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“Sounds amazing.”
“Oh, it was. It still is.” She sent him a quick warm smile. “If we can, I’ll take you there. We should at least spend a few hours on the beach. You’ll never want to leave.”
He should tell her no, he had too much work. It wasn’t appropriate. Spending a few hours at the beach with Stasia wasn’t proper business behavior. Seeing Stasia in a skimpy bikini? Because he knew she wouldn’t cover up that gorgeous body. The thought was tempting as hell, absolutely. Dangerous as hell?
Also absolutely.
“You’re probably not the beach type.” She wrinkled her nose. “You probably have legal briefs to read and phone calls to make.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t know what else to say. She was one-hundred percent right. Though he hadn’t lied when he’d told her it was a slow time for him at the office, he always had work to do. Always. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a vacation. Not even a weekend away.
He’d been accused more than once that he didn’t know how to relax. Past girlfriends had left him for that reason alone. He didn’t know how to make time for a relationship. Had worked too damn hard to get where he was to let it slide by for a vacation here and there.
That had probably been a mistake. What the hell was wrong with a vacation? He was twenty-fucking-nine-years-old and he’d never taken one. Ever. The last time he’d left the city was for a weekend jaunt to the Jersey Shore in his early twenties with his college buddies, where they’d screwed women that they’d picked up at the local bars like wild beasts.
After college graduation, he’d worked. And worked and worked and worked. He had a reputation at his law firm for turning in the most billing hours. He’d climbed the promotional ladder in record time. He was proud of that. Damn p
roud.
But what sort of personal life did he have? None. He’d sacrificed it all for his career.
“You probably don’t want to hang out with me at the beach anyway. You don’t even like me.”
“I never said that,” he started but she cut him off with an unladylike snort.
“You didn’t have to.”
No, he supposed he didn’t. He couldn’t admit the reason he argued with her so much was as a defense mechanism. A way for him to avoid what he really felt for her.
Not that he felt anything. It was based on attraction, nothing else. He’d been attracted to plenty of women before and never acted on it. Stasia was no exception.
“Here we are,” she said brightly, thankfully changing the subject. She turned left onto a driveway and stopped before the massive, sleek wooden gate painted white. Within seconds it was opening, allowing them entry, and she pulled in, a large, two-story house looming ahead. As they drew closer, he saw the rounded arches, the bright flowers blooming everywhere, vivid against the stark white of the house. And in the near distance, the glimmering blue ocean, dotted with boats that looked like toys floating in the water.
He whistled low, catching her attention.
“I know, it’s gorgeous, isn’t it? I always forget just how wonderful the view is until I return. It takes my breath away every single time.”
“I can see why.” It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Of course, he’d rarely been out of the city, so this was a new experience for him.
Made him realize there was more to life than the four walls of his high-rise office in midtown Manhattan, that was for damn sure.
She parked in an open carport, hopping out of the car the moment she put it in park and shut off the engine. He followed her and exited the vehicle, squinting against the intense late afternoon sun. He’d forgotten his sunglasses, a huge mistake.
“I’m sure my brothers left a few pairs of sunglasses around,” she said when he shielded his eyes from the sun. “I’ll find you some.”
“Thanks.” He was pretty sure the Renaldi brand licensed sunglasses, so he didn’t doubt she’d find some.
As they walked toward the house, one of the double doors opened, an older gentleman dressed in khakis and a faded denim shirt stepping outside. An enthusiastic grin stretched across his face at their approach and he headed straight for Stasia, his arms opening wide. “Ciao, Anastasia, mi carina.”
She walked easily into the man’s embrace, hugging him tight. “Ciao, Renzo.” The warmth, the happiness in her voice was unmistakable.
And that was all he caught. They spoke in rapid fire Italian when they broke apart, talking animatedly, their hands flying and accompanied by plenty of laughter. Gavin took it all in, marveling at how even more beautiful she was when happy. She’d only been somber during his interactions with her. Returning home, to Italy, brought her joy.
Secretly, he wondered what it was like, to make her smile like that. Feel like that.
Despite the warning alarms going off in his head, he was curious to find out.
Renzo was kind enough to bring in their luggage while Stasia showed Gavin around the main house. She tried to imagine what it must look like through a stranger’s eyes. The interior was pure, stark white, calm and with soft lines. White walls, white couches, accented with wood coffee table and end tables, mellowed warm with age. The occasional pop of color appeared. Bright yellow and blue printed pillows dotted the couch, a vibrant bottle blue vase bursting with a bouquet of colorful flowers on the otherwise pristine white tile countertops in the kitchen.
