Our Little Secret Read online

  I place my empty glass on the long mosaic table fit to host a real Italian family. Large, boisterous, happy. And even that taunts me as I pick up my stride, aiming for the path that weaves down to the tennis courts, the pool and the small private villa that I’ll use to escape to.

  I’m already unbuttoning my shirt and easing it from my body. A swim. That’s what I need. An all-out lung-burning swim and then I’ll collapse into bed, grateful for the rest.

  But as I near I hear the water sloshing and the definite sound of someone swimming.

  I check my watch. One in the morning. Who on...?

  I break free of the trees and the question no longer exists. My entire head is empty.

  There’s a woman. In the water. Naked.

  Make that a siren, graceful and serene as she glides with ease through the water, and I’m held hostage. I can’t move, I can’t speak. I blink, though. Blink to make sure what I’m seeing is real. Blink to try to clear my mind and tell myself that this is wrong, that I should turn away, announce my presence, anything but watch. Hooked. Mute. Hard.

  I swallow.

  Cazzo.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHAT A GREAT DECISION! I feel so free and relaxed—liberated, even—as I move through the water. The persistent fog in my brain lifts enough to make me realise just how busy I’ve been for so long, how I’ve distracted myself with work to avoid the bad—to avoid dwelling on Mum’s death, my break-up and the things I can’t control.

  I used to love swimming. It was a daily ritual—a few lengths of the leisure centre when I was younger and at the gym when I was older. But in recent years running has taken over. It’s quick, effective and suits my heavy work schedule. For the next seven days, work is parked, though, and I get to do this.

  And it’s all the more thrilling for being naked.

  The rush against my skin, my nipples, between my legs... Skinny-dipping isn’t something I’ve done before and now I’m wondering why.

  Er...maybe because you don’t frequent nudist camps?

  I laugh inside, not wanting to stop. But I know I have to. Yes, the house is asleep. Yes, the grounds are empty. But the longer I’m here the more risk I run. And I need to be up bright and early for day one of wedding fun.

  I slow my stroke, preparing to get out at the end of this length, but something snags my attention, some movement off in the darkness. My kick falters as my heart lurches into my throat. What the...?

  I squint in the direction of the sound, but I can see nothing. It’s all blackness and shadow beyond the pool lights.

  I must have imagined it. But...

  Adrenaline pulses through my system, the hairs at my nape prickling against the water. I don’t feel like I’ve imagined it.

  Time to leave. I hurry to the edge and push myself up. The water rushes over my sensitised skin as the goose bumps spread and I clamber up.

  ‘Holy mother of crap!’ The words rush out of me as I both straighten and fold in on myself at once.

  There’s a man emerging from the shadowed path.

  A half-naked man staring straight at me.

  And, I mean, straight at me. His dark eyes glint as the light from the pool dances over his chest...his very toned and very rigid six—no, make that eight-pack. Oh my. I lift my gaze higher, to his face, to his shadowed jaw, chiselled cheekbones, straight nose. And those eyes... Those eyes...

  I swallow. I have an arm over my breasts and one over my very naked nether region. What the actual crap do I do?

  Heat flushes my cheeks, the burn offsetting any hint of the cold air as it teases the water droplets forming over my entire length. For one delirious second, I think I’ve conjured him up like some sex-starved fantasy because, fuck me, is he hot!

  Like, Italian god, golden-skinned, dark-haired hot.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The god suddenly comes alive, his English heavily accented and definitely dream-worthy. His eyes dart around the pool edge as his pec muscles ripple and he clutches what looks to be his shirt to his own nether region that is very much clothed. ‘Don’t you have a towel?’

  ‘No,’ I squeak. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I start sidestepping to the right, to where my robe and cami set await on the cabana bed, and he mirrors my movement in just as awkward a fashion. I’m torn between laughing and dying of shame.

  No one has seen me naked since Bobby, and even then I don’t remember a fire in his gaze as scorching as that of Mr Italian Stranger.

