“Lily?” It was both question and entreaty, begging her for permission, and she nodded, lips half parted in anticipation.
Primal need filled him. Damir wanted nothing more than to rush, to crush her to him, to explore her mouth, her body, to hear her moan and sigh and call his name, to tumble her onto the ground and cover her with his body. He wanted to tear at their clothes, for there to be no barriers between them. And he could do it, he knew it, sensed it—the air around them danced with the haze of desire; she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But he held himself back.
Slowly, every movement full of intent, he pulled her to him. She was tall, but still a head shorter than him, and he had to dip his head to taste her. It was a light kiss, an exploratory kiss, an anticipatory promise of what could be, and it overwhelmed him like no kiss had for longer than he cared to remember.
Dear Reader,
I wrote this book during what seemed like nonstop rain and flooding, and edited it while in lockdown due to COVID-19. I have never been so grateful to be able to mentally step into another world, drawing on my memories of a recent sun-filled holiday in the beautiful city of Dubrovnik and some of the wonderful places I visited during that time. I can’t wait to return there one day soon.
Lily and Damir are both in their own dark places at the beginning of the book. Reeling after her best friend’s tragic accident, Lily agrees to manage her grandmother’s small B and B on an idyllic island, where she meets Damir, driven, single-minded and determined to get his hands on that very B and B. An accidental meeting on the beach gives him the in he needs, but he doesn’t expect to find Lily so very appealing. Soon he has to ask himself what’s more important. Fulfilling his father’s dreams, or chasing after his own? Meanwhile, Lily is wondering if she’s brave enough to step away from the rigid life plan she made as a teenager and risk her heart in the process.
Love,
Jessica
Mediterranean Fling to Wedding Ring
Jessica Gilmore
A former au pair, bookseller, marketing manager and seafront trader, Jessica Gilmore now works for an environmental charity in York, England. Married with one daughter, one fluffy dog and two dog-loathing cats, she spends her time avoiding housework and can usually be found with her nose in a book. Jessica writes emotional romance with a hint of humor, a splash of sunshine and a great deal of delicious food—and equally delicious heroes!
Books by Jessica Gilmore
Harlequin Romance
Fairytale Brides
Honeymooning with Her Brazilian Boss
Cinderella’s Secret Royal Fling
Reawakened by His Christmas Kiss
Bound by the Prince’s Baby
Wedding Island
Baby Surprise for the Spanish Billionaire
Summer at Villa Rosa
A Proposal from the Crown Prince
Maids Under the Mistletoe
Her New Year Baby Secret
The Sheikh’s Pregnant Bride
Summer Romance with the Italian Tycoon
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
For Sally. Hopefully by the time this is published we will have danced at your wedding and you’ll be planning your Croatian honeymoon. Xxx
Praise for
Jessica Gilmore
“Totally loved every page. I was hooked right into the story, reading every single word. This book has to be my new favorite. Honestly this book is most entertaining.”
—Goodreads on Honeymooning with Her Brazilian Boss
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Excerpt from Fairytale Christmas with the Millionaire by Jennifer Faye
CHAPTER ONE
A GOLDEN SLANT of sunshine broke through a chink in the curtains to shine directly onto Lily’s closed eyelids. She muttered, moving to escape the brightness, but with that movement came consciousness. She wasn’t in her own bed, on her expensive sprung mattress, between her four hundred thread Egyptian cotton sheets, but on an old iron bedstead in a plain white walled room. Despite that she’d slept more deeply than she had for months.
Squinting a little against the sunlight, Lily slipped out of bed and padded across the cold tiled floor to throw open the curtains and to take her first proper look out of the wooden framed window. She inhaled sharply. Sky so blue it defined the colour greeted her, lit by an early morning silvery sun. For the first time in several months the pain inside Lily’s chest eased. It felt as if it had done nothing but rain all year in England, and on the few dry days glowering cloud still greyed the sky. This vibrant, warm Croatian beauty was as foreign to her as the language and currency, but so very welcome.
She’d arrived late the evening before, a delayed plane meaning it was already dark by the time she’d cleared passport control, retrieved her bags and stumbled into a waiting taxi. The long day of delays and airports had left her so tired and wrung out she’d barely squinted out of the car window into the dark to try and get any idea of her surroundings. Even the night-time boat ride bringing her to the small island of Lokvar had failed to excite her, it was if she had brought the London gloom with her.
But the beauty of the early morning scene cleared the last remnants of that gloom, instead a hint of anticipation filled her. Reluctantly dragging herself away from the window, Lily darted into the small adjoining bathroom, jumping into the shower to clean the travel grime and sleep from her body, slipping into her comfiest jeans and a T-shirt and bundling her still-wet hair into a loose bun. Less than ten minutes later she was ready to go, running down the winding staircase that led to the main hallway of the large, empty villa.
