“You like it here?”
“Are you kidding?” Jasmine’s enthusiasm bubbled out as if from a spring. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkled and her hands moved expressively. “This is like a fairy tale.” She gazed up at the nearest tree. “What is this? A pear tree? And what’s that? Apples? Is this an orchard?”
Luca laughed and then, for the first time that day, he noticed how badly the side of Jasmine’s face was bruised. Considering all the excitement of the trip, she hadn’t complained once.
“How’s your head?” he asked, taking a step closer and reaching out to gently touch her face.
She sucked in a breath. From pain?
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she replied quickly, turning toward him. “I’d actually forgotten about my goose egg.”
“Goose egg?”
“Lump on my head.” She covered it and winced. “This place could make a girl forget just about anything.”
She gazed up at him and everything was forgotten. The paparazzi, the betrayal, the road trip and the ghosts of memories. All Luca could focus on was her.
This petite American woman who gazed at him with a heady combination of longing and lust. Who, despite his distant and questionable behavior, seemed to find his company enjoyable. He reached for her hand and drew her close.
“Jasmine?”
“Yes?” The word was breathy and hopeful. She placed her hand on his chest, and Luca longed to feel her slim hand against his bare flesh. To let her touch him, her trembling fingers exploring him with the same wonder she’d explored the estate.
“Luca?” A male voice called from the terrace.
The spell was broken and Luca’s head snapped to attention. Monsieur Gauthier stood up on the terrace, his hand shading his eyes from the sun.
“Ah. Supplies are here. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”