LITMIR.BIZ

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fought to hold onto her composure. ‘Our next move?’ she managed to say, keeping her voice level. ‘There’s no “our”. You are going to swim back to your clothes, I will swim back to mine and neither of us will turn around or acknowledge each other in any way. Understand?’

      His smile didn’t waver, a confident, amused grin, which infuriated her almost as much as her body’s traitorous reaction to the play of muscles across his shoulders and to the heat in his navy-blue eyes. ‘If you insist, naiad.’

      ‘Don’t call me that.’

      ‘But what else should I call a fair maiden dancing on the shore before slipping into the waves? A mermaid? A siren—or are you a selkie? Waiting for me to leave before slipping into your seal skin?’

      ‘Don’t be so silly and you don’t need to call me anything...’ She paused, embarrassed that she was reacting so strongly to his teasing, her innate good manners forcing her to add, ‘But if you did need to, then my name is Posy.’

      ‘Nice to meet you, Posy. I’m Nico.’

      ‘I wish I could say the same but I didn’t actually want to meet anyone tonight.’

      ‘Me neither,’ he admitted and, startled, she looked directly at him, her prickles soothed by the lurking smile in his eyes. ‘This is a place one comes to for solitude, isn’t it? I didn’t think anyone would be here. If I had I would have packed some trunks.’

      ‘Yes.’ She wasn’t sure what she was agreeing with—the joint need for space and to be alone or that swimwear was a good idea. ‘Okay then. Now we’ve been introduced let’s call an end to this impromptu meeting. I propose that you go that way, I go this.’

      ‘Deal. I hope you find it, whatever you came out looking for tonight.’ He paused, his eyes intent on hers for one long moment, before turning and with a graceful dive, which gave Posy a glimpse of a tanned, lean torso and a decent pair of legs, he powered off towards the opposite side of the beach. She lingered, watching his strong body cut through the waves for one guilty second before turning and kicking off in a more sedate breaststroke back to the beach, glad of the cool water on her overheated flesh.

      Posy was no stranger to gorgeous male bodies—she spent most of her time with physically perfect specimens clad in Lycra and tights, every single muscle perfectly defined. She was used to being lifted and held, spun and moved, her partner’s hands moving with sure possession over her body. That was why when she dated, she dated within the company. Men from outside could never understand that when her partner’s hand clasped her inner thigh the last thing either of them was thinking about was sex. A dancer’s body was public property; there was no room for coyness. She was used to nudity, to being nude—or as good as. To react so strongly to the knowledge of another person’s nakedness was foreign to her. She hadn’t been able to see much. They’d both been cloaked by the evening sea. But she’d known, she’d reacted—and that discombobulated her.

      Also, she was a fool. She should have swum away the second she noticed him. She was lucky he wasn’t some kind of maniac who lurked in deep water waiting for unsuspecting night swimmers. Maybe he just waited for said swimmer to return to the beach lulled into a false sense of security instead...but when she checked he was clearly heading to the far side of the beach, not even looking in her direction. As they’d agreed. Which was a good thing. And she wasn’t even the teensiest bit disappointed.

      It was far less pleasant pulling her dress back over her wet body than it had been to shuck it off. She’d hoped that an evening walk and swim would distract her from an ever-lengthening list of questions and worries. She stifled an unexpected giggle; to be fair her plan had worked, although in a very unexpected way. She hadn’t thought about bills or her future once in the last ten minutes.

      Posy took a few steps along the beach, heading for the jetty, almost hidden on one side, which led to the private path up to the villa, via the natural thermal pool. The pool might be famous but, like much of her godmother’s legacy, she would gladly swap it for a roof that didn’t leak in places, a new boiler and some idea of how she was going to pay the bills over the next few months whether she stayed here or not. What on earth would she do if she stayed here—and where would she go if she didn’t?

      Posy stopped as panic overwhelmed her, almost crushing her chest so she could barely breathe. She wrapped her arms around her torso, as if by squeezing tight she could push the terror out. Stay here or leave, she had nowhere to go, no purpose. Without dance who was she? What was she? How would she get up each day?

      ‘Posy? Are you okay?’

      It took a while before the words penetrated through the grey mist. Posy looked up to see Nico—still on his side of the arch—looking at her, concern etched on his face. She forced a deep breath, dragging the night air into her lungs. ‘Yes. Thanks.’

      He didn’t move. ‘That didn’t look okay to me.’

      She forced herself upright, forced her arms to loosen in a pose of defiance and strength she didn’t come close to feeling. ‘What happened to straight home no looking?’

      His mouth quirked into a half-smile. ‘I just wanted to check on you. Turns out there’s all kinds of strange people lurking in this bay nowadays.’

      She should go. She meant to go. Yet once again her limbs, usually so obedient, used to being kicked up high and held in gravity-defying positions, refused to move a single step. ‘There are. Very chivalrous of you to think of me.’

      ‘I’m a chivalrous type.’ The sun had almost