There was no judgement in his tone, but Sofie prickled anyway, meeting his dark green gaze. ‘It’s a perfectly noble profession.’
‘For someone with zero ambition and no talent for anything else. That’s not you.’
Sofie was momentarily blindsided by his assertion that there was more to her. She felt defensive. ‘How do you know?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe, like your grandmother, I can sense things.’
Now she felt exposed. ‘You’re making fun of me.’
He shook his head. ‘Not at all. I think you have more to offer. A lot more.’
Sofie clamped her mouth shut. How could this man who was a complete stranger see right into her, where she harboured that very nebulous desire for more than she’d experienced or seen around her? Whether that was to have the big family that her parents had failed to have, or to pursue a career far outside this small island...
And how had this dawn conversation suddenly become so personal? The sense of exposure prickled over her skin, reminding her she was half-naked. And that he was half-naked.
She stepped back. ‘I should get changed. I’ll have breakfast ready in about half an hour. Is there anything in particular you’d like?’
Darius frowned. ‘Breakfast... I don’t think I do breakfast.’
Sofie forced a bright smile, as if this impromptu dawn confessional hadn’t just happened. ‘Whatever you prefer. It’ll be here anyway if you’re hungry.’
An hour later Darius realised he did do breakfast. When he’d smelled the frying bacon and eggs he’d been suddenly ravenous. He seemed to be consistently hungry—and not just for his curvy and intriguing hostess. As he swallowed the last morsel of the delicious fried breakfast Sofie had made, he felt as if he’d been hungry for years and was only just starting to sate his appetite.
He sat back. ‘You could be a chef.’
Sofie made a dissenting sound as she cleared away the plates. ‘Hardly. I’m competent, not talented. I don’t really enjoy cooking, but it became a necessary skill when we took in guests. I’m very proficient at doing breakfast for eight people.’
‘Don’t feel under any pressure to cook for me.’
Sofie turned around from the sink. She was dressed now, in jeans and a loose shirt. Darius lamented her hiding those luscious curves again. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun. No make-up. She didn’t need it. Her lips were naturally full and pink. Her eyes were glowing like two sapphires, framed by long black lashes. Dark, arched brows.
‘Can you cook?’ she asked.
Darius looked around the kitchen and felt nothing but blankness. He shook his head. ‘Nothing looks familiar. I don’t have a sense that I do.’
Sofie smiled. ‘I think it’s a safe bet to imagine that you inhabit a world where you don’t have to concern yourself with domesticity.’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’
‘Not at all. Believe me, if I could be transported out of this existence, where I’m far too intimately acquainted with the most effective products to use to get toilets sparkling clean, I’d be delighted.’
‘I don’t doubt you’ll do it.’
Sofie looked away, her cheeks going pink.
Darius cursed silently as he shifted in response. It had taken his blood a long time to cool after she’d taken his hand in hers earlier. The sudden shock of physical contact had surprised him as much as it had aroused him. The easy way she’d taken his hand in hers and turned it over and back, inspecting it...
His first reaction, even amidst the arousal, had been to pull away. Instinctively he’d wanted to retreat from such casual contact. But he hadn’t. He’d liked her touching him. It had felt...soothing. As well as erotic.
He sensed that he wasn’t a tactile person. That in fact he never welcomed contact unless it was initiated by him. And controlled by him.
Sofie wiped her hands on a towel. ‘I have to go into town to get some things. Is there anything you’d like?’
Darius was tempted to make a quick retort about her picking up his memory en route, but he curbed his tongue and fought off the frustration at the dense fog in his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You could come with me if you like?’
Darius thought of folding his frame into the small confines of her car. ‘No, thanks. I think I’ll stay here.’
‘Okay.’ Sofie got a piece of paper and wrote something down. She handed it to him. ‘Look, that’s my mobile number. I won’t be long, but in case you need anything just use the landline to call me.’
As Darius heard Sofie start the car and drive off he knew with certainty that he really wasn’t used to being at the mercy of anyone. Because this was what chafed the most. This sense of being stuck. He was used to moving. Doing. But he had to swallow the frustration again.
His memory would come back soon. It had to.
When Sofie returned from doing the shopping there was no sign of Darius. Or Pluto. It was amazing how, within such a short space of time, it already felt as if the house was empty without him. As if he’d been there for years.
Sofie snorted at herself. As if a man like Darius would be content in a place like this. In a house like this. The only reason he was here was because his identity had effectively been wiped.
She put away the shopping and explored outside, walking down towards the lake. Darius was there. In jeans—a little too snug—and a shirt that did nothing to conceal his lean body. Pluto was standing faithfully beside him, already totally loyal and besotted. Sofie’s heart constricted. He’d adored her father. Maybe he was just relating to a male presence again.
Seeing him from behind, even in the ill-fitting clothes, and with his tall, lean build, Sofie fancied for a second that he could fit in here, among this wild and dramatic landscape. It might not be his usual milieu, but she sensed a ruggedness about him that might ordinarily be hidden.
Or was she just being completely fanciful? Yes, she scolded herself. As soon as this man had his memory returned he would no doubt look around and flee in horror.
And yet, pointed out a small voice, he came here in the first place, didn’t he?
Darius turned as she approached. Sofie’s heart skipped and her breath quickened when she saw that he’d shaved off the growth of beard. He looked no less masculine. The hard plains of his face were revealed now. Nothing to hide that sensual mouth.
She went to stand beside him on the small wooden jetty, very aware of the disparity in their sizes. Before she could stop herself, she said, ‘You shaved.’
He touched his jaw. ‘Yes.’
Embarrassed that she’d mentioned it, she nodded her head towards the lake. ‘I wouldn’t recommend contemplating a swim. The lake is deep and freezing, even in the summer.’
‘It’d be one way of finding out quickly if I can swim.’
‘I’m sure you can swim. Especially if you come from Greece.’
He made a face. ‘I can speak the language—that’s all we know.’