‘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?’
‘No reason,’ Damir lied. He didn’t want anyone, not even his cousin, to know how badly he wanted the villa. Not everyone on the island was happy with how much of the island’s economy his family controlled. If word got out that he was trying to buy the villa—and with it the lucrative beach trade, he knew he would soon have competitors vying against him. They would be unlikely to be able to afford to outbid him, but they might put the price up. ‘Like you say, she’s a looker and it’s not often pretty girls visit the island out of season.’
‘If she’s Josip’s stepdaughter I guess that makes her one of us.’
‘I guess that does. I’d better go make her welcome. Thanks.’
He pocketed his phone and stared back at the narrow sandy path leading to the beach. The one sandy beach on the whole of the island, one of the very few along this rocky coastline. Its perfect curve, fine white sand and gradual shelf made it a safe swimming spot, the tides predictable and gentle, a great place to learn to boat or paddle board or kayak. The sun hit early and continued to beam down until the spectacular sunset. No wonder it was a must-visit destination for the hundreds of thousands of visitors who visited the Dalmatian Riviera every year.
Most came as day trippers, but an increasing amount chose to stay on the island for a night or few, some for even a week, loving the feeling of exclusivity as the last boat pulled away. Damir owned the island’s only hotel along with nearly all the apartments available for holiday lets, the island’s best restaurant plus a harbourside café-bar, and he had a stake in several other businesses too. The ice-cream stall was his, the little local store and the bakery.
It was small fry compared to his investments in Dubrovnik itself and the rest of the Dalmatian Riviera, but Lokvar was where he was from, where his father and grandfather were from, and it was here that he had made his promise to make the Kozina name respected throughout the city, throughout the country. To achieve the dreams his father and grandfather had hatched throughout the years of repression and conflict. It was a promise that had cost him his marriage, but a promise he was well on the way to achieving.
If he could purchase the villa then his work here on Lokvar would be done. The owner of the villa—and more importantly, the land it stood on—owned the access to the beach, the land overlooking the famous bay, and had all the rights and means to capitalise on the tourists who visited there. Marija kept things simple; a modest B&B, a café-bar and a few sunbeds. Damir’s plans were far more exciting. He could turn the bay into Croatia’s premier resort. An island getaway. He just needed the villa and, with Josip, Marija’s son, clearly settled in England, and Marija beginning to slow down, it had seemed that his time had come.
A grudging smile curved his lips. Trust Marija to make things complicated, saying she needed a year to think about it. With prices around Dubrovnik rocketing with every month and every film or TV series filmed in the scenic capital, a year could prove costly. Unless Damir could get the rest of her family onside…
He didn’t know Josip himself. The older man had once been a close friend of Damir’s own father, and with him had joined the volunteers tasked with defending Dubrovnik during the siege in the early nineties, but had left his island and country soon after, never to return, and the friendship had died. Any business with Josip would be impersonal, despite the age-old friendship between the families, conducted by lawyers. Unless he could get the stepdaughter to look favourably upon his bid.
She might be here just for a night, checking in on the family’s property or for a holiday before the season swung into place. Either way time was of the essence. Damir hesitated, picturing again the girl’s defeated pose, the raw hurt in her cry, then set his jaw. He had a job to do, and she might just be the key he needed. It was time to show her just how friendly the locals could be.
CHAPTER TWO
LILY’S THROAT WAS RAW, but for the first time in months she felt, if not free, lighter at least. The heavy grief and anger that seemed to continually cloak her in misery and darkness had lifted a little, allowing her to not just notice the warm morning sun but to feel it, the view refreshing her sore eyes.
Wincing at the pain in her throat, she dashed away a tear and took a shaky breath. This fresh start was exactly what she needed. Josip was, as usual, right. A new place, a new challenge and the opportunity to figure out who she was when all she had planned to be seemed futile.
It was daunting, but for the first time Lily felt a tingle of excitement at the challenge. She’d promised Izzy that she would live enough for the two of them, and finally she was making a start. For the next few months this was her workplace and this her work wardrobe instead of the constricting power suits and crippling heels, early morning commute and endless billable hours.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had barely eaten the day before, but she couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from the beauty and tranquillity before her, feeling her battered soul start to repair with every rippling wave. She lingered, taking in strength from the sea, trying to summon up the resolve to walk the short but steep path to the tiny village, only to jump as a deep male voice spoke out from right behind her.
‘Are you okay?’
Quickly spinning to face the speaker, Lily took a wary step back as she took in the man who had crept up so noiselessly behind her. Her hands tightened on her phone but whether she planned to use it to call for help or as an absurdly useless weapon she didn’t yet know.
‘I’m sorry,’ the man continued in the same deep, gravelly voice, his Croatian accent as familiar to her as home. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you, but you seem to be in distress. I just wanted to check that you’re okay.’
Lily’s panic ebbed as she noted that the expression in his dark eyes seemed sincere.
