One Bed

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

F ifteen minutes later, Bea leaned her shoulder into one of the pergola’s uprights, a glass of chardonnay in her hand, thinking that if this cocktail party was a precursor to the main event on Saturday, she was toast.

She heard a masculine snort of laughter behind her and turned to see Gib shaking his head. Her eyes widened as she took in his stone-coloured suit. Instead of a shirt and tie, he wore the same black T-shirt he’d had on earlier, with cap-toed, suede and leather trainers on his feet. He was GQ perfect. He looked imperturbable as always, but his eyes, full of laughter, gave him away.

‘It’s not funny,’ she insisted.

‘No, she’s not funny. She’s hysterical.’

He gestured to the pergola, where Golly sat on the bar, her bare legs and feet swinging. All the guests had made an effort to look nice – except Bea’s godmother and Reena. Golly’d slapped a tiara – real sapphires or not? Who knew? – onto her head and swiped on some bold fuchsia-pink lipstick. But she still wore the same sarong from earlier, tightly knotted above her bikini-top covered boobs. Heavy silver bangles adorned her slim wrists, and the silver chain around her neck was baby-finger thick.

Reena didn’t look much better. She was in the same jodhpurs she’d been wearing all day: frayed at the knee and tucked into low-heeled riding boots. She’d pulled on a man’s button-down and rolled up the sleeves, one of which had a long tear at the elbow.

‘Pour those tequilas, sweetheart!’ Golly told the bartender.

He did as ordered and filled a row of shot glasses lined up in military precision on the bar. Four? No. Five. Jesus.

‘CheerstoGolly,she’strueblue,she’sapissheadthrough andthrough!’ Reena chanted, handing Golly a tequila. No lemon and salt for her, she was a hardcore drinker.

‘She’sabastardsotheysay,shetriedtogotoheaven,butshewenttheotherway. Down! Down!’

The group by the bar joined in the chant as Golly threw back one tequila after the other, slapping the third glass on the bar with a triumphant yell. Reena, bless her, pushed the other two behind Golly’s back where she couldn’t see them.

‘It’s like a septuagenarian frat party,’ Gib said, laughing.

It was an accurate description. Bea shook her head. ‘Welcome to my life with Golly,’ she told him. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. ‘Time to do damage control. If she carries on tossing shots back, she won’t make eight o’clock.’

As she approached the bar, she wondered how to get Golly down, and how to con her into drinking some water. She smiled at people she knew, kissed cheeks, all while keeping an eye on her godmother, who was leaning sideways to listen to a man with a handlebar moustache. If she leaned too far, she’d lose her centre of balance and tip over –and the concrete floor would turn her head into a smashed melon.

Bea knew she couldn’t storm in there and demand Golly get down, she didn’t want to embarrass her. No, she had to be subtle and sneaky, and make Golly think that getting down was her idea. And God, she needed to get her away from the bar. Being in close proximity to that amount of alcohol was dangerous.

Bea caught Reena’s eye and scowled at her. Reena just lifted her shoulder in a ‘what can I do?’ gesture. True, Golly didn’t listen to anyone, ever.

As Bea stepped between Golly and her admirers, Gib moved closer to the bar, his arms opened wide. ‘Golly, my gorgeous. I heard that there was a beautiful woman holding court at the bar, and I’m not surprised to see it’s you.’

Before she could reply, he placed his hands on her narrow hips, and easily lifted her off the bar. Golly giggled and held onto his arm as he placed her on her feet. She was, Bea noticed, with grudging admiration, a lot steadier on her feet after three tequilas than Bea had been when she’d swapped her flip flops for her heels earlier.

Golly reached up and patted his face. ‘If only I were twenty years younger, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me, young man.’

He lifted her hand and gallantly kissed her knuckles. ‘I can’t keep up with you now.’ He threaded her hand through his elbow. ‘Now, come with me, and let’s go watch the sun set. I think it’s going to be a beauty.’

Golly nodded. ‘They always are. Yes, let’s all go watch nature paint the sky.’ As Gib passed her, Bea grabbed his free hand and squeezed.

