The Italian Effect. Josie Metcalfe

it was almost a fantasy.

      It didn’t matter that she’d sworn never to be swayed by externals again. She’d already had her trust broken that way once.

      But somehow this was different. The surroundings, the food, the music…everything was wonderful, but it all paled into insignificance before the man beside her.

      His conversation was witty and erudite and not only did he take the time to ask her questions about herself, he actually listened to her answers with obvious interest.

      It had been so long since that had happened that she felt herself relaxing and opening up like some rare flower under the warmth of his regard.

      All too soon their meal was over and he was ushering her out into the starry darkness.

      He could have wrapped an arm around her shoulders, making the excuse that the evening air might seem chill after the warmth of the restaurant. To her disappointment he seemed perfectly content to walk beside her, their only contact her hand on his arm.

      He paused as they neared her hotel, just a few minutes farther along the sea front.

      ‘Is it too late for you to take a walk with me?’ he asked quietly with a gesture towards the beach beside them, and she had to suppress the urge to shout her agreement. She certainly wasn’t ready for their evening to end just yet.

      He must have taken her hesitation for uncertainty.

      ‘Of course, if you’d rather I took you straight back to your hotel…’

      ‘No!’ she exclaimed, then added hastily, ‘No, a walk would be nice after all that food. I wouldn’t be able to sleep yet.’

      He turned towards the nearest path that led in a shallow zigzag down to the sand.

      It was hard to believe that it was the same busy, noisy place that she’d visited earlier that day.

      By night it was all but silent and deserted, only nature providing the sounds.

      At the end of the zigzag he stopped to slip off his shoes and socks and roll up his trouser legs.

      ‘Shall I help you?’ He crouched in front of her and wrapped warm fingers around one ankle.

      She braced a hand on his shoulder and slipped each sandal off in turn, glad that she’d decided to go barelegged tonight. It wouldn’t have fitted into the moonlit fantasy to have to struggle to remove tights or stockings in front of him.

      ‘We can leave our shoes here,’ he suggested, placing both pairs in a patch of dark shadow beside some rocks and folding his jacket on top of them before he straightened up again and held out a silent hand.

      In unspoken agreement they turned towards the water and walked until their feet found the hard-packed sand before they changed direction to follow the edge of the waves.

      The sea was calm tonight, far calmer than her turbulent thoughts. Inside her head an argument was raging, with one part of her longing to spend more time with this fascinating charismatic man, while the other urged her to keep her vow of caution and restraint.

      There was no argument about the fact that she was regretting that their evening together was nearly over.

      They’d walked all the way to the rocks at the far end of the beach before he paused beside her to stare out over the sea. Without a word being spoken they stood side by side, the breeze gently fluttering hair and clothing, and she was aware of a strange feeling of contentment.

      ‘I wasn’t ready for the evening to end,’ he said quietly, finally breaking the silence. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

      Lissa was so startled to hear him voice her own feelings that she wasn’t quick enough to keep a check on her tongue.

      ‘Neither was I,’ she admitted fervently, then could have kicked herself. What on earth was wrong with her? Over the last few weeks she thought she’d become adept at hiding her thoughts and feelings from others. Surely an evening in his company wasn’t enough for her to lose that hard-won control. She’d really hoped that she’d learned not to reveal her thoughts so impetuously.

      How humiliating to lapse now, she groaned silently, turning her face away. And he was probably only being his usual polite self, telling her what he thought she wanted to hear…

      ‘Ah, Melissa, it’s more than that!’ he exclaimed, breaking into her scrambled thoughts as he turned her back to face him. ‘Tell me that you feel it, too—this crazy attraction between us.’

      He captured each of her hands in his and pressed them against the soft cotton covering his chest.

      She was so overwhelmed by his unexpected exclamation and so aware of the warmth of his body and the rhythmic beat of his heart that she almost missed his next words.

      ‘Do you not know that ever since I saw you standing there in the hospital, all long bare legs and big dark eyes, you have filled my mind…my thoughts.’ He brought her hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss to each.

      Lissa was lost for words, her own heart beating so loudly that she was sure he must be able to hear it over the sound of the sea.

      ‘But this is so crazy,’ he continued, his tone almost one of exasperation. ‘We’re not teenagers to be overtaken by lust in the blink of an eye. We’re both responsible professional people. This can’t be real.’

      ‘You’re right. It is crazy,’ she said, trying to hang on to logic in the face of almost overwhelming temptation. How was she supposed to resist when he was looking at her like that?

      ‘Matt, we only met a few days ago and under the most fraught conditions.’ She tried to pull her hands free but he wouldn’t release her, forcing her to stay close enough to breathe in the musky warmth of his body. It certainly didn’t help as she tried to put her thoughts into words.

      ‘I’m just a visitor here,’ she continued, trying to be logical. ‘And I certainly didn’t come here looking for a holiday fling.’ Ah, but the thought of it was so beguiling. For the first time, she could almost identify with those groups of girls she’d been watching.

      ‘I never thought it for a moment,’ he agreed gently. ‘I’ve seen the young men lurking on the beach and in the square. It’s probably the same in the discos and nightclubs, although it’s years since I last bothered to go.’

      It was almost uncanny how closely his thoughts had mirrored her own and when the silence grew between them she somehow knew that he was wondering where they went from here, too. He was still holding her hands against his chest and she drew comfort from the fact that he hadn’t released her.

      ‘Can we be friends?’ she suggested quietly, but without much hope that he would agree. He was such a strong, decisive sort of man, so vibrant, that she was afraid he wouldn’t be interested in half-measures like friendship.