MAURO WOKE TO the smell of rich Italian coffee percolating through the house—Amber was up already, then. He gave a half-smile. He hadn’t expected her to be awake first—had thought that she would be making the most of the holiday with a long, lazy lie-in. He had planned to be in the pool, fifty laps in, before she emerged and wanted to float on a lilo with a cocktail in hand. So she’d caught him out already. He didn’t like it, the way that she kept him guessing, kept proving his assumptions wrong.
It had made him wonder what else he’d been getting wrong lately.
His bedpost certainly wasn’t lacking in quantity of notches, but, now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been much variety, much challenge. He’d left hospital after his accident with the single goal of achieving and seeing as much as any person could in a lifetime, and now a whole aspect of it seemed...samey. Dull.
But those meaningless flings had been exactly what he had wanted. His ex-girlfriend had made it perfectly clear that his ambitions and commitment to his sport didn’t leave room for a partner or romance. He had failed at it once, and he had no interest in revisiting that disaster.
He pulled himself up in bed and transferred to his chair with a quick push of his arms. They still had a little time together before everyone else arrived. Once they’d had a quick breakfast and he’d done his laps for the day they were to meet Julia, Ayisha and the cameraman for that day’s filming. The usual stuff, he supposed—by the pool, on the beach, and a ‘romantic’ dinner for two. And in the meantime? He still couldn’t satisfy his curiosity, his need to understand more about her.
He wheeled through to the kitchen and found Amber sitting at the table, espresso cup in hand.
‘Morning,’ he called out to her as he came into the kitchen and headed for the coffee pot, still hot on the stove. There was something about being home in Sicily that brought his Italian blood out; if he were in England, he might start the day with a cup of tea and toast, but as soon as his feet were on Sicilian soil it was espresso or nothing.
He pulled up to the table with his coffee and reached for one of the pastries she’d piled onto a plate in the middle of the table. He expected his fingertips to meet flaky, buttery pastry, but instead they landed on impossibly soft, slender fingers as Amber reached for the cornetto at the same moment. He pulled away at the same instant that he registered her flinch. He couldn’t help the sting of rejection at that tiny movement; whether he wanted her to be interested in him or not, that small pull away from him hurt. It was just his pride, he thought as he met her eyes, daring her to acknowledge the contact, the electric flicker that he had felt when their skin had touched.
But she backed away from the challenge, lowering her eyes and snatching her hand back.
So she really wasn’t out here to play that game. Good. He decided to get them back on more neutral ground. ‘All ready for your day as a reality TV star?’
She groaned, and he laughed at the look of horror on her face.
‘I’m not sure I’m ever going to be ready,’ she admitted. Her face had relaxed, and he could tell that she was relieved he hadn’t called her out on what had just happened between them. Well, she didn’t have to worry on that front. Ego had made him hold her eye just then, but that didn’t mean that he had any intention of actually exploring that spark further.
‘So why sign up in the first place?’ he asked. She looked as if she had been regretting her decision ever since, after all.
‘Sign up? I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it. It was more like...railroaded, or threatened. Definitely something that doesn’t count as volunteering. And it’s for charity. How could I say no? It’s not like I ever thought...never mind.’
Oh, he knew exactly what she’d never thought, whether she was going to finish that sentence or not. She’d never thought she’d be here, never thought that she would be the one chosen. Well, in fairness she hadn’t been. The TV company had had it all worked out—of course he’d been meant to pick contestant number two—but then with the cameras rolling and a live audience—what could they do when he picked the wrong woman? His agent had given him an earful, of course, but it had been worth it.
And what were a few booked flights and cancelled reservations when you had earned a fortune and were willing to use it to get what you wanted?
‘Sorry I spoilt your masterplan. What can I say? I like a challenge.’
He instantly regretted his words, because he absolutely didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t seduce her in a heartbeat if he had thought that she might be up for a fling. But it couldn’t be more clear that a simple dalliance wasn’t on the cards with her. There was too much hurt behind those eyes, too many defences built around her. The ghost of romance past haunting her expression.
And as much as he wanted to back away slowly, keep his distance from the big scary emotions that were clearly behind that controlled front, there was something in there calling out to him. Some vulnerability that made him want to protect her. To find out if there was anything that he could do to help.
He didn’t want to think too much about why.
Perhaps, if nothing else, he could give her an ego boost. She clearly needed one. He could see it in her dropped eyes, the way she pulled her shoulders in to protect herself. Someone had given this beautiful woman cause to doubt that she looked like an absolute goddess. And as he couldn’t give the person who had done that to her the hiding he no doubt deserved, then maybe he could at least get her to see what he saw, without any danger of either of them wanting to be any more involved.