When his eyes met hers, she mouthed a ‘thank you’. He’d handled the situation perfectly, without embarrassing her godmother. He came across as being debonair and assured, supremely confident, but, nobody would suspect how closed off he was, how much he hated answering personal questions.

Why was he at the party? He’d told her he was desperate to be alone, that he needed solitude, and she thought he would’ve jumped at the chance to have a couple of Bea-free hours alone in the cottage.

But here he was, charming her grandmother, shaking hands and smiling as Golly introduced him to her guests. It was like he’d pulled on a cloak, and Bea suspected he’d flipped into corporate CEO mode. He hadn’t wanted to attend this party, and Gib Caddell wasn’t someone who did things he didn’t want to do.

So … why ?

With his hand on Golly’s lower back, Gib guided her to the stone wall. A waiter distributed flutes of champagne, and Gib pulled up a chair. Golly sank into it and placed her bare feet on the wall. Bea stood behind her, her shoulder connecting with Gib’s bicep, her eyes on the quickly changing sky in front of them.

There were streaks of reds and pinks, which deepened to purple. The dying sun tossed yellow sparkles onto the sea, which faded to silver and then disappeared beneath the flat surface. Stars popped out, cubes of light on a swathe of rich, blue-velvet sky.

As the day faded into darkness, Cass’s crew lit fat candles and pretty lanterns, and soft light spilt from the pergola. The violinist segued into soft rock and a few couples swayed in time to the beat.

Bea pushed her way into the space between Golly and the wall and dropped to her haunches. She couldn’t balance well in her heels, so she gripped the arm of Golly’s chair.

Golly pouted. ‘I know, I know, I should’ve showered, changed. And I shouldn’t be slamming back tequilas. That’s what you want to say, isn’t it?’

Bea frowned, shaking her head. Did she really nag so much? ‘Actually, no. I want to know if you’re OK.’ She gestured to her clothes. ‘It’s unlike you not to spend hours on your clothes and makeup.’

Golly shook her head and looked out to sea. ‘I thought I’d lie down for a quick nap, and I fell asleep. I didn’t have enough time to shower and change so I thought, fuck it. I slapped on my tiara, some lippy, and came out here.’

Bea frowned. Her godma had never been a need-a-nap person. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ she asked, resisting the urge to check if Golly had a temperature. If she did that, she’d have a layer of skin stripped off her and her hand slapped.

But the reality was that Golly was growing old, and one day, sooner than Bea’d like, she’d have to live in a world without her. The thought made her feel a little light-headed. Why was she even considering Golly’s mortality? Everyone knew God and the devil needed more time to argue about where Golly would spend eternity – God didn’t want her corrupting Heaven, and Satan was worried she’d upend Hell. Their inability to concede would give her another few decades together and a birthday card for Golly from the King.

Bea wanted to tell her she loved her, but Golly wasn’t sentimental and wouldn’t appreciate her getting soppy. Before she could speak again, Golly slapped her hands against her thighs and stood up, bumping her knee against Bea’s, who wobbled on her heels. Needing every bit of her core strength, of which she had none, Bea held onto the chair and pushed her way to her feet, wincing at her complaining knees. She was thirty, surely she wasn’t old enough to have dodgy knees?

Bea sighed as Golly strode over to the bar, a woman on a mission to get this party started. Rubbing her hands over her face, Bea pushed back her shoulders and swallowed a yawn, thinking she’d like nothing more than to go to bed.

A shower, a pair of men’s boxer shorts and a loose vest, a good romcom on her eReader … she couldn’t think of anything better. Actually, that was a big fat lie. She tipped her head to look at Gib, who was talking to Reena and a tall, thin man with a goatee. Gib, naked and touching her, would be a very decent alternative.

But, thanks to her five-year bed-based-fun drought, she wasn’t sure she’d know what to do with him if they dropped their clothes. Was sex like riding a bike? Did you automatically remember how to do it? Or was a refresher course required? If yes, where did you go to get one? Or was that foreplay? Did Gib like to kiss, to taste and savour, to take his sweet, sweet time, or was he an in-and-get-it-done lover? Despite their years together, Gerry had never managed to give Bea an orgasm without her input.

