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Maybe it would be best if she stopped thinking so much.
Settling on a black bikini, which she covered with a pair of denim shorts and a dusky-pink T-shirt, she smothered her exposed flesh with sunscreen and headed to the sundeck, studiously avoiding looking at the bed.
She had a whole day of Nico’s sole company to get through before she could even contemplate sharing a bed with him—not just tonight but every night for the rest of the week. For once there would be nothing to distract her. No work. Nothing to keep her mind occupied from him.
He filled her mind too much as it was.
* * *
Rosa took a seat at an the outdoor table where a stack of boxes had been placed. Already bored with her own company, she took a look at them.
A moment later she almost choked when Nico strode up the stairs from the second deck to join her, carrying a couple of tall glasses. Not only had he removed his ever-present suit, but he had changed into a pair of knee-length canvas shorts. And nothing else. Nothing but hot, rippling muscle.
All of a sudden the heat of the day sank into her pores, making her feel clammy and bothered.
‘You look hot,’ he observed, taking a seat and pushing a glass towards her. ‘This will cool you down.’
‘What is it?’
‘A cocktail.’
She sniffed the green concoction suspiciously. It smelled fresh and delicious. Taking a sip, she felt her eyes nearly pop out of her head. ‘Blimey—this is strong. What’s in it?’
He bestowed upon her an enigmatic smile. ‘Enjoy it and leave the ingredients to me.’
‘I never had you pegged as a cocktail fan.’
‘When I was at university my dorm-mate threw a cocktail party. His cocktails were so disgusting I took over the bar.’
‘I think you’re yummy.’
She winced at the unintentional faux pas. But, seriously, how was she supposed to think straight with Nico’s golden torso right in her line of vision? On the occasions when she had seen him in shorts and T-shirt for his daily jog she had been able to tune his incredible body out. That ability had now deserted her. But then, she had never seen him topless before—had never seen for herself the breadth of his shoulders or the dusting of silky black hair covering his muscular chest that continued down to the low-slung shorts resting on his hips.
‘Sorry, I think this—the cocktail—is yummy.’
‘Rosa, relax.’ Nico’s hand hovered in the air and for one breathless moment she thought he was going to touch her.
Relax? Relax? How could she relax when just being near him put her on hyper-alert?
‘I’m not going to jump on you,’ he murmured with a lazy curve of his lips. ‘Not until you ask me to or, even better, jump on me.’
‘You’ll have a long wait,’ she said. Even to her own ears her voice sounded feeble. If only he would cover his chest she would be able to think clearly.
His eyes darkened and gleamed. ‘You will find I have incredible patience when it comes to something I really want.’
Rosa grabbed her cocktail and took a long sip, welcoming the cold liquid’s cooling effect on her flushing cheeks. ‘Pack it in, Nico. I’ve already told you I’m not making any promises.’
‘I was merely making an observation,’ he said smoothly, placing a hand on the boxes. ‘What would you like to play? We have chess, Scrabble and backgammon. Or...’ he wiggled an eyebrow ‘...we could play something else entirely.’
Despite herself she snickered. She had to admit there was something compelling about this irreverent, flirty Nico. She wondered if this was how he treated his lovers and immediately scratched the thought away.
‘I’ll play you at a board game but you’ll have to choose which. I’ve never played any of them.’
He gave her the same look he’d given her when she told him she’d never had a holiday.
‘That’s no problem. I’ll go back to the saloon and select some different games.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘I doubt I’ll know those either. Why don’t you teach me Scrabble? I’ve always wanted to learn that.’
It didn’t take long for him to set the board up and go through the rules with her.
‘Are you sure you’ve never played before?’ he asked half an hour later. He had beaten her only by the skin of his teeth.
‘Never,’ she confirmed.
‘Hmm.’ He fixed disbelieving eyes on her. ‘I think I’m in the hands of a Scrabble shark.’
Food was brought up for their lunch—a platter of refreshing fruits and cheeses. After they had demolished the lot Nico, unwilling to relinquish his bartending duties to anyone, made a pitcher of what he called ‘a vodka cocktail’, which had striped red and orange colours running through it.
