It’s not that late. A nightcap? Before the coach turns back into a pumpkin and Cinderella has to flee the ball?’
His soft laugh felt like a challenge and Sophie thought that there was surely no harm in chatting to him for another half an hour or so. She was all wound up after a night of socialising, which was something she hadn’t done in a very long time. Was it selfish to want to feel normal again? Was it wrong to want to indulge in the heady and perfectly natural glow of having a conversation with a handsome guy? It was hardly as though anything was going to go anywhere, but she felt as if she’d spent so long with the weight of the world on her shoulders, feeling weary and old before her time.
‘Maybe a quick nightcap,’ she said in a rush, before she had time to change her mind.
‘You won’t regret it. There’s nothing quite as spectacular as the view of an ocean at night when you’re in the middle of it.’
He led the way. The stillness around them felt impossibly intimate and Sophie gasped when they emerged out onto the upper deck and the balmy night air, salty and aromatic, wrapped itself around her.
Above, the sky was velvety black, studded with infinite stars. She moved to stand by the railing and breathed in the night air. Into the distance, the ocean was as dark as a vast inkwell, softly rising and falling, breathing gently all around them.
And the silence was so profound that she could hear the smallest sound of the ocean lapping against the hull of his massive yacht.
Niccolo moved to stand right next to her, hands also on the railings, both of them staring out to sea.
‘You’re right,’ Sophie said into the silence, her voice hushed and awed, ‘itisspectacular. Out here...it’s an amazing feeling being adrift on the ocean.’
Niccolo didn’t say anything. He looked sidelong at her, appreciating the tilt of her head and the way her eyes were half closed as she absorbed her surroundings. He angled his body round so that he was now leaning against the railing, elbows over the side, and he continued to stare at her for a few more seconds, before saying casually, ‘So you were going to tell me why you’re on guard all the time...’
‘Was I?’ But she wasn’t on guard now. She was ridiculously relaxed and just a little bit pleasantly heady after a couple of glasses of champagne and fine food and pleasant company. She turned to face him.
The breeze, still close and warm even at this time of the evening, blew her fine hair this way and that and the summer dress billowed ever so slightly, and Niccolo discovered what it felt like to have trouble breathing.
To have trouble getting his thoughts straight.
‘You were,’ he said in a strangled voice. He couldn’t peel his eyes from her delicate face, upturned as she gazed at him. The ache in his groin was so uncomfortable he had to adjust his stance, and just like that he thought about no longer fighting this inexplicable urge he had to let desire call the shots.
If she pushed him away, if she managed to cling on to enough sanity for the two of them, then so be it. He would back off at a rate of knots, and in fact, maybe it would be agoodthing if she told him to get lost.
He stared down at her, then he reached out and stroked the side of her face with his knuckle. Her skin was satin-smooth and he felt her breathe in sharply and still.
‘Niccolo...’
‘Tell me to stop, Sophie, and I’ll stop. Immediately. No questions asked.’ His voice was unsteady, his craving reaching fever-pitch as she started to breathe rapidly, and soft temptation drifted in the air between them. ‘This will never be mentioned again, but, Sophie...I want you. I want to make love to you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
TERRIBLEIDEA.The words rang through Sophie’s head, strident and imperious and demanding she call a halt to this.
He was her boss! And she was sworn off men! She’d made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t dip her toes into matters of the heart until she had sorted herself out...and when she did,ifshe ever did, then she would use cool judgement to ensure she never made another mistake again. She would never allow another Scott to worm his way into her life.
