SHE WAS STILL rubbing at her hair with a towel when she came out of her bedroom. She could have lingered in there longer, but leaving Mauro with the TV crew didn’t seem like the best of ideas. She knew from being in the studio with him that he was capable of being deliberately provocative, saying whatever he thought would get the biggest reaction. It was as if he was so used to his Casanova persona that he didn’t think at all. Just flirted on reflex, made suggestive bedroom eyes at any woman in a fifty-metre radius. But he could be different in private, she had noticed. He was still polite, of course. There was still that heat between them when their eyes met, however much they were both trying to ignore it. But there was a distance between them as well, a barrier that he held strong when they were alone, but that seemed to disappear in public. As if he didn’t mind appearing to be close to her, but making it very clear when they were alone that he was strictly off limits. Well, that was fine by her. It was exactly what she needed if she was going to use this show to save her career.
Mauro had pulled up to the kitchen table in his chair, and another steaming cup of coffee was sitting in front of him. Julia was sitting on the other side of the table, chin resting on her hand as they chatted.
Julia fancies him, Amber thought. Oh, she was hiding it well. The flirtatious persona Julia had oozed in the studio was nowhere to be seen now the camera was off—she was the very definition of professionalism. But the nervous touches of her hair and the frequent glances at Mauro’s lips gave her away. A surge of red-hot emotion shot from Amber’s belly to her jaw, and she took a deep breath, trying to identify it. Jealousy? How could she be jealous when she had no interest in Mauro? Well, as long as it didn’t impact her image on the show, then Mauro and Julia could get up to whatever they wanted. Except that thought made her stomach turn; made her want to stake her claim so that the other woman would back off.
The intensity of the feeling took her breath away.
She couldn’t allow this to happen. Couldn’t allow that feeling, that urge, to hold any sway over how she behaved. She’d come to Sicily with only one goal—to save her career. She needed to show the British public a softer side to her character, and flirting with Mauro was the best way to do that. But the more time she spent with Mauro, the harder it got. Every time she saw his professional gaze slip and a flash of bedroom eyes instead, every time she felt the press of his skin as he straightened an ankle, turned a hand, in the pool, she was more and more sure that this wasn’t just playacting. Her body wanted him, and it didn’t care that her head was screaming for her to stop. To hide and protect herself. Not to let her feelings anywhere near a man who had blown through woman after woman without looking back.
‘Don’t worry, no camera this time,’ Julia said, breaking her dangerously racing thoughts and pushing a cup of coffee towards her.
‘I was just filling Mauro in on the plans for the rest of the day,’ Ayisha chimed in from behind her. ‘We’ll head out to a restaurant from here, film you guys over lunch. Then we’ll pull you out individually for some interviews. This afternoon you two will hit the beach with us in tow. Some sunbathing, some water sports, then we’ll wrap it all up and you’ll be on your own this evening. Sound OK?’
But her brain had got stuck on water sports, a safe avenue of thought at last. ‘How will we...?’
‘What, you think using a wheelchair means you can’t jet-ski?’ Mauro raised an eyebrow in her direction and she suspected there was more to this question than met the eye. A test, maybe. Was she going to expect limitations from his chair? Or would she, rather as he did, she suspected, see his life in terms of what he could achieve, rather than what he couldn’t.
‘To be honest I’ve never really thought about it before.’
There was no point lying and saying that she’d spent long hours wondering about the ability of paraplegics to participate in adventure sports. But that didn’t mean that she was going to underestimate him now. ‘Somehow I suspect there isn’t anything that you can’t do if you set your mind to it.’
He held her eye and his mouth twitched up at the corner. If that was a test, she guessed that she’d just passed. As he refused to look away, she felt the start of that smile radiate from his face to hers, as her mouth seemed to mirror his without any input from her.
‘Right, we’re off,’ Ayisha said reluctantly, looking from one of them to the other, and the moment was gone. ‘If we’re not going to be filming here then we need time to set up at the restaurant. Are you absolutely sure that we can’t—?’
‘Certain, I’m afraid. It’s just not going to work, having cameras in the house,’ Mauro said. ‘We’ll meet you there.’
