She takes them but shakes her head discreetly, flicking a look at Theo, who has now removed his shades and has a death stare rooted on the two American guys we met last night. Denny’s hand lifts, reaching for Theo’s bicep. ‘Hey, man,’ he says, but his intended friendly gesture of a light smack to Theo’s arm is dodged stealthily, Theo virtually bending backward to avoid it. Denny’s eyes widen at the fast move, and he steps back. And Theo’s death stare intensifies. ‘Sorry, man,’ Denny says, nervous as shit. ‘Just a friendly hello.’
‘Then say it,’ Theo growls. ‘Don’t touch me.’
I recoil at his rudeness, as does everyone else in the group. This is horrible. I dip to get in Theo’s field of vision. ‘Can we talk?’
‘Yes,’ he grates and indicates some tables and chairs set back from the pool. ‘I’ll get drinks.’ He starts to head off, but pulls to a stop, giving each of my friends a moment of his eyes before looking at me. ‘And please, cover yourself up.’ He carries on his way.
Jess’s mouth drops and hits the rim of her plastic beaker. ‘Is he serious?’
I ignore her rhetorical question and slip my caftan over my head, not because I’m obeying him, but because I feel exposed enough without being half-naked in his presence. ‘See you in a sec.’ I walk away from Jess, hearing whispered questions as I go. I have a serious mental pep talk going on in my head, but as I get closer to the table at the far back that Theo has chosen for our talk, the sound of my determined, sensible voice gets drowned out by his growing closeness. I’m in trouble. So much fucking trouble.
I slip on my sunglasses, hoping they will help offer some protection from his burning cobalt eyes, and take a seat on the opposite side of the table. He slides a glass across the table to me. ‘Water?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’
On an inhale, I stop a waiter as he passes. ‘A vodka tonic, please,’ I say confidently, returning my attention to Theo. ‘He’s paying.’ His jaw is beyond tight, his eyes burning holes in me. ‘Be careful.’ I smile sweetly. ‘You’ll burn this cover-up off with that filthy look, and we can’t have that, can we?’
He reaches for my sunglasses, dragging them gently away from my face. I pull in a small hitch of breath, freezing in my chair, my sass shot down. ‘I want to see your eyes so I know what you’re thinking past this brave front.’ He lays them gently on the table and places his own pair of shades down next to them.
‘Business?’ I ask sardonically.
‘Yes, business. Why didn’t you tell me you were going on holiday?’
‘It’s none of your business.’ I’m polite but straight, though bubbling on the inside with annoyance. ‘You’re just a man who asked me out for dinner. That’s it. I don’t owe you an explanation for my plans.’
‘I am not just a man, Izzy.’
‘You are to me,’ I retort, knowing resistance is the best way forward, even though Theo’s flash of hurt actually bothers me. My vodka lands on the table, and I grasp it with both hands as Theo shoves a note at the waiter, not even looking at him. ‘I’m on holiday with a friend,’ I say. ‘It’s been in the making for years, so I would be grateful if you didn’t ruin it.’
‘It’ll only be ruined if you let it be ruined.’
I peek up through my lashes. ‘What do you mean?’
He sits forward in his chair, coming closer. The seriousness on his face is a cause for concern. ‘I mean, I’ll promise not to bother you again. I’ll let you have your girlie break. But you have to promise me dinner.’
I laugh at his cheekiness. ‘You’ll let me have my girlie holiday?’
He nods, not seeing the hilarity of his statement.
‘Why thanks, stranger.’
‘Have dinner with me.’
‘No.’
‘I’ve come a long way. The least you can do is give me dinner in return.’
Business my arse. ‘I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to pursue me like some weirdo. Jesus, Theo. Don’t you see how stalkerish this is?’
His teeth sink into his bottom lip in contemplation as he studies me. ‘Stop playing games, Izzy. My patience is already stretched.’
My jaw locks in an attempt to stop it from dropping in disbelief. ‘I’ll have dinner with you.’ I stand, disgusted by his behaviour, now just wanting to get away before that disgust transforms into something else that’s far less easy to cope with. Like lust. Like desire. Just like Theo’s approach to me, my feelings are contradictory. One second, I’m wary of him, the next I’m mentally stripping his clothes off. ‘I’ll call you when I’m home.’ I pass him but get no farther than two steps. His hand shoots towards me, stopping me in my tracks, though he doesn’t actually make contact. I look down at it hovering a few inches from my wrist, and then look up to Theo.