She took a sip of her wine then placed the glass on the small coffee table, standing to move back inside, through the living area, towards the front door. And even though she was sure it was him, her survival instincts had been irrevocably honed by her experiences. “Who is it?”
A pause. “Nico.”
Her heart leapt. Her pulse fired. “Hang on.”
She sucked in a deep breath, checked her appearance in the mirror then unlocked the door, pulling it inwards.
Heaven help me. He was wearing a black leather jacket over his denims. The motorbike helmet hung loose from one hand and in the other, he held her yellow hat. His expression was quizzical.
She immediately felt foolish. So foolish.
“Hey.” She cleared her throat and offered a half-smile.
“You forgot something.” He held the hat out to her.
She took it, her pulse racing for reasons she couldn’t comprehend. Desire, certainly. Fear? Not of Nico, but of his connection to her past? Definitely. But didn’t that make Nico yet another part of her life that Michael was seeking to control? A pleasurable activity she was denying herself because she was afraid of her asshole ex?
“And I have your coat,” she nodded to the hooks just inside the door.
“So you do.” He lifted both brows and her heart skipped a beat. “Was that your plan? I must say, as far as heists go, the quarry leaves a little to be desired.”
It was a joke and she smiled, even when she felt a chasm of uncertainty, and an instinctive need to pull back from him. “I thought about taking the Pavona near the door,” she tilted her head to the side in an imitation of thoughtfulness. “But you know, who wants world class art when there’s a woollen coat on offer?”
“Indeed.” His eyes narrowed then, his expression taking on a serious quality. “You couldn’t wait for your clothes to dry?”
“I…”
What? This was a moment of truth, a time for her to decide what she wanted to say to him. Except she couldn’t. Words failed her.
“Mind if I come in?”
It was simply a matter of extending the same courtesy to him that he’d rendered her earlier that day. He was getting wet and inside her home it was warm and dry. But he was so enormous – his personality, his essence, his everything – that once he’d breached the door to this cosy little villa she suspected it would never feel quite the same again.
So? She challenged herself. She’d survived worse than that. Did she think she wasn’t strong enough to conquer his presence? Or did she think he wouldn’t already be in her mind after what they’d shared? Keeping him out in the rain wasn’t just silly, it was downright rude.
“Of course not,” she waved a hand into the space, opening the door a little wider.
She’d been right. The second he entered, he dominated everything. The air, the space, the light. It was all Nico Montebello. Her mouth felt acrid, her temperature increasing.
“You walked out on me.”
“I…” she swallowed, a frown forming on her face. “Yeah, I did.”
He turned to face her slowly, his sentiments impossible to fathom. She was drowning in the ocean-blue depths of his eyes, and there was no lifeline in sight. “Why?”
Such a simple question, with no answer she could possibly give.
“I panicked,” she offered, after a moment’s hesitation. When in doubt, tell as close to the truth as possible. “I…wasn’t expecting to meet anyone. Here. In Italy. That’s not why I came.” She swallowed, trying to focus her mind. But Michael was there, his handsome face in her eyes when she blinked, so she shuddered a little. “I got out of a relationship a few months ago.”
Nico frowned. “So?”
“I’m not ready to complicate that. I shouldn’t have…I mean, it was…this afternoon was…really…mind-blowing,” she said with a small smile. He returned it and her tummy exploded with butterflies and unicorns and rainbows.
“It was.” His swift agreement kicked up her pulse another notch.
She rushed on. “But I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
His expression showed a hint of frustration.