Amber’s hands fidgeted as she waited for Mauro to return. What had just happened? For a moment it was as if she and Mauro had been completely on the same wavelength. As if they had shared exactly the same thought, with no conflict or tension between them. It made her nervous. Because fancying the man and pretending to flirt with him, that was something that she could handle when she knew absolutely that there would never be any chance of anything emotional developing between them. But that look had suggested something different. It had hinted at common ground, and them being connected.
The slick sound of Mauro’s wheels on the tiles warned her that he was back.
‘I thought you might be happier if we kept the cameras out of the house as much as possible,’ he said as he picked up his coffee cup and then drained the contents.
She was touched that he’d thought of it. Who was she kidding? She was more than touched. Ian had never considered her feelings like that. Looking back, she realised he’d actually tried to make her uncomfortable, if he’d had the opportunity. He’d liked her off balance. Because that was when he’d been there for her. He’d liked to create situations that were impossible for her to tolerate, just so that he could ‘rescue’ her.
Now Mauro was doing the opposite, trying to smooth the distress from her life, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Why? Why was he being so kind?
Could it just be the playboy at work? Was this simply a seduction technique, a ticket to an easy, grateful prize?
‘I’m not a complete idiot, you know.’ He turned towards her and caught her hand. ‘I saw how uncomfortable you were when they all turned up. It’s not fair for you to have to deal with that at home. I want you to feel comfortable here.’
She took a step backwards, snatching back her hand. Comfortable? How was she meant to feel comfortable with all this tension between them, with the memory of being so close to him that she could feel his breath on her lips, waiting for her to lean in.
How could she feel comfortable when Mauro had just told her that he saw not only her face and her body, but that he saw something deeper too? He saw what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Most dangerously of all, he saw what she was trying to hide.
They needed safer ground, something less personal, less dangerous to discuss. ‘I’ve never been on a jet ski,’ she said, hoping that talking about him would lead them away from anything too personal.
‘You’ll be a natural, I’m sure. The hardest part’s getting the wetsuit on.’
Oh, for God’s sake... A wetsuit. What more humiliation were they planning on throwing at her this week? ‘If you can do it, I’m sure I can...’ She stopped speaking as she realised what she was saying. ‘Mauro, I didn’t mean that you wouldn’t be able to because... Because...’
He held her gaze for a long moment. ‘Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or are we going to keep tripping over it?’ So maybe talking about him wasn’t safer ground after all.
‘Elephant?’
‘Why don’t we assume,’ Mauro said, ‘that I’ll take it as given that you’re not going to intentionally be insulting me because I have a disability? You don’t have to tiptoe—see, you can mention toes and everything—around me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head as she sat beside him and poured another cup of coffee from the pot. ‘I don’t know why I said that. It’s not like I’ve not met someone with a disability before. Maybe it’s the cameras. They make me nervous.’
‘There are no cameras on us now.’
She froze with her hand outstretched, cup of coffee halfway towards him. He had caught her gaze as he had spoken, and now he refused to drop it. Blood rushed again to her cheeks and she knew that they must be blazing red. He hadn’t even touched her, and already her skin was burning for him. She managed to tear her gaze away, and glanced for a split second at his hand, resting on the table. It was only a couple of inches away. It would be nothing to set the cup down, reach for his hand and let her fingertips brush gently against his skin. But he twitched away, even as the thought crossed her mind, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was too much. Too risky. She placed the coffee in front of him and withdrew her hand to the safety of her lap. ‘I’m sorry. No more tiptoeing, I promise.’ She stood suddenly from the table, and headed to the door. ‘I’d better go get ready if we’re meeting them there.’
* * *
‘So about this elephant,’ Amber said later that day.
He concentrated on the electronic controls of his beach wheelchair, rolling steadily across the sandy planks of the boardwalk as they made their way across his private beach, heading towards the building that housed his water sports equipment. The heat of the sun was fading, and the afternoon was pleasantly warm in the sheltered cove.
