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‘We’ll take coffee by the pool. It’s cooler down there. More private,’ he added, reaching out to take her hand, no doubt in retaliation for her words at breakfast. She had no option but to let him, but as soon as Valentina had deposited their coffee onto one of the tables by the sunloungers she snatched her hand away again.
Of course, she didn’t need to worry. Trip needed constant stimulation and within five minutes he had disappeared back into the villa.
Tipping her head back, she gazed up at the cloudless blue sky and then quickly looked back down again. It was too much like looking into Trip’s eyes. Reaching down, she picked up her book and opened it. A light breeze was moving in from the mountains and, liking the feel of it against her skin, she half closed her eyes.
That was better...
‘So what would be the next step?’
Her eyes snapped open and she stared across the rectangle of glittering blue water. Trip was back, a satellite phone pressed against his smooth dark head, sunlight dancing across his face as if it were delighted to see him.
Oh, and he had changed into black swim shorts. Great.
She stared at him, dry-mouthed, conscious suddenly that she was not quite controlling her reaction, but thankfully he was walking away from her, pacing back and forth along the length of the pool, moving with that familiar mesmerising athletic grace. Judging by the tension in his shoulders, it was a business call, although she didn’t really care one way or another. Nothing about Trip was of any interest to her.
Liar, she thought, a beat of heat looping down to her stomach and back up to her throat as she tried not to stare at his semi-naked body.
She hadn’t forgotten how gorgeous he was, but it was still a shock to be within spitting distance of all that bare, golden skin and curving muscle.
Not that she wanted to spit. She wanted to press her lips against his chest and follow the trail of fine dark hairs with her tongue to where they disappeared beneath the waistband of his trunks. Then go lower still to where the hairs thickened, and keep licking until they were both panting and mindless with hunger.
Her throat was so dry now it hurt to swallow and she could feel the back of the chair pressing against her spine. Just for a moment, she allowed her gaze to rest on the ripple of muscle but then it was too much.
Gripping the book tighter, she ducked her head and stared blindly at the words, seeing nothing, reading nothing, her body twitching restlessly against the lounger.
Trip was still pacing, but now he stopped so that he was in profile to her, the outline of his body silhouetted crisply against the blue of the sky, taut, lean, undeniably male. It was no surprise to her and yet she felt the shock of it curl through her body as hot colour flooded her cheeks when he glanced over and found her watching him.
‘I have to go,’ he said softly.
Jerking her gaze away, she stared back down at the lines of type, her heart bumping against her ribs as he came closer.
There was a slight creak as he sat down. She could see his body out of the corner of her eye, but it was his scent that was playing havoc with her nerve endings.
‘What are you doing?’ Her fingers fumbled against the book and she had to flatten herself against the cushions as he suddenly got to his feet and leaned over her.
‘Calm down.’ His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘I’m not going to jump you.’
‘You did before.’ She swallowed, hard, remembering the heat, the fire, the devastating rush of need, her own unthinking impatience to walk through the flames with him. ‘And then you tricked me into flying here with you and you’ve done nothing but threaten and bully and manipulate me ever since, so you’ll forgive me if I’m a little hazy about your intentions.’
He held up his hands as if he were the one being threatened.
‘I was just moving the parasol.’ He gestured up towards the bleached-out sun high above them. ‘So that you don’t get burned.’ His blue eyes rested on the blouse and pants she was wearing. ‘Although you might actually die of heatstroke before that happens. Are you not hot?’
Lily smiled thinly.
Thanks to her mother, she was, because, aside from the jacket she had recognised, Laura had packed the kind of clothes that would be suitable for a romantic holiday à deux. Which was, of course, what her mother thought this was.
She gritted her teeth. Only she didn’t want to wear some conspicuously new and humiliating unworn skimpy bikini or semi-transparent dress in front of Trip any more than she wanted to make small talk with him. Which was why she was dressed in the same clothes that she had worn on the plane. Because, despite the heat of the day, she needed her armour.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she said stiffly.
Trip stared down at her for a moment, his blue gaze momentarily hotter than the sun, and then he shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
She held his gaze. ‘Nothing about this situation suits me, Trip, as you very well know.’
She half expected him to respond but he was already turning towards the pool, and she watched with a mix of fury and envy as he dived into the water. It was the kind of dive that barely made a ripple on the glassy surface, which had to be a first for him, she thought, her heart still beating out of time from that last interaction.
Partly it was the fact that he was one of the richest men in the world, partly it was his extraordinary looks, but there was more to Trip than just the obvious. He had an energy, a presence that changed the atmosphere around him, making it shimmer and ripple like the air above roads in a heatwave. She had seen first-hand how he could cause a kind of seismic ripple to the structure of any building he was in. Even when his muscular outline was distorted by the water, there was something that kept pulling your gaze towards him. Anticipation, maybe, for the moment when he would emerge, godlike, from the water.
