This guy was all dark and dangerous and out of her league and if he was also funny and sharp and challenging, she knew that she should still never forget that there was a lot more to him than that.
Maybe that was part and parcel of the tingle that rippled through her as she feasted her eyes on his averted profile.
She’d never had a single experience with any man. He’d been her first.
He’d obviously had so many experiences with women that he had built up a portfolio on their behaviour patterns and expectations when it came to relationships.
Mingled with simmering excitement, a certain amount of unease nudged its way through but she blithely shoved that aside because, as he’d just reminded her, he was just passing through. People who were passing through didn’t cause problems. It was the ones who stuck around and made a nuisance of themselves you had to be wary of.
‘You sound like an old man,’ she half joked.
‘There are times I feel like one,’ Luca said heavily.
‘Don’t you believe in love?’
‘Strangely, I don’t believe anyone’s ever asked me that question directly before.’ He sounded surprised. ‘But now that you’ve asked, I don’t. I don’t believe in love, I don’t believe in the fairy tales people insist on telling that there’s such a thing as a happy-ever-after. You’re young, mi tesoro, which is why I felt that I should warn you off me.’
‘And like I’ve told you, there’s no need. Why don’t you? Believe in love and marriage, I mean?’ She thought of herself in a white dress floating down the aisle on her father’s arm, to meet the man of her dreams. Instantly, a few pedestrian details jarred the dreamy image. Firstly the thought of herself in a dress, which was an item of clothing she didn’t possess, and secondly the thought of what this man of her dreams would look like.
Tall, dark and handsome.
Like the one lying next to her floating on the gently rolling water.
But, she hurriedly amended in her head, clearly not the one next to her. Maybe one similar.
‘Oh, but I do believe in marriage,’ Luca said wryly. He thought of Isabella, waiting for him back in Italy, and a sharp tug of guilt drove into him with the force of a serrated knife cutting through skin. There was nothing to feel guilty about. He knew that. At least, the cold, logical side of his brain knew that. He was on the same page as the woman floating alongside him so what if, besides the fact that he wouldn’t be sticking around, another very valid reason for him being the least suitable man on the planet for her lay in the fact that he was practically engaged to someone? Did that matter? No, of course it didn’t because a relationship wasn’t on the table and he’d been brutally honest in making that clear.
Aside from which...he was fond of Isabella and she was perfect for him because she would never ask for what he couldn’t give. They would marry and two great families would unite and, of course, they would be careful about their outside interests because, under the guise of marriage, they would be as brother and sister. She and her girlfriend, Ella, would carry on seeing one another and he...he would discreetly do what any red-blooded man would have to do to satisfy his libido. For a man who did not believe or trust in love, it would be the ideal marriage.
And yet...
Suddenly restless, he began swimming back to shore, making sure that Cordelia was following him and then slinging his arm around her shoulders as they stepped out of the water. He retrieved the swimming trunks and put them on.
‘You just haven’t found the right woman? Is that it?’ Cordelia returned to the conversation as she began unpacking the picnic, carefully putting the contents of Tupperware containers on the rug and not looking directly at him.
‘There’s no such thing as the right woman. There is, however, such a thing as a suitable woman. I want to have a family as much as the next person,’ he confided with utmost honesty. ‘I also want to have a successful marriage and, as far as I’m concerned, those two things are perfectly possible provided there are no unreasonable expectations on either side.’ He paused and Isabella flashed into his head once again. For all her sexual proclivities, they would produce the requisite heir. A discreet consultant would easily facilitate that. The signatures weren’t exactly on the paper yet, but they would be by the time he returned to Italy.
The business of love would never complicate matters. Luca wondered whether that was why he had returned to Cornwall, to remind himself of what he already knew. Love had destroyed his father and Cornwall was a symbol of that love. You could almost say that that was where the story began.
‘I don’t suppose that’s exactly your cup of tea, is it?’ He looked at her, appreciating, yet again, the white-blonde tangle of her hair flowing down her back and over her shoulders...the healthy gold of her skin, so much darker than where the sun didn’t touch...the intense violet of her eyes...the athleticism of her strong body. Jesus, was he hardening again?
‘Not at all,’ Cordelia admitted lightly. She passed him a chunky ham and cheese sandwich on a paper plate and sat back on her haunches to look at him for a few seconds. The glare was sharp and she was squinting into the sun. ‘Not many women would accept that sort of situation.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Luca murmured in response. It felt as if he’d already said too much. Sitting here, talking about this touchy-feely stuff...made him vaguely uneasy. Something about her lulled him into feeling just so damned comfortable. ‘Nice sandwich.’ He changed the subject, steering firmly away from dangerous ground. ‘Generous.’
Cordelia burst out laughing at his expression.
