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She clung to him, her hands gripping the muscles of his arms, gasping into the sea breeze, and then she felt his lips brush the side of her face.
‘Oh!’ She gave a start of surprise as some tiny orange and white fish flickered swiftly through the water beside them.
‘Rainbow wrasse,’ Massimo said quietly. ‘The tide must be going out. We ought to get back to the yacht.’
She nodded and let go of his arm. Their eyes met and for a moment he hesitated, and then, frowning, he pulled her against him, kissing her fiercely. As they broke apart he began to laugh softly.
Looking up at him, she frowned. ‘Why are you laughing?’
He shook his head. ‘This suit is dry clean only.’
She started to laugh too. ‘Serves you right for not taking it off.’
He dropped a kiss lightly onto her forehead. ‘You want to know what’s even funnier...?’
* * *
‘I didn’t know you could actually launder money.’ Picking up the damp five-hundred-euro note, Flora gazed at it thoughtfully. ‘It’s bad enough having to wash everything else. How’s your wallet?’
Massimo rolled his eyes. ‘Clean!’ he said drily. ‘As are my clothes.’
Flora giggled. They had returned to the yacht, showered, and made love again before making their way up to the lounge area on the foredeck. ‘At least you left your phone behind. Otherwise that would have been ruined too.’
He nodded, but with a shiver she saw that his face had taken on the same blank, shuttered look as earlier. Reminding him about his phone had been a stupid thing to do, she thought miserably. No doubt it had also reminded him of all the hours he’d wasted with her today.
‘I don’t want to talk about my phone,’ he said firmly. ‘It reminds me of work. Look... We’ve only got a few hours of daylight left, so I thought maybe we could go and take a look at Caprera.’
He lounged back in his chair, and she saw with relief that his face had softened and that he was smiling. ‘It should be right up your street. Unspoilt, wild and rugged. A bit like me!’
Flora poked him gently with her foot. ‘You might be wild and rugged, but you are definitely spoilt.’
She gave a yelp as he leaned forward swiftly and caught her ankle with his hand. Slowly and deliberately, he wrapped his fingers around the heel of her foot.
‘What exactly do you mean?’
Her lashes fluttered. ‘I mean that you own an eighty-metre yacht—’
‘She’s actually eighty-three metres. I just rounded it down to make things easier for you.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. You own an eighty-three-metre yacht, a palazzo. Probably a house—’ He held up his hand and she frowned. ‘You have five houses?’
Laughing he shook his head. ‘Apartments—not houses. And I have nine. I just couldn’t hold up enough fingers. I thought you might kick me if I let go of your foot!’
She giggled. ‘I have two feet, actually. Or did you round them down as well?’
He grinned and slid his hand down over her foot, pressing his thumb into the soft pad of flesh at the base of her toes.
Shifting in her seat, she tipped back her head. ‘That feels amazing...’ she mumbled.
‘This part of the foot is supposedly connected to your neck,’ he said slowly.
‘That’s so weird. My neck is actually tingling.’
She moaned softly. His fingers were caressing the underside of her heel, curling round to the hollow beneath her anklebone, drawing small, light circles over her skin. Leaning back against the chair, she felt boneless, her body melting beneath the sure, firm touch of his fingers.
And then her spine tightened and she arched upwards, heart pounding. ‘What’s that connected to?’ she asked shakily.
‘Can’t you tell?’ he murmured.