  Even if he does look as alarmed as I do.

  ‘I’m sorry, this is so awkward,’ I mumble. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Mind?’ He frowns at me and then his brows swiftly lift, eyes widening with understanding, and I swear that even in the low light I see his cheeks flush before he spins to look the other way. His rear is almost as appealing as his front: broad shoulders, tapered waist, a great, pert behind encased in beige chinos. Yum.

  ‘Apologies.’

  His gruff voice has me snapping my eyes back up and remembering what I’m supposed to be doing. But the warmth in his tone, the rasp in the blurted apology, has me smiling and totally at ease.

  I take up my robe and pull it on, struggling as the fabric clings to my wet skin, but eventually I have it tied around me. I know it doesn’t cover half as much as the additional cami and shorts would, but I’d struggle even more to get them over my wet skin, and there’s no way I can pull them on quickly enough to get this encounter over and done with.

  ‘You can look.’

  He turns, his fingers raking through his thick, dark hair, his eyes on the floor, and then they lift and trail upwards...from my feet to my calves to my semi-concealed thighs and further still. Boy, do my nipples prickle as his eyes graze over them before finally connecting with mine. I sweep a shaky hand over my hair to hide the way my breath catches, my lungs struggling to take in air as I’m presented with the sexiest man I’ve ever seen outside of a glossy magazine.

  ‘It’s not often I’m lost for words,’ he says, his mouth quirking to one side.

  ‘You and me both.’ I step forward and smile, offering out my free hand and praying that my other, which clutches the rest of my clothing to my chest, is covering enough of my body beneath the sheer fabric. ‘I’m Faye. I’m here for the wedding.’

  He eyes my hand, then my face, before slipping his fingers around mine and giving me a grin that steals my breath anew. His jawline really is bold, chiselled and, oh, so masculine. His facial hair is angled in such a way as to draw attention to his lips, all sensual, full and... Oh, my God, I just licked mine. I flick my eyes up. Did he notice?

  Yes. Yes, he did!

  There’s amusement in his depths now, amusement and fire, and his continued grasp around my hand is all warm and firm and I’m tingling everywhere. I lower my gaze and take in our handshake, that shows no sign of ending, and his torso just beyond which is as naked as I feel and dappled with hair. Manly hair. Hair that thickens as it disappears into the waistband of his trousers... I want to wet my lips again. He’s utterly delicious, and I’m practically eating him with my eyes, and—

  He’s not some bloody piece of meat, Faye!

  ‘And you are?’ I say over my mental admonishment, forcing my eyes back to his.

  ‘The owner.’

  ‘The what, now?’ I blurt, expecting a name, not a... Oh God, he’s the owner, and I’ve just been caught swimming naked in his pool. This can’t be happening.

  ‘The owner...’ he repeats, releasing my hand to wave it about us, his eyes not once leaving mine ‘...of this pool, the land, the castle.’

  I nod. It’s all I can manage as the embarrassment swells. But then...he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s still looking at me as though he wants to wet his lips. And I want to wet them. Their luscious curve makes me want to taste, to probe, to do all manner of X-rated things that I haven’t been inspire
d to think of, let alone act on, in so long.

  I surprise myself by smiling, surprise myself even more when I step a little closer, a fire I’ve missed so much coming alive deep inside. ‘You have a lovely place here.’

  I watch his throat bob, watch as his eyes do their little trail over my body again, and I know by the raw hunger I see flaring back at me that the damp, sheer robe has me as good as naked. And it’s not embarrassment that runs hot through my veins now, not even close...

  Boring I am not, Bobby darling.

  Starting right this second, I’m throwing off reserved, stuck-in-a-rut Faye. No more feeling blanketed and oppressed by Bobby, by life’s cruel twists and turns. I’m giving my instincts free rein and it feels so good.

  ‘Seems you can’t sleep either?’ My voice is all throaty, my inner seductress making the most of being given airtime at last.

