Page 4 of Summer on Sunshine Bay

She frowned down at the head moving beneath the sheet. What was he even talking about? All she’d done was…bring her breast in direct contact with his mouth. Eva sighed. It wasn’t his fault she’d rather be bingeingChef’s Tableon Netflix or finishing the book on her nightstand than indulging in what was supposed to be some late-afternoon delight.

“Do you like this?” he asked, kneading her breasts with strong, callused fingers.

She bit back anow. She needed to put them both out of their misery. It was too hot for Ryan to work so hard with no reward for his efforts. But just as she was about to fake a foreplay-induced orgasm, a wave of intense heat washed over her, coating her skin in sweat, and not the glowy kind.

Droplets rolled down her face, and beneath the sheet, Ryan froze. Eva was vain enough that she was willing to put up with his groping rather than have him see her with sweat pouring down her face and her hair plastered to her head. She moaned, adding some hip action to distract him.

Apparently her hip action wasn’t distracting enough because he shoved his head from under the sheet, his brow furrowing as he patted the mattress along her side. “Babe, did you, uh, wet the bed?”

Eva swallowed a mortified groan. The air conditioner wasn’t on the fritz; she was having a hot flash! With as much dignified grace as she could manage with sweat dripping into her eyes, she said, “No. I didn’t wet the bed. I’m burning up.” She pressed a palm to her forehead. “I have a fever.”

He cocked his head. “Are you sure it’s not a hot flash? My mother used to have them all the time when she was your—”

She didn’t need the reminder that she was old enough to be his mother and cut him off. “It’s a fever.” Ryan was thirty-two, just four years older than Lila, Eva’s daughter.

“Seriously, babe, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He reached for her as she tugged on the sheet, whipping it off the bed.

“I’m not embarrassed.” She stood up and wrapped the sheet around herself.

Then, holding her head high, she started to walk to the bathroom. But her attempt at a dignified exit was ruined when her foot got tangled in the sheet and she tripped. Ryan snagged the sheet, no doubt in an effort to save her from falling on her face. Instead he unraveled her like a burrito.

With a cajoling smile on his face, he reeled her toward him. “Come on, get back in bed,” he said while languidly smoothing his other hand over the mattress and the damp outline of her body. It looked like a crime scene. He wasn’t quick enough to hide his grimace.

She tugged the sheet from his hand. “Fever, remember? I’m probably contagious.”

He came to his feet and closed the distance between them, tipping her chin up with his knuckle. “You know, the thing I admire most about you, Eva, is that you don’t care what people think. You’re unashamedly you. No bullshit, no apologies.”

And that’s why Eva had invited Ryan to her bed. It wasn’t just because he was handsome and had a great body; she genuinely liked him. “Fine. I don’t have a fever. It’s the menopause.”

He grinned. “Themenopause?”

“I was channeling my mother. That’s what she calls it.”

“Okay, well, at the risk of offending you and never getting invited back in your bed, which I have to tell you was the highlight of my month, maybe my entire year—”

Eva snorted.

“I’m serious. You’re gorgeous, and I’ve been dreaming about being with you since I was sixteen.”

Eva was used to men telling her she was the object of their fantasies and usually laughed it off as hyperbole. But she could tell by Ryan’s sincere expression that he wasn’t exaggerating, and she was relieved she hadn’t criticized his performance. If he’d been fantasizing for years about being with her, it was no wonder he’d been trying so hard to please her.

On a rush of affection, she patted his cheek. “You’re a sweet bo—man.”

“Not exactly what I was going for, but if it means we can do this again, I won’t complain.” He searched her face. “We’re not doing this again, are we?”

“I’m sorry, but no, we’re not.”

“It’s because of the Rosetti curse, isn’t it?”

Everyone in town knew the Rosetti women were cursed when it came to marriage. Eva had never doubted the veracity of the claim. Her mother and sister were proof enough that the curse was real, and if any doubts remained, all she had to do was look up the family history.

The curse had been passed down through generations of Rosetti women. Their fiancés either died in the days leading up to the wedding or left them standing alone at the altar. The few brides who had made it past the wedding ceremony had found themselves abandoned by their wayward husbands within months of saying, “I do.”

For the most part, the curse had little bearing on Eva’s life. She had what mattered most to her: her family; their restaurant, La Dolce Vita; good friends; good food; and good wine.

There’d been only one time in Eva’s life when she’d wished she wasn’t cursed. But in the end, it had worked out for the best. Her love affair with James had ended in heartbreak, but she had a wonderful daughter as a result of their brief time together. She smiled. After years of living and working for her father in London, England, Lila had moved to Boston the week before.

“Eva?”

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