Empty now, but in just a few weeks this villa would be filled to capacity with holidaymakers all relying on her and her team to ensure their stay ran smoothly. She looked over at the reception desk and her stomach clenched. It seemed impossible that just a week ago she had been Lily Woodhouse, lawyer, London dweller, city worker who routinely worked sixty-hour weeks and rarely saw daylight. What did she know about running a hotel, let alone a hotel in a country where she didn’t speak the language, on an island with no cars and just three boats daily into Dubrovnik?
Fighting back the panic, Lily did her best to regulate her breathing, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling until the panic began to fade away, answering each of her panicked mind’s questions as calmly as she could. She wouldn’t be alone here, experienced help was on its way, and she still had time to find her feet before the tourist season really swung into action and the island welcomed the hordes of visitors who visited every summer. Today she was allowed to take time out and settle in. Today she was going to explore.
She’d bolted the villa’s front door the night before, even though common sense had told her that on an island of barely three hundred residents and no way in or out other than by boat, she was safer with an unlocked door than she was behind the padlocks of her London apartment, but old habits died hard and over the last few months Lily had learned all about regret. Slipping her feet into her discarded trainers and grabbing her bag, she unlocked the door and wrenched it open before stepping outside, fumbling for her sunglasses as her eyes adjusted to the light.
>
The view from the window was nothing compared to the real thing. It might be early but the sun was already warm and she felt its welcome heat permeating through to her tired, tired bones whilst the vibrant colours—green, blue, turquoise—warmed her soul.
The villa faced onto a wide shallow cove, the beach sandy, unusual on this famously rocky coastline. The only building on this side of the island, it ran as a B&B and a beach café through the summer months, a reasonable part of its income derived by renting beach chairs, sunbeds and umbrellas to the day trippers escaping the heat and crowds of Dubrovnik. Lily had never visited Lokvar before, she hadn’t even been to Croatia, but she’d seen so many pictures of the villa and Fire Cove, she felt like she’d come home.
Her stepfather, Josip, had described his boyhood home to her many times, and every autumn, after the season ended, his mother, Lily’s baka, spent several months with them, full of stories about the season just gone, her guests and staff and her friends and neighbours who lived on Lokvar year-round. Josip would sometimes join in, but too often he would leave the room, jaw tight and eyes shuttered. He’d left Dubrovnik at the end of the Balkan conflict, never to return. Lily had never asked why, not knowing how to frame the question, but as she breathed in the fresh sea air and her eyes drank in the glorious scenery she knew his reasons must be deep and dark to prevent him from returning to such beauty.
As if on cue her phone buzzed and Josip’s name filled the screen. She fumbled to answer the call, walking down the beach to watch the soft waves roll in as she did so. ‘Hi. What time is it there?’
‘Six, but your mother couldn’t sleep until she knew you were okay.’ Lily could hear the smile in his voice as her mother called out something she couldn’t quite hear. Josip had lived in the UK for nearly thirty years now, his accent softened but still clear, and her heart filled with love for the man who had brought stability and peace to her turbulent childhood.
‘I texted when I arrived last night,’ she protested.
‘I know that and you know that, but you know how your mother is.’ Lily did know, just as she knew her mother would have liked to have accompanied Lily over to Lokvar and helped her ready the B&B for the season ahead, always trying to make up for the chaotic first decade of Lily’s life. But she didn’t like to travel anywhere without Josip, and he couldn’t or wouldn’t return to Croatia. Lily prided herself on her independence, but she had to admit that part of her would have liked her mother and her stepfather here as she negotiated her way through the start of her summer.
‘Well, tell her I’m fine, at least I will be when I have found some coffee and breakfast.’
‘And make sure you get your first grocery order in. Everything is delivered from the mainland, so you need to plan in advance. Ana will be with you tomorrow, she has worked at the villa for years, she will be able to help you with anything you need.’
‘I know. I am so glad she has agreed to come early and help me prepare.’ The truth was that Ana, Josip’s cousin, could quite easily have run the villa without any of Lily’s input, having assisted her aunt for the last decade or so. But Lily had needed a change of scene and direction and so when Marija, her step-grandmother, had announced her intention of taking a summer off while she visited cousins in America and New Zealand, Josip had persuaded Lily that the only way his mother would be able to fully enjoy her time away would be if she knew that Lily was keeping an eye on her home.
‘She’s not getting any younger and I think she needs to take the time to really rest and relax,’ he had told Lily. ‘I know she spends a couple of months with us every year, but London in late autumn and early winter is so damp and cold, she doesn’t get out much. She deserves the chance to really enjoy her time off.’
There was just enough truth in that statement for Lily to agree without feeling too manipulated. It was becoming clear that running her beloved B&B was starting to take its toll on seventy-year-old Marija, and every November she arrived in London looking a little frailer than the year before.
She had confided in Lily that she had received a very lucrative offer for the villa at the end of the last season, but the buyer wanted the land and the access to the beach, not the graceful old villa that had been in her family for generations. ‘I want my Josip to return one day, not sell his birthright out from under him,’ she had said with a sigh.