  ‘I’ve not long since arrived.’

  ‘Been out of town?’

  ‘Si.’

  ‘Needing a swim to wash the day off?’ He’d been on his way here, after all, half-naked.

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Well...don’t let me stop you.’

  ‘I...’ He stalls, his grin slow to return, and when it does warm little flutters take off in my lower belly. ‘Okay, grazie.’

  He turns away. He’s going to swim and I... I lower my arms and toss my cami set back on the cabana bed. ‘You mind if I stay a while?’

  He’s midway to stripping off his trousers as he flicks me a look, his eyes burning into the robe that now clings to every damp stretch of skin. ‘No.’

  He gives that grin again and nods to the bottle of fizz I’ve been nursing, and which I’ve left at the foot of the bed. ‘Make yourself at home.’

  He goes back to stripping off his clothes. It’s only when his hands hook into the waistband of his boxers that I realise he’s about to be as naked as I was.

  I swallow and turn away. It seems Bobby’s wife is still too close to suppress entirely, and I hear him give a soft chuckle seconds before the break of water echoes around us.

  His chuckle works its way through me, teasing the old me, coaxing out the new. Hell, why did I turn away? I’m not Bobby’s wife any more. I am me. I am the person who skinny-dipped, the person who walked up to him wearing no more than this robe, and wet her lips like some needy vixen... Oh, yes.

  I round my shoulders and take a breath, then turn, my eyes seeking him out. My mouth is agape and it doesn’t quite close again. I’m too caught up in the delight of a man as fit as the god Poseidon himself, slicing through the water, and he’s bronzed all over. No shame in bathing naked for this man. But then, if you owned a place such as this, why wouldn’t you swim naked when it feels as good as it does?

  I smile as I make myself at home, just as he suggested, and watch him as avidly as I would any movie.

  Swimming shouldn’t be a turn-on. Dancing in a club, the gyrating of hips, the roll of a very sexy body—yes. But right now...with the music of nature, the scent of the Tuscan vines, the herbs, the sea...swimming is as sexy as a striptease from the man of your dreams.

  And I’m settling in for the show. My very private, one-on-one show. And wherever it will take me.

  The old me, the new, they are one and the same. Bobby’s Faye is long gone.

  * * *

  Faye!

  As in Faye Davenport, my little sister’s best friend Faye!

  I speed up my stroke, swimming harder and faster as I let it sink in.

  My sister and I don’t see each other often, but we talk enough for me to know who she is.

  And she’s off-limits.

  She’s not just a wedding guest but the maid of honour, the one I’m depending on to make this week go without a hitch.

  Too young. Too messy. Too complicated.

  But, instead of telling her who I am and putting a stop to our not so subtle flirting, I’ve been evasive. Instead of digging out a towel from the pool house and waiting for her to leave, I let her stand there with that see-through thing clinging to her body and told her to settle back and enjoy the show.

  And why?

  Because I lost all good sense the second I saw her.

  Because she is captivating, intriguing, different...and I want to carry on enjoying the thrill of it. Of this. The attraction, the heated push and pull, the flirtation.

  Because, let’s face it, I’ve not experienced anything as remotely stimulating outside of work in a long time.

  And now what?

  Now she’s lying on her front, her elbows planted in the bed, her head resting on her palms as she watches me as though I’m the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. And it feels good. Too good to tell her to leave.

  Her eyes are too far away for me to make out their colour but, having seen them up close, I won’t be forgetting them any time soon. They’re the palest blue and so piercingly clear. As for how they made me feel when my hand held hers... My skin prickles beneath the water. They struck through the very heart of me, exposed me... Me and every debauched thought that had raced through my brain.

  But she’s Dani’s best friend...

  And she’s lying there all at ease, her legs bent in the air and hooked by her slender ankles, the little chain she wears around one glinting in the pool lights. She could be a nun and I’d still want her.

