Page 68 of Hot Greek Summer

‘It’s because you’re so devastatingly handsome,’ she said, deadpan. ‘I’d even choose you over Leonardo DiCaprio.’

A smirk ghosted his lips. ‘You’re not the first woman to say that.’

‘Isoam.’

He shrugged, discarding the straw and rosemary from his glass onto the table.

‘I’ve brought you something.’ He reached down and picked up the parcel he’d laid against the bench.

Winnie smiled, surprised. ‘You have?’

He reached out and stilled her fingers when she started to tug on the strings to open it. Glancing back towards the villa, he cleared his throat. ‘It, er … it might be better if you opened it in private.’

Realisation dawned as Winnie felt the familiar shape of a picture frame beneath the crisp paper. Caught between embarrassment and sudden, unfurling excitement, she faltered and bit her lip. She could head inside and open it alone, but it was a different option that had her heart banging.

‘Will you, I mean, would you like to come up and help me hang it?’ God, she could hardly meet his eyes, which was ridiculous given how close they’d been the night before.

‘Are you inviting me up to see your etchings, Winnie?’ Jesse asked, low and amused. ‘I didn’t have you down as that sort of girl.’

Winnie decided that embarrassment wasn’t part of who she wanted to be any more.

‘I think I might be.’ She picked up the closest G&T, knocked it straight back and got to her feet. ‘Come on.’

Winnie led him through the cool, quiet villa and up the stairs to the top landing.

‘This one’s mine,’ she said, opening her door. ‘It’s the Bohemian Suite. Ajax thought I’d appreciate the art in here when he first met me.’

‘And was he right?’ Jesse asked, following her inside.

She closed the door softly behind him. ‘Maybe. Or perhaps I’ll hang something of my own in here instead.’

In answer, he laid the still wrapped picture down on her hastily made bed. ‘Maybe you should take a look before you make any decisions,’ he said. ‘You might not like it.’

Unaccountably nervous, Winnie pulled on the twine and felt for the tape holding the paper together.

‘Am I going to be shocked?’ she asked, her fingers hovering on the paper.

‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly, watching her hands. She sensed his nervousness too; first and foremost, he was an artist showing someone his work, and she knew from experience that that was never an easy thing to do. Add in the extra layer of intimacy because of the subject matter and what happened between them last night, and right now they were both as skittish as teenagers.

‘I’m going to open it now,’ she said, balling up the sticky tape between her fingers.

‘OK.’ He shrugged, aiming for cool and not quite pulling it off.

Slowly, Winnie pulled the paper back, one side first and then the other.

‘It’s upside down,’ he said, stating the obvious as they both looked down at the hessian-backed frame.

She held in the smart answer on the tip of her tongue and carefully turned it over, then laid it down again on the paper. Jesse had framed his pencil and charcoal drawing in an ornate gilt frame, lending his already provocative subject a decadent, rococo air.

‘What do you think?’ he murmured, frowning. ‘A little too heavy on shading here?’ He traced his finger in the air over her hip.

She caught hold of his hand and moved it out of the way so she could study his drawing properly. It was from just yesterday; he must have worked for hours to layer in so much life and detail. He seemed to have captured more than her curves and her angles as she’d lounged across the chair with the arm flung above her head; he’d caught the essence of how she’d felt for a few hours with him. Braver. Womanly. In control.

‘I think it’s the woman I want to be,’ she breathed eventually, because she didn’t care one bit about the accuracy of his shading on her hip. What took her breath away was the devil-may-care attitude of the girl gazing back at her from the drawing; she had a look in her eyes that said, ‘I’m sexy and we both bloody well know it.’ She wasn’t encumbered by her past or frightened of her future. She was totally in the moment, confident and relaxed in her own skin.

Jesse looked up from the painting to Winnie. ‘Thisiswho I see when I look at you,’ he said softly.

‘It’s not who I see in the mirror.’ She shook her head, staring at the drawing. The woman in Jesse’s drawing might closely resemble her physically, but Winnie could only hope to identify with her attitude one day.

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