Page 46 of Skin Deep

I read over the foreign words once more, then slipped the paper back in my wallet. It seemed to fill the void that existed after I left my ex-list in New York, at Ginger’s. I took a deep breath, my thoughts heading to Lach. It bothered me that he had settled for less by doing business with the Craigs. I’d have to make that right.

My phone beeped. My sister sent a text in response to the picture I’d sent her earlier of the sunflower field. My camera roll was filled with pictures of the scenery, but only six of Gigi and me. It was like there was one for each day of my week to live.

When Gigi came out of the bathroom in a white dress, I took a picture as she spritzed herself with perfume. It was a bit heavier tonight, more seductive. The white of the outfit made her deep tan and dark features, even the deep blue of her eyes, stand out even more.

I’d captured it as my last day—my seventh picture.

My phone beeped again. A text from my boss and brother-in-law.

Limited time, Harry Boy, since I’m the one who’s paying for it.

Yeah, he hated that I wasn’t around to put out his many fires, but I suspected some trouble in paradise between him and my sister. It seemed like he was trying to avoid getting an iron skillet (or worse, an arrow) to the head because of me.

I didn’t even answer him. I hadn’t been really answering anyone, even after I’d sent the pictures. I’d put my ties on hiatus to try and deal with my issues.

The woman grinning down at me? I’d yet to figure out if she was helping with them or causing more.

She was fucking sticky. It seemed like every second she was around, my hands were reaching out for her. I couldn’t stop touching her. Her warmth was like a fiery ball of sun in my hands, and after spending so many cold winters in New York, I needed what she was offering.

At night, she’d get as close to me as possible in bed, and I’d have to turn my resolve into armor to stop her from getting underneath my skin. This was a temporary madness that I was allowing myself. It wasn’t a permanent state of mine.

I had to keep reminding myself of that, especially when my hands fit her curves like we were made for each other. I knew she wanted more from me, physically, but I didn’t want to confuse either of us as to what this really was. An arrangement based on testing the feelings of another woman.

She hadn’t pushed me for sex since the day in the water. Something had changed with her. I wasn’t sure what it was, but fun took on a different kind of meaning, it seemed. Just enjoying each other’s company.

The pull between us was strong, though. Nothing had abated there. We were just resisting it.

Even as we made our way to the restaurant we were dining at in Costa Smeralda, we were constantly touching, barely any room between her body and mine. She was always so curious about me, too, inquiring about my life, almost every detail of it. It always seemed like she was impressed by my answers.

“You are loyal, Harrison.” She had asked me why I became a lawyer once we were seated at our table. Then she looked down at the menu, her eyes glistening as they reflected the candle burning between us.

She always seemed impressed by my answers, but she would get almost melancholy after. It was like she was longing for something, but I couldn’t figure out what. She hadn’t brought up her family, and when I asked if she had any brothers or sisters, she shook her head. “Only cousins.”

“How does it feel to be the most beautiful woman in the world?” I said, taking a piece of bread from the table.

Her eyes rose to meet mine over the rim of her wine glass. “How does it feel to be sitting with her?”

“Are we doing this in third person now?” I shook my head. “Honestly, it feels like sitting with the most beautiful woman in the world, but just a woman.”

“You think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world?”

Her question stopped me. I hesitated to answer for a second. “I do.”

“Physically.”

I would have thought she would be pleased, but instead, her lips pinched, and she went back to the menu.

“You know how beautiful you are,” I said.

“I do.”

I grinned. “What’s the problem then?”

“There is no problem. You asked a question. I answered.”

“Is it true that you’ve dated some of the richest men in the world?”

Her eyes stilled on the menu and then slowly rose to meet mine, cold fire burning behind them. “Sì,” she said, and that persuasive way she had to make men fall at her feet seemed to encompass her.

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