Page 155 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

Vincenzo was looking at her. Right at her.

No veiling, no guarding, no unreadability.

She felt his eyes on hers, holding hers. As if he could see right into her. Shock rippled through her. The last time he’d looked at her like that it had sent her into meltdown, pooling like honey at his feet... Liquid with answering desire...

For a second—just a second—she felt colour start to flare, her pulse surge, her heart thud. Then, with an effort of will, she dragged her gaze away, back to look out over the sea. Then she got to her feet.

‘Shall we keep going?’ she said brightly. Too brightly, but she didn’t care.

She didn’t wait for his answer, only started along the promenade in the direction of their hotel at the far end. The equanimity that she had so assiduously striven for ever since Vincenzo had turned up yesterday after lunch and they’d set off for Devon had evaporated like drops of water on a hot stove.

And she knew exactly what fuel that stove had been heated with...

No! Don’t go there! Just don’t! It’s too dangerous, impossible, and totally inappropriate... Irrelevant...out of order. Embarrassing.

And embarrassment was the predominant reaction to that moment back there on the bench. Of course it was! What else could it be?

She’d been caught unawares.

So had he.

The words were stinging in her head, making her acknowledge them. Without realising it, she quickened her pace. Then, realising that might be revealing, she slowed again. Vincenzo fell into step beside her. For the first time she was horribly conscious of his physical presence at her side.

Conscious in that way...

No! She crushed the thought out of her head. That burning night had done quite enough damage to her life—the very last thing she must allow was that it should start smouldering again. She had done her best since Vincenzo had reappeared in her life—dear heaven, she had! Had managed to totally blank him in every way except one.

We just need to be civil with each other, that’s all. We can afford no disturbances, no disruption, nothing else to cope with...

‘Did you want to have lunch somewhere along the way, or back at the hotel?’ she asked now, quite deliberately.

Lunch was a neutral topic, a safe one. Vincenzo seemed to agree.

‘Shall we see if we spot anywhere likely as we go?’ he said. ‘And if we don’t, we can always eat at the hotel. Dinner last night was perfectly acceptable, but maybe we don’t want to eat there all the time. There may be other good restaurants around...cafés, even. That kind of thing for lunch?’

‘OK,’ Siena agreed.

She cast her eye across the road that ran between the promenade and the row of buildings on the other side. They were, she could see, Regency-style upmarket villas, a long terrace of them, interrupted every now and then by smaller roads leading away from the seafront. Although the upper floors of the former villas might now be apartments—holiday lets, probably, she thought—the ground floors were mostly either eateries or shops.

‘What about over there?’ Vincenzo said beside her, pointing to a restaurant with seating on the wide pavement, an awning overhead, and hanging baskets of colourful flowers.

‘It looks quite Mediterranean,’ Siena said.

‘So it does—shall we give it a try? See what’s on offer?’

There was a crossing nearby, and he ushered her across. The little restaurant did look nice. Quite a few of the tables were occupied, but Vincenzo guided them to one that was empty, and set back a little.

‘Will this do?’ he asked her politely.

She nodded with a half-smile and sat down. A waitress bustled up, proffering menus and asking cheerfully what they might like to drink. Siena gave her usual order, and Vincenzo ordered a beer. Siena noticed the waitress paying a lot of attention to Vincenzo. But then, a man with Vincenzo’s looks would always draw female eyes...

Mine included...

She put the thought away. Been there, done that—and got theBaby Bumptee shirt for her pains...

She studied the menu, trying to replace such thoughts, and opted for a chicken and avocado salad. Vincenzo chose the house speciality—crab salad.

The waitress smiled. ‘Fresh-caught this morning,’ she said encouragingly, before disappearing with clear reluctance.

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