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‘We start serving at seven-thirty, miss.’ He closed the door quietly behind him.
Once he’d gone she looked around properly. It was the most amazing room she had ever seen—and she was no stranger to amazing rooms. Acres of mauve carpet, as soft and rich as velvet, while the vast four-poster bed was partially concealed by heavy and lavish hangings in lilac picked out with gold. The colour scheme was echoed by the silky curtains which were draped in shimmering lilac columns at either side of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
And the view…
Shelley walked over to one of the windows and gazed out with pleasure at the uninterrupted view of the English Channel, and it took her breath away. How had she forgotten just how stunning her childhood home could be?
Further exploration revealed that the adjoining bathroom had an old-fashioned claw-footed bath the size of a small swimming pool. Now that was what she needed more than anything else!
She turned the taps on, added some essence, and let the water gush in while she undressed, jerkily peeling off the white lacy underwear she had bought in Milan. She tossed it in a filmy heap on the floor, thinking ruefully that she’d better invest in something more substantial now that she was back.
When the bath was almost full, she climbed in and sank beneath the foam, sighing with sheer pleasure as the warm water caressed her skin like silk.
She washed her hair, then lay back, feeling her body begin to relax properly for the first time since Marco had told her that he had fallen in love. Love. Horrible word. What did it mean? It meant disruption, that was what it meant! The perfumed vapour enclosed her and she felt her eyelids grow heavy as sleep—or something very close to sleep—claimed her senses and she gave herself up to it.
She didn’t hear the bathroom door slide slowly open or the momentary pause before it was eased shut again, but something must have registered in her subconscious because when she opened her eyes again it was to see Drew standing there, very still, just watching her.
It was too unexpected and much too close to fantasy for her to make any initial reaction other than one of dazed recognition. She sank a little lower into the bath water as she stared up at him. And there was a lot to stare at. In the confined space of the steamy room, his long legs seemed to go on for ever.
The jeans which she had admired on the beach—was that really just a few short hours ago?—looked even better on closer inspection. Soft blue denim brushed against taut thigh, whispered against knee and tapered down to ankle.
Her eyes drifted upwards, to where the simple white T-shirt hugged exactly where it should, caressing the firm, tight flesh of his torso like a lover.
The steam and fatigue had lulled her. The cloudy mist which had moistened the air now clogged her brain with sensation. Sapphire eyes blazed down at her in silent question, and beneath the warm, creamy foam Shelley felt the flowering of desire.
‘Drew!’ she breathed.
‘Hello, Shelley.’
She sank down even deeper, so that the visible swell of her breasts was covered by the little islands of foam which floated on the surface. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered, wondering why she wasn’t screaming at him to get out.
‘Truthfully? Apart from getting more turned on by the second? I’m just fantasising about what lies beneath all those bubbles.’ His mouth tightened. ‘And realising that I’ve never seen you completely naked before. Do you realise that, Shelley? Incredible, isn’t it, when you think about it?’
Desire shafted a path from the tips of her breasts over the soft curve of her belly, and beyond, where a moist, slow throb had begun to torment her.
‘Drew.’ It was meant to be a protest, so why did it come out as some aching little plea?
‘I’ve seen you in a swimsuit many times, of course,’ he said, matter-of-factly, with all the passion of someone describing a computer program. ‘And once—just once—when you were topless on the beach. Do you remember that, Shelley?’
Of course she remembered. How could she ever forget? But it had been a long time since she had allowed herself to think of it in any detail. She shook her head. ‘N-no. I don’t think so.’
‘Then let me refresh your memory.’
‘Drew—’
‘You were seventeen.’ He cut across her weak objection, his voice low and deliberate. ‘And it was the end of that long, baking summer just before I went travelling. Remember that? It was so hot and so still that every breath you took seemed to scorch the lining of your throat. You and a couple of the other girls were sunbathing behind the rocks in that little cove further up the bay. Now do you remember?’