‘Yes, thank you, I’m fine. Thank you,’ she replied and did her best to summon a smile. ‘It’s very kind of you to check on me, but there’s no need.’ She held the rigid smile, expecting him to nod and move away, but he remained still, his dark eyes fixed on hers, his expression curious. How long had he been standing there? What had he heard? Enough to know to speak to her in English. Lily’s cheeks heated and she tilted her chin, channelling as much poise and dignity as she could muster into her stance.
‘I… Ah, I was just practising a healing ritual,’ she said, semi-truthfully. Primal screaming was one of the many suggestions well-meaning friends and colleagues had suggested to her over the last three months: primal screaming, kickboxing, therapy, yoga both hot and cold, companion animals, poetry… Everyone seemed to know a way to heal her grief. But the truth was that Lily wasn’t ready to heal. What if when the grief left her, Izzy went too? She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The man raised an eyebrow much to her reluctant admiration. She’d never been able to pull off that particular gesture although she had tried plenty of times in her teens. ‘Healing ritual?’
‘Apparently it gets rid of any negative toxins.’
His mouth quirked into a half-smile far more attractive than any smile had any right to be. ‘And this is how you start every morning?’
‘No, this was the first time. My home
is in London and although Londoners are notorious for minding their own business, my neighbours would probably have something to say if I woke them up every morning in that fashion. But I thought I was alone here…’ She put an emphasis on the word alone but the man didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he held out a bronzed capable-looking hand.
‘I’m Damir.’
Lily drew in a slow breath. Why couldn’t he take the hint and just go away? But, she remembered, this was a small island, one with just three hundred full-time inhabitants. If she was going to spend the whole summer here, she would need to be civil to every one of those three hundred. After all, she was both a stranger and Marija’s representative. Being civil, she supposed, included being polite to nosy men who seemingly couldn’t take a hint.
Nosy and, if she was being honest, rather disturbingly attractive.
‘Lily Woodhouse.’ She made no move to take his hand and he casually dropped it to his side as if he hadn’t even noticed her snub. Did nothing discombobulate him? Lily had never met anyone so seemingly at home in his own skin before. Tall, lean but with a quiet strength, Damir was just a few years older than she was, around thirty, she estimated. His jeans and short-sleeved white shirt were casual but exquisitely and expensively cut, showing off the breadth of his shoulders and muscled forearms and thighs. His dark hair was longer than she was used to, the alpha male city types she worked with favoured no-nonsense close crops and clean shaves, but Damir’s chin was covered with dark morning stubble and his hair grazed his neck at the back, falling disarmingly onto his forehead, framing eyes so brown they were almost black. A firm chin, cheekbones cut sharper than a mountain ridge and a resolute mouth defined by a dangerously sexy dimple at the corner of his mouth, adding a boyishness to the handsome features, completed the undeniably appealing package.
Heat stirred low in her belly, as unwelcome as it was unexpected. The last thing Lily was interested in was dating, but there was an edgy attractiveness to him that even her tired body reluctantly responded to.
Damir’s smile widened. ‘Welcome to Lokvar, Lily Woodhouse. Will you be staying with us for long?’
Lily hesitated, but her job here was no secret and the sooner the word was out who she was and why she was here the better. ‘For the summer,’ she said. ‘I’m looking after the villa over there. Marija’s villa.’
‘So you must be Josip’s daughter?’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t need to correct the assumption and add in the ‘step’—she couldn’t imagine loving any actual father more than she loved Josip.
‘We all miss Marija, she is very respected. I hope she is okay?’ The dark eyes glowed with sincerity.
Some of Lily’s tension melted at the thought of her voluble grandmother. ‘She had a wonderful few months in New Zealand. Her pictures are amazing, one minute she’s in Hobbiton, the next whale watching. She’s in the States now, planning a trip to Nashville.’
‘And she’s left you in charge? Quite a responsibility.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘Are you used to working in hospitality?’
‘I’m a lawyer.’ Lily said, bristling a little at the unwanted interrogation. ‘But I waitressed a lot through school and university, I’m used to dealing with people.’
‘A lawyer? Your firm must be very accommodating to allow you to take the summer off.’
What was with all the questions? Lily folded her arms and took a step back. ‘I’m on a sabbatical.’ That was what they were calling it anyway. Her boss had refused to accept the resignation she had sent in six weeks after Izzy’s funeral. She was marked for partner one day, those fourteen-to sixteen-hour days leading her along a path she had thought she wanted. Had worked towards tirelessly, spending her life in the library while her peers were clubbing, determined not to make her mother’s mistakes.
‘Take some time,’ Priya had said with uncharacteristic kindness. ‘Think about it before you do anything irrevocable. Your job is open for six months. We’d hate to lose you, Lily, you are one of our brightest and best. I have great hopes for you.’ Once those words were all Lily had wanted to hear. Now they were as meaningless as the glass and metal apartment with its views over London she’d been so excited to move into, or her wardrobe of expensive suits and designer shoes.
