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He pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t thought this through. Not beyond the initial idea of getting the media off his backnowand giving Anna’s career a boost. Although he could admit the latter reason had formed more out of guilt than a desire to help. Guilt had been a powerful motivator for him these last ten years. It had kept him in line, kept his education and then his business on the fast track to success.
But this time guilt had propelled him into making a hasty decision.
Too late for another option. Yes, it was. Even if it didn’t solve his long-term problem, at least he would get a break for a few months and repay Anna for the heartbreak he’d caused her.
Although she was certainly paying him back in her own way. That she didn’t know it, made it even worse. Even as he watched out of the corner of his eye, she ran a hand through those long, silken tresses, strands of dark hair falling forward to caress the column of her neck.
“Antonio?”
The sound of his name tumbling off her lips yanked his mind out of the gutter. He blinked and focused on her.
“Yes?”
Anna had sat up and was now watching him with a concerned look on her face. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You look angry.”
He smoothed his expression. “Apologies. Just thinking.”
She stood and walked toward the door, leaning casually against the doorframe with her arms wrapped around her middle. In the blue-and-white-striped shorts and loose white tank she’d changed into for a moonlit walk on the beach where they’d held hands and pretended not to notice the photographers further down, she looked like any other woman he might have spied around Positano.
Except she wasn’t just any other woman. She was his former best friend, the person he’d trusted more than anyone else still . And now little Anna was gone, replaced by Anna Vega, stunningly beautiful and yet still sweet and innocent, it made him feel like a first-rate bastard even thinking about her the way he did.
“Thinking about what?”
“Business,” he replied shortly as he turned back to his computer.
“I don’t believe you.”
His gaze snapped up. Anna’s eyes were pinned on him, roaming over his face like a hot caress that could see past all the defenses he’d built up.
“Why not?”
“Because I know you.” She cocked her head to one side. “Something’s bugging you.”
“If I feel the need to share, I will.”
His words came out colder than he’d intended, but they elicited the desired effect. Anna reared back as if she’d been slapped, stared at him for one long moment then turned and walked back onto the balcony. She grabbed her book off the chaise and disappeared around the corner.
Good. When she was in view, she was too much distraction. While everything seemed to be lining up for the grand opening, his attention needed to be focused on that.
Except it wasn’t. It was on that damned scent—herscent—lurking on the air. The feistiness in her voice, the vulnerability she’d shared with him. The vivid image of her amber-blue eyes widening in pain before she’d walked away. Not with the flamboyant flair of drama his Caribbean lover had exhibited. Not with tears pouring down her cheeks like the opera singer he’d seen last summer. No, she’d walked away with quiet dignity and grace.
Damn it.
He stood and stalked to the balcony door. A glance to the right confirmed that Anna had sought refuge at the far end. But instead of sitting on the bench built into the wall or cozying up in one of the plush chairs he’d had brought in from Paris, she’d chosen to perch on the edge of the balcony railing, one bare foot resting on the tile and the other on the railing. His body tightened as he stalked toward her.
“That’s a long drop down.”
She didn’t even look at him, just kept her back to him as she gazed out over the sea, the sky appearing starless behind the bright white of the moon. “Yes. Good thing there’s a railing here.”
“Railings are fallible.”
For a moment, there was nothing other than the faint roar of the ocean. Then, so quiet he barely heard it, a dejected sigh.
“I remember a time when you played, Antonio. Barefoot. In the rain.”