  I execute a turn under water, my back to her now, but her presence is no less teasing. I’m aware of her eyes on me, aware of her enjoyment too, and it thrums a reciprocal beat through my body that’s suddenly decided I’ve gone too long without sex.

  I try to remember all that Dani has told me about her. I know they met at uni and lived together. Aside from that, nothing. I feel a stab of guilt. We don’t talk enough, my sister and I.

  Another turn and I’m facing her again, quashing the guilt with rising curiosity about the brunette who’s still giving me the come-to-bed eye. I know she’s here alone this week, and that likely makes her single and very much available... All thoughts you shouldn’t even be entertaining.

  This week is about Dani and her happiness. It certainly doesn’t involve me getting lucky with her hot—and likely just as young—best friend.

  Tyler wouldn’t let me live it down. Not after the hell I put him and Dani through over their age gap.

  And Dani. She’d crucify me.

  But Faye... I look to her before I turn in the water again and our eyes meet, a brief clash, but long enough to see the reciprocated desire firing back at me. She swings her legs, the anklet flashes and I imagine hooking my finger beneath it, tracing its line around the curve of her ankle, smoothing my palm up her calf, her thigh...

  My blood rushes south with the very vivid thought even as my mind plays judge, jury and executioner in one: She wouldn’t look at you like that if she knew who you were.

  Or maybe she would.

  Maybe she’d push this as far as I’m willing to go.

  Not helping...

  But I do need to tell her, and I do need to put a firm end to anything more. Because this week is about Dani and not the complicated mess I could get myself ensnared in if I pursue this attraction further. A mess that would detract from what is important: Dani and her wedding day.

  Si, I’ll tell her...once I have a towel wrapped around my waist and my nagging erection under control.

  Cazzo.

  I swim harder, losing track of the number of lengths as I focus on taming my uncooperative body so I can stand before her and not succumb to the offer so brazen in her gaze. Part of me hopes she will tire and leave. Another part hopes it’s enough to exhaust my overactive organs into neutral. And another part, so determined to rear its head, wants me to say to hell with the consequences and dive right in.

  But she’s not leaving, and eventually I’m forced to cave. I swim to the pool edge closes
t to her, sink beneath the water and rise up, flicking my hair out of my eyes as I look to her.

  ‘Could you do me a favour?’

  She cocks a grin and I sense her mind racing with the many, many favours she could do...each of them as tantalising as the ones my mind is too eager to offer up.

  ‘Sure.’

  She rises onto her knees, that sheer robe clinging like a second skin and dragging my eyes south. I swallow the swell of desire and force them back to hers. ‘Could you get me a towel from the pool house, per favore?’

  Her smile lifts to the side. ‘You mean to say you had access to towels all this time?’

  I can’t help the grin that forms. ‘I did.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to get me one.’

  ‘And spoil my view?’

  Cazzo, Rafael. That’s hardly playing it cool and giving her the brush off.

  ‘Well, in that case, I think it only fair you do it yourself...’

  She lies back down and rolls onto her back, her eyes on the heavens now as she trails a hand down her front. From this angle all I can see is the tip of her head, the peak of her breasts and her nipples taut against the fabric as her fingers trail between them.

  ‘You can get me one while you’re at it...per favore.’ She teases with the Italian and I know she’s smiling even though I can’t see her face.

  A chuckle erupts; I can’t help it. I like her confidence, her easy tease. Not many people dare tease me. I’m too cold, too controlled, too severe—labels I’ve been given plenty of times in the past—but not now, not with her, not with someone who doesn’t know me from Adam.

  And it’s liberating. I don’t have to be Rafael Perez.

  Only, you do...

  She runs a hand beneath her neck and flicks her hair up, sending water droplets my way. ‘I’m still quite wet.’

  My body tightens over her double entendre and her fingers cease their exploration of her front as she shifts her head to eye me. One second, two...she rolls back onto her front, her smile wicked, her eyes sparkling. ‘Problem?’