She glanced towards the villa, angling away from Damir in a clear gesture that she was ready to finish the conversation. ‘It’s nice meeting you, Damir, but I really need to find some breakfast before Ana arrives. I didn’t get a chance to stock up yesterday as my flight was delayed.’
‘In that case,’ Damir said smoothly, ‘you must allow me to buy you some breakfast. As a way to welcome you to the island. Please, it would be entirely my pleasure.’
* * *
Damir leaned back in his chair and surreptitiously surveyed Lily through his sunglasses as she dipped her bread in olive oil before topping it with creamy feta cheese. After her initial wariness she seemed to have started to relax, helped no doubt by the excellent coffee and platter of bread, cheese and olives along with the small pastries and homemade jam he’d presented her with after seating her at a table overlooking the harbour.
It had taken some of his best persuasive methods and all his charm to persuade the clearly suspicious English girl to accept his offer of breakfast. But once he’d mentioned that only one island café was open at this time of year, and that he just happened to be the owner, she had thawed a little and finally accepted his offer, although she had said little on the short but steep walk across the island to the village, clearly still preoccupied with whatever had provoked her distress on the beach.
He didn’t mind her silence, it gave him time to work out how to turn this unexpected opportunity to his advantage. Marija had made it clear to him that she wouldn’t consider his offer to buy the villa until she had spent a year away. He had planned to spend that time ensuring an irresistible proposal was ready for her return, and that everything was in place to start moving the second she signed the contract. Lily hadn’t featured in his plans. After all, it was only a few days since he’d heard rumours that Josip’s English daughter was coming to look after the villa.
But here she was, a pale, solemn girl with pain in her eyes and a smile that looked as if it was pasted on. There was a story there, but Damir wasn’t interested in stories. What he was interested in was finding out just what Marija’s long-term plans were and if this girl figured in them. If she did, he needed to make some readjustments. And if not, if she was only here for the summer, then maybe he could get her to see that his offer was the best thing for Marija. For the island. Which meant turning the charm up, breaking the silence and befriending her. After all, so far she knew no one here. He could show her around, make himself indispensable. It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, she was a pretty girl.
‘How’s your breakfast?’ Not the most original of questions but he had to start a conversation somehow. Lily looked up, her expression a little confused as if she had forgotten where she was and who she was with. And then she smiled, her face transformed from pretty to extraordinarily beautiful by the gesture, and Damir felt a flickering of desire tighten his stomach. His clasp tightened on his cup. He didn’t need or want feelings to complicate business. And this was all about business. What else was there?
‘This coffee is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my entire life,’ Lily said, taking another sip. ‘I’ve been to so many hipster cafés with menus showcasing literally hundreds of coffees from all over the world, boasting about the origin and roasting process and the rarity of the beans, and not one cup has come close to this.’
‘Croatians take their coffee very seriously.’ Damir picked up his own cup and inhaled the satisfyingly bitter steam. ‘If you’re going to spend the summer here, then this is probably the most important thing you need to know.’
‘Marija said that most of her guests are English or German or American, but she does get a fair number of Croatians as well
. I hope Ana knows how to make coffee because I don’t think my barista talents are up to scratch.’
‘Just make it strong,’ Damir advised her. ‘That’s the most important thing. Croatians may forgive a less than perfect cup, but they won’t forgive a weak one.’
‘I’ll remember that, thank you.’ Lily pushed her plate away with another of those breath-taking smiles. The flickering of desire intensified and this time Damir didn’t rush to quench it, much as he knew he should. ‘And thank you for breakfast. That was absolute delicious, I needed it much more than I realised. Yesterday was a very long day, and the last few months have been… Anyway, I feel much more ready to get started now.’ She leaned back, looking around her, eyes wide. ‘What an amazing view and right on the harbour. It’s an incredible position. You must be the first port of call when the ferries and boats arrive.’
That was why his grandfather had chosen to situate the café here, of course, and Damir had learned the lesson well: his hotel and restaurant, like the café, were carefully positioned to ensure proximity to the small village whilst ensuring guests had the best views on the island—apart from Marija’s villa. ‘First and last port of call. There is no better spot to while away half an hour waiting for a boat.’
‘Have your family always owned it?’
‘My grandfather opened it—he was the village baker, but always wanted to own a restaurant. He passed it onto my father and then to me.’
‘And what about the bakery?’
‘I own that too.’
Lily raised her eyebrows. ‘Quite the island monopoly you have there.’
‘You could say that,’ Damir said noncommittally. Of course, many people did say exactly that.
‘What’s it like?’ Lily leaned forward, her hands clasped around the coffee cup. ‘Living in such a small place, seeing the same faces every single day, with the sea between you and the next town? Does it get claustrophobic?’ There was an intensity to the question Damir couldn’t interpret. He got the impression that Lily Woodhouse was running away from something.
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