by Unknown
She pulled back, hazy with desire. ‘I hate surprises.’
With one movement he flipped her round, freeing his wrists as he in turn captured hers, smiling down at her indignant face. ‘Good things come to those who wait. You, cara, wait here. Dress.’ He glanced out of the window at the picture-perfect blue sky then back at Minty, rumpled in a vest top and little cotton shorts. ‘Actually, stay as you are. You’re perfect. But pack a bikini and a jumper for later.’ He leant over, grazed her mouth with his. ‘I’ll see you downstairs in thirty minutes. Oh, and Minty? No fleeces or walking boots required.’
Minty grabbed one of the many pillows off the large bed and threw it at his head, scrabbling around for another to use as a defence as he deftly caught it and threw it back with unerring aim. By the time she had recovered he was gone, off to organise whatever surprise he had planned.
Normally surprises made Minty nervous. They involved moonlight, rings, promises: promises the maker never kept.
She was pretty sure that Luca didn’t have a proposal planned. They hadn’t spoken one word about the future, had spent the past week living in the here and now, but she knew what he wanted long term.
A wife and children. A home.
Did he see her in that role? Minty was too afraid to ask. She didn’t know what would be worse, a yes or a no. Because she knew all too well that she wasn’t what Luca needed in the long term, no matter how seductive a future with him was.
She was good for day trips and weekends away, for making a man feel good about himself, but she wasn’t a long-term prospect. Three men had made that all too clear; she wouldn’t let Luca hammer the point home.
Every time she’d thought that this was the one, the man, the future that was right for her. She believed her own dreams. Her own drama.
But reality always intruded, always proved her wrong.
She just wished this ridiculous crush would hurry up and be over. If only spending time with Luca wasn’t proving to be so much fun. Hopefully his surprise would misfire terribly and be the wake-up call she needed.
Because so far the holiday had been ridiculously perfect, from the small boutique hotel, high in the hills overlooking the Bay of Naples, to the company. Luca had been amusing, interesting, knowledgeable, insightful. He hadn’t been stuffy once. It was almost disappointing.
With a sigh Minty rolled over and stared down at the crisp, white bedspread, scenes from the previous week playing in her mind. It was difficult to pick one day out; they had all been amazing.
There had been the first day, wandering hand in hand around Pompeii in respectful silence as they’d stood in front of the burned remains of terrified Romans trying to escape the ashes raining down on them from above. The less respectful and all too obvious jokes as they’d looked at the ‘menu’ in the ancient brothel.
The next afternoon they’d hiked up the steep trail that wound round Mount Vesuvius, peering into the covered, smoking crater before returning to a local restaurant to sample wine made from grapes grown on the deadly, dusty slopes.
Yesterday they had taken the small hovercraft over to Capri, walking the hilly path to the remains of Tiberius’s villa, imagining the screams of long-dead slaves thrown onto the rocks below, before returning to fashionable, frothy Capri town for what did end up being the most expensive coffee Luca had ever drunk. Minty had paid; it had been a point of pride.
And unlike Joe he had accepted gracefully, allowing her to treat him. Minty glared at the bedspread resentfully; she had counted on a ridiculous argument over paying.
Last night she had accepted his laughing challenge and proved that, yes, she could manage an entire traditional Italian meal, starting off with a plate of fried fish of every description before moving on to pasta, and then chicken served with vegetables and small fried potatoes. She had eaten every morsel and then, as they’d wandered round the town for the evening promenade, she had demanded gelato.
Her stomach had felt a little sore for a few hours afterwards but the victory had been sweet.
And then there were the nights and the long, lazy mornings, totally unforgettable—not just for the way they’d explored each other’s bodies, although that was undeniably amazing. Minty’s whole body began to heat up at the memories; there was nothing safe or boring about Luca’s lovemaking. But it was about more than sex, even the best sex Minty had ever experienced. It was about the comfortable silences, the meaningless conversations which, by their very inanity, were intimate.
