He could find all the company he wanted, but it wouldn’t be hers.
The minute she was in possession of her belongings again she would make arrangements and be out of here so fast he wouldn’t know what had hit his privileged behind.
Unnecessarily her eyes were drawn to that behind... Incredibly taut, it made a masterpiece of those fitted dark jeans.
‘I don’t know why you ever imagined I would let you get away with this,’ she called after him.
He continued walking down the path, moving with that easy, wide-shouldered grace she could only envy. She hobbled behind him.
‘Bringing me here like some sort of concubine.’
‘You really need to get this imagination of yours under control, cara. I have a meeting.’
‘And I’ve already told you I don’t have an imagination. You’re unbelievable. You have a meeting. What about my meetings, my life? That’s all on hold!’
‘You are on holiday.’ He turned around and Ava tried not to be swayed by his warm eyes, his half tilted mouth. He looked completely relaxed, and she felt...she felt...
‘Yes, my holiday.’ She seized on the concept, veering away from those inconvenient longings. ‘And you’re such a Neanderthal you think you can just hijack it on a whim.’
‘That is the second time you have compared me to our early ancestors.’ He suddenly looked like a big cat, deciding whether to take a swipe.
Ava felt a little uneasy. She hadn’t actually thought he was paying attention to her insults. How worried should she be that he was keeping score?
‘I wonder why,’ she shot back.
‘I have a contemporary outlook,’ he said simply.
‘Yes, that’s apparent,’ she snapped.
He raised an enquiring brow.
‘You behave like...like a Roman Caesar. You have run roughshod over my wishes from the moment we met. You critique my clothes, as if as a woman I should only be dressing for a man!’
‘It is clear you do not,’ he responded, resuming his stride.
Ava ignored him. ‘You behaved last night as if I’d committed a crime by informing you that we were previously—’ she cast about for a suitable neutral description for a night she had never forgotten and came up with ‘—acquainted.’
‘I was naturally cautious.’
She snorted. ‘I’m sure you encounter predatory women all the time. How disappointing for you that I’m not one of them!’
‘Yes, we would possibly have less trouble now.’
Brought up short, Ava frowned and halted. She wasn’t sure if there was an insult in that comment, or a backhanded compliment, but it was clear as day which sort of woman he’d prefer.
‘I feel sorry for you,’ she slung at his broad back. ‘Never knowing if a woman is interested in you or your bank balance.’
He shrugged.
‘And you’re promiscuous. You lecture me, but you, Benedetti, are a playboy of the worst kind. You treat women like playthings. That sort of thinking went out in the Seventies, along with Sean Connery playing James Bond.’
‘Connery continued to play Bond into the Eighties,’ he inserted dryly as they approached a large gate cut like a keyhole into the stone wall. He gave her a shockingly charismatic smile over his shoulder. ‘But do go on. I would like to hear some more of your opinion of me.’
He thought this was funny!
‘No, you wouldn’t. What you want is to be praised. All men do.’
‘All men? This would come from your vast experience of my sex, cara?’
Ava looked around for a rock. She needed one heavy enough to cause some damage when she threw it at his head.
He turned, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Tell me about all these men.’
Ava suddenly wished she’d slept with a hundred men. She wished she had put the last seven years to better use. Right at this very moment it seemed as if bed-hopping would have been a far better utilisation of her time than attaching herself to a dull, self-effacing man and building a business with a national reputation.
She gritted her teeth.
‘I don’t know how you dare to stand in judgement on my sex life when your own is nothing to brag about.’
He gestured with one hand, as if he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. ‘What is this bragging?’
Ava didn’t know. She didn’t really know anything about him other than how he made her feel. Out of her depth, out of bounds, a little crazy.
Passionate.
Her thoughts came to a juddering halt. Look at me, she thought, a little light-headedly. Burning up like a firework ever since he came strolling back into my life...
‘It’s obvious you’re proud of your reputation,’ she rattled on, desperately holding on to her anger. Because this man might have strolled in, but he would also stroll out. Guys like Benedetti didn’t stick.