As Golly always said, you can’t do epic shit with basic people. With Gerry, even mediocre sex had been out of the question.

The clinking of a spoon against a crystal glass caught her attention. Bea wasn’t surprised to see it was Golly demanding attention. Who else would it be?

Bea’s eyes danced over the crowds and stopped on Gib, standing just outside the pergola, his expression one of mild amusement. Feeling her gaze on him, he turned his head, his eyes slamming into hers. In his, she caught the heady combination of want and need and lust. And as they traded eye-fucks – because there was no other word for what they were doing – a klaxon blared in her head flashing ‘BEWARE!’ in huge letters.

Despite their ultra-brief acquaintance, she knew, deep inside, that Gib was a threat to her independence, her lifestyle, to her need to keep herself apart. Something in him called to her and she fought the urge to walk over to him and step into his arms. She wanted to lie to herself, to say that she was simply attracted to him, that it was pheromones or a need for sex, that it was being in Greece, where the innate sensuality of the island heightened emotions…

But from the moment she first saw him walking towards her, she knew an adventure was about to begin.

And tonight, she also, simply, liked him. Liked that he’d sized up a situation, and then did what was needed. Gerry had been blissfully, selfishly unconcerned about anything and anyone that didn’t involve him, and he would never think of her swapping her shoes to minimise her discomfort, or rescuing Golly from her perch on a bar. Instead of talking about himself, as Gerry often did – he was his own favourite subject – Gib gave nothing away about who he was, what he did and how he felt.

Yes, his reticence was frustrating, but he was a refreshing change from her self-involved ex.

‘Calm the hell down, peasants!’ Golly shouted. The crowd laughed but did as she said. Golly’s tiara sat crookedly in her messy pink hair and her eyes blazed with vigour. Her godma was the embodiment of the saying ‘pocket rocket’.

‘A toast!’ Golly raised her wineglass in the air. ‘It matters not if the wine glass is half empty or half full, clearly there’s room for more! Here’s to me!’

Glasses were lifted in the air and a series of ‘to Golly’ floated down the hill, to the purple-black sea.

And they were off.

* * *

As the last of Golly’s guests walked down the path to their cars and waiting taxis, Bea sat on the stone wall and slipped her feet out of her shoes. She wiggled her toes and winced as blood made its way into her scrunched digits, the arches of her feet, and her heels.

Cass, their event manager, sat next to her and crossed one long leg over the other. She wore a plain black shift dress and black hightops, eminently sensible since she’d been scurrying around for hours. She placed two massive margaritas on the wall between them.

‘It’s a beautiful night,’ she said, tipping her head back to look at the stars.

‘It is,’ Bea agreed. The waiters and bar staff buzzed around them, collecting glasses and plates of half-eaten food. Most of the platters were empty, and she was grateful. Her imaginary gang of five lived on the poverty line and throwing away food, in real life and in fiction, annoyed her.

‘Good job on estimating how much food we needed, Cass.’

‘Thanks. But, to be honest, I told Nadia to under-cater because, unlike other places where we work, I wasn’t able to find an organisation to take the leftover food.’

And there was another reason why she liked this woman so much. Bea sent her a sideways glance and nibbled the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t good at putting herself out there, but would Cass think it weird if she asked whether she and Nadia would be keen to grab a coffee, maybe even dinner, when they returned to London? She wrinkled her nose. No, she was being silly. Why would they?

They probably had an active social life, and as they often travelled, they probably liked to spend their London time catching up with friends and chilling. It was easier to not ask than to risk being rejected.

Rejection, in any form, sucked.

Bea picked up her margarita and sipped, enjoying the tart liquid sliding over her tongue and down her throat. ‘Where’s Nadia?’ she asked.

‘She went to bed ages ago,’ Cass replied. ‘She’s an introvert and would far prefer to have her nose in a book than talk to strangers.’

‘Me, too!’ Bea fervently agreed.