The holiday had been utterly perfect.
Minty groaned. She liked to win but when it came to getting over Luca Di Tore she had to admit that right now she was failing. Failing badly. And the consequences of failure were far too high.
Her heart, her already fragile sense of self-worth, were sitting in his hand waiting to be carefully crushed unless she could find a way to extricate herself from this situation, keeping her mind and her job as she did so.
She might pride herself on her resourcefulness but right now Minty had to admit she was completely and utterly clueless. She was in danger of losing her heart, of losing everything.
Tomorrow they would be back in Oschia. She’d enjoy this last day for all she was worth because once they got back she needed to put the brakes on. Before it was too late.
Minty was uncharacteristically punctual, appearing in the car park exactly thirty minutes after Luca had left her, dressed, if not in the rumpled short pyjamas he had suggested she wear, in denim cut-offs of a similar style and a vest top that clearly showed off the ties of her bikini top. A large bag was slung over her shoulder crammed so full that Luca could see a towel, a magazine and a rolled-up white shirt spilling out of the top.
‘Are you sure you have everything?’ he asked, taking the bag from her, mock-staggering under the weight.
‘If I don’t know where we’re going or what we’re doing how can I pack lightly?’ she retorted. ‘What if we are going to a fancy restaurant, or scuba diving, or touring the area’s ice-cream factories? I just like to be prepared.’
‘That you are,’ Luca assured her as he rifled through the bag to find flip-flops, a sundress, hairbrush, her make-up bag, a jumper and a large floppy hat. That was just the top layer. He wasn’t sure what was underneath. It could be anything.
‘So?’ Minty demanded. ‘Where are we going?’ She began walking towards the car but Luca put a hand on her shoulders and steered her round, away from his own black four-by-four to a red vintage Ferrari convertible parked by the hotel’s gates.
‘Your chariot, signorina,’ he said, opening the passenger door and ushering her into the cracked leather seat.
‘Luca, this isn’t a shorts and top car, this is a frock and headscarf car. I’m completely underdressed for it,’ Minty protested, running her hands in awe over the chrome finish on the polished wood dashboard.
‘This isn’t actually the surprise,’ he said. ‘It’s just transport to the surprise.’ He grinned at her as he walked round to the driver’s side and slid into the low-slung seat. ‘I’m aware that you find my car a little staid in these glamorous surroundings.’
‘No, not at all,’ she said. ‘Honestly, I love your car; it’s very solid, very safe.’
His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Solid and safe like me, but not glamorous like you. I thought you might appreciate a bit of glamour.’
‘I’m hardly glamorous right now,’ Minty said, laughing, looking down at her denim shorts. Luca’s eyes followed her gaze and travelled further down the long, bare legs, no longer pale but slightly tanned to a light honey colour. ‘And you are not just solid and safe. In fact, I’d say not safe at all.’ She leant over to press a kiss into his neck, right on his pulse. He felt the imprint burning as she moved away. ‘I love the car, though. Is this really not the full surprise?’
‘Wait and see,’ he said. ‘Just enjoy the ride.�
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The car was in fantastic condition for its age and a joy to handle. It felt so light and insubstantial under Luca’s control, much like its passenger reclining back in comfort, enormous sunglasses obscuring half her face, hair whipping around in the wind. Luca was so used to the weight and bulk of his car—he had only driven large, sturdy cars—that the freedom and flexibility of the convertible was both alarming and intoxicating.
Again, much like his passenger.
It wasn’t far to their destination. For a moment Luca wished he had decided to drive all the way and keep the car for the day, had trusted himself to navigate something so flimsy around the famously tortuous hairpin bends of the Amalfi coastal road. After all, no vehicle was completely safe. When he had begun driving he’d researched hard, ensured he’d bought the safest car possible. If driving a tank had been a viable option, then he would gladly have done it. Maybe he should have pushed through those barriers sooner, learnt to relax and let go sooner.
