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“I mean, I wanted it to happen. I just should have known better.”

“Are you still in love with this man?”

“Which man?”

“The bad break up?”

“Oh, God, no,” she blanched.

There was a pause as he digested this. “So you’re going to be celibate for the rest of your life?”

“Um, no. I guess not.”

“And it was how many months ago?”

“Six. Almost seven.”

“And yet you think having sex with someone else is somehow wrong?”

She heard it and knew how silly that was. “It’s just…not why I’m here,” she repeated, aware of how lame it sounded.

“So you don’t want to see me again?”

She was completely floored.

“That’s why you crept out? Leaving only this rather beautiful hat?” He gestured towards the door.

Heat stained her cheeks. “Do you want to see me again?”

His expression shifted, something like doubt clouding his eyes for a moment but then his response was swift and concise. “Apparently.”

She stared at him, words not immediately coming to her. “But…why?”

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that was so attractive it curled her toes. It had been so long since she’d heard a laugh like that – simple and lined with pleasure. A laugh that didn’t spark fear because she knew it would never last long enough.

He took a step towards her and she held her ground, wanting him to touch her, needing to feel his skin on hers even when that made zero sense.

What was she doing? This was madness. It didn’t matter what he said, nor what he wanted.

“I can’t.” Now she did take a step away from him, wrapping her arms around her torso.

“You don’t want to?”

“I want…” She bit down on her lip. “What are you saying? What do you want?”

“More of what we did today.” His response was instant.

Her pulse trembled. “Sex?”

“Yeah. Great sex.” He paced across the room, towards the terrace. Belatedly she recalled her glass of wine. He stared out at the view, the darkness of the night, the lashing of rain, and was quiet for so long she wondered if he’d decided not to finish the conversation.

“I come to Ondechiara every summer.”

Ice filled her veins as she recalled the fact Michael had told her as much.

“I never stay longer than September first and I won’t this year. But while I’m here and while you’re here, why shouldn’t we see each other?” He turned to face her, and there was something in his face she recognised and instinctively understood, because she felt it too. Hesitation. I don’t trust easily.

“Just for the next few weeks?” She prompted, feeling her way in this as much as he was.

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