Caroline told him primly, hoping that he wouldn’t detect the flustered catch in her voice.
‘No. Good guys can be a crashing disappointment, I should imagine.’
‘I’m sure some of your past girlfriends wouldn’t agree with that!’ Bright patches of colour had appeared on her cheeks, and her eyes were locked to his in a way that was invasive and thrilling at the same time. Had he leant closer to her? Or had she somehow managed to shorten the distance between them?
‘I’ve never had any complaints in that department,’ Giancarlo murmured. ‘Sure, some of them have mistakenly got it into their heads that they could persuade me to be in it for the long term. Sure, they were disappointed when I had to set them straight on that, but complaints? In the sex department? No. In fact—’
‘I’m not interested,’ Caroline interrupted shrilly.
Giancarlo dealt her a slashing smile tinged with a healthy dose of disbelief.
‘I guess you haven’t met a lot of Italian studs out here,’ he said, shamelessly fishing and enjoying himself in a way that had become alien to him. His high-pressured, high-octane, high-stressed, driven everyday life had been left behind on the shores of Lake Como. He was playing truant now and loving every second of it. His dark eyes drifted down to her full, heaving breasts. She might have modestly half-covered her bare legs with the towel but she couldn’t hide what remained on display, nor could he seem to stop himself from appreciating it.
‘I didn’t come here to meet anyone! That wasn’t the point.’
‘No, but it might have been a pleasant bonus—unless, of course, you’ve left someone behind? Is there a local ladwaiting for you in the wings? Someone your parents approve heartily of? Maybe a farmer?’
Caroline wondered why he would have picked a
farmer
, of all people. Was it because he considered her the outdoor kind of girl, robust and healthy with pink cheeks and a hearty appetite? The kind of girl he would never have kissed unless he had been obliged to, as a distraction from the embarrassment of having the girl in question make a fool of herself and of him by having a panic attack at the thought of getting into a boat? She sucked her stomach in, gave up the losing battle to look skinny and stood up to move to the side of the boat, where she held the railings and looked out to the lake.
The shore was a distant strip but she wasn’t scared. Just like that, her irrational fear of water seemed to have subsided. There wasn’t enough room for that silly phobia when Giancarlo was doing crazy things to her senses. And, much as he got under her skin, his presence was weirdly reassuring. How did
that
work?
She was aware that he had moved to stand behind her and in one swift movement she turned around, her back to the waist-high railing. ‘It’s so peaceful and beautiful here.’ She looked at him steadily and tried hard to focus just on his face rather than on his brown, hard torso and its generous sprinkling of dark hair that seemed horribly, unashamedly masculine. ‘Do you miss it? I know Milan is very busy and very commercial, but you grew up here. Don’t you sometimes long for the tranquillity of the open spaces?’
‘I think you’re confusing me with one of those sensitive types you claim to like,’ Giancarlo murmured. He clasped the railing on either side of her, bracing himself and locking her into a suffocating, non-physical embrace, his leanbody only inches away from her. ‘I don’t do nostalgia. Not, I might add, that I have much to be nostalgic about.’
The smile he shot her sent a heat wave rushing through her body. She was barefoot and her toes curled against the smooth wooden planks of the sailboat. God, she could scarcely breathe! Their eyes tangled and Caroline felt giddy under the shimmering intensity of his midnight-dark eyes.
She could barely remember what they had been talking about. The quiet sounds of the water had receded and she thought she
‘No. Good guys can be a crashing disappointment, I should imagine.’
‘I’m sure some of your past girlfriends wouldn’t agree with that!’ Bright patches of colour had appeared on her cheeks, and her eyes were locked to his in a way that was invasive and thrilling at the same time. Had he leant closer to her? Or had she somehow managed to shorten the distance between them?
‘I’ve never had any complaints in that department,’ Giancarlo murmured. ‘Sure, some of them have mistakenly got it into their heads that they could persuade me to be in it for the long term. Sure, they were disappointed when I had to set them straight on that, but complaints? In the sex department? No. In fact—’
‘I’m not interested,’ Caroline interrupted shrilly.
Giancarlo dealt her a slashing smile tinged with a healthy dose of disbelief.
‘I guess you haven’t met a lot of Italian studs out here,’ he said, shamelessly fishing and enjoying himself in a way that had become alien to him. His high-pressured, high-octane, high-stressed, driven everyday life had been left behind on the shores of Lake Como. He was playing truant now and loving every second of it. His dark eyes drifted down to her full, heaving breasts. She might have modestly half-covered her bare legs with the towel but she couldn’t hide what remained on display, nor could he seem to stop himself from appreciating it.
‘I didn’t come here to meet anyone! That wasn’t the point.’
‘No, but it might have been a pleasant bonus—unless, of course, you’ve left someone behind? Is there a local ladwaiting for you in the wings? Someone your parents approve heartily of? Maybe a farmer?’
Caroline wondered why he would have picked a
farmer
, of all people. Was it because he considered her the outdoor kind of girl, robust and healthy with pink cheeks and a hearty appetite? The kind of girl he would never have kissed unless he had been obliged to, as a distraction from the embarrassment of having the girl in question make a fool of herself and of him by having a panic attack at the thought of getting into a boat? She sucked her stomach in, gave up the losing battle to look skinny and stood up to move to the side of the boat, where she held the railings and looked out to the lake.
The shore was a distant strip but she wasn’t scared. Just like that, her irrational fear of water seemed to have subsided. There wasn’t enough room for that silly phobia when Giancarlo was doing crazy things to her senses. And, much as he got under her skin, his presence was weirdly reassuring. How did
that
work?
She was aware that he had moved to stand behind her and in one swift movement she turned around, her back to the waist-high railing. ‘It’s so peaceful and beautiful here.’ She looked at him steadily and tried hard to focus just on his face rather than on his brown, hard torso and its generous sprinkling of dark hair that seemed horribly, unashamedly masculine. ‘Do you miss it? I know Milan is very busy and very commercial, but you grew up here. Don’t you sometimes long for the tranquillity of the open spaces?’
‘I think you’re confusing me with one of those sensitive types you claim to like,’ Giancarlo murmured. He clasped the railing on either side of her, bracing himself and locking her into a suffocating, non-physical embrace, his leanbody only inches away from her. ‘I don’t do nostalgia. Not, I might add, that I have much to be nostalgic about.’
The smile he shot her sent a heat wave rushing through her body. She was barefoot and her toes curled against the smooth wooden planks of the sailboat. God, she could scarcely breathe! Their eyes tangled and Caroline felt giddy under the shimmering intensity of his midnight-dark eyes.
She could barely remember what they had been talking about. The quiet sounds of the water had receded and she thought she
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