He’d not had a chance to talk properly to Amber since she’d so abruptly fled the kitchen after breakfast. He’d thought maybe he’d have a chance over lunch to ask what had upset her, but they had been too busy fielding questions from Julia and Ayisha. Now they finally had the opportunity to finish the conversation they had started back at the villa, but she wanted to talk about him, instead of herself.
‘That journalistic instinct finally winning out over social awkwardness?’ he asked with a grin that he hoped told her he didn’t mind answering her questions.
‘Can I ask what happened?’
‘Why not?’ It was refreshing, after the way that she’d been watching her words around him. ‘After all, this is a date, isn’t it? We’re meant to be getting to know each other.’ Why had he said that? This wasn’t really a date. It was closer to being a business arrangement. If he were to start thinking of it as a date... Well, he just couldn’t; it was as simple as that. He had no interest in starting anything with Amber Harris. Every line of her muscles screamed of past hurt and vulnerability, and he was the last person that she needed in her life.
No, this definitely wasn’t a date. If it had been a date, he’d be letting himself hang back in his chair, just a little, so that he could watch the swing of her hips as her feet sank in the golden sand with every step. He’d reach out and brush her hand with his free one, savouring each spark of energy, which he just knew would grow with every touch of her.
If this were a date, he wouldn’t be fighting the mental images that were bombarding him in the aftermath of their little coaching session in the pool this morning.
But this wasn’t a date. Because she was afraid, and sad, and, oh, so not ready for a fling. And he was ambitious, and driven and single-minded and selfish, and—according to his ex-girlfriend—the very last person that any sane woman wanted in her life.
His chair gave out a low electric growl as it fought over the sand, but he didn’t hesitate, pushing the machine forward at full speed, ‘There’s not a lot to know,’ he told Amber as they reached the edge of the water. Amber let the waves lap at her toes, and he tried not to think too much about the fact that he’d never paddle in the ocean again. There was no point dwelling—there were so many things that he could still do. So many things that he’d achieved that he’d never dreamed of doing before his accident.
He shrugged as he continued speaking. ‘I was driving home from training with a teammate. The car came off the road and hit a tree; part of the car door got wedged in my spine.’
She drew in a short breath in shock. ‘Well,’ she choked, ‘that’s one way of putting it.’
‘Honestly—’ She was looking out at the water, her eyes on the horizon, but suddenly he wanted her attention. All of it. If he was going to talk about the most transformative time in his life, he needed...connection. He didn’t want to just throw the words out into the air and hope that they reached her. He needed to see, to know, that she understood. He caught her hand, and, though she tensed, she didn’t pull away. He held on tight, not because he wanted romance, but because he wanted—no, needed—her to get this. If she couldn’t understand this, then she couldn’t understand him, and suddenly nothing seemed more important.
‘No one believes me when I say this, Amber, but I’m lucky. I’m alive; I have enough money that I can get pretty much anywhere I want. I have the equipment to keep in shape and I have the sort of perspective that only comes from a near-death experience. You’re not going to be one of those terrible, terrible people who tell me you’d rather have died, are you? I’m not sure I could take that. Not coming from you.’
‘Not from me? Why not? What’s special about me?’
What was special about her? Well, actually he had a list of what was special about her. It started with the way her skin felt as it slipped, wet, under his fingers, and went from there. But why the hell had he said that when they’d been talking about his accident? Why should it bother him any more than normal if she was one of those people who just didn’t understand him, who couldn’t see how much life he had left in him? He shouldn’t care. He’d promised himself ten years ago that he was going to do the things he needed to in life. Anyone who wasn’t OK with that had been left behind and had no one but themselves to blame.
But he couldn’t bear to hear her speaking as if there were nothing remarkable about her. It made his blood boil to think that someone had let her down so badly that she could have lost sight of the truth of herself so completely. And just then he couldn’t bear for her to think of herself that way. He grabbed for her other hand and pulled her in, resting both her hands on his armrests so she would have no choice but to meet his eyes.
‘What’s special about you? Oh, cara, where do you want me to start?’