The waitstaff called out cheerful goodnights and Cassie laughingly refused their offer to join them at a club in Fira. ‘I used to work late, then only go out clubbing around midnight or one. Now all I want to do is drink my drink, and amble down the hill and snuggle up to my wife,’ she said.

Even when she and Gerry were younger, Bea had never spent much time partying into the early hours of the morning. Before she was published, she worked at a sports goods shop during the day and wrote at night. Gerry spent a good part of the money she earned on music and acting lessons and class A drugs, assuring her his big break was just around the corner.

Bea took another huge gulp of her drink. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to think about the past and yet here she was, allowing the memories to slide on in. Now wasn’t the time to look back. For the next ten days or so, she was going to live in the present, and not worry about the future. She was going to celebrate Golly’s birthday, not think about her retirement, while also trying to keep this weekend from descending into chaos.

Cassie nudged her and nodded at Golly who was walking over to them in a not-so-straight line, puffing on her cigarillo. Her sarong had been retied and she looked sex-satisfied. Oh, God. Who had she been snogging or worse? And where? Actually, no . No details required.

Reena, who was lying on the wall, a precarious habit and one nobody could break her of, sat up and narrowed her eyes at her old friend. ‘You are such a tart,’ she stated, rolling her eyes.

Golly blew on her nails and grinned. ‘I’ve still got moves, Reen.’

Bea really didn’t need to know about Golly’s moves, not ever . Then Golly picked up her margarita, took a healthy sip and perched on Bea’s thighs. Oomph.

Reena made her way over to them and placed her riding boot on the wall next to Cassie. She rested her forearm on her thigh and looked out to sea. ‘We’re going to miss this when we’re dead, Gols.’

‘We might not, depending on what the next place is like. It might be amazing,’ Golly blithely responded.

‘Or hot.’

Golly ignored Reena’s pithy response. ‘If I go first, I’ll let you lot know I’m still around if I can. I’ll flick some lights, throw some pans, bang on walls.’

Golly was promising to haunt her after she died, par for the course. Reena and Golly started talking about someone’s divorce settlement, and Bea tuned them out.

She was bone-deep tired, emotionally depleted, and she still had to decide where she was sleeping. The idea of sleeping on the half-broken divan made her body ache. She wanted a decent night’s sleep in a decent bed. Preferably after some amazing, ground-shaking, earth-tilting sex.

She hadn’t seen Gib for a while. Where was he, anyway? Had he had enough of being sociable and gone back to the cottage? And if he was still awake when she returned, how awkward would the rest of the evening be? Would he try and talk her out of sleeping on the Bed of Horrors? There was a good chance he’d tell her she was stupid because she’d created the Berlin Wall of pillows between them. She didn’t want another argument with him, but that’s what they would have if she insisted on sleeping on the divan.

On the other hand, she didn’t want to go back to the cottage to find Gib in bed, fast asleep and not remotely concerned about where she was and what she was doing.

‘Divorce Settlement broke a leg,’ Golly replied, helping herself to the rest of Bea’s margarita.

‘Had to be shot. Never realised his potential,’ Reena added, sounding bleak. ‘Such a damned waste.’

Ah. Divorce Settlement was a horse.

‘Oh, look, Gib’s back…’ Golly said, wiggling again. Dammit, she had a bony arse.

Right, so Gib had stuck around. What did that mean? If anything.

* * *

Gib looked at the group sitting on the wall, their faces lit by the lights of the burned-down candles on the low tables around them. The dim light smoothed Golly and Reena’s aged skin, and softened Cass’s angular face.

Bea looked…

Shit . She looked enchanting in her figure-hugging dress ending two inches from her knees. Her hair was half out of its loose knot and lay on her smooth shoulders. Her eyes held laughter-tinged frustration. Or frustration-tinged laughter.

Her arms were around her godmother’s waist, and Gib noticed the small kiss she dropped on Golly’s shoulder, the quick brush of her cheek against her wrinkled arm.

They had a bond that ran deep and true and had been built, he was sure, by tears and talking, fights and frustration. Bea’s impossible high heels lay on the flagstones, and she flexed her bright aqua-tipped toes. He tightened his grip on her flip flops, glad he’d picked them up on his way back from walking the mayor, and his wife, to their car. They’d looked a little lost and he felt somebody should.