There were definitely some upsides to spontaneity, although planning ahead had its uses too, in pleasure as well as business. Today, for instance, had been meticulously planned and kept secret. He was well aware it was driving Minty mad.
All too soon he was pulling up in the small car park adjoining the harbour jutting out from Sorrento’s rocky coastline. Minty pouted in disappointment. ‘That was quick; I was wanting more of a ride.’ It had to be deliberate, the innuendo in her voice.
Luca slid an arm round her slender frame, enjoying the familiarity of her skin under his. He pulled her close, lifting her chin with his other hand, dropping a long kiss onto the provocatively full mouth. ‘Patience,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘The ride isn’t over yet.’
Opening his door, Luca strolled round to the other side of the car and, with exaggerated gallantry, assisted Minty out of the vehicle. After a last, longing look at the car, Minty allowed him to lead her up to the harbour.
‘It can’t be Capri, we’ve been there. Ischia? One of the spas there? I can just see you in a mud bath having your feet nibbled by fish. Oh, eugh; not a fishing trip, I hope?’ Luca didn’t bat an eyelid as Minty fished for information but continued along the harbour path until he found the berth he was looking for.
‘Ladies first,’ he said, gesturing towards the small gangplank which led aboard the smart cabin cruiser moored there. Minty stopped, one hand on the rail, pushed her sunglasses up her head and regarded him suspiciously. ‘No fishing?’ she asked.
‘Not a rod in sight,’ he promised.
He followed Minty on board where she immediately began exploring, her voice full of excitement as she called out each new discovery. On deck there were comfortable seats both in the glass-covered steering cabin and the open back. A door led down to a large, comfortable cabin with a tiny galley kitchen, small but inclusive shower room and a seating area. Minty opened another door and raised an eyebrow at the immaculately made-up bed. ‘Mr Di Tore, I am beginning to suspect you of dishonourable intentions,’ she murmured.
‘Always,’ he said, lifting up the heavy fall of hair and kissing the back of her neck, heat fizzing through his veins as she leant against him, submitting to the caress. ‘But not yet. I would like to be somewhere just a little more private when I show you just how dishonourable I can be.’
He felt her shiver against him; moving away was exquisite torture.
‘Do you know how to drive this thing?’ She followed him out on deck.
‘Sail, and yes. My father was a keen sailor. Funny for a man of the land, I suppose, but every holiday we spent on or near the sea. He taught me to handle one of these when I was eight.’
‘You have handled one since?’
‘Relax, Minty, I know what I’m doing. Besides, you crewed halfway round the world; I’m sure you could cope if I need you.’
‘I was more of a galley hand,’ Minty admitted. ‘Besides, that involved sails and ropes and swabbing. This all looks a little more technical.’ Her eyes fell to the control panel.
‘Luckily, then, all you need to do is sunbathe and relax,’ Luca told her. ‘Okay, are you ready?’
‘Aye aye, captain.’ Minty saluted smartly as she folded herself into the seat beside Luca. He turned the key, switched on the engine and felt the motor purr into life. They were off.
Minty was clearly in her element. Luca had barely navigated the boat out of the dock but she was already stripped to her bikini, lying prostrate on the comfortable lounger laid out ready for her. She looked like a sun goddess, all golden hair and skin, worshipping the warmth. And like any goddess there was an element of wildness, of danger and unpredictability.
Luca hadn’t brought Minty here to tame her; he hadn’t expected this holiday to have any long-term results. He just wanted to relax for the first time in a really long time, with the one person who made him forget his cares, his responsibilities.
But he didn’t feel so relaxed now. The holiday was coming to an end and, for all his talk about having fun and no expectations, things had changed. It felt more intense.
But how did you tame a wild thing without damaging something essential inside it? She wanted him now—that was all too clear—and she might still want him tomorrow. But the day after that, when she got bored with the Italian countryside and her role at Di Tore Dolce?
It would be safer, better, to put an end to whatever this was, to get his life back on track.
