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‘Okay then, good.’ A bemused smile spread across his face. ‘It looks like we’re going on holiday then.’
‘Yes, it does. I’m off to pack.’ Feeling almost giddy with delight, she almost skipped towards the door. ‘By the way, what did Dan mean by you being even now?’
‘Nothing, really. He practiced law in the UK for a while and got into trouble with his accounts.’ He smiled. ‘I guess I saved his financial ass a few times.’
‘You’re good at that, you know, saving people’s asses. You’re saving mine now.’
‘Well, it’s nice to get the credit, but it’s Dan who’s doing the hard work.’ He deliberately looked her over. ‘Mind you, as asses go, yours is high on the list of ones I would like to save.’
He was teasing, she knew it, but it didn’t stop her almost gliding down the corridor. She was going to a Mediterranean island with Nick. Sun, sea, sand and . . . Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she pushed open her bedroom door. She was supposed to have convinced herself having an affair with Nick was the wrong thing to do. But she was tired of being sensible, especially when her body was crying out for her to be naughty.
Chapter Sixteen
The journey to Sardinia had been blissfully uneventful, no doubt because Lizzie had booked them on a private plane. At first it had rankled with Nick, a painful reminder of their different lifestyles. After a few glasses of champagne though, he’d decided to ditch his pride and enjoy the ride. It was her money, after all.
She hadn’t told him the name of the friend who’d loaned her the use of the villa, and he’d been careful not to ask. As he gazed now at the magnificent five-bedroom whitewashed property, overlooking a private beach, it didn’t take a genius to figure out whoever she was, she was loaded. Loaded and with superb taste. It wasn’t going to be a hardship spending a few days here, especially as he got to see Lizzie looking so happy. And in a bikini.
Almost the moment they’d arrived, Lizzie had shrugged into the tiny black number and dived into the pool, leaving her suitcase untouched. He, on the other hand, had carefully unpacked all his things and placed them into drawers, which pretty much summed up how different they were. One spontaneous, the other methodical. He tried to tell himself that methodical, or practical, as he preferred to think, didn’t automatically translate into boring.
They’d chosen to spend the balmy late afternoon sitting by the pool, looking out over the sea. It was idyllic, certainly. Or, it would be, if he weren’t so uncomfortably aware of the person sitting beside him. A quick glance in her direction confirmed she still had her nose in a trashy novel, so once again he played with fire and allowed his eyes to hover hungrily over her. Three small triangles of black and a couple of bits of string were all that prevented him from seeing her full naked beauty. He’d heard it said blondes looked good in black. He wasn’t going to argue.
She stretched and he stifled a groan, totally unable to stop staring at her. She wasn’t as skinny as some models. More toned than bony, with curves that definitely went in and out in all the right places. Smooth and lightly tanned, her legs went on forever, but her waist was tiny. He reckoned he could probably circle it with both of his hands. And after he’d done that, he’d stroke his fingers lazily across her soft skin. The colour of caramel, it looked good enough to run his tongue along.
Abruptly he jumped up from the lounger. ‘I’m going to fetch a drink,’ he announced, his voice sounding alarmingly rough. ‘Do you want anything?’
Tipping her sunglasses onto the top of her head, she smiled, clearly oblivious to the havoc she was causing him. She was so damned beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. ‘If you can find some, a gin and tonic would go down a treat. But go easy on the gin. I don’t want another hangover like the last one.’
Nodding, he escaped quickly into the cool of the villa. How in God’s name was he going to get through the next few days with her wearing nothing but that itsy bitsy bikini? He’d barely coped living with her in England, but at least then she’d been wearing clothes.
With a deep sigh he found two glasses and poured enough gin into his to hopefully take the edge off his lust. After adding a splash of tonic, ice and a slice of lemon, he took a hefty swig from his glass before joining her outside again. Perhaps he would become immune to the sight of her in a day or two.
Either that or he’d turn into an alcoholic.
Warily he settled back into his recliner, carefully placing the drinks on the small table between them. Lizzie smiled her thanks and leant forward to take a sip, giving him an eyeful of glorious cleavage. Hastily he reached for his own drink. Become immune to her? Yeah, right. It hadn’t happened in the last eight years or so, it was hardly going to start on a ruddy beach holiday.
He sought refuge in his reading. And another mouthful of gin.
‘Why don’t you take your shirt off, Nick?’ Lizzie asked him after a while, eyeing him over the top of her sunglasses. A hint of a smile on her lips.
‘Because I’m English.’ He looked down at his unremarkable blue T-shirt. Admittedly it was hot, but there was no way he was going to strip off in front of a woman who made a living out of posing with male models. And whose list of past lovers included a hot-shot baseball star and several muscle bound actors.
She grinned. ‘Come on, England hasn’t changed that much over the last few years. I’ve seen Englishmen taking their shirts off on the beach lots of times. Admittedly it’s usually the ones with the large pot belly.’ She prodded his stomach. ‘You’ve not got one of those, have you?’
His body twitched at what had been only the lightest touch of her fingers. Nervously he crossed his legs. ‘No.’
‘So, what’s stopping you?’
‘Maybe I don’t want to get burnt.’
‘Or maybe you’re shy?’
Now she was teasing him. ‘Maybe I am.’ It was easier to agree.
She let out an exasperated hiss. ‘For goodness sake, Nick. I’m sitting by your side in next to nothing. In fact, as you’ve seen the photographs of me in the papers recently, you’ve already seen me in absolutely nothing. The least you can do is strip down, too. You’re making me feel uncomfortable.’
He sighed and yanked off his shirt. ‘There. Happy?’ He stuck his nose back into the report he was reading before he had the chance to catch the amusement on her face.
* * *
