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What would happen when she finally regained her memory? Stasia wondered.
Rico returned at that moment and sprawled on the rug next to them.
'Why aren't you working in your office?' Chiara murmured and Rico's eyes held a sardonic gleam as t
hey rested on Stasia.
'I am learning to delegate,' he drawled softly and she couldn't help smiling.
'Next thing I know, you'll be talking about how you feel.'
'Best to keep your expectations at reasonable levels, cara mia —' He leaned forward and dropped a lingering kiss on her parted lips. 'I'm still a man and men, Sicilian men in particular, do not know weakness.'
She knew he was a man. She didn't need any reminding. With his powerful shoulders, his muscular chest and the roughness of dark stubble on his jaw, Rico Crisanti couldn't be anything but a man. And an incredibly sexy man at that.
'You mean you can't show weakness,' she corrected, needing to lighten the atmosphere that was suddenly pulsing with a sexual tension so thick that she could almost taste it.
'That's probably our fault,' Chiara said with a yawn. 'Rico's been the man of the house since he was fifteen years old. We all lean on him and always have. We expect him to be strong and we expect him to always have the answer to everything. If I ever saw Rico looking vulnerable, I'd panic'
Stasia sat in stunned silence, digesting Chiara's words. She'd never even given his situation any thought. Of course he'd mentioned that his father had died when he was young. And of course she'd observed that he was considered the head of the family. But she'd just assumed that they were a typical Sicilian family. Following Sicilian traditions. She'd never really considered what it must have meant to him to be given such responsibility at such a young age. How could grown women depend on a boy of fifteen?
She glanced at him, her gaze uncertain, suddenly wanting to ask him all sorts of questions that she'd never asked before. Like how it had felt to suddenly be a man when he was only a boy. And who had looked after him while he was looking after everyone else?
When they'd first met she'd accused him of being too serious. But was that surprising?
On impulse she sprang to her feet and shot him a challenging smile. 'Fancy a swim?'
Without waiting for an answer, she sprinted towards the water and plunged into the glass-clear water without giving herself time to hesitate.
He was right behind her.
She gave a gasp and a squeal as the cold water closed over her shoulders and he laughed and
grabbed her around the waist.
'Don't push me under,' she begged, clutching him and trying to keep her balance. 'It's so cold.'
In fact the water was deliciously cooling on her overheated skin, but she hated the feeling of almost childlike panic that came from being ducked with no warning.
'It's early in the season,' he reminded her. "The sea will warm up soon. And don't forget that it seems colder because the sun is so hot. If you stay under, you won't feel cold.' His eyes gleamed with wicked intent and she gave another squeal and tried to free herself, all too aware of what he had in mind.
But she was no match for his strength. With an easy movement, he lifted her and then held her suspended while she clutched at him and begged him not to drop her.
He did, of course, and she sank under the water, still kicking.
Spluttering to the surface, she gave a howl of outrage and hurled herself at him. He fell backwards, laughing, and soon she was laughing too.
'Ugh—I think I've swallowed half the ocean.' She struggled upright and smoothed a hand over her face to clear her vision. 'Enough!'
'You surrender?'
'Never.' Her eyes flashed at him but she was still laughing. 'I'm going to wait until you don't expect it and then creep up on you.'
'Is that right?' His Sicilian accent was suddenly very pronounced and she felt her heart miss a beat as he moved towards her, the water clinging to the hairs of his broad chest.
'No! Rico, not again! I'll be sick if I swallow any more sea water—' She tried to back away from him but her limbs were heavy in the water and he caught her easily.
But this time he didn't try and duck her. Instead he pulled her against him and looked down at her, his thick, dark lashes shielding his expression.