With her leaning in so close, it would be nothing to reach out and caress her jaw, just a whisper of a fingertip from her chin up to behind her ear. But his hands remembered the slide of her lithe calf, her delicate ankle beneath his hands that morning, and they yearned for more. He reached for her, and his fingertips hit the soft vulnerable skin behind her knee. He let his hand rest there just for a moment as he registered the shock in her eyes. Then he raised his hands and threaded his fingertips through the salt-textured waves of her hair, until her breath was warm on his lips; until her eyes were enormous green pools just inches from his.
Just as he was closing his eyes, could practically taste the sweetness of her lips, a flash of light caught his eye and snapped him from his Amber-induced trance.
‘Ayisha.’ With that one word, the sensual softness disappeared from Amber’s lips as they formed a concerned expression. But by the time she lifted her head, they had stretched into a sham of a smile.
A frown furrowed his brow. Why had she done that? Why fake it? It wasn’t as if she’d ever made a secret of the fact that she hadn’t wanted to come on this date in the first place. Perhaps she was just being polite. But...no. It was more than that. You didn’t become someone else just because you were being polite. And that was what had just happened. Amber had disappeared behind the mask of this grimacing stranger.
‘Looks like we’re interrupting again,’ Julia said with a singsong intonation that made the red light on the front of the camera behind her redundant. Of course they were filming—and the timing couldn’t be worse.
‘What gave us away?’ Ayisha asked. He could see from the expression on her face that she was just as annoyed as he was that they’d interrupted what had looked certain to be a very interesting progression.
‘Sunlight reflecting off the lens,’ he told her, trying to regroup his thoughts, and calm his body.
‘Argh, gets us every time,’ Ayisha complained. ‘Well, don’t let us stop...uh, whatever it was we interrupted. You two feel free to pick up right where you left off.’
Tempting as that was, he had a feeling that he and Amber needed to finish this conversation—and anything else that had been about to happen—without an audience. ‘Oh, we were done here,’ Amber said with a strained cheerful intonation to match her smile, and again Mauro felt a flicker of anger and hurt that she was faking it like this, faking it with him.
‘OK, then, if you’re sure, we could actually do with cracking on a bit. We need to do some long shots first, because the light’s great with you two down by the water there. So if you want to continue your...conversation we’ll be way back up the beach so just ignore us. We just need to have a little look round, set up a couple of things and then we’ll shout you over after we’ve got those shots for some interviews. All sound OK?’
His eyes narrowed as his gaze followed Julia, Ayisha and Piotr as they retreated down the beach, all the while with that little red light letting them know that they were still being watched, however far they might go. When he looked up and met her eye, it was clear that Amber had retreated from him, and it wasn’t just that her hands were no longer resting on his chair but loosely at her sides. He ached to grab them again, even while he knew that it would be a terrible idea. For a brief moment there had been an intimacy between them, but he knew from the strained look that had replaced her manic fake smile that this wasn’t just complicated, it had layers of obstacles that he didn’t understand. Maybe he should be mad at her for lying to him, for being fake with him, but mainly he just wanted to help her. Protect her.
‘That woman has terrible timing,’ he said jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.
‘Oh, really?’ Amber replied.
That was how she was going to play this? As if that moment had never happened? Well, good. It had worked for them so far, he supposed. They’d both brushed off that kiss that never happened in the airport. He supposed it made sense that they’d try the same now. But they couldn’t go on like that for ever; they couldn’t ignore indefinitely whatever it was between them that was making him feel like this. As if he wanted to know her. To understand her. As if the more time he was spending with her, the more he wanted out of this week. More than he had ever been able to give before.
Perhaps they were going about this all wrong; if they confronted this head-on—acknowledged that there was an attraction—they’d be able to move past it.
‘It’s not going to work, Amber.’
She raised her eyebrows in an attempt at playing dumb.
‘I know that you feel something between us.’ Out of the corner of his eye, that red light still winked at him from down the beach. Damn it. She was standing away from him; in any other circumstances it would have been a comfortable distance. Close enough for conversation, not so close that he had to strain his neck looking up at her. But right this second there was nothing comfortable about it. He wanted her close if they were going to have this conversation. He wanted her hands back on his chair. Right up in his personal space with nowhere to hide. This could only work if they were both honest with one another. If there was anything left unsaid, he knew that it would just allow this atmosphere between them to fester. But he also knew that if he tried to touch her with the cameras on them, she would bolt.
