This thing between them—whatever it was—was going to happen.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘WELL?’ HE PROMPTED, looking not at the water but at the beautiful British heiress.
Her eyes, so green they matched the ocean, sparkled. Her lashes fanned her cheeks as she blinked rapidly, looking from the trees that nestled right up to the edge of the white cliff face to the water that was a pristine turquoise.
‘Oh, yes...’ She nodded, crouching down and peeking over the edge. She looked away from the cliff, following the water to the point where the island separated and admitted the ocean. ‘This is perfect.’
Her voice was soft and full of emotion.
Curious, he crouched beside her. ‘You are upset?’
‘No!’ She smiled, but her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. ‘I’m...overwhelmed. Overcom
e. This is impossibly beautiful.’
His life had been a tribute to the pursuit of beauty; rather to preserving it. He had never met another person who felt that as strongly as he.
‘That probably seems really stupid,’ she mumbled, turning back to the water.
‘Not to me.’ His smile was reassuring. ‘Well?’
She stood, sucking in a deep breath. It tasted like Italy. Salty, sweet, with the hint of cypress and fresh air.
‘Well what?’ she queried, placing her hands on her hips.
‘Care to join me for a swim?’
She eyed the water thoughtfully. It was damned tempting. The heat of the day, not to mention the fire raging between them, had left her with a distinctly raised temperature. A dip in the crystal-clear water would feel wonderful.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked teasingly. ‘Don’t you want me to see your underwear?’
She gasped, her eyes enormous in her face. ‘I’ll have you know I’m wearing a bikini,’ she responded archly, but her pulse was firing again, her cheeks pink.
‘So?’
He grinned, and before she knew what he was doing his fingers had reached for the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head. She had a second to take in perfect abdominals ridged into a broad, tanned chest, a line of dark hair that ran down the middle, disappearing into his waistband.
He tossed the shirt to the ground, then began to unzip his jeans.
She fluttered her eyes closed as desire ran rampant through her.
‘You confuse me,’ he said thoughtfully, a moment later.
She blinked, flicking her eyes to his nether regions and expelling a sigh of relief to see that he wasn’t completely in the buff. A pair of dark boxers covered his masculinity. But there was plenty of him on display. Legs that were strong and muscular, tanned and hair-roughened.
Legs that she was imagining curling around her waist.
Oh, heck. She was in serious trouble.
‘Do I?’
‘Si. Why would you be shy about swimming?’
‘I’m not shy,’ she promised—but, oh, she was. Shy and exhilarated.
‘I didn’t think so. You were, after all, photographed skinny-dipping with about three hundred festival-goers in Germany earlier this year.’