Free The Sicilian's Proposition by Lynette Rees Page B

that was a good year.”
    “From your family vineyard?”
    “Yes, but of course. This is a very good wine from 2007. It was an excellent year. We had a bumper crop of grapes.”
    She took a sip, savoring the taste. “I concur.” She sat back and closed her eyes for a moment. Life was so different here. What it would be like to live in Sicily. The people were so friendly. It reminded her of Wales in that respect, though not the weather, of course. Some days all it did was rain there. She never regretted moving to London; it had advanced her career as a journalist.
    “What are you thinking about, Joanne?” Dante sat down next to her.
    Her eyes flicked open. “Oh, about my family home. It was a little Welsh village and my people were similar to yours, so warm. Everyone knew everyone.”
    He nodded. “That is nice to know. But when you went to London, you found it impersonal, no?”
    Startled, she sat up and placed her shades on her forehead to look into his eyes. “How did you know that?”
    He laughed. “I do not have to be a mind reader to know such things, Joanne. I felt it myself the first time I went to London to work at our office. I felt so lonely being away from my homeland.”
    She had no idea someone like him with his lifestyle could feel that way. “But didn’t you have any relationships at that time?”
    “No, not at all. I was with Carla then. So I couldn’t live the life of a single man. The nights were long for me and the days were short.”
    “So has Carla ever been on this boat?”
    His eyes clouded over for a moment as if deciding honesty was the best policy. “Yes, but only the once. It didn’t turn out too well, we argued a lot. I should have seen the signs then—that things weren’t going too well between us.”
    “Yes, I suppose we can all see things with hindsight.”
    He nodded and sat back as if in quiet reflection. She wished she hadn’t reminded him of the woman who had hurt him so bad. Part of her wished the woman didn’t exist at all. How envious she was of Dante’s affection for the woman. She imagined for a moment, they were an item. There was no Carla and Dante, it was Dante and Joanne and everyone knew that. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
    Sometime later, Dante nudged her and said, “Have you got that bikini with you?”
    She nodded. “Yes, but I’d prefer not to wear it.”
    “Do not worry, Joanne. I am not here to judge you. Please go below deck and put it on. I am going to switch off the engine.”
    She picked up her bag and, trembling, went down the small flight of steps. There was a little passageway with a bedroom to the left and a kitchen to the right, and toward the back a bigger room that looked like some sort of lounge area. She pushed the bedroom door open wide and went inside, gasping when she saw the mirrored ceiling. The bed looked very luxurious with its black and gold bed covers and matching pillows. It was a playboy’s bedroom. Had he made love to Carla or any other woman in that bed?
    She removed her dress and underwear and slipped on her red bikini. She’d put a little weight on of late, which she’d resolved to remove, but somehow she hadn’t achieved that. She planned on going to some sort of exercise class when she returned home. Recently she took up jogging, but the hard slog on the pavements and the poor air quality from the city traffic wasn’t ideal. There was another problem with living in London, too many takeaways, as she lived on her own. Back home, her mother always ensured she had home-cooked meals. Studying herself in the mirror, she tried to assure herself she didn’t look too bad. At least her gold belly chain sort of emphasized she had a waist.
    She wrapped her large beach towel around herself and came above deck to find Dante had already changed into a pair of white swimming trunks. She held her breath when she saw his tanned, trim body. He had a smattering of black hair on his chest and looked very muscular. His