He seized up his towel, patting himself dry. Aware that Lana’s eyes were on him, though only sideways. Aware that he was glad they were. For all her strictures that night when he’d succumbed to kissing her under the stars, she could not shut down her natural response to him.

But it must be what she wants—what she accepts. She has to accept that the reason for our marriage, the financial benefit it will bring her in the end, has no role to play in what is between us!

To him it was very simple. Their marriage, although legal, was an irrelevance.

As marriage was to my father.

Affairs were all his father had ever wanted.

As do I.

His eyes shadowed.

I am my father’s son.

He tossed the damp towel aside on to a chair, his mood darkening suddenly. Yes, he knew that! And he must remember it, too.

His eyes went to Lana. In shorts and tee shirt, her hair in a long plait, not a scrap of make-up, she looked every bit as radiantly beautiful as she did wearing a couture gown and diamonds.

Nothing can dim her beauty—lessen her allure. She is as desirable now as she was when I first saw her, wanting her from the first...

She had picked up the towel, was shaking it out and draping it neatly over the veranda balustrade so it would start to dry out. It was a simple, housewifely gesture, as if she had done it a hundred times for him. As if they were an established couple. It was a strange thought. At odds with what he’d just reminded himself of. The fact that transient affairs were all he wanted. That there was nothing else it was safe for him to want.

She was smiling reprovingly at him. ‘It won’t dry in a crumpled heap!’ she reprimanded him with mock sternness.

‘Mea culpa,’he acknowledged in a penitential tone, accepting her just criticism.

‘Go and shower,’ she told him. ‘Then we can have our sundowners and you can get on with grilling that fish you caught! I’m starving! You must be too, after that freezing swim!’

He gave a laugh, agreeing with her, and headed off into the bathroom. Hunger growled in him. And not just for his supper.

For much, much more.

But exactly for what, he was no longer sure.

Their sundowners were nothing more sophisticated than a bottle of beer each, not even poured into glasses. From time to time Salvatore tested the barbecue, turning the potatoes to cook them evenly. Slices of red pepper stood ready, beside the waiting fish. The salad was dressed, and a packet of roasted nuts decanted into a plastic bowl, each of them having a packet of crisps to graze on as well.

Eventually Salvatore declared the moment right for grilling the peppers and fish, and proceeded to do so.

‘For a man who enjoys the finest things in life,’ Lana heard herself observe, humour in her voice, ‘you’re really very domesticated when you put your mind to it!’

He turned, giving a laugh. ‘Do you think me one of those pampered playboys who fall apart if there’s no one around to chef for them?’ he riposted. ‘I’m not quite so feeble, thank you!’

‘No, but you’re used to luxury,’ she replied. ‘Your world is so completely different from mine—’

He left the fish grilling, sitting down again and reaching for his beer, taking a mouthful.

‘We’re just people, Lana—you and I both. We’re not so different.’

There was a smile in his voice, in his eyes—but there was more than just a smile in his eyes. Something that made her drop her own for a moment.

‘We have a lot in common, really,’ she heard him muse, and her gaze went back to him. He’d replaced his beer bottle on the table, was looking across the small wooden table at her. ‘We have both had to survive tragedy, the untimely loss of our parents in traumatic circumstances. We’ve both agreed that marrying each other as we have, for very specific reasons, is not as insane as it might sound to others!’

There was a wry note in his voice at that, but then he went on, eyes holding hers.

‘And we get on with each other well. We do, you know. It’s easy for us to be in each other’s company—I find it so, and I don’t believe you don’t. Look how we’ve got on when it comes to traipsing around the glories of Tuscany—and how well we’re getting on here, now!’

He smiled again, warmth in his face, in his deep, dark eyes.


Tags: Julia James Billionaire Romance