‘Are you going to stand there all evening?’ Narciso quipped from where he sat on a sofa that hugged the U-shape of the room.
‘I...thought I was cooking for just you.’
‘You thought wrong.’ He stood, came over and pulled out her chair. ‘Tonight we eat together.’ His gaze took in her jeans. ‘Right after you change.’
‘I don’t need to change.’
‘One rule of business is to learn to let the little things slide. Standing on principle and antagonising your potential business partner doesn’t make for a very good impression.’
‘I really appreciate you helping me out but—’
‘I would personally prefer not to eat with a dinner companion wearing clothes smeared with food.’
Ruby glanced down and, sure enough, a large oily streak had soiled her vest top.
He’d gone to the trouble of providing new clothes for her comfort. Would it hurt to show some appreciation? In a few days, she’d be back in New York, hopefully with a contract firmly in her pocket. He’d made it clear she was no longer attractive to him in the sexual sense, so she had nothing to fear there.
‘I’ll go and change,’ she murmured around the disquiet spreading through her.
‘Grazie,’ he replied.
Returning to her suite, she quickly undressed and selected a soft peach, knee-length sundress with capped sleeves. Slipping her feet into three-inch wedged sandals, she tied her hair back and returned to the deck.
His gaze slid over her but his face remained neutral as he pulled out her chair.
‘Sit, and tell me what you’ve made for us.’
The intimate us made her hand tremble. Taking a deep breath, she described the first course. He picked up a piece of bruschetta, slid it into his mouth and chewed.
The process of watching him eat something she’d made with her two hands was so strangely unsettling and erotic her fingers clenched on her napkin.
‘Hmm, good enough.’ He picked up another piece and popped it in his mouth.
When she found herself staring at his strong jaw and throat, she averted her gaze, picked up a piece and nibbled on the edge. ‘Damned with faint praise.’
‘The cracked pepper adds a zing. I like it.’
Heady pleasure flowed through her. ‘Really?’
‘I always mean what I say, Ruby.’ His grave tone told her they weren’t talking about just food.
‘O...okay,’ she answered. ‘I have to check on the parmigiana in ten minutes.’
‘That’s more than enough time for a drink.’
Abandoning her half-eaten bruschetta, Ruby headed for the extensive bar, only to stop dead.
‘We’re no longer moored?’ The bright lights of the marina had disappeared, leaving only the stunning dark orange of the setting sun as their backdrop.
‘No, we’re sailing along the coast. Tomorrow morning, I intend to dive the Blue Hole. Do you dive?’ he asked.