Lily just wished she had actually spent a summer here with Marija, after all she’d been invited often enough. But then there were so many things she wished she’d done differently. Too many to name.
She wrenched her attention back to the here and now as her stepfather spoke. ‘So what are your plans for today? After coffee, of course.’ The jocularity in Josip’s voice didn’t hide his worry, and Lily hated that she was responsible for it.
‘Explore, start making lists of what we have to do,’ she said as carelessly as she could, as if getting a small B&B ready for the start of a busy season was completely part of her skill set. ‘Maybe a little sunbathing while I have time. I know it’ll be harder to relax once the tourists arrive.’
‘Well, enjoy. And, Lily? Let me know if you need anything at all.’
‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Love to Mum.’ Lily swallowed as she disconnected the call, as if by doing so she had disconnected herself from her life. But then her life had already been disconnected three months ago when she’d received the phone call telling her that Izzy, her best friend and flatmate, had been knocked off her bike and was in a coma, and her world and everything she’d thought she knew about who she was and what she wanted had shattered irrevocably.
Inhaling deeply, Lily slipped her phone into her pocket. She was here to make a new start, to try and make some sense of her life. To try and live differently, to be different. More spontaneous, impulsive, to actually live her life, not plan her way through it. And she couldn’t do that by dwelling on the past. ‘Carpe diem,’ she said, her voice wavering as she said the words.
Her old motto, one she and Izzy had adopted at school as they’d competed for the top grades, the top prizes, the university places, had been an only semi-ironic Veni, Vidi, Vici. Young, bright and ambitious, they had been so sure that the world was theirs for the taking. And it had been, until a lorry had taken a reckless turn and in one screech of brakes had made a waste of all Izzy’s talent and brains, her careful plans, her savings and dreams. So much time spent working and planning, so little time spent actually living. Lily had stood by Izzy’s hospital bed and promised her comatose friend that she would do enough living for the both of them. Now she just had to figure out how.
Her new motto felt strange in her mouth. ‘Carpe diem,’ she said again. Louder this time. ‘Seize the day!’ And then again and again until she was yelling it out to sea, hoping that by sending the words out across the waves and into the sea she could somehow make them true. Somehow.
* * *
Damir rounded the sandy path leading to Fire Cove and paused. Someone was shouting, calling out as if all the hounds of hell were after them. Adrenaline spiked. Lokvar was one of the safest places on the planet, especially out of season, but nowhere was completely safe. Croatians knew that all too well. He set off at a run, speeding down the slope and onto the beach, skidding to a halt as he looked out to sea, hoping not to see a drowning person, a boat in distress or any of the other scenarios that flashed through his mind as he heard the anguished cry.
His prayer was granted. The only person in view was a woman standing on the edge of the sea, shouting out her pain to the birds and fish. He paused, uncertain. Whoever she was she clearly thought she was alone. She would probably be mortified to know that she been witnessed, but at the same time just walking away and leaving a fellow human being in such a state felt wrong. Damir swore softly. He wasn’t so good at the touchy-feely people stuff. His ex-wife had made that all too clear.
To his utter relief, the woman stopped shouting before he intervened.
She still stood with her back to him so he had no idea if she was laughing or crying, but she didn’t look as if she was in any imminent danger: she wasn’t wading into the waves or pulling at her hair. She just stood, slumped, unhappiness radiating from her almost palpably. He should just leave her to it, whatever it was. Damir took a step backwards. And as he did so his gaze snagged on the graceful, white villa overlooking the sea. He narrowed his eyes, looking from the villa to the woman.
He didn’t recognise her, knew no one with long, honey-blonde hair, currently falling out of its makeshift bun. He didn’t know any woman of that exact height and build, tall, curvy and toned, with long lean legs. She could be a tourist as a few did visit out of season, lured by the quiet promised by the island. But she wasn’t staying at his hotel, hadn’t eaten in his restaurant, and none of his apartments had been let, which left her with very few possible places to stay. One of which was staring him in the face.
Damir retreated quietly until he was sure he was out of earshot of the beach. He pulled his phone from his pocket and found the contact he needed. Less than two rings and the phone call was answered.
‘Damir?’ The voice was sleepy, as if woken by the call. Damir smiled wryly. His cousin liked to take things easy. The only thing he worked hard at was partying.
‘Goran, did you have any passengers yesterday?’
‘No, at least nobody new. Just the usual Saturday marketeers. But I believe Igor had a late-night commission. An English girl, needed to be brought over from the mainland.’
Damir’s pulse quickened. ‘An English girl? Where is she staying?’
‘You’re best off speaking to Igor, but I think he had arranged a buggy to take her over to the villa at Fire Cove.’
‘The villa?’
‘Yeah, Marija’s place. Igor said the girl is Josip’s stepdaughter—he married an English woman a while back, that’s why Marija always goes to England over Christmas. But he didn’t get much more out of her. A looker he said, but pretty quiet. Why are you so interested anyway?’
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