Gib kept his eyes on Bea, who’d yet to notice his approach. On coming closer, he saw she looked tired, a drooping woodland sprite who’d spent a long day in a forest doing whatever sprites did. Golly spotted him and Bea looked past her and smiled.

It went straight to his gut and his world tilted, just a little.

Fuck , he’d just met her, they hadn’t even kissed, had yet to make love. But he couldn’t, not for one minute, help thinking this woman would change his life. How, he’d just have to wait and see.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. He had to be reacting like this because, like Golly –and wasn’t that information he didn’t need to know! – he hadn’t had sex in a while, and he was missing it.

Logic dictated that his reaction to Bea could be connected to his lack of sex, his stay on this romantic, tranquil Greek island and being forced to step away from work, to slow down, just a little.

OK, he’d only spent two full days on Santorini, but they’d been totally different to his high-pressure, high-octane lifestyle. Since leaving college and joining Caddell International, he’d put in long hours at work, determined to prove he had something to offer the company. And that he was anything but a Nepo-baby.

Hugh encouraged all Caddell employees to embrace a work/life balance, but since Gib wasn’t interested in settling down, having a wife and 2.6 kids, his work was his life. It was his number one priority.

If he felt like this after just a couple of days – loose and relaxed – Hugh might have to use a taser to shock him back into work mode after his vacation.

‘Ladies.’ Gib lifted an eyebrow at the bowl-sized glasses of margaritas on the wall, hoping they weren’t as strong as they looked. Bea had told him she had a full day ahead of her tomorrow and he knew from experience that working with a hangover was shit on wheels. Why was he worried? He wasn’t her brother or her boyfriend, and she was an adult who could make her own choices. She didn’t need his protection.

When he joined them, he looked at Bea’s bare feet and handed her her flip flops. ‘I thought you might need these.’

He saw surprise and confusion skitter across Bea’s face. She took them tentatively, caught off guard by his gesture.

‘Thank you,’ she said, slipping them onto her feet with obvious relief. ‘God, why do women wear stupid shoes?’

‘Beats me,’ Reena replied.

‘Because they make our legs look fabulous,’ Cass replied.

Golly stood up, stretched and leaned down to hug Cass, thanking her for making her night special. ‘I know that I am a demanding old bat, but you and Nadia are the best.’ Golly kissed her on both cheeks before placing her hands on Bea’s shoulders.

‘Same goes for you, Bea-darling. I appreciate all your hard work.’

Gib caught the flash of tears in Bea’s eyes, her slightly wobbling lip. ‘In ten years, you’re going to tell me you need another weekend bash, and another celebration. And I’m telling you now, we’ll celebrate by having afternoon tea at The Savoy.’

Something as sedate as tea? He didn’t believe that for a second.

Golly hauled in a deep breath and spread her arms out wide. ‘No bloody chance, Bea-darling! Old age should bloody burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the fucking light .’

You had to admire a woman who could quote Keats while swearing like a prison inmate.

‘Now, I’m going to bed with a bottle of champagne and a good book,’ Golly said.

‘What are you reading at the moment?’ Cass asked.

It was a question he’d never dare ask, mostly because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. That Fifty Shades book? The Bible , the Quran or theKama Sutra ? A serial-killer suspense? How to take over the world in your seventies?

‘The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam,’ Golly told her. ‘I think the Persian scholar and I would’ve been friends.’

‘You would’ve been part of his harem,’ Reena said, in her raspy, blunt way. Gib wasn’t sure if her comment was historically correct but wasn’t about to challenge her on it. Reena scared him a little.

Golly threaded her arm through Reena’s. ‘Honey, he would’ve been part of mine . Along with Caravaggio, pre-syphilis of course, and that sexy Spanish actress, the one who was in the film about that drug lord.’

Reena rolled her eyes, said goodnight and the two older women walked away, arm in arm. Cass picked up her glass and took a large sip of her margarita. She turned to hug Bea. Women were such tactile creatures, so openly affectionate. He and Navy showed they didn’t despise each other by ragging each other, and giving each other back slaps and shoulder punches. Only on extreme occasions – marriages, births, when they scored a goal at indoor soccer – did they resort to quick, one-armed hugs.

