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He had been tense when she’d explained exactly why she had still been a virgin at twenty-two. And she wasn’t entirely sure why. She also couldn’t help wondering why he had overreacted so spectacularly earlier, especially as he seemed to be totally over it now.
But as he polished off the last of Giuliana’s delicately spiced carpaccio—his appetite even more voracious than her own—she knew she wasn’t going to ask him. Because that would just bring back the awkward, and ruin the rest of the hours they had left together, which were already going by too fast.
She studied the stunning view of Roman with Vesuvius on the horizon, and imagined the imposing composition in pen and ink. The man juxtaposed with the volcano was such a fundamental yet vivid expression of power and danger and volatility.
She attempted to imprint the image in her memory to draw later, if she ever found the time, when she got back to Genoa.
He glanced up from his plate. And his intense gaze locked on her face—making her skin prickle with awareness. And her heart hitch in her chest. Why did she get the impression he could read every one of her thoughts? All the time? And why was it both disturbing, and incredibly hot?
‘Problem?’ he asked.
‘Not at all,’ she said, and sent him her bestI’m sophisticatedsmile.
He put down his fork and studied her some more, sending the prickle of awareness to some even more disturbing places.
‘Are you sure there’s nothing, because you looked as if you wanted to ask me something,’ he said, the husky tone and the twinkle in his eye suggesting he was aware of the prickle.
‘I don’t suppose you’d let me sketch you?’ she blurted out, because she did not want to give in to the prickle, yet.
She was still tender from their lovemaking earlier. And getting Roman back into bed too soon would make the rest of their day together go even faster. Plus, she enjoyed spending time with him out of bed, too. He intrigued her. The man was a puzzle in so many ways. And it was kind of thrilling to be this man’s lover, however temporarily.
He looked momentarily dumbfounded by her request. But then his lips quirked in a wicked smile. ‘What? Naked?’
‘No, not naked, Mr One-Track Mind!’ she replied, wanting to be outraged at the suggestion, but knowing she wasn’t, because she was far too turned on instead.
A life drawing of Roman Garner would be quite something. She swallowed down the ball of lust forming in her throat, determined not to get sidetracked. Again.
‘Actually, I’d like to sketch you here, with the volcano in the background. It’s an arresting image. And then I could finish the work later...’ She huffed. ‘If I can find the time.’
‘How would you envision using my image, exactly?’ he asked, confusion turning to scepticism. She recognised that look from yesterday night, when he’d caught her ‘borrowing’ his boat—and accused her of stealing it. The man was nothing if not suspicious. But this time, she was not going to let his trust issues get to her.
‘I usually do a pencil drawing, then I build on that using ink and watercolours or acrylics, depending on what works best,’ she began, giving him way more information than he needed, but wanting him to know her art was one thing she took very seriously. ‘But I don’t do faces,’ she continued because he hadn’tsaid anything. ‘You’re in silhouette at the moment because the sun is starting to set and those shapes are what I’d want to work with. Anonymity preserves the image’s power and the exquisite quality of the light suits what I want to do with the composition. But, if I ever get a chance to show the work, which is highly debatable given my track record so far,’ she muttered, in the interests of full disclosure, even though it made her heart sink to admit to him what a failure she was, ‘no one will be able to tell it’s you, I promise.’
She picked up her wine glass and drained it, much more nervous now about his reaction than she’d been when she’d agreed to sleep with him. Or when he’d figured out she was a virgin, even though his reaction then had been a lot more volatile.
She waited for him to say something, anything really, getting more anxious by the second when he just continued to stare at her. His brows flattened and he tilted his head to one side, the quizzical expression intense, as if he were trying to figure out something really complicated.
Then his eyes sparkled with understanding, and he smiled. ‘You’re an artist!’
‘Well, yes, I’m trying to be one,’ she said, not sure why he seemed so pleased with himself.
‘That’s what you really want to do,’ he said. ‘Instead of being a waitress or a tour guide. You want to create art and show your work.’
‘Eventually, yes,’ she said, although it hadn’t really been a question. Why did he look as if he’d just discovered the meaning of life? ‘That’s the plan anyway, but first I have to get a decent portfolio together.’
‘So why haven’t you done it?’ he asked. ‘Instead of doing menial jobs which take up all your free time?’
‘Um...maybe because I have to do this really annoying thing called eating,’ she snapped, irritated they seemed to have returned to theWhy-is-Milly-a-pauper?conversation. ‘And paying rent. Plus, they’renotmenial jobs.’
Of course, Roman Garner didn’t understand why she had to work for a living, the man owned a private island, but did hereallyhave to be quite this blunt?
‘Listen, if you don’t want me to sketch you that’s perfectly fine,’ she continued as her stomach clutched with disappointment. ‘Just say so,’ she finished, even though it hurt to know she would never get to realise the spellbinding image of Roman and the Volcano.
‘What if I told you I have a better idea?’ he replied, then picked up the fist she had clenched on the table, by her empty glass, and lifted it to his lips.
She shuddered, aware of the hunger in his eyes—and the answering hunger in her abdomen—when he eased open her fingers and pressed his lips to her palm.
‘What idea?’ she asked, getting sidetracked by those nibbling kisses, and the prickle that had morphed into a buzz now and was doing interesting things to the hot spot between her thighs, despite her best intentions.
