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He visibly rejected her assertion. “None of this matters anymore, Ava. It’s all ancient history.”
He stalked away, leaving her standing in the middle of a Mediterranean paradise, more miserable and confused than she’d ever been in her whole life.
She thought about following him. About trying harder to open a dialogue, but Addie had been beating her head against that particular brick wall with him since the night at the restaurant. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She had to show him.
That was why she’d come to Spain, wasn’t it?
To make him remember what they shared? To remember the truth that defied words and explanations, the truth of a love that simply was?
Her lips curved into a self-mocking grimace. She wasn’t doing a particularly good job. But the week was young, and, thanks to Cherie, her wardrobe was stocked with outfits designed with one thing in mind: seduction.
Addie moved purposefully through the yacht, her determination growing with each step.
He said he was angry with her, and he was. But he’d brought her to Spain, and she didn’t believe it was just because he thought her a talented actress. The same desire that was licking the soles of her feet was scorching him as well.
She chose a red sheathe dress that had spaghetti straps and showed more than a hint of cleavage. It fell to mid-thigh and was far shorter than anything she’d normally wear. She had a matching red thong out ready to go, but at the last minute, decided to skip it altogether.
He wasn’t the only one who could call the shots. When he came knocking, she’d be ready for him!
Only Guy didn’t come knocking. Not for a long time, in any event. Addie sat with her book, on the deck, her legs out in the sun, her mind – and eyes – wandering from time to time to the windows he’d pressed her against that afternoon, before guiltily flashing back to the words on the pages of her book.
Sometime in the early afternoon, going by the sun’s trajectory, he appeared beside her, his manner as imposing as if she were applying for a job at his firm wearing a hot-dog costume.
“Have you eaten lunch?”
“Lunch?” She frowned, like she’d never so much as heard of it.
“Yes, Ava. You know, the meal that follows breakfast?”
She refused to rise to the bait. “I haven’t,” she said with a shake of her head. “I hadn’t realized the time.”
“It is nearly four o’clock,” he said with obvious disapproval.
“Oh,” she shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m not particularly hungry.”
“Fine,” he said. “That’s your decision. The kitchen is fully stocked if you should change your mind.”
It was hardly a gracious offer to whip her up her favourite dish, but it was a civility she no longer expected from Guy. “Thank you.”
He spun and stormed away, his mood apparently dark.
An hour later, he was back. “Did you eat?”
She stared at him, her frown deep. “No. I told you, I’m not hungry.”
He looked, to all the world, like he was going to say something, but he compressed his lips and shrugged. “We are due at Santiago’s within the hour. You should get ready.”
Addie arched a brow and slowly, painstakingly slowly, pressed a finger into the page of her book before standing. At full height, she was still at least a foot shorter than Guy, and the difference in their sizes was somehow more apparent like this – with him in jeans and a button-down shirt and her in a skimpy, sexy designer dress that would look more at home at a hip nightclub opening than at dinner with his grandfather.
Still, Guy was the one who’d thrown it in her face that he’d moved on with other women; and she had no doubt just what those women would be like. Stunning, glamorous, wealthy.
An ancient feminine pride not only to compete with them but to utterly trounce them fired in her veins.
“Does it look like I’m not ready?” She prompted with an arched brow that invited him to argue.
“It looks like you are going to give my grandfather a heart attack,” he muttered.
Addie laughed, and suddenly, the sultry air around them dissipated. “I’ll get changed if you don’t think it’s appropriate. I like the dress…”
