CHAPTER FIVE
Sandro insisted that Serena drive with him to the grocery store—firstly, because he had no idea where it was; secondly, because he was afraid she would somehow change the locks while he was gone.
Still, he could tell she was beginning to like him. He steered the rented car, laden with the local store’s very meager provisions, along the narrow beach road. And threw her another winning smile, just to help his cause.
Serena was beautiful, with a body to die for. Hopefully, their growing mutual intimacy would allow him to enjoy the pleasures of those full lips and full hips. He grew hard thinking about the possibilities.
Stay in the moment, Sandro. “At least they had a fresh chicken, and my stuffing will be way better than the boxed stuff you bought. Trust me.”
“It’s hard to trust you now that I know you’ll say whatever you think will win me over. But since you’re so terrified of spending Christmas alone, I will let you spend it with me.”
He wanted to laugh. She seemed almost more arrogant than him, which was saying something. And she still acted like she couldn’t care less about him. Which, of course, only made the challenge of seducing her more exciting.
“We should go to the beach.” He could see glimpses of the ocean through the trees on his side of the car.
“That chicken needs to go in the fridge.” She kept her chin at a jaunty angle, as if ready to deflect all blows.
“True, but once it’s safely tucked away, let’s go for a walk.”
“I actually have a lot of work to do.” He could tell she still wanted to wall herself off in her room and mope.
He couldn’t stand that kind of waste.
“We can talk about your work.” He shot her a winning smile. “Maybe find you some inspiration.”
The rain had cleared up and the sun peeked through the clouds, dusting the beach in pale light. Serena kicked off her sandals at the edge of the dunes. It couldn’t hurt to go for a walk with him, right? She might as well make the most of this beautiful location.
The invading winds so far were tropical, so it was warm enough to wear only a sweater over her T-shirt and khakis, and the ocean breeze was refreshing rather than chilling. Sandro wore faded jeans with a hole in one knee—rather an affectation for a wealthy prince—and a dark blue sweater. With his tousled hair and dark, flashing eyes, he looked like an Italian fisherman, and the effect was unfortunately enchanting.
Maybe she’d get a blog post out of this one day when she had more distance.
He rolled up the bottom of his jeans. “How did you get started writing books?”
The sand felt cool between her toes as they walked toward the shoreline. “The two I’ve written so far have been compilations of my blog posts. I started a blog in my senior year of college, and it caught on. I expanded into writing magazine articles, making YouTube videos, and one day I decided to put a bunch of my blog posts together into a book and publish it myself.”
“You found readers?”
“Yes. I’m sure some of them were people who read my blog, but I was able to use my magazine connections to get publicity and it ended up hitting a best seller list for several weeks.”
“What was your book about?”
“I called it Living Your Best Life. It’s a bunch of articles based on experiences I had as I looked for a job, rented my first apartment, figured out how to deal with a demanding boss—just living as a single girl in the city.”
“Did you talk about dating?”
The ocean lapped in and touched her toes. “Ouch! That’s colder than I expected.” The water was a dark gray-blue. She didn’t want to talk about dating. “Sometimes.”
“You must have men flocking around you wherever you go.” His eyes rested on her a little too long as he said it.
“Hardly.” She tried to sound breezy. “Not any I was interested in, anyway. I ended up having so many articles about my dating misadventures that I compiled them into another book called Waiting for Mr. Right. A publisher gave me a big advance for that one. It comes out next month.”
“Waiting for Mr. Right. Did you find him?”
She reached up to tug at her sweater, and for a second she could swear she felt his eyes on her ringless ring finger. The book wasn’t even out yet, and already Mr. Right had cut and run.
“I thought I had. We dated for two years. We were engaged, even.” She shuddered. Suddenly the weather seemed less tropical. “It’s cold. Do we really want to do this?”
“We’ll warm up if we keep walking.” He switched places with her so that he was on the ocean side, water lapping around his ankles and wetting the rolled bottom of his jeans. “What happened?”
Shame gripped her—for the umpteenth time. How did you explain it? She didn’t even know how to explain it to herself. The whole thing hadn’t sunk in yet. “He decided to go…in a different direction.”
“He turned out to be gay?” He looked curious.
She laughed in spite of herself. “No. He just said he didn’t want to get married. He’s still single as far as I know.”
“How odd.” Sandro frowned. “He probably is gay and hasn’t admitted it to himself yet.”
“I think I was too demanding.” She sighed. “Howard said it wasn’t easy living in a blog post. Too much pressure to do everything by the book.” She laughed again. “It is ridiculous, isn’t it? Even as we set out on this walk I wondered if it would become a post.”
One side of Sandro’s broad mouth hitched in a smile. “I’d love to be one of your posts.”
She blew out. “You wouldn’t really. He said it was like swimming around in a fish bowl.”
“Sounds a bit like being royal.” He grinned.
A smile snuck across her mouth. “I suppose it does. People watching everything you do, expecting it to be fabulous.”
“So I do my best to make sure it is.”
“Fabulous?”
“Of course.”
His dark eyes drifted lower, and she felt the heat of his gaze roam over her breasts, her belly, her khaki-clad thighs. She had not packed for elegance on this trip, and right now she wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or pleased by his bold appraisal.
She decided to turn the tables on him. “Maybe you could give me some tips on living a fabulous life. I could share them with my readers.”
“You are always writing a blog post, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “Occupational hazard.”
“I only have one tip—surround yourself with good people.”
“I guess I broke that rule by coming here alone.”
“Luckily I turned up.” He smiled. “And I’m so glad you were here. I’d have spent my holidays in an airport, trying to fly back to some friends somewhere.”
“You don’t like to be alone?”
“Not all that much. I’m from a big family. I have nine brothers and sisters.”
“Wow! That’s unusual these days.”
“My mom loves children. She’s waiting with bated breath for one of us to give her a grandchild.”
“Luckily, my siblings have jumped in early to save me from that pressure. It’s bad enough with them wanting me to get married.”
“Did they like your ex?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure they did.”
“Were they glad when you broke up with him?”
“I haven’t told them yet.”