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‘You want me to get in that?’
‘Why not?’
‘Where’s the engine?’
‘You’re looking at him.’
‘You row?’
He put his hands to his chest. ‘You mortally wound me. Did you not realise I was in a crew that won a rowing blue at university?’
‘No,’ she said, and paused. ‘No, you never told me that.’ But then he’d never told her anything of his past, of his growing up or his life before taking over the reins at Casino de Diamante. He’d never given her so much as a glimpse of the boy who’d become a man.
She took his hand, feeling his confidence as his strong fingers wrapped around her own, and stepped down into the dinghy, sitting on the bench at the back of the boat. He untied and pushed away from the jetty, sitting down opposite her and fixing the oars in the gates. He certainly looked as if he knew what he was doing.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Across the passage to the island. I hear the beaches there are the best.’
She looked over his shoulder. ‘That must be five hundred metres away at least.’
He just smiled and started to row. ‘At least.’
The dinghy cut through the water to the sound of the gates creaking, the slap of the blades on the water and the cry of seabirds whirling overhead. It was beautiful on the water, the boat gently rocking over the swell as they left the land and the city behind, but nothing was more beautiful than the view she now enjoyed.
The wind in his black hair, he was smiling. His eyes were obscured by sunglasses, but he was watching her watching him as he worked the oars, his arms out wide, his rolled-up cuffs flapping as he planted the blades into the water and drove them forward. A slice of olive-skinned chest tantalised, giving her a hint of the muscles working beneath, and she could tell the amount of pressure he was applying so seemingly effortlessly by the cording of his forearms as he powered the boat through the water. Beauty and strength. It was a heady combination—especially now, with that smile that warmed her to her toes.
‘Where did you go to university?’
‘Oxford.’
‘What did you study?’
‘International Law and Economics.’
‘Did you like it?’
‘Why so many questions?’ He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder, not bothering to let her answer. ‘You see that small sandy beach over there?’
She looked around him and found the spot he was talking about amidst the scrub. ‘I see it.’
‘That’s where we’re heading. It’s your job to keep me on course.’
‘Ha! Like anyone could ever give you directions.’
He laughed, his concentration lapsing, and one blade didn’t dig in deep enough, catching the surface and showering her with spray. She squealed, the water ice-cold on her skin after she’d been sitting in the sun. ‘You did that on purpose!’
He grinned. ‘Then don’t give me any cheek.’
She raised one hand to her forehead in a salute. ‘Aye-aye, Skipper.’
They made it across, due more to his rowing abilities than her navigation skills, pulling the boat up on the sandy shore and tying it to a tree trunk.
‘What now?’ she asked, as he hauled the picnic basket and beach gear out of their stowage.
‘Now we walk.’
The scrub closed in around them, a narrow sandy path taking them through ferns and shadowed bush. Butterflies flitted across the path in front of them, and tiny birds darted from tree to tree. Over the gentle sounds of the scrub was overlaid the distant roar of the nearing ocean. There was a small rise, a sandy dune, and then they were there at the top, the Pacific Ocean rolling in to shore before them in an ever-changing display of white foam.