So when she leaned in, her hand on his, and whispered into his ear, he could barely catch his breath with the shock of it. ‘It’s just attraction. Just physical, Mauro. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.’
It’s just—
What?
She was still uncomfortable. That much was clear in the tension showing in the muscles above her collarbones. The slightly fixed look at the corners of her mouth. She was faking this flirtation. Oh, the attraction was real enough. Her body wanted him and his was begging him to give himself to her. It seemed stupid even to try and deny that. But those casually thrown away words. They weren’t her. Goddamn him, though, if he wasn’t going to take advantage of this moment and try and crack through to whatever was going on underneath. Maybe he’d actually get at something close to the truth.
‘Just attraction? Amber, this “just physical” thing you’re talking about is testing me to breaking point. So if it’s no big deal, why haven’t we both stopped all this dancing around and got it out of our systems? Because we both know that there’s more to it than that.’
Just saying it out loud fired a charge of electricity into the air, and it crackled between them, looking for earth, any opportunity to shoot through them and tie them together. But it was easy to throw words like that out there when you knew there was no chance of them hitting the mark. Amber might be saying all the right things, pretending that she was going to give in to attraction, but he knew that she didn’t mean it. Not yet, anyway.
The more he saw of her, the more he saw of how much she kept hidden from the world, the more intrigued he was. He still wanted her to open up to him, still wanted to try and get to the bottom of the pain in those eyes, to help ease the burdens of her past. He didn’t want to think too much about why. About why he couldn’t just cheer her up and show her a good time and move on. Something about her spoke to him. Called out to him, and he couldn’t just ignore it.
Perhaps if he opened up, spoke more about himself, perhaps then she’d start to trust him. He’d lay himself out there, and could only hope that she’d accept the challenge and reciprocate.
With a wrench in his gut he turned his chair away from her and wheeled along the water’s edge. Away from that prying red light. ‘You wanted to know about the chair. After the accident, they couldn’t tell me a lot about what was going to happen. With all the swelling and everything it takes a while before they can really see what the extent of the injury is.’
‘Did you think that you might walk again?’ He glanced up and her face looked a little more relaxed. She’d jumped on the change of topic, and he guessed she was pleased that he wasn’t going to call her out directly on her attempt at flirtation.
He didn’t mind answering her questions. From someone else, it might have felt intrusive, but from her it was matter-of-fact. She was simply trying to understand him better rather than looking at the freak show.
‘God, I hoped so. I think I spent most of those first few weeks praying to anyone who would listen that I would be able to. But my spinal cord had taken too much of a beating. So I have a little sensation in places; I’ve worked on what movement and strength is left so that I can manage a few paces with crutches if I need to. But mostly I feel happiest in my chair. In the right building it can get me from A to B quicker than if I was walking. The beach is a challenge, but the right equipment makes it possible, and it’s worth it to get into the water and on a jet ski.’
They continued for a few metres in silence, and he guessed that she was choosing her words with care, this time. ‘I’m not sure what I can say that won’t sound patronising. But I find it incredible that you can think of it that way. No wonder you charge a fortune for your motivational speaking.’
‘Don’t start thinking I’m some sort of poster boy. I just did what I had to and thought what I had to in order to survive. It’s all any of us do.’
‘Not everyone,’ she argued. ‘Not every person who uses a wheelchair is into extreme sports.’
‘No, but they do what they have to—just like everyone who doesn’t use a wheelchair.’
‘And you need extreme sports to get by? Let me guess: classic case of needing to feel near death to feel alive?’ Oh, she really thought she had him pinned down, didn’t she?
‘No, it’s not that. Trust me, when you’ve felt as close to death as I have, you’re happy keeping it at a respectful distance. Well, I am anyway. It’s not the danger I love; it’s the experience. It’s pushing to find the limits of what my body can do, of what my mind can take in. It’s finding something new in every day, to mark that day as special. To make it matter.’
