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Si, she could definitely be a reporter, coming to snoop around. It wouldn’t be the first time, though new security measures should have made it almost impossible for a trespasser to gain access to this land.
Which meant she must be really good at her job…
His first reaction of concern was muted to one of suspicion. He approached her from behind. She wasn’t looking around as a reporter might. No
r was she doing anything to avoid being seen. That damned yellow hat was like a beacon against the grey sky the summer storm had dragged in over the ancient town and usually crystal clear sea that surrounded this part of Italy.
When he was close enough to be heard, he shouted, “Basta.” She jumped half a foot off the ground as she turned to face him.
“Oh my God!” Up close, it was impossible not to be struck by her beauty. Wide-set eyes with an almost turquoise colour, long black lashes that were clumpy and thick from the rain, a fine nose with a slight lift at its end, skin that was tanned caramel, lips that were shaped like a cupid’s bow, and cheeks that had dimples in them when she smiled, which she was doing now. “This weather is wild.”
Another flash of lightning. She was saturated. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She had to shout to be heard above the lashing rain. “Exploring.” An impish grin. Something surged inside of him that he was eminently familiar with. Desire. Curiosity. That first flush of interest he felt when he met a woman he wanted to know better. It was ridiculous, given that she could very well be here to write an expose on his family.
“This is private property.”
She lifted a brow. “Really?” Her gaze drifted to the ocean, so churned up by the wind and waves that it looked dramatic and angry. “It should be illegal to privatise views like this.”
Curiosity grew. “You’re drenched.”
Another smile. “I know.”
“You shouldn’t be out in this weather.”
“I didn’t mean to be,” she turned back to face him and there it was again: desire, a rolling wave seizing his insides, making it difficult to think of anything else. “It was sunny when I set out.”
“It’s been raining most of the day.”
She lifted her shoulders. “I’ve been exploring most of the day.”
She was probably not a journalist but the likelihood of her being a tiny bit crazy was increasing.
Lightning slashed closer, the bright light dancing towards the sand so Nico swore and gestured to the house. Of the six Montebellos, he was perhaps the most notoriously guarded with his privacy, so he was surprised to hear himself say, “You should wait out the storm here.”
Her smile dropped. “Oh, no,” she shook her head. “I’m fine.”
His eyes narrowed. “Where are you staying?”
Her lips tugged downward into a frown that was bordering on a pout. Mentally, Nico swore. She was somehow even more attractive when she was frowning.
“I’m not planning to stalk you,” he assured her drily, so she laughed.
“Sorry.” But there was something in her expression, a hint of wariness that had him wondering. “I rented la villetta di pietra for the summer.”
He made a noise of disbelief but the pouring rain devoured it. “That’s eight miles away.”
“Is it? So far?”
He stared at her. “You walked here?”
She nodded.
“In the rain?”
Another nod.
That settled it. “You can’t possibly walk back now.”