‘I’ll see you in the morning, Bea.’ Cass held Bea’s face in her hands, her smile soft. ‘Get some sleep, sweetheart, you look like you need it.’

‘I’m so glad you’re here, and I promise that bonus is going to be super big,’ Bea told her, holding her wrists.

Cass kissed her forehead and when she stood up, she handed Gib a smile. ‘Good night, Gib. If you get bored, I can always use a pair of free hands.’

Tomorrow, Gib intended to hit the beach, paddle for a couple of hours, and have a mid-morning nap. He wanted to use every minute of his time on Santorini relaxing in peace and solitude. ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ he told her.

Cass sauntered away and Gib sat down on the wall next to Bea and stretched out his legs. He picked up Cass’s glass, took a sip and swallowed. There was enough tequila in there to sedate a horse.

He handed it to Bea and she shuddered. ‘If I have any more, I will be less than useless tomorrow,’ she told him, crossing one leg over the other, her bright yellow flip flop dangling from her pretty foot. She had a high instep and long toes…

What the hell? He’d never noticed a woman’s feet before.

The fairy lights decorating the pergola still twinkled, and a couple of candles still had a little way to go before they burned out. The sky was in an inky, purple blue, the heavy texture of expensive velvet. The slight sea breeze danced across the ocean, up the cliffs and rolled over them. The lights of Oia twinkled in the distance. It was tranquil, lovely, and God, so tempting. As was Bea…

It didn’t mean anything, it couldn’t. But it did. It could.

Gib leaned forward and rubbed his hand over his face. His skin prickled at her proximity. Too close…

But not close enough.

He turned his head, and her face was right there. What else could he do but mimic Cass’s gesture and hold her face in his hands? His thumbs stroked her cheekbones, and he watched her amazing eyes widen, and her lips parted. She gripped his wrists, her fingernails digging into his skin. The pulse point in her neck jumped and his heart echoed the erratic thumping of hers.

He wanted her.

‘Gib…’ she whispered. ‘What are we doing?’

That question had layers of meaning and he had no fucking idea. ‘Right now, I’m about to kiss you.’ His voice sounded deeper, rougher, like he’d smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.

‘OK, good. Just checking.’

He was taking that as a yes. Gib slanted his lips over hers and his heart settled, and his stomach stopped its roller-coaster ride around his body. He knew how to do this, how to make her feel good. Not because he was experienced, not because he’d loved a lot of women and knew his way around a female body, but because he felt like he knew her, that somewhere and somehow, they’d crossed paths before.

And not just as kids, but in another world, another lifetime…

Fuck!

This night, and Bea, were playing havoc with him. He wasn’t a guy who waxed lyrical, he didn’t look for deeper meanings. He didn’t fucking talk .

Find your balls and get with the program, asshole. This was about attraction and sex, about their mutual need to chase pleasure.

He pulled back to look at her, taking in her gorgeous mouth and lust-swamped eyes. She hooked her arm around his neck and edged closer, her mouth landing on his again. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth and slipped inside…

Pure fucking magic.

This time he didn’t hesitate, he took what he wanted, plunging his tongue inside her mouth to discover her. She tasted of lemons and tequila, and he swiped a speck of salt off her bottom lip. Underneath the margarita, he tasted sin and temptation. Deeper and darker than he’d expected.

Needing her closer, Gib wound his arm around her waist and hauled her onto his lap, positioning her so that she was facing him, the inside of her thighs resting against his hips, the skirt of her dress lying over the crotch of his pants. He needed to feel her, so he yanked her to him and her warm mound hit his so-hard cock. Instead of pulling back, she ground against him, pushing her breasts into his chest at the same time.

This woman, so full of secrets and layers, confounded and confused him. He was used to walking the linear track to bed, no frills and no fuss. Dinner, sex, leave. But Bea was a tangled knot, a complicated puzzle … a place where he started in the middle and had no idea where he would end.

