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Finding a corkscrew, he twisted it into the bottle in a few efficient strokes and yanked the cork with a satisfying pop. ‘Laugh all you want, sweetheart, but I intend to exact a high price for all my hard work.’
He handed her a chilled glass of the pale amber wine.
‘Oh, goodie!’ she said cheekily, enjoying the way his eyes darkened dangerously as she took a fortifying sip.
Nick watched Eva eat as he devoured his meal—and thought about devouring her. The agonising sexual tension tightened deliciously every time she flicked him a flirtatious glance over the rim of her wine glass, or when she tore open a ripe fig and bit into the succulent fruit or licked the sweet juice off her lips.
God, she was so gorgeous. So lush and sexy and playful and provocative. She turned him on to the point of madness, simply by breathing. And yet she’d proved to be a surprisingly calming influence when it came to dealing with all the tangled emotions that the time he spent with his grandfather seemed to bring to the surface.
Even on that day over a week ago, when he’d overreacted so spectacularly to Don Vincenzo’s decision to leave his estate to him, having her on the boat beside him, being able to lose himself in her had been enough to take the turmoil and the anger away.
He still didn’t want the damn inheritance, not that Don Vincenzo would listen to any of his objections, but he didn’t feel nearly so trapped now, so scared of accepting the old man’s affection. And the main reason for that had been Eva’s presence. He didn’t know how or why. But he did know he was going to miss her when he had to go back to San Francisco alone—her bright sense of humour, her easy affection, even her foolish concern for his feelings about this reunion or her misplaced faith in his integrity, not to mention her sexy, responsive little body. She made him feel lighter and more carefree than he had since he was a boy.
He hurled the hunk of ciabatta he’d been eating into the underbrush. No need to worry about their parting yet, he still had another couple of days to enjoy her. Brushing his hands on his hiking shorts, he crooked a finger at her. ‘Picnic’s over, sweetheart. It’s payback time.’
Putting down her paper plate slowly, she darted a glance to her right. ‘Only if you catch me first,’ she said, then, to his amazement, leapt onto her feet in one fluid movement and shot off like a gazelle.
He swore and levered himself up to chase after her. She was a lot faster than he would have given her credit for, plus he had a belly full of food to contend with. So they were both breathless and laughing hard when he finally tagged her round the waist and slung her to the ground, rolling over to take the brunt of the fall and then settling on top of her.
Holding her wrists in one hand, he levered them above her head and looked down into her laughing eyes as she wriggled furiously trying to buck him off. ‘So finally I know how you stayed a virgin so long,’ he joked. ‘You run faster than an Olympic sprinter.’
Her body stilled and she looked away, the flags of colour on her cheeks flying high.
‘Hey, I’m kidding,’ he said. He’d embarrassed her and he hadn’t meant to.
She looked back. ‘That’s okay.’
‘No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘It’s nothing,’ she said, but the vivid colour on her cheeks said otherwise.
He let go of her wrists, but kept her pinned to the ground. ‘It’s not nothing. What did I say?’
He saw her swallow, knew that shuttered look that meant she was building up the courage to ask something. ‘Does it still bother you? That I was a virgin?’
He wanted to laugh off the question. Say of course it didn’t bother him. But the problem was it did. Now more than ever. Because however hard he’d tried he couldn’t explain away the feeling of responsibility towards her that kept growing every time they made love. Every time she clung to him and begged him for release. Every time she sobbed out his name while reaching orgasm. Every time he taught her a new way to please him, or showed her a new way he could please her. The truth was he loved knowing he was the first man who had ever made her feel that way—and apart from making him feel like a Neanderthal jerk, it scared the hell out of him, because it made no sense at all. He didn’t have any claim on her, any more than she did on him, and he didn’t want to have, so why did he feel so possessive?
‘Fine.’ He forced a self-deprecating smile to his lips. ‘It does bother me a bit.’ His hands settled on her waist, the thin satin of her dress brushing his palms. ‘I want to know why it took you so long.’
‘If I tell you,’ she began, her hands covering his, her eyes thoughtful, ‘would you tell me something about yourself in return?’
Damn, he should have seen that one coming. But instead of evading her, as he had always done before, he nodded. ‘It’s a deal.’ Holding her hands, he leant forward and kissed the warm sun-kissed skin on the tip of her nose. ‘So what’s your answer?’
‘You have to promise not to laugh,’ she added, colouring again, and looking so vulnerable his heart lurched in his chest.
‘I won’t laugh,’ he said, and he knew he wouldn’t. Whatever reasons she had for denying the passion inside her for so long, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like them.
‘Can I sit up?’
He wanted to say no, but could see she needed the distance. ‘All right.’ He lifted off her.
Hugging her knees to her chest, she looked out into the meadow at the afternoon sun dipping towards the trees. ‘Actually it’s remarkably boring,’ she said carefully. ‘I didn’t do much socialising when I was a teenager.’
‘Why not?’
She jerked her shoulder looking surprised at the question. Although he didn’t know why she would be. She was such a lively, engaging person.
‘I was horribly nerdy. My parents were academics and they wanted me to concentrate on my studies. And I wanted to please them.’
