Page 41

I’m reading my book in the bath on Saturday evening when I hear a knock on the door. I freeze, wondering if I’ve misheard or if it’s a knock for a different flat, but after a while it comes again.

Quickly marking my page, I call out, ‘Just a minute!’, climbing out the bath and grabbing my towel.

As I tuck it round me and pad over to the door, I wonder who it might be – Leo is at his dinner party tonight and when I saw Marina earlier, she said she was going to the same event as him.

I think it’s a dinner hosted by Diogo, my sea-fishing friend.

Oh shit . I stop in my tracks on the way to the door as I realise who it is.

José.

There’s no one else it could be. I did leave him very abruptly on Thursday night after our date without the most extensive of explanations, so maybe he wants to talk about it. He would also know that I didn’t get on that plane today since Naomi extended my stay here.

At first, I consider throwing on some clothes, but then I re-evaluate and realise that if it looks like he has disturbed my evening, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

That way, I can get rid of him quicker – which sounds mean, but I’d rather have the evening of pampering and reading I’d planned than force myself through awkward small talk.

And after writing all of yesterday, and into the night, to get those paragraphs to Toni, before another full day of writing today, I deserve a bit of relaxation.

Running myself a hot bath was also a bit of a celebration – Toni replied to my email this morning with the following:

LOVE this. You’re back on form. Can’t wait to read the rest. Keep drinking that “better-than-London” Burgau coffee you bored me about if that’s what gets me these results. Best wishes, T

Her approval meant I was on the right path and I barely looked up from my laptop today.

Once I started writing about Leo, I couldn’t stop.

I forced myself to go on a walk to the beach at lunch time just to make sure I didn’t stay cooped up in the flat all day, but it was pointless – my brain was whirring with ideas for the feature and I only ended up making it as far as Marina’s Bar to say hi before I scurried back to my hovel.

But this evening, I admitted defeat. I needed a break and since everyone I know here is busy tonight, a bath and a book seemed like the perfect evening.

Until I swing open my front door.

It’s not José. It’s Leo.

He’s standing outside my door in a dark shirt and shorts, with what looks like quite a heavy bag of food in one hand and a bouquet of pink flowers in the other. When the door opens and he sees me, his whole face lights up.

Gripping my towel, beads of water from the bath still dripping down my legs, I stare at him, my breath caught in my throat. He looks achingly handsome, his hair thick and messy, the top buttons of his shirt undone low enough to allow a teasing glimpse of the smooth, tanned skin of his chest.

‘Hey,’ he says, his eyes warm and soft, his smile creeping wider and wider.

This is not how I would have opened the door if I’d known it was him on the other side. I don’t exactly look my best right now. No make-up, my hair tied up in a loose, messy bun, and my cheeks flushed from the heat of the bath, growing hotter under his gaze.

‘Leo!’ I stare at him, wide-eyed. ‘What are you—’

I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence because he’s already stepped forwards and dropped the bag on the floor by the door with a loud thud before wrapping his arms around my waist and dipping his head to kiss me.

And when he does, everything else around us disappears.

His mouth crushes against mine, his hand carrying the flowers staying at the small of my back while his other moves to my neck, his fingers sinking into my hair.

As he walks me back a step until I bump against the open door, I exhale a soft moan of relief, joy, pleasure – all of the above – to have his lips to myself again, a sound that causes him to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding against mine.

God, he smells so good , his musky sandalwood cologne filling my nostrils and igniting a fire low in my belly.

My hands are pressed flat against his chest and I can feel his strong heartbeat thudding against my palm.

It was only yesterday that I left his flat but it somehow feels like a lifetime ago, my body melting into his, craving the feeling of his weight pressed against me.

My head spins, my stomach twists, my heart races.

This is one hell of a kiss.

He eventually draws back to smile down at me. I bring my eyes up to meet his, my poor brain dizzy from his greeting and still scrambling to make sense of his being here at all.

He dips his head once more to gently brush his lips against mine, soft, careful and inviting, like he’s had a shot of what he’s been craving and he can relax now: the calm after the storm. Or in the case of that kiss, the calm after a fucking frenzied tornado.

‘What are you doing here?’ I say breathlessly, only just realising that I’m clinging to handfuls of his shirt. I don’t even remember actioning my hands to do that. ‘You’re meant to be at a dinner.’

‘I told them I had somewhere else I needed to be,’ he tells me, his fingers sweeping back a lock of hair that’s fallen loose of my bun, probably because a moment ago, he was tugging on it, teasing it from the hairband.

‘Seriously?’

‘I wanted to see you,’ he admits, pressing his forehead against mine. ‘Is that okay?’

Fuck yes.

‘Sure,’ I say quietly, hoping he can’t hear my heart beating at a hundred miles an hour. I run my hands up and down his torso, making sure he’s really here standing in front of me and this isn’t a dream. ‘Although I feel bad you had to cancel your plans.’

‘I feel bad that I interrupted yours,’ he says, lifting his head so his eyes can drift down to my towel. ‘Not that bad. Kind of seems as though I dropped by at a good time.’

