Page 137 of Modern Romance December 2025 5-8

She wasn’t aware she had sighed until she glanced up and saw the sardonic amusement painted on his dark fallen-angel features as he watched her struggle.

It was very hard to shake the conviction that he could read her like a book. It wasn’t a two-way situation; he remained frustratingly enigmatic.

Trawling through her recollections, Amy realised he always had been, really. He had given out very little information in the past, and she hadn’t pushed him for anything back then because the mysteriousness of him had fed her romantic fantasies.

‘I’ll be masterful and take charge, shall I? Beach.’ He gestured to the path off to the left.

After a short pause she followed, walking behind him between the straight lines of the trees. It was cool and quiet except for her frantic heartbeat as she surveyed the movements of the tall figure up ahead.

She had been determined to maintain a cool silence but, as they walked on, the idea felt childish. Also, the need to fill the silence grew impossible to resist.

‘Do you produce your own olive oil?’

‘We do, but this area is no longer commercial. We have productive groves to the south on the mountain slopes. This part is actually a little neglected, hence why the wild perennial flowers underfoot have taken hold.’

‘They are pretty.’

‘It’s tough to control them without using herbicides, which bring their own issues; it’s ultimately about sustainability and, of course, the health of the land.’

A frown appeared between her brows as she flung her plait back, waving her hand to deter the insects buzzing around her face. ‘I didn’t realise that you took such a personal interest in the estate. I thought you were just about—’

He paused and turned back, looking at her with his usual mocking grin. ‘Making money?’ His smile faded. ‘Did you use some insect repellant?’

‘I didn’t think I’d need it.’

‘Well, you will.’

‘I think they like me,’ she admitted, swatting her arm.

‘Come on.’

The pace he set for the next few yards felt more like a jog for Amy but when they emerged onto the beach all thought of complaining faded.

The wide curved stretch of white, sugary sand was empty, and the sun reflecting off the turquoise-streaked sea was dazzling.

He watched as her wide smile emerged, her pleasure and excitement unfeigned.

‘This is simply incredible.’

‘Take off your shoes; the sand gets everywhere.’

She saw that Leo had already kicked off his shoes. He stood there in his cut-offs and a tee-shirt that exposed his impressive biceps, looking very much at home and a million miles away from the images of him which were distributed for PR purposes. And even further from the man usually seen on red carpets with his arm around beautiful blondes.

The sea looked so tempting that she sighed as she walked across the hot sand to the water’s edge. ‘I should have brought my swimsuit,’ she mourned.

‘You don’t need a swimsuit; there’s nobody here.’

She could not allow the provocation to pass or, for that matter, for the pleasure of the moment to be ruined.

‘You’re here.’

‘I can fade into the background.’ He touched the tee-shirt stretched over his broad chest. ‘See, camouflage.’

She threw back her head and laughed. The idea of Leo fading into any background, anywhere, in any circumstances was one of the funniest things she had ever heard.

He watched as she wiped tears from her cheeks, her laughter morphing before his eyes into broken sobs that lifted her chest.

‘Amy…?’