Page 11 of Perfect Match
“I’d like that.”
“What time do you need to be meeting your friends in Sorrento?”
She shrugs. “No particular time. My friends and I don’t like planning too much, preferring to let our itinerary fall into place. If we are enjoying somewhere, we stay longer. If not, we move on.”
Refilling her water glass, I then hand it to her and ask something I’ve wondered since meeting her. “Have you always wanted to travel?”
She takes the glass, and our fingers brush briefly. “I guess, like most Australians, I always wanted to travel. It’s very common, almost like a rite of passage in your twenties.” She raises the glass to her lips and takes a sip. “Australia is an island stuck in the middle of two vast oceans, so far from anywhere else. At some point, most Aussies want to experience something different.”
“I probably take it all for granted, having grown up with all this.” I don’t spend enough time appreciating how lucky I am, especially in moments like this. “So you packed up and went traveling?”
She glances out to sea, so lost in thought that I’m not sure she even heard my question. But then, with a soft sigh, she turns back to face me. “There’s another reason.”
The admission is surprising but welcome because I want to know more about the woman behind the beautiful facade.
“I lost a very close friend of mine at the end of last year, and it made me realise that at any point, it could all be gone.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. I reach for her hand as she attempts to blink them away before continuing. “I don’t want my lastthoughts to be filled with regrets of a life half lived. I want it to be a flash of memories or moments like this. A vibrant kaleidoscope reel of my life filled with laughter, love, and friendship.”
Unable to hold my gaze, she glances down at our clasped hands resting on the pristine white cloth.
“Have I made it into the friend category yet?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
Her eyes drift up again, along with the beginnings of a smile. “Maybe you can play the dashing Italian who became my friend and made me laugh in Capri.”
She takes my breath away when she looks at me like I’m her whole focus.
I lean closer to cradle her jaw with my free hand as I dip my head to press my lips to hers. Ever since this morning, I’ve been thinking about our kiss in the lobby. It was a tempting, all too brief taste, and I want more. She deserves to be savored like sipping on a 2016 Chianti, fruity with a rich hidden depth.
Her head tilts, offering me her jaw and the long tan column of her neck. Her sun-warmed skin is as sweet as I imagined, a combination of honey and oranges. My tongue slips between her lips on a journey of discovery. Her fingers thread through the hair at the back of my neck, the scratch of her nails demanding that I delve deeper.
In that moment, I know that sex with Tori would be exciting, adventurous, and addictive.
The clearing of a throat beside me has us reluctantly separating and blinking up at the waiter. He’s a friend, but with his hands on his hips, the warning is clear and totally deserved. The patrons in this restaurant don’t expect to see couples making out while they eat their lunch. He’s probably got a point, but respectability was the last thing on my mind the moment our mouths sealed together.
In rapid-fire Italian, the waiter and I exchange words, but in the end, he walks away laughing. Tori grins at me from across the table, one brow arched high. “I guess that was us told.”
“Pretty much, so we have to be on our best behavior from now on.” I chuckle, noticing the cheeky glint in her eye. I get the impression Tori doesn’t always like to follow the rules set down by society, and I think it’s one of the things that I find so attractive about her. She has a free, independent spirit that I envy. It’s the polar opposite of my life, and if I can bask in her light and soak up her energy for only one day, then maybe these next couple of months in Italy under the ever-present watchful eye of my father will be bearable.
“Well then, we should finish our lunch so you can take me for a swim. You did say it was a quiet place.”
I gulp down the remainder of my wine, the glass tinging against my plate as I place it on the table. “I’m done. Are you?”
Her soft, melodic laughter is the perfect answer.
***
Back on the yacht, I tell the captain of our plans, and we are soon on our way to the island cove that I haven’t visited since I was a teenager. Not long after, I’m standing on the deck dressed only in boardshorts, while the anchor chain lowers with a splash into the sea.
I brace my arms against the metal railing as I wait for Tori to change below deck, while forgotten childhood memories come flooding back. The deep blue calm water laps against the nearby rocky shelf, unchanged by the years and exactly as I remember. My brothers and I would spend hours swimming in the crystal-clear, cool waters or daring each other to jump from the higher rocky ledges. Those were the happy, carefree days of my youthand the times I’ll remember in my last hours. My mind goes back to the lunchtime conversation.
It’s a morbid thought, but what Tori said earlier has me thinking about memorable moments in my life, and I’m struggling to think of anything as an adult that would be worth remembering in my final hours. Sure, I’m a successful, wealthy businessman, and that means my life is very comfortable. But is that enough? Is all the stress and pressure of being CEO of one arm of the family business worth it? The answer isn’t as clear as it once was.
In my twenties, it was all I wanted. I studied hard at university, and when I graduated with a first-class corporate-law degree, I went straight into a junior manager role in the company. My career progression was all mapped out for me, and I was okay with that. Living and breathing every aspect of the business was a way of life. Soaking up all the knowledge and wisdom of my father’s experience as he mentored me to take over his role one day.
And now I’ve done it. I’ve reached the goal of CEO, and I can’t help thinking,Is this it?
Tori appears at my side. “I’m ready.”
All thoughts of business fly out of my head when I glance down at her. Tori in a skimpy bright-orange bikini that makes her skin glow golden takes my breath away. She’s jaw-droppingly gorgeous, with the sexiest body I’ve seen in a long time—maybe even ever—and my palms itch to reach for her and hold her close, skin to skin.