‘So you’re not dating anyone? There’s not some boyfriend hiding away somewhere while you raise money for the kiddies?’
‘No.’
That wasn’t a ‘not right now’, or a ‘nobody special’. That was ‘never’, ‘definitely not’ and ‘not ever’ all rolled into one. He had been right: there was a world of back story behind that one word.
His voice dropped to a gentle murmur. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
What was he doing? Talking about a bad break-up ranked right up there with sticking needles in his eyes on his list of enjoyable activities. But there was something about this woman that he couldn’t ignore. He couldn’t brush her pain away and pretend that he hadn’t seen it. If spilling her heart over her breakfast was what she needed he had a horrible feeling that he was signing up for the whole messy performance.
She took a long gulp of her coffee, and painted on something approximating a smile. ‘There’s nothing to tell, really. I broke up with someone a year and a half ago and have no intention of repeating my mistakes. I think maybe I’m just one of those people who are happier alone. Independent.’
Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Because as she spoke he could see the lurking shadows of grief and disappointment in her expression. The memory of someone who had let her down. Had left her feeling...less than she was.
‘Or maybe you just need to—’
‘Get back on the horse? Because there are plenty more fish in the sea? And someone better is just around the corner? Sorry but I’ve heard the clichés all before. Perhaps some people are just better suited to not...riding. Sorry, I’m better at the metaphors when I’ve had more coffee.’
She laughed, but it sounded hollow, thin. He had been right when he’d assumed that a quick fling would never be on the cards.
‘I’m going to head out to the pool for a few laps before the cavalry turns up,’ he said, trying to get them onto safer ground. ‘Can I tempt you with a dip?’
For a second he thought she was going to say no, but then a smile appeared on her lips, a real one this time. ‘Actually, that sounds good. I’ll go get changed and meet you out there.’
The day was already warming up as he made his way out to the pool, unseasonably balmy for this time of year. He was going over his conversation with Amber again. He wanted to make her see how beautiful she was. After a decade of mutually satisfying but emotionless seductions and flings, this was new ground. He might have had a sensitive side once. It’d just been so long since he’d had any call to get in touch with it he wasn’t sure that it was even still there.
He lowered himself into the pool and lay back in the water, letting it take his weight as he soaked up the warmth of the early autumn sun. His eyes drifted closed as he enjoyed the freedom to power himself around the pool, moving effortlessly in the water in a way his body didn’t allow him on land. He heard her before he saw her, the flip-flop, flip-flop of her sandals on the tiles at the water’s edge, the soft rustle of cotton as her towel hit the sunbed. Looking up, he saw the fluffy dressing gown she was wearing, and realised that he had been hoping for something else, something revealing, maybe. A better look at that body that she normally kept so well hidden beneath skimming silk.
She dropped the robe only at the last minute, as she slipped into the water. He had the briefest glimpse of a utilitarian one-piece in black and white, with thick straps and a racer back. Most definitely built for speed rather than decoration. Disappointed as he was, he had to admit to feeling a little pleased at finding that they had something in common.
‘You’re a swimmer?’ he asked. Maybe he should have guessed from her strong shoulders and her toned limbs, but it seemed that his mind had been elsewhere since they met.
She shrugged, crossing her arms in front of her. ‘Maybe when you’re not in the pool to show me up. Given present company, let’s just say I like to swim.’
‘So if I were to challenge you to a race?’
‘Then I would politely decline the chance to further inflate your ego by letting you whip me.’
He laughed out loud as he crossed to the side of the pool. Now there was an image he would normally enjoy.
‘How about a few friendly lengths, then?’
She pulled her goggles down over her eyes. ‘Fine, but no splashing.’ For a moment, she paused and sniffed the air above the water. ‘No chlorine?’
‘It’s salt water,’ he told her. She was a swimmer, then. Any fantasies that a rebellious part of his mind might have had about a little heavy petting in the deep end were being firmly quashed.
She pushed off from the side of the pool and sliced through the water with a stroke that was perfectly decent if a little loose in places. He saw the hesitation at the end of the length and knew with an athlete’s instinct that her tumble turns were not going to be the smartest part of her repertoire. He watched her for a couple more lengths, tracking the movement of her limbs as she executed each turn, looking for places to pick up a little speed, lose a little resistance. It was what had made him a champion—that ability to deconstruct every move in the pool, looking for tiny improvements, all of which added together made for six gold medals and a whole ream of world championship titles.