They stopped again and looked out over the water. A light breeze was playing with her hair, making the sun catch all its shades of gold and silver.
‘And you’re telling me that has nothing to do with your accident,’ she said.
‘It has everything to do with the accident.’ Of course it did: he wasn’t a machine. It wasn’t as if he could have carried on with his life without the accident having an enormous effect on him. His need to achieve, to experience, had infected every part of his life. His girlfriend hadn’t been able to understand. She had seen the man that he had become after his accident and decided that she wasn’t that interested after all.
‘It changed me. What would you expect? Look: I nearly left this world as a mediocre twenty-something wasting his days on mediocre experiences. I’ve been pretty damn close to my highest achievement in life being winning the one hundred metres freestyle at school sports day. It’s not the way I want to go. I don’t need the money or the fame, though I’m not going to argue that they don’t make my life a hell of a lot easier than it might be otherwise. But I need to know I’m doing something. I’m being someone.’
She fixed him with a shrewd look, and he felt a curl in the base of his stomach. If she was sussing him out, he had the feeling he wasn’t making the good impression that he’d been aiming for.
‘You like the thrill of the chase, then. The new and the unfamiliar.’
He was right, and she was getting close to the bone. Was she digging around this subject with intent? Did she want to know what he had to offer? Part of him wanted to keep his mouth shut, lie by omission, say whatever it took for her to trust him and take him to her bed. But he couldn’t do that. If Amber decided that was what she wanted, then he wanted her to decide it while in possession of all of the facts.
‘You think that’s why I’ve never settled down? Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe it is. But I didn’t set out to be a playboy, Amber, if that’s what you’re getting at. I had a girlfriend. I think I loved her, actually. But that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to compensate for the man that I became after the accident. There’s not room in my life for both. I can’t have this drive and ambition, and have enough time and energy left over for a relationship as well. She made that pretty clear when she packed her bags and left me. I’ve discovered since that when you’ve made it your life’s mission to see everything you can, it doesn’t leave a lot of time for seeing the same thing twice.’
‘Or the same woman.’
He looked up at her, trying to gauge from her features whether she was judging him. ‘I’m not looking for commitment, Amber. But you know that I want you.’
‘I know.’
He held her gaze, challenging her with that intimacy, with the connection that he knew that they both felt.
‘And if I thought for a second that a fling was on the cards then, trust me, I’d be pulling out my best moves right now. But I think we both know that that’s not what you want. All I want to know is—what do you want? Why are you here? The truth.’
He wasn’t sure why he thought that he deserved honesty from her. Really, if he thought about it, she was little more than a stranger to him. But he had shown her parts of himself that he didn’t open up to just anybody. It wasn’t too much, surely, to expect the same from her.
Then she broke their connection and her eyes flicked over his shoulder. He glanced behind him and saw Ayisha and Julia deep in conversation, and a winking red light on the camera that told him they were still being watched.
He could show her that she should trust him. That she wouldn’t regret taking a chance and confiding in him, but he’d rather do it without an audience. Anyway, there were other ways to put a smile on a woman’s face, to put some colour into her cheeks. He turned his chair and powered along the beach again, his free hand at the small of Amber’s back. A couple of hundred yards later they reached the cabin where he kept his water sports equipment.
‘Come on.’ He tugged her hand as he drove up onto the boardwalk in front of the cabin. ‘We can talk later. Now: I’m going to teach you to jet-ski.’
* * *
Amber pulled the elastic from her hair and collapsed on the sand. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins, making her heart race and every grain of sand feel like a pinprick on her skin.
‘Mauro, that was... Immense. Incredible. Some other big word I can’t think of right now. I don’t know how to thank you.’
He had a grin plastered on his face, making his green eyes twinkle, and showing off the smile lines around his mouth.
‘You don’t need to thank me,’ he said.
Which was a good thing, because her perverse imagination was having a few rather inspiring ideas about how she might show him her appreciation. Call her a cavewoman, but there was something about seeing him with that powerful machine between his legs, seeing him leap over waves and twist and turn in the water, that had her hotter than anyone who’d just spent an hour in the ocean had any right to feel.
