Heat flushed her cheeks. She wasn’t going to tell him about her imaginary honeymoon couple, but... ‘It’s so beautiful here. So beautiful. It does something to me—fills me up...makes me feel more...’
He frowned. ‘More what?’
She lifted her hands only to let them drop again. ‘I’m not sure how to explain it. It just makes me feel more...myself.’
He sat back as if her words had punched the air from his lungs. ‘If that’s true then you should move here.’
‘Impossible.’ Her laugh, even to her own ears, sounded strained.
‘Nothing’s impossible.’
She couldn’t transplant her work here. She didn’t even want to try. It’d simply suck the colour and life from this place for her anyway, so she shook her head. ‘It’s just a timely reminder that I should be taking my holidays more often.’ She had a ridiculous amount of leave accrued. She had a ridiculous amount of money saved too. Maybe even enough for a deposit on a little cottage in the village? And then, maybe, she could own her own bit of paradise—a bit that was just hers.
And maybe having that would help counter the grey monotony her life in Geneva held for her.
Finn stared at her as if he wanted to argue the point further. No more. Some pipe dreams made her chest ache, and not in a good way. ‘Fair’s fair. Share your eyebrow-raising tip.’
So he walked her through it. ‘But you’ll need to practise. You can do an internet search if you want to.’
Really? Who’d have thought?
He rubbed his hands together. ‘Now we’re going to play my game.’
‘And the name of the game...?’
‘Designing Audra’s favourite...’
‘Holiday cottage?’ she supplied helpfully.
His grin widened and he clapped his hands. ‘Designing Audra’s favourite shop.’
Her heart started to pound.
‘How old were you when you decided shopkeeping sang to your soul?’
She made herself laugh because it was quite clearly what he intended. ‘I don’t know. I guess I must’ve been about six.’ And then eleven...fifteen...seventeen. But her owning a shop—it was a crazy idea. It was so indulgent.
But this was just a game. Her heart thumped. It wouldn’t hurt to play along for an hour or so. Finn obviously wanted to show off some hidden talent he had and who was she to rain on his parade? The lines of strain around his eyes had eased and the grooves bracketing his mouth no longer bit into his flesh so deeply. Each day had him moving more easily and fluidly. Coming here had been good for him. Taking it easy was good for him. She wanted all that goodness to continue in the same vein.
She made herself sit up straighter. ‘Right, the name of the game is Designing Audra’s Dream Shop.’
He grinned and it sent a breathless kind of energy zinging through her.
‘We’re going to let our minds go wild. The sky’s the limit. Got it?’
‘Got it.’
He held her gaze. ‘I mean it. The point of the game is to not be held back by practicalities or mundane humdrummery. That comes later. For this specific point in time we’re aiming for best of the best, top of the pops, no compromises, just pure unadulterated dream vision.’
She had a feeling she should make some sort of effort to check the enthusiasm suddenly firing through her veins, but Finn’s enthusiasm was infectious. And she was in the Greek islands on holiday. She was allowed to play. She nodded once, hard. ‘Right.’
‘First question...’ his fingers were poised over the keyboard of his computer ‘...and experience tells me that the first answer that pops into your mind is usually the right one.’
‘Okay, hit me with Question One.’
‘Where is your ideal location for your shop?’
‘Here on Kyanós...in the village’s main street, overlooking the harbour. There’s a place down there that’s for sale and...’ she hesitated ‘...it has a nice view.’
His fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘What does your ideal shop sell?’
‘Beautiful things,’ she answered without hesitation.
‘Specifics, please.’
So she described in detail the beautiful things she’d love to sell in her dream shop. ‘Handicrafts made by local artisans—things like jade pendants and elegant bracelets, beautiful scented candles and colourful scarves.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘Wooden boxes ornamented with beaten silver, silver boxes ornamented with coloured beads.’ She described gorgeous leather handbags, scented soaps and journals made from handcrafted paper.
She rested her chin on her hands and let her mind drift into her dream shop—a pastime she’d refused to indulge in for...well, years now. ‘There’d be beautiful prints for sale on the walls. There’d be wind chimes and pretty vases...glassware.’