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“It’s not about the money. These things aren’t expensive—”
“Then let me buy you what you want.”
What I wanted couldn’t be bought, but with his insistence, I began to understand him a little bit better. Dante was emotionally stunted. I’d known that for years. His need to buy me things, clothing or touristy knick-knacks, was his way of reaching out, of providing, of caring. He didn’t know any other way to express himself, so he used his money. Years of information collided. The way he dressed, the way he provided for his family. Lilly! Suddenly, how he spoiled Lilly... It all started to make sense. What he couldn’t express emotionally, he said with material things.
I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. He grunted. His arm tightened around my waist.
“I promise. I will let you buy me something. Just one thing before we leave. But I haven’t found it yet.”
He frowned down at me. “If you haven’t chosen something by the time the windows are done, I’m buying the whole damn shop.”
“Deal,” I laughed, knowing it wouldn’t be a problem. I could easily pick out one item from the entire village but choosing that item would have to wait. A familiar pang started low in my stomach.
I ran my hand up his shirt to rest on his shoulder. “There is something you could buy me now. If you’re so inclined.”
His eyes narrowed. “I told you I don’t like to be teased, but fine, I’ll bite. What do you want, Noemi?”
Oh, God. He used that voice, the deep, sultry tone that weakened my knees when he said my name.
I licked my bottom lip, wanting to push myself. I wasn’t a good flirt, but I couldn’t resist. I stood on tiptoe and placed my lips just under his ear.
“I’m hungry,” I purred in a voice I hoped was seductive. Dante’s hands tightened as he transferred his grip to my hips.
“What do you want?” he asked bluntly as his fingers bit into the skin barely covered by my minidress.
I angled my body into his but tilted my head back to look into his eye. Desire flared between us. His dark eyes couldn’t hide what he wanted.
And the growl from my stomach couldn’t hide what I wanted.
“A sandwich... or something? I’m really hungry.”
Dante’s chuckle-growl tickled the side of my throat. “I’ll buy you lunch.”
I jumped when he swatted my behind with a quick slap.
“And later, I’m going to make you pay for that.”
My stomach flip-flopped at the lust that dripped from his voice. The shy girl from the past would have ducked and ran. I wasn’t convinced that I had changed so much. A small smile escaped as I ducked my head into his chest instead.
***
TOURISTS PASSED BYwhile the sun continued to pour its rays down upon us. We chatted as we ate lunch at an outdoor cafe overlooking the beach. At least, I chatted. Dante was quiet, but not with the same awkward silence we started our day with. He listened to what I said, made a few comments here and there, and sat back in his chair, relaxed as the sunlight bathed his powerful frame.
He was at ease, even if he wasn’t conversational. He was a Dante I didn’t know anything about, and I wanted to rectify that. I wanted to know more than the obvious. I wanted to know why he was so reserved that a quiet girl like me seemed like a chatterbox compared to him. I wanted to know how he spent his time. Why did a stockbroker have to travel around the world so extensively? I wanted to know why he favored dark suits and what about me made him start calling me “baby girl” all those years ago?
I settled for what I thought were less personal subjects. I tried to talk to him about the Grand Tropican. I didn’t reveal what Cecile told me about his visits, but I skirted around the issue, asking him how he’d found such an exclusive location, how often did he go, had he taken other women there - impersonal things like that. The question about the women popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
He answered each question with a few brief words. “A friend,” “Whenever I feel like it,” and my favorite, “None of your business.”
That particular response stung, but Dante soothed the irritation by running the pad of his thumb over my mouth. “Don’t ask questions you really don’t want the answers to,bambina.Finish eating your lunch so you can pick out your one thing before we return to the yacht.”
I took another bite of my conch fritter and another swallow from my mauby drink, savoring the delicious freshness as it slid down my throat.
“Speaking of the yacht, how long have you had it?”
“About five years.”
“And the crew? How long have you known Captain Burrowes?”
