Everything about the whole situation that he now found himself in was immensely irritating, and the realisation he’d come to mid-swim an hour ago made it additionally so. One unforeseen consequence of his reluctant chivalry was that if he wanted Carla gone, and gone fast, which he did, he’d have to be the one to facilitate it. Overnight, the private nature of his island, which he’d always considered a definite positive, had become a serious negative. She had things to do that could only be done in the city and he’d have to take her, which, he was forced to acknowledge with a grind of his teeth, was perhaps another example of acting in haste and repenting at leisure.
But he badly wanted his life back to the trouble-free, easy way it had been before he’d met Carla, before he’d seen the photo of Finn, before even the accident, and if that meant accompanying her every step of the way as she set about reclaiming what had been taken from her, to make sure she actually had the wherewithal to leave, then so be it.
He could resist the temptation she posed, he assured himself grimly, aware of a sudden shift in the air and bracing himself before turning to find her standing in the doorway, wearing a yellow sundress and flip-flops, looking like sunshine, her hair wet from the shower he would not be imagining her in ever. He could retain his grip on his control and shut down his response to her. If he ruthlessly stuck to the plan and deployed his usual devil-may-care approach to life, the one that had been strangely absent during the last twenty-four hours, everything would be fine.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said, fixing a lazy smile to his face and sounding pleasingly unmoved by her appearance.
‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
Far too late for that. ‘You aren’t. Come in.’
‘I had no idea of the time,’ she said, sliding her gaze to the clock on the wall above his head and giving a faint grimace as she stepped forward. ‘I’m still recovering from my trip to Hong Kong, jet lag is a bitch.’
‘Coffee?’
‘That would be great, thank you.’
She came to a stop on the other side of the vast kitchen island unit and hopped up onto a stool. Resolutely not noticing how the movement tightened her dress around her chest, Rico turned his attention to taking a pot off the stove and poured the contents into a tiny espresso mug, which he then handed to her across the expanse of marble.
‘Milk? Sugar?’
‘No, thanks.’ She took a sip and closed her eyes, while he watched her smile in satisfaction and for a moment forgot his name. ‘Oh, that is good,’ she said, which instantly had him imagining her breathing that exact same thing into his ear as he held her tight and moved inside her.
‘Help yourself to brunch,’ he muttered, with a quick cough to clear the hint of hoarseness from his voice and the unacceptably vivid image from his head.
‘You cooked?’
‘I can.’ And well. Once upon a time, he’d sworn he would never go hungry again and he hadn’t. ‘However, today I merely assembled.’
Getting a ruthless grip on the imagination that had never troubled him before, Rico turned to the section of counter top where he’d been working and set about transferring plates of prosciutto and salami, mozzarella and Gorgonzola, and bowls of artichoke hearts, sun-dried tomatoes and olives to the island. With ciabatta and focaccia, in hindsight, it was rather a lot for two people but, ‘I didn’t know what you’d like.’
‘I like it all,’ she said with an apologetic wince as her stomach rumbled loudly. ‘It looks delicious.’
She looked delicious, was the thought that shot into his head before he could stop it, and he wanted to devour her. ‘Take a plate.’
‘Thank you.’ She did as he’d suggested and began filling it, only to pause a moment later. ‘You know...’ she said, then stopped.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ She gave her head a quick shake, as if to clear it, and said instead, ‘Thank you for putting me up last night.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’ll be out of your hair just as soon as I can.’
The sooner the better, because what if, contrary to his expectations, he couldn’t keep a lid on the attraction that instead of fading only seemed to be getting worse? What if he succumbed and lowered his defences and she went in for the kill? It didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I will help.’
‘I can manage,’ she said, flashing him a smile of her own, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes and gave him the impression it was about as genuine as his.
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘So that’s settled, then.’
If only. ‘Not quite.’
Her green gaze narrowed slightly. ‘How so?’
‘Do you have any idea where you actually are?’ he asked, thinking obviously not, judging by the faint frown that appeared on her forehead.