Page 72 of One Bed

She watched Gib emerge from the water, looking far better than Daniel Craig did when he walked out of the sea in that Bond film. They’d turned a corner this morning, and she felt so close to him, emotionally connected.

Yes, yes, she knew that this was supposed to be a fling, that it was only sex-based, but something more bubbled under the surface. He looked at her like she was special, as if he could, maybe, love her, like he couldn’t think of a way to let her go. She wasn’t imagining it, was she? Seeing more than she should?

No.

It was in the way he touched her, in his sweet kisses, when she caught him watching her when they were on opposite sides of the room. Chemistry and tension hummed between them, sparkly and lovely and undeniable.

She didn’t know what would happen when they left Santorini, but not seeing him again wasn’t an option. He, this, was too special to walk away from.

Gib sat down on the lounger beside her and shook his head, spraying wet drops over her. She slapped his shoulder and pushed him away, laughing. ‘You jerk! Why do you keep tormenting me with cold water?’

He leaned back on his hands and tipped his face to the sun. ‘You’ve got some colour back in your face, some light in your eyes. Feeling better?’ he asked.

She traced her fingers over his shoulder. ‘I am, thank you. Thank you for being there for me, for talking me through it.’

‘Sure. So, what are you going to do?’

‘Have a meeting with my editor, work out what went wrong, write it again.’ It would be hard, but not insurmountable.

‘Good,’ Gib murmured, his eyes still closed.

He now knew everything about her, knew her fears and insecurities, her secrets, her past and her plans for the immediate present. He knew her better than anyone, and she liked that he did. Since he knew everything about her –from her childhood to her being Parker Kane to today’s embarrassing fiasco –surely she had the right to ask questions, to dig a little?

She was an open book, and he could be too. Would be. ‘Tell me what it was like when your parents died, Gib.’

She was watching his face and saw his eyes tighten briefly. But he kept his lids down and his head tipped to the sun. ‘Shit.’

Well, obviously. ‘Obviously, you were devastated. How did you cope with that? Did Hugh come and get you straight away?’

‘Yes.’

God, pulling a dinosaur’s teeth would be easier than this. ‘Was the funeral big? Do you remember it or did you tune it out? They say that happens.’

He sat up slowly and turned to face her. ‘What’s with all the questions?’

‘Well, we’ve never spoken about your past, and what you went through.’ Aboutanythingreally.

His face, degree by degree, shut down. ‘I’m sorry, but why would you think that’s something I’d discuss with you?’

She jerked back, his words a hard slap. ‘Gib, come on. What’s the big deal? Why won’t you let me in?’

‘Why should I?’

Holy crap, this wasn’t going the way she expected it to. ‘Gib, I’ve opened myself up to you, you know everything about me. You know more about me than my ex does, and we were together for five years.’

His expression turned remote. ‘You gave it to me, I didn’t ask for it.’

Bea rubbed her hand over her mouth, trying to make sense of what he was saying. So she was expected to be vulnerable, open, and show him all her cards, but he could keep his locked down? What the fuck?

She pushed her hand through her hair, trying to work out what to say, how to act. ‘I’m not sure what to say to that,’ she admitted, her voice hoarse. ‘I thought we’d turned a corner, that we had something…’

Gib looked out to sea. ‘I’m not saying that we don’t, but I’m not saying that we’re going to create a life together either. It’s far too soon for that, and…’

And what? She wanted to grab him and wrench the words out of him.

‘And if you expect me to bare my soul to you, to talk about my feelings, my parents and my past, it’s not going to happen, Bea. It’s not who I am.’

No, that was bullshit. ‘No, it’s who you’ve conditioned yourself to be.’

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