The problem was Luca was beginning to like walking on the wild side just a little too much. He didn’t know if he could go back even if he wanted to. And right now he really didn’t.
* * *
Minty stretched out luxuriously. ‘That was amazing, thank you.’ She cast a last regretful look at the remains of their feast: olives, little ciabatta rolls, cured meats, cheese, anchovies and a whole host of salads and cold roasted vegetables.
No, not one more olive... Although, she might have just a little bit of room... She eyed Luca plaintively, making sure she had her best puppy-dog eyes. ‘Is there pudding?’
Luca stared at her. ‘Pudding?’ He sounded incredulous as he waved at the meagre remains of the picnic. ‘You really have room?’
Minty considered his question for a moment. She was full, sure, but there was definitely room for a nice, creamy zabaglione, or even a panna cotta. Possibly tiramisu, if it wasn’t too rich. ‘Just a little.’
He shook his head, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. ‘You ate at least four rolls at breakfast and a big bowl of fruit.’
‘Fruit doesn’t count!’
‘Then there was the lemon cake in Positano.’
‘She said it was a speciality. It would have been rude not to.’
‘Pizza in Amalfi.’
‘Very thin base, and I had a rocket salad with it.’
‘Gelato in Ravello.’
‘That was research.’
‘Where do you put it all?’ The amber eyes raked her long frame appreciatively. Minty sighed, rolling over onto her back and massaging her full tummy.
‘Good metabolism, I suppose. Besides, you had as much and more, and I’m not teasing you. You have got pudding; I know you have.’
Luca didn’t answer for a moment. He just lay there watching her, an annoying twinkle in his eye, and Minty clenched her hands together, the urge to break his smug stillness, throw a roll at him, strong.
It wasn’t dusk yet but it wasn’t far off, the light beginning to dim, the sea darkening to a deep navy. They weren’t far out, the lights of Sorrento clearly visible in the distance. Soon they would have to return the boat to shore, climb back into the vintage convertible and drive back to the hotel for their last night there. Tomorrow they would return to their ordinary world.
How were they going to navigate working together, living together, after this? She pushed the thought away. There was time eno
ugh tomorrow to worry about tomorrow, she told herself. Enjoy this.
It might be the last time.
‘I may have something else,’ Luca admitted. ‘But I thought you might enjoy it with a glass of Prosecco, and for that I need us to be moored. No drinking and sailing.’
Minty’s face fell. ‘It’s so peaceful out here.’
‘Which is why we’re mooring at a tiny harbour south of Sorrento. No one else will be there. I thought we could spend the night there.’ His eyes gleamed gold. ‘Test that bed out. Tomorrow morning, we’ll just sail back to Sorrento, drive back to the hotel and check out.’
‘Perfect,’ Minty said, ignoring the tight squeeze in her chest at the thought of returning. ‘I’ll just...’ She gestured at the remains of the meal. She needed a moment alone.
She didn’t know why the thought of returning was affecting her so much. After all, all road trips—and boat trips—had to come to an end.
She just didn’t know where her destination was. Or, worse, she didn’t know where she wanted it to be.
* * *
Safely moored at the tiny harbour, shielded from the rocks that dominated the dramatic coastline, protected from the night traffic crossing the sea, they sat out on the deck staring out to sea at the stars shining with such fierce intensity above them. Both were lost in their own worlds.
A glass of chilled Prosecco, fresh raspberries and a trio of puddings were laid out on the table. Minty took a sip, enjoying the tart fizz on her tongue, and eyed the three puddings. Perfect: lemon tart, panna cotta and a rich tiramisu. Why choose? A mouthful—or two—of each would be far more enjoyable.
Pudding was like life—better with variety.
Luca was tapping away on his laptop, pausing every now and then to fork a spoonful of tart into his mouth. He had barely worked since they had arrived in Sorrento, even switching his phone off—or to mute, at least—some days. Their impending return was obviously affecting him as well, as he was slowly returning to the real world. He must have sensed Minty’s gaze on him and he looked up and smiled.