That single word was satisfyingly breathy, and he smiled at her and obeyed.
“Lucas…” Her thumb swept over his cheekbone and dipped into his dimple. Then she caught his eye, her gaze steady. “I’m sorry I was thoughtless and harsh when we argued. I have no good excuse, and I swear I’ll do better from now on.”
Sincerity shone from every word, and he owed her the same respect. The same honesty.
“I owe you an apology too. I was unkind.” He took her hand. Kissed her fingers. “And we both have our reasons, but you’re right. Neither one of us has an excuse. I’ll act differently in the future, I promise.”
Dammit. He really had to go.
Relinquishing her touch caused a literal, physical ache in his chest, but he somehow managed to pull away. To stand by her side and look down at that floppy hat, the swirling blue dress, the pale curves of her legs and feet shining beneath the water. To memorize the near-perfection of her in this moment.
She tipped her head back, and her round, sweet face came into view below the hat’s brim. Perfection achieved.
“See you tonight?” she asked.
“For our lesson?” This close, he could spot an adorable freckle dotting her right cheekbone. He wanted to taste it. “Or dinner?”
He’d take anything and everything she was willing to give him. Especially since they had so little time before she left the island and him behind.
“Both.” Then, to his pleasant shock, she raised her hand and gave his butt a light pinch. “Now get going before I lose control and ravish you in full view of other guests.”
Her grin was wide and confident, her eyes assessing as they scanned him from the top of his tousled hair to the insistent bulge pushing against the cool, damp material of his trunks.
“You never told me that was an option.” He frowned down at her. “I feel misled.”
Another, harder pinch. “Go, Karlsson. I need to get to work too.”
Several tourists came into view around a stand of palms, and he reluctantly moved a step away from her and turned his back to them, the water lapping around his knees.
“You’ll pay for that pinch,” he told her.
She clapped her hand onto her hat, making sure it wouldn’t fall off as she dropped back her head and—
Did shewinkat him? Really?
Her teasing grin grew even more wicked. “I certainly hope so.”
Twelve
“They calledhim the Sweet Swede, Belle.” Tess brushed yet more sand from her tablet, which she’d been using to unearth yet more information about Lucas. Clips from his matches; articles lauding his talent and lamenting his physical deterioration; accounts from fans who’d met their favorite, doomed tennis star. “He was famous for being soft-spoken with reporters. Well-liked in the locker room. A bit goofy at times on the court, but mostly quiet and hardworking. Not someone to scream at an umpire or posture or…”
Belle sat up and dipped her chin until she could see Tess over the top of her oversized sunglasses. “Or what?”
“Or act like a player. Off the court, anyway.”
Despite Karolina. The woman who’d shown up at the overlook, clearly anticipating and accustomed to a certain amount of intimacy with the island’s tennis pro.
Dammit. Was Tess fooling herself?
“Here’s the thing. For all his talk of sun and relaxation and lounging in the sand with various willing women, hedoesn’tlounge. He works from early in the morning until late at night.” Tess hadn’t put the pieces together until she’d seen him at dawn for the second time in a week. “When he doesn’t hide behind that beach-bum-Casanova façade, he’s quite thoughtful. Sweet, like they said.”
Belle gave a neutral nod. “And the women?”
“I definitely think he gets around.” Tess shifted on the lounger, the towel bunching beneath her. “Although, to be fair, I imagine he’s less the chaser and more the chasee. I’m sure women are all over him because of how he looks and because he was famous.”
“He’s certainly chasing after you.” Belle set her book on the little wooden table between the loungers, lips pursed. “I don’t know whether to congratulate him for his excellent taste or start worrying.”
“Because if he’s chasing me, he might be chasing other women too?”
