‘I see you brought your friends with you.’
This time he laughed. Twisting his neck he looked out at the paparazzi and fans who were clustered in front of the window. Some of them were practically pasted to the glass. ‘They told me to say hi.’
She lifted a hand up. ‘Hi.’
Was this what it was like to be Sam? Living a life bleached by a dozen photographers, your movements feeling like a stop-motion video every time they went off? She felt a fresh flood of sympathy for him. No wonder the villa in Varenna had seemed like a haven to him.
Sam came to a stop in front of her, catching her waving hand in his. He folded his palm around it, his skin warm and wet where he held her.
‘Hi,’ he said again.
‘Hi.’ Her voice was soft. ‘This is a long way to come for dinner. Even if you like cereal.’
He bit down a smile. ‘I’m a big fan of cereal, but that’s not why I’m here.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s not?’
Sam shook his head. He was still holding her hand. It felt nice . . . natural. ‘I’ve heard they’ve got a gorgeous new waitress. I came to check her out.’
She was aware of the silence in the restaurant. Of the intense scrutiny of everybody in the room. Yet somehow it didn’t matter, because standing in front of her was the man she’d spent all night thinking about, the one who had pretty much anchored her thoughts for the past six years. He’d been the villain of her life for so long, yet now he was every inch the hero.
‘I saw you on the TV,’ she said. ‘Something about falling for some English girl?’
‘You did?’ He looked surprised.
‘And I called you.’
Sam frowned, grabbing his phone from his pocket. The screen was black. ‘I forgot to turn it back on when I landed,’ he said. ‘I was too busy thinking about finding you.’
‘How did you find me?’ she asked. ‘Or has word of Cereal spread far and wide?’
He smirked. ‘I got my mom to call your godfather.’
Good old Hugh. He might have been her godfather, but he was also a sucker for a good story. She could only imagine the grilling he’d give her when she next saw him.
‘And here you are.’
‘Yes, I am.’ There were only inches between them, but the gap still felt too big. It was overwhelming having him so close. The dampness of his clothes magnified his fragrance, until it felt as though the whole room smelled as good as him.
‘You left without saying goodbye,’ he said.
She took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm her down. Her senses were too full of him. ‘You were a bit busy. I waited for you that night, but you didn’t come.’
‘Why didn’t you come and find me?’ A flash of pain crossed his features.
‘I tried,’ she told him. ‘But you were with your sister, and she sounded so upset. Then she asked you to come to London and . . . ’ She trailed off. Was she really strong enough to have this conversation in front of all these people? God, what the hell would everybody say? She wasn’t used to being the centre of attention. She liked to write the action, not star in it.
‘And you thought I didn’t want you.’
She nodded, too shaken up to form words.
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. She watched as his full lips parted, the bottom trembling as the air rushed in. She swallowed, remembering the way they’d felt against her mouth every time he’d kissed her. Soft and hard, gentle and deep. It was only the knowledge they were being watched that kept her from tasting him again.
When he opened his eyes, his stare was hot and intense. It took her breath away. ‘You were wrong.’
‘I was?’
‘I wanted to see you more than anything. I wanted to tell you what a stupid asshole I’d been. That I want to kick myself for refusing to open up to you. That what I felt for you – what I feel for you – was so strong, it scared the hell out of me.’