The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(39)

Reaching out almost against her will, she ran a hand over the other garments hanging in the wardrobe. They made a rainbow of color in natural fabrics suited to the climate. Their style was simple yet with a casual elegance that was infinitely appealing.

As ridiculous as it might be, she almost wished Nico had chosen the clothing for her instead of merely giving orders to a personal shopper. It would have been interesting to see what he might have selected, mostly as an indication of how he saw her. Not that she cared, of course, but he had such a well-defined style of his own that it could have been instructive.

Any hope of relaxation vanished as she neared the pool. Nico was already in the water. He was doing laps from the look of it, gliding up and down at such a swift pace it exhausted her to look at him.

As she drew nearer he caught sight of her, for he swirled to a stop. Treading water, he raked his hair back with one hand. “I would have waited for you if I had known you would join me,” he called. “Come, dive in.”

She wanted to accept his invitation but hesitated, horribly conscious of the inadequacy of the bikini under the sarong that she had tied around her like a strapless dress. He was probably used to women parading before him in even less, but she wasn’t that bold. She hoped he would return to his laps, but he seemed uninterested. And the longer she waited, the more obvious her reluctance to strip off to near nakedness in front of him must appear.

Turning away, she dropped the beach towel she carried and unfastened the knot between her breasts that held the sarong closed. She slid it from around her and tossed it at a nearby lounge chair. Moving swiftly to the pool’s edge, she launched into a fast, flat dive.

~ ~ ~

Nico ceased treading water. He stopped so completely that he sank like a stone and had to kick his way back to the surface again.

He had held Amanda Davies in his arms, had touched her as intimately as possible without completing the act of love, but still had no idea of the natural perfection of her body. She was not some anorexic sylph but a woman with curves in all the right places, as pale and wholesome as fresh milk and just as without artifice. She had not been enhanced and tucked to fit some cosmetic surgeon’s artificial idea of beauty, but was beauty incarnate.

Nor had she strutted before him, displaying what she had for his inspection. It suited him, that lack of vanity, while a part of him recognized a fierce need to be the only man who ever gazed upon her. Primitive instinct, of course, and completely unreasonable in this modern age, but he could not deny it. And in that moment he wanted her with an ache that sliced so deep he thought it might be a mortal wound.

Dio, but he was losing it. It had been far too long since he had been with a woman. If he wasn’t to fall upon his house guest like a raving fiend, he needed to call one of the socialites he knew then plan to spend a night away from the villa.

The problem was that no other woman he could bring to mind had the least appeal.

It would be best if he did a few laps, or maybe few hundred. The exercise should help return his unruly body to a decent state. That was, of course, if the water didn’t start boiling around him.

His house guest was a competent swimmer, he saw as he put his plan into action, not showy but with good form and steady strength. He wondered how many hotel pools she had plowed up and down while traveling with her father from one international race track to another, how many summer camps she might have attended as she was shuttled out of the way.

That she had joined him in the water was a point in her favor. Too many females of his acquaintance would have chosen to stretch out on one of the lounges in a seductive pose while working on their tans, or else avoided the sun under a protective umbrella.

Amanda was not used to constant pool exercise, however. After only a few laps, she headed to the underwater steps and mounted them. Her chest rose and fell as if she was trying to catch her breath as she leaned to pick up the towel she had left on the paving. Seating herself on the pool’s edge, she slicked back her hair from her face and dried her face and arms.

Watching her so minutely was precious little help in controlling his hot urges. Nico realized. Without conscious thought, he swam to where she sat and heaved himself up onto the pool curbing beside her.

“Better?” He slanted a glance at her set face as he borrowed one end of her big beach towel to wipe his face.

“Than what?”

“Than before,” he said on a wry laugh for her stiff reply. “Cooler, perhaps.”

“You should know.”

The glance she gave him skimmed his neck to his knees, and seemed to scorch wherever it touched. How could she do this to him without the least sign of effort? Yes and when no one else had ever come close?

“At least it persuaded you to make some use of the things provided you.”

She busied herself drying the back of her neck under her hair. “I should thank whoever thought to add bathing suits.”

He flicked a quick glance over her and could not prevent a smile. “What you have on looks just as I thought it would — and is exactly what I’d have expected you to choose from what was sent.”

She paused, meeting his gaze with a lifted brow. “You chose this bikini?”

“I told the buyer what I thought would be suitable, rather, and she described it.”

“And the rest?”

“Much the same.” He lifted a brow in near affront. “Is something wrong? Do you dislike what was selected?”