At the end of her fifth length she paused with her hand on the wall, and threw him a look over her shoulder, as if she had only just remembered that he was there, still watching.
She gave him a long look, and then her eyes narrowed. ‘Come on, then, out with it.’
‘Out with what?’
‘Either you’ve seen something wrong with my performance here, or you’re blatantly ogling me. And I’ve already told you that I’m not interested.’
How dared she? It was taking all his self-control not to watch her in anything but a professional manner, and he was pretty damn impressed with himself for managing it. He wished he had been ogling her if that was all the thanks that he got. The only way to prove it was to tell her exactly what she had been thinking.
‘You really want my advice?’
He saw the hesitation in her eyes, and the way that her shoulders dropped forward defensively, automatically. She’d taken criticism before, and often. It was clear in the way that she smoothed her features so that her expression was carefully blank before she looked up and met his eye.
She needed him to be kind.
The knowledge struck him in his gut, and he knew without having to be told that someone, somewhere, had been beating on this woman’s self-confidence until all that was left was the presence of mind to pretend that she didn’t care.
‘Well,’ he said, choosing his words carefully as he crossed the pool to her side. ‘Your basic stroke is great: you really power through the water. But if you want me to help you with your tumble turns, we can save you some time there.’
Her shoulders dropped, just a fraction, and he let out the breath he had been holding. A smile crossed her face, slowly, chased by a look of fierce determination.
‘Let’s do it.’
* * *
‘That’s it. Perfect. Amazing!’
Amber let her body go loose as she rested her head on her arms at the side of the pool, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips. Her lungs were burning and limbs aching. She’d performed turn after turn after turn, tucking tight and exploding out until she knew—even before Mauro said a word—that she had nailed it.
She didn’t care about the exhaustion. It was totally worth it. She’d struggled with those turns since she’d first taken up swimming, and if this was what it took to get them right, she’d be out here in the pool with Mauro every morning.
She’d wanted to die, at first, at the thought of stripping off in front of a world-class athlete, conscious of the wobble of her thighs. Conscious, too, that her swimming had always been the one part of her life that Ian’s criticism had never been able to touch. For half an hour, every morning, she had been able to put one arm in front of the other, kick as hard as she could, shake off the tension and anxiety of living in fear of his next piece of ‘advice’.
‘You really got it that last time. You want to try one more?’
She shook her head, knowing that she had given the pool everything that she had. ‘I’m spent for the day. Anyway Ayisha and the others are going to be here soon, aren’t they? I think she said something about lunch nearby. Are they going to interview us both? Try and make us say something embarrassing about each other?’
‘What could we possibly have to say? We’ve both been on our very best behaviour.’
Well, she wasn’t sure if that was exactly true—that time when she’d sat on his lap in a public place, that didn’t feel exactly like something a good girl would do. And the way that his eyes had followed her in the pool... She could tell the difference between public and personal interest, and his professionalism had slipped more than once. The heat in his expression had warmed her cheeks. When she looked up now and met his eye, what she saw there could have set the whole pool simmering.
‘Well, this is cosy!’
Amber spun in the pool at the sound of Ayisha’s voice, to find herself looking straight down the lens of a TV camera. She forced her smile into place and held it there until it felt as if her cheeks were cracking.
‘We were just—’
Amber forced herself to keep her features neutral as Mauro draped a casual arm around her shoulders. ‘Ayisha, hi,’ he said. ‘We were just finishing up here.’
She shrugged the arm off, as casually as she could. She knew that she needed to show a softer side on camera, but that didn’t mean she had to get all up close and personal. Not yet, and definitely not when she was undressed and exposed.
‘I’ll see you inside.’ The words came out almost as a squeak, but Amber remembered to keep her smile in place as she boosted up out of the pool, grabbing for her robe before she was fully out of the water. She couldn’t help but be aware that the camera was rolling, that she had to be on her guard, protecting herself and her reputation whenever that red light was on show. ‘I just want to shower the salt off and then I’ll be out.’
She pulled the towelling tight around her as she walked from the pool, wondering how much the camera had caught between her leaving the meagre privacy of the water and the safety of her robe. Ian had told her often enough how out of shape she was, even with her exercising every morning, and the last thing that she wanted was her wobbly bits exposed on TV. She pulled her shoulders forward slightly, hiding the curve of her breasts from the camera, and headed as quickly as she could towards the open door of the villa.