I laugh, self-consciousness suddenly getting the better of me as I glance over his shoulder out at the empty corridor. I’d been so caught up in the kiss, I hadn’t thought about neighbours passing by.

‘Maybe you should come in so we can close the door,’ I suggest.

He agrees, stepping back to pick the bag up and come in, while I shut the door.

Placing his things down on the kitchen counter, he surveys the spacious lounge.

‘It’s not bad, I’ll give José that,’ he remarks.

‘He does have excellent taste.’

When Leo shoots me a look, I’m ready to greet it with an impish grin.

‘So I should probably go put some clothes on,’ I note, gesturing to the bedroom. ‘There’s iced tea in the fridge if you want some? Sorry, I don’t have much else. If I’d known you were coming over, I would have—’

He holds up one hand to stop me and passes me the bouquet from the other.

‘I’ve got all that covered,’ he says. ‘Here. These are for you.’

‘They’re beautiful, thank you.’ I admire them, breathing in their sweet scent, their paper wrapping crinkling in my grasp. ‘Why did you get me flowers?’

‘Because,’ he begins, and there’s an ever-so-slight waver to his voice, like maybe he’s nervous about something, ‘I thought tonight could be our very first date.’

I frown at him, half-smiling in confusion. ‘What? Like, a proper date?’

‘Yeah, London,’ he says, the corners of his lips tilting upwards. ‘If we’re doing this, we’re not doing it half-arsed.’

I’m too stunned to speak for a moment. One moment, I had a free evening ahead of me, soaking in a bath with my book, and the next, I’m being handed flowers at the introduction to a surprise date with one of the sexiest, sweetest men I’ve ever met. Maybe the sexiest and sweetest man I’ve ever met.

My brain is finding it hard to compute this turn of events.

‘But… Leo, we can’t go on a date,’ I say regretfully, looking at him as though he’s forgotten what’s going on here and who I am. ‘If people saw us… We’re meant to be keeping this a secret. Lying low. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to go out for dinner somewhere.’

‘I know. That’s why I’ve brought dinner here,’ he says, nodding to the bag. ‘I hope you like Italian food; there’s a great little place in the village. I got a selection of the menu; I wasn’t sure what you liked.’

I stare at him.

‘While you go get dressed, I’ll get dinner set out on the balcony,’ he continues when I don’t say anything. ‘Take your time; don’t rush or anything. We can always heat up the food in the oven if we need to.’

He gives me a strange look as I continue to stay mute, my lips parted, a tingling feeling spreading out from my heart down through every vein, warming my body.

‘You okay?’ he asks, concerned. ‘You look a bit spaced out.’

‘I… I just…’ My mouth is so dry. I swallow and start again. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’

His forehead creases. ‘Sorry, you know, now I’m here, maybe this is too much, I should have checked—’

‘No! No, it’s not too much,’ I say, beaming at him, the muscles in my face finally springing into action to yank my mouth up into a proper smile and reassure him. ‘It’s wonderful. It’s so lovely, I can’t…’ I trail off, taking a deep breath. ‘You really want to go on a proper date with me?’

His eyes fix on mine, the worry etched across his face fading away into a warm smile, the crinkles making a fine appearance. ‘Yes, I do.’ He hesitates, his eyebrows lifting. ‘Do you want to go on a proper date with me?’

What a stupid question. Idiotic, mad, adorably foolish.

‘Yes, Leo,’ I say, my heart thudding. ‘I’d love to.’

‘Okay then. Let’s do this.’ He nods to my bedroom door. ‘You should go get ready.’

As I turn round, he stops me by saying, ‘Oh, wait, you want me to put those in water?’ gesturing to the bouquet of flowers.

‘No, it’s okay, I’ll sort it,’ I say, smiling shyly as I hug the flowers to my body, unable to admit out loud that I want to look at them while I get ready. ‘They’re such a beautiful colour.’

‘The same pink as the dress you wore the first night you arrived here, when you walked down to the beach,’ he says as though that’s obvious.

Where did this man come from?

My stomach flipping, I don’t trust myself to speak, so I give him a quick nod and then start making my way to the bedroom.

I place the bouquet down on the bed and can hear him rustling around in the bag in the kitchen.

After a moment of staring at the flowers, I poke my head round the door again.

His forehead is etched in concentration as he pulls various items carefully out of the bag one by one, careful not to spill anything.

‘Leo.’

He snaps his head up. ‘Yes?’

‘I haven’t seen a florist around here.’

‘No,’ he answers.

‘Is there a florist in Burgau?’

He gazes across the room at me, the hint of a smile on his lips as though he’s been caught out. ‘No,’ he confirms.

I bite my lip to stop a stupidly-wide grin breaking across my face. ‘Leo?’

‘Yeees?’

‘Did you drive somewhere just to get me flowers?’

‘Go get ready, London,’ he says, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the food. ‘We don’t want to miss our dinner reservation.’

I slowly shut the door, leaning back against it and exhaling, my heart swelling so big in my chest, I wonder if it might burst right out of there at any moment.