Ayisha came up to meet them where they’d stopped on the sand. ‘Amber, we’re just going to do these interviews before we let you get changed, if that’s OK with you?’
Spell broken again. Thank goodness. Because the longer this day was going on, the harder she was finding it not to sink into those green eyes of Mauro’s, to remind herself of everything that she had lost the last time she had let herself be so careless, the last time that she had let her guard down. Getting involved with Mauro would be like asking for her heart to be trampled all over again. He was a playboy—he didn’t even bother to deny it. Acting on this attraction would lead to nowhere but trouble. But she couldn’t think about that now. She was going to have to smile and flirt her way through this interview.
She settled into the chair set up in the little gazebo on the sand, and tried to pull herself together, to make sure that she was showing exactly what she needed to make the audience find her likeable. The viewers at home—all the ones who bought her paper, read the website and held her career in their hands—needed to see that she was a warm-hearted person. Someone to be trusted, to come to for advice. Someone with something interesting and witty to say. Without readers, she had no job. And her boss had made pretty clear before she’d left that she had precious few of those readers left. She needed to make this work.
Not that it was going to be difficult to make anyone believe that she fancied Mauro. She was pretty sure that it was obvious to anyone that she was having X-rated thoughts about him. The problem was going to be keeping it likeable, and that meant keeping her memories at bay.
Broken and broke, she’d been left by the man she had thought she was going to spend her life with. Nothing could induce her to want to repeat that. No, a relationship was definitely out of the question. But it wasn’t as if Mauro wanted that anyway. He’d told her he only ever had casual relationships. So even if she had wondered, in her weaker moments, whether there might be anything to chase between them, at least she could rationalise herself out of it.
‘So, let’s go back to that first time you met. What were your first impressions of Mauro?’ Julia’s question broke into her thoughts, and Amber rushed to smile, though she guessed it looked creaky. The TV presenter’s excited tone told Amber—if she’d had any reason to doubt—exactly the answer she and the audience wanted to hear.
With her fake smile still fixed in place, Amber gave her what she wanted. ‘Well, he’s gorgeous, obviously.’ She followed her words with a little laugh, which sounded tinny even to her. Relax, she ordered herself. Don’t go too over the top. Julia was nodding encouragingly. ‘And he knows just how gorgeous he is—never misses an opportunity to remind me of the fact.’
‘Well, that sounds like Mauro, all right. So what did he do? Can you give us an example?’
‘Well, this morning, for instance...’ She improvised hastily, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. The blush would work in her favour, she thought—show that she really was human. ‘He turned up to breakfast with no shirt on.’
Julia made a performance of fanning herself with her script. ‘Really, that is interesting. Not the worst start to a day, I imagine.’
‘It was quite a sight,’ Amber agreed. The smile this time came naturally, and she took a deep breath, forcing it into her shoulders and spine, helping them to relax. ‘Unfortunately, he was just on his way to the laundry room. You can imagine my disappointment.’ She let the cushions of the chair take her weight and mould round her body, finally feeling able to speak without a shake in her voice. This is all there is to it, she told herself. Just talk about how you fancy Mauro, and don’t overthink the rest of it.
God, she hoped it was working. If she could just convince Julia, and the viewers at home, that she could be warm-hearted, open to romance, perhaps they’d call off the Internet witch hunt and she could salvage her career.
‘So other than the fact that he looks good without a shirt—which, let’s face it, we all knew from his swimming career—how are things going? Any sparks?’
The memory of his hands on her body, his breath on her lips, of his arms around her when he pulled her onto his lap, was at the forefront of her mind. She forced herself to keep looking at Julia, when her instinct was to drop her eyes, to try and hide exactly what she was feeling. Where was the line? She needed to show a softer side of herself, but that didn’t mean she had to reveal everything.
Thankfully it seemed Ayisha had seen that she had got the best out of her for now. ‘I think that blush speaks for itself! That’s great, thanks, Amber. That’s all we need right now. I’m going to get Mauro in here and then you two are done for the day. Make sure you rest up tomorrow; you’ve got Mount Etna to conquer in a few days.’