‘Host?’ She laughed. ‘You mean host as in “keep an eye on Izzy” duty, don’t you? I think you’ve done enough of that for one week. Or maybe you mean “host” as in the sort that gives a home to a parasite. That’s how you see me, isn’t it? A user.’
He wasn’t sure how he saw her. He couldn’t see clearly through the fog of sexual tension that pressed in on them. ‘You were the one who told me I was your goal, so if there was a misunderstanding then you are to blame. And picking a fight is not going to make this any easier.’ He noticed that her hair had dried curly. It tumbled over her shoulders in unrestrained wildness and he had a vivid memory of the way those silky soft waves had felt against his skin. ‘We’ll start with the swimming pool as you seem to like water so much.’
‘Fine—’ she gave him an odd look ‘—if that’s what you want then lead on. Give me the guided tour, complete with commentary. Show me the official swimming pool, although I still think the unofficial one is more fun. And if there was a misunderstanding it was because it didn’t cross my mind that you’d think my goal was anything other than professional. Do women seriously do that? Target you for marriage?’
‘Yes.’ Trying to block out the memory of her twirling in his fountain wearing nothing but a bright fuchsia bikini, Matteo strode through the rose garden and took the steps that led to the pool.
‘So women target you just because you’re a prince. That’s weird. Oh—’ she stopped next to him and stared at the pool with the stunning sea views beyond ‘—this is gorgeous. OK, maybe it’s not so weird. If I married you I could look at this all day.’ She grinned and punched his arm gently. ‘Just kidding by the way. Do you realise that you turn pale when people mention marriage?’
Matteo breathed deeply. ‘There are changing rooms through that door.’
‘Or I could just strip off here.’ Her hands dropped to the zip of her shorts and then she burst out laughing. ‘I wish you could see your face. You really need to chill, Your Highness. Is this just because of the concert or are you always this uptight?’
‘I am not uptight.’ He spoke through his teeth and she gave him a sympathetic look.
‘It might help if you took off that suit. It’s too hot for that.’
‘I had meetings this morning.’
‘Until I dragged you away from them. I like it here. It’s peaceful. To be honest I wasn’t sure I’d like “peaceful” because I’m used to something different, but I do.’ Stooping, she fished out a leaf that had fallen onto the surface of the pool, the movement exposing even more of her long, slim legs. And there, high on her thigh, was a tiny tattoo in the shape of a butterfly. ‘Let’s call a truce because frankly all this conflict is messing with my concentration.’
His own concentration was shot to pieces so it should have been a welcome suggestion but he couldn’t stop looking at that butterfly. ‘Truce?’
‘Yes.’ She straightened and brushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘You get on with your work, I’ll get on with mine.’
‘Five minutes ago you were deeply offended.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m resilient. One of the advantages of being crushed a lot is that you become very experienced at bouncing back. Of course it’s a blow that you won’t let me help but I never bear grudges. Life’s too short. So are we cool?’
Matteo had never felt hotter in his life and it made no sense. He spent plenty of time with exceptionally beautiful women whose daily focus was grooming—so how could a pair of frayed denim shorts and one single tattoo have such an inflammatory effect on his libido?
Blue eyes twinkled into his. ‘Are you OK? Say something. Preferably something nice and not “Izzy, your voice is crap.” That way we’ll maintain this lovely harmonious atmosphere.’
It was her mouth, he decided. Yes, her hair was wild and her clothes casual, but her mouth was a work of art. An almost perfect curve announcing her sexuality and he had a clear memory of the way that mouth had felt under his.
Matteo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to fight his own impulses and he knew she was fighting the same impulse from the way she suddenly frowned and looked away from him.
But eye contact wasn’t necessary to fuel chemistry this intense. It had a life of its own and the heat scorched both of them, burning up willpower and good intentions.
‘Um, this is awkward.’ She drew in an unsteady breath, watching as a tiny bird skimmed water from the still surface of the pool. ‘So let’s just talk about it and get it out of the way. You’re thinking about that kiss. So am I. But you kissed me because you were angry with me, no other reason. I drove you a little crazy.’ Delving into the pocket of her shorts she pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them onto her nose. ‘We’d both been drinking. End of story.’
But he’d drunk virtually nothing and the absence of an excuse made his behaviour all the more disturbing.
Her expression was hidden by the glasses. ‘Let’s just finish this tour so you can get back to work. How do I get down to the beach? I’m more of a sea girl than a pool girl.’
And now he’d seen her in the fountain it was all too easy to imagine her in the sea, those long limbs kicking gracefully through the water. And from there it was a small step to imagining those same long limbs wrapped around his waist.
Matteo undid the top button of his shirt. ‘There’s only one path and it’s very steep. You need to be careful not to go close to the edge of the cliffs or you could fall. I’ll show you.’ Striding ahead of her so that she was out of his field of vision, he led her down a set of stone steps and back onto the sweep of grass that led from the palazzo to the cliffs.
‘So that amphitheatre place where you hold the concert—is it near here?’ Once again she’d taken off her espadrilles and this time they dangled from her fingers as she walked across the grass, as light on her feet as a ballerina.
‘It’s about an hour south of here.’ He dragged his gaze from her bright pink toenails. ‘You seem to carry your shoes more than you wear them.’
‘That’s because I fall in love with pretty shoes and then discover I can’t walk in them. I watched the concert on TV last year. Incredible.’ She stretched out her arms and lifted her face to the sun. ‘I suppose it’s useless to ask if you can get me a ticket? Given that you won’t let me help, at least you could let me watch. I could hover backstage.’
The last thing he wanted was Izzy backstage, distracting him with her soft mouth and her laughing eyes. ‘You’ll be back in England before the concert.’
‘I suppose you don’t trust me not to grab the microphone. So how did you get involved in the music industry anyway? I mean, it isn’t exactly a normal focus for a prince.’ She stooped to pick a daisy from the grass, the movement once again bringing that tempting tattoo into his line of vision.