Summer's Lease (The Shakespeare Sisters 1)

‘You hardly drank at all,’ Sam told her. ‘I promised I’d keep an eye on you. In all you’ve had the equivalent of two glasses.’

‘Oh, I was sure I’d had more than that.’

‘Not unless you were downing it under the table.’ He sounded amused. ‘I’d say you drank the perfect amount.’

‘What is the perfect amount?’

‘Enough to relax you without losing all control of your faculties.’ She could see his mouth twitch. ‘Somewhere in between lucid and being carried up to bed.’

‘I thought we’d agreed not to mention that again?’

‘I don’t remember agreeing to anything of the sort. I kind of like mentioning it, because it makes you blush. And you’re very pretty when you blush.’

There he was again with the compliments, and of course they made her cheeks redden even more. She searched in vain for the perfect retort. ‘Well, you’re so much more handsome when you call me pretty.’

He laughed loudly. ‘In that case I’ll call you pretty more often.’

‘You should.’

‘All the time.’

‘Steady on, nobody can be pretty all the time. Or handsome, for that matter.’

‘That’s true. You were singularly unpretty the morning after I carried you to bed.’

‘It’s hard to look pretty with your head halfway down the toilet.’ It was so easy, this back and forth banter. She marvelled at how comfortable she felt talking to him.

‘Well, if anybody can pull it off, you can.’

‘It was a once in a lifetime show, I’m afraid.’ She looked up at him, smiling. God, he really was handsome, even when he wasn’t shooting compliments at her. Not that she intended to tell him that. ‘You’ll have to be content with the memories.’

Sam inclined his head, pressing his lips to her ear. ‘Don’t get big-headed, but you’re also easy on the eye when you’re not throwing up.’

The way his breath fanned against her skin sent a thrill straight through her. Her toes curled up in delight.

‘You have a wonderful way of complimenting a woman.’ She raised a single eyebrow. ‘I don’t think anybody’s ever told me that before.’

He smirked. ‘Glad to be of service.’

Staring up at him, Cesca wondered if he was going to kiss her. She tried to imagine how his lips would feel against hers, if they would feel as silky soft as they looked. Whether he would push his hands through her hair, coiling it around his fingers. There was a hint of hair growth on his jaw, dark and shadowy. Would it scrape her skin as they embraced? Her own lips opened, a soft breath escaping, and Sam lowered his face until it was inches from hers.

That’s when the flash went off, transforming the air around them from a mellow darkness to a bright white flood. Sam moved back, dropping his arms from her waist, and the warm night air flooded between them. Cesca’s eyes flew open and she looked to her left, where a young girl was holding a cellphone in front of her, a wide-eyed look of wonder on her face. The next minute s

he was joined by three others, all pointing at Sam and staring, saying his name over and over again as if he could ever forget it.

‘You should get in the car.’ The way he said it, low and short, invited no conversation. He almost pushed her inside, closing the passenger door behind her. Walking towards the girls holding their phones, he began to talk in rapid Italian.

The first girl – a pretty teenager – nodded rapidly, and grabbed something from her bag. Was it a magazine? Cesca couldn’t tell from there. Whatever it was, Sam was frowning at it.

The next minute he was talking to the girls again, flashing that smile she’d seen before. Beating his eyelashes and flirting like crazy. Cesca felt her stomach contract, all that food she’d eaten making her feel bloated.

Sam took the first girl’s phone and stepped between the four of them, letting them wrap their arms around his waist as he took a selfie of them all. Then he kissed them on the cheek, leading to high-pitched giggles, waving as he walked away.

As soon as he climbed back into the car, his flirty façade crumbled. His face looked like thunder.

‘They deleted the photos of us,’ he said shortly. ‘So you don’t have to worry about being seen with me.’

‘I wasn’t worried.’ She was more concerned about his mood. It had spun on a dime.