‘Oh, strictly,’ he murmured, fixing her with a mock-grave look so that she laughed too. The laugh drew attention to the fact that she had the most kissable lips he had ever seen. He found himself wondering why she was here on her own.
His eyes skimmed to the bare third finger of her left hand. No sign of a ring, present or recent. He could see Nico bearing down on them, carrying their food, and he leant forward so that the scent of roses and honey invaded his nostrils.
‘How long are you staying?’ he questioned.
Still reeling from the pleasure of realising that she hadn’t lost the ability to laugh, Catherine let her defences down—and then instantly regretted it. Because his proximity made her heart miss a beat she blinked, startled by her reaction to the warm bronzed flesh and dazzling blue eyes. Her emotions were supposed to be suspended, weren’t they? She wasn’t supposed to be feeling anything other than the loss of Peter. So how come desire had briefly bewitched her with its tempting promise? ‘Tomorrow’s my last day.’
Oddly enough, he felt disappointed. Had he hoped that she would be staying long enough for them to forge a brief holiday romance? He must be more stressed-out than he’d thought, if that were the case. ‘And how are you planning to spend it? A trip round the island?’
She shook her head. ‘Been there, done that. No, I’ll probably just laze around on the beach.’
‘I think I might join you,’ said Finn slowly. ‘That’s if you don’t have any objections?’
Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
‘I THINK I might join you,’ he had said.
Catherine rubbed a final bit of sun-block onto her nose and knotted a sarong around the waist of her jade-green swimsuit, aware that her heart was beating as fast as a hamster’s. She was meeting Finn Delaney on the beach and was now beginning to wonder whether she should have agreed so readily.
She let a rueful smile curve her lips. She was thinking and acting like an adolescent girl! She had broken up with her long-term boyfriend, yes—but that didn’t mean she had to start acting like a nun! There was no crime in spending some time with an attractive, charismatic man, was there? Especially as she had barely any time left. And if Finn Delaney decided to muscle in on her she would politely give him the brush-off.
She scrunched her dark hair back into a ponytail and grabbed her sun-hat before setting off to find some coffee. The sun was already high in the sky, but the terrace was shaded with a canopy of dark, fleshy leaves and she took her seat, trying to imprint the scene on her mind, because tomorrow she would be back in the city.
‘I see you with Kirios Finn last night,’ observed Nico rather plaintively as he brought her a plate of figs and some strong black coffee. Every morning he tried something new to tempt her, even though she had told him that she never ate breakfast.
‘That’s right,’ agreed Catherine. ‘I was.’
‘He like you, I think—he like beautiful women.’
Catherine shook her head firmly. ‘We’re just passing acquaintances who speak the same language, that’s all,’ she said. ‘I’m going home this afternoon—remember?’
‘You like him?’ persisted Nico.
‘I hardly know him!’
‘Women like Finn Delaney.’
‘I can imagine,’ said Catherine wryly, thinking of those compelling blue eyes, the thick, unruly hair and the spectacular body. She might not be interested in him as a man, but her journalistic eye could appreciate his obvious attributes.
‘He brave man, too,’ added Nico mournfully.
Catherine paused in the act of lifting her cup and looked up. Brave was not a commonly used word, unless someone had been sick, or fought in a war, and her interest was aroused. ‘How come?’
Nico pushed the figs into her line of vision. ‘The son of Kirios Kollitsis—he nearly die. And Kirios Delaney—he save him.’
‘How?’
‘The two of them take scooters across the island and Iannis, he crash. So much blood.’ He paused. ‘I was young. They brought him here. The man from Irlandia carry him in in his arms and they wait for the doctor.’ Nico narrowed his eyes in memory. ‘Kirios Delaney had white shirt, but now it was red.’ And he closed his eyes. ‘Red and wet.’
Oh, the power of language, thought Catherine, her coffee forgotten. For some reason the stark words, spoken in broken English, conjured up a far more vivid impression of life and death than a fluent de scription of the accident could ever have done. She thought of the wet and bloody shirt clinging to Finn Delaney’s torso and she gave a shiver.
‘They say without Kirios Delaney then Iannis would be dead. His father—he never forget.’
Catherine nodded. No, she imagined that he wouldn’t forget. A son’s life saved was worth more than a king’s ransom. But even if he hadn’t acted as he had Finn Delaney was still an unforgettable man, she realised, and suddenly the casually arranged meeting on the beach didn’t seem so casual at all.
She should have said no, she thought.