Pulling his mouth off hers, he scraped his teeth over the line of her jaw, his fingers pulling down her dress’s zip. When he had enough play on her dress, he pulled it down to reveal her lacy black bra over her small but lovely breasts; he placed his hand over one and swiped her sweet nipple with his tongue. Through the lace, he felt her tighten. His hand replaced his mouth and pulled the lace down. His thumb swiped her pebbled nipple.

Bea moaned and her eyes opened, locking with his. She looked a little confused, a lot turned on, rosy and lovely and feminine. He’d never wanted anyone more than he did her, right then.

It was just sex, his dick talking, it didn’t mean anything. He wouldn’t let it.

‘What are we doing, Gib?’

Her question, the same as before, and the turmoil in her voice, made him drop his hand and place it on her hip. Instead of answering her, he rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes, trying to get air into his lungs. Bea scuttled back and pulled her dress back onto her shoulders, her eyes lowered and her long lashes casting shadows onto her cheek.

‘It’s so soon,’ she whispered, playing with the leather and steel bracelet on his right wrist. ‘I don’t… This is madness.’

He agreed. And he made it a point of never stepping into a situation he didn’t fully understand. He never made business deals unless he knew every facet of the agreement, and had sussed out every possible outcome. He only slept with a woman after he’d made it crystal clear he wasn’t in it for the long term, that a few dates, a few weeks –no going deep and getting personal –was all he could give.

It wasn’t the right time to discuss the parameters of their non-relationship, something that could only ever be a fling. She’d had a tough day and the huge yawn she’d just tried to hide, told him she needed sleep, and lots of it. They needed to drop the temperature and slow down…

People got burned when they rushed into fires.

Wrapping an arm around her, he stood up, and her legs fell from his hips. He slowly lowered her to the ground –she weighed next to nothing – and gently turned her around to zip up her dress.

‘Should I apologise?’ he asked, when she looked up at him.

He would if she demanded it, but she’d been as into their kiss as he was. When she shook her head, his respect rose. He liked women – people – who took responsibility for their actions.

Bea tucked her hair behind her ears and shoved her feet into her flip flops. ‘It’s been a very long day, and I need sleep. I didn’t get much last night.’

It wasn’t that late, just a little past eleven, and he rarely went to bed before one. He wasn’t a great sleeper –the last two nights had been the exception to the rule – and after years of practice, he could function just fine with three or four hours. But there were shadows under Bea’s eyes, and she looked pale.

She wasn’t drunk, a little tipsy maybe, but tiredness was a contributing factor. Her defences were down, and he should back away. He should give her some space, some time to think, and decide whether she wanted to sleep with him or not. If she was still awake when he got back, if she gave him the slightest encouragement, he’d have her naked so fast her head would spin. So would his.

But God, if she was in that bed asleep or pretending to sleep when he got back, the rest of his night would be hell. The last thing he wanted to do was to lie awake with a hard-as-fuck erection and watch her sleep.

But a hard dick wouldn’t kill him. He didn’t think. ‘I’m going to go for a walk, maybe even head into Oia and see if there’s a pub open.’

Gib didn’t think it possible to look relieved and disappointed at the same time, but Bea made it work. ‘Um, OK.’

He had no idea why her words held a hint of ice. ‘I’ll see you later?’ Please be awake.

‘Sure.’

Something was wrong, but he had no idea what it could be. Did she want him to come back with her? And if so, for what? She said she was exhausted. Wasn’t that girl code for sex being off the table?

At sea, in a place he wasn’t familiar with – it pissed him off to feel as unsure as a fifteen-year-old trying to cop a feel –he watched Bea force a smile onto her face. ‘Have a good time. There’s a little pub near the big church, down the alley next to the bakery on the northeast corner of the square. Go there, they have a fabulous selection of beers on tap and a great wine list.’

Now she was playing Ms Tourist Guide? What the hell?

Bea surprised him by standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘I’ll try not to wake you up in the morning.’

With that sally, she strode away in the direction of the cottage.

And he was left with the suspicion that something had shifted, but he had no idea what.