“Yeah. Want to hear?”
The idea of Raf playing guitar was a little too much on the sex appeal side, and yet she found herself nodding. “Yeah.” The word was a husky admission.
“After dinner.” There was a promise in those words. A shiver ran the length of her spine. He leaned over the bench, catching her hair and tucking it behind her ear. His dark eyes held hers, and her breath snagged in her throat, parting her lips. “You’re beautiful.”
Heat filled her cheeks. She dropped her gaze but he didn’t allow it, moving his hand to her chin and pushing his fingers beneath it so their gazes were fused once more.
“I’m –,” the word tapered into nothingness.
“And kind.”
Her stomach dropped to her toes.
“I like you.”
Her heart ached. She swallowed, darting her eyes away. And then, it was over. He dropped his light touch from her chin and turned away, moving to the pot of pasta, resuming the act of cooking. But his touch had left an indelible mark on her; or perhaps that was his words? She sat perfectly still, staring at his back, wondering at why she w
as letting this go on any longer – and simultaneously aware she was completely powerless to stop it.
Chapter Ten
SHE LOVED JACK JOHNSON music, she always had done, but listening to Raf playing his songs made her think she’d never really heard them before.
His fingers moved quickly over the guitar but his manner was relaxed, pure, laid-back rock god. Or maybe it was that they’d stepped off his terrace after dinner and straight onto the crisp white sand of this stretch of private beach. Tall grass tufted out of the sand nearest to the house, and they’d sat at the edge of it, the water slowly inching towards them as the tide dragged it closer to the house. And Raf played, his guitar gleaming in the milky moonlight, beauty in the sound of his voice, the ease of his skill.
After his third song, she sighed blissfully. “I think your grandfather was wrong. You are a musician, Raf.”
He grinned, strumming idly now, no song she’d ever heard, just playing until the air was filled with music.
Her eyes followed the movements, her expression unknowingly captivated, and slowly, he brought his fingers to a stop before placing the guitar down on the sand. “Would you like to dance?” He held a hand out to underscore his invitation.
She frowned. Without his guitar, there was no music. “While you play?”
His grin sent a thousand little arrows flying through her bloodstream.
“No, with me.”
She tilted her head to the side. “There’s no music…”
His smile was all the answer she received, but she stood, her hand in his, and he pulled her towards him so their bodies were fused, his arms wrapping behind her, loosely around her waist. He began to move in the moonlight, the sound of the waves forming the beat of their movement. And then he started to sing, in Italian now, so she didn’t understand all the words, but that hardly mattered. It was the sound of his voice, the richness of his tone.
She looked up at him and smiled and he smiled back, the words not stopping and she was glad. She pressed her ear to his chest, the solid thumping of his heart adding extra texture to the moment.
They danced together for a long time, or perhaps time simply stood still.
“What about you, Lauren?”
His question surprised her. She hadn’t realised until then that she’d been almost asleep in his arms, blissed out after a delicious dinner beneath the stars, two glasses of wine and now this – dancing as the waves rolled in. She’d been so determined to put an end to what they were doing but she was so glad he hadn’t let her.
“What about me?” Her own response was soporific. He pulled back to look down at her face, his eyes roaming her features slowly, so she felt exposed to him completely.
“You’re a nurse. Did you always want to do that? Or was it because of him?”
She noticed that he didn’t mention Thom’s name. Did he know it? Had she used it when she’d told him about her marriage? She couldn’t remember, but it suddenly seemed incredibly important that he should know it, and should speak it as she did.
“Thom,” she inserted quickly.
He nodded once. “Did you want to become a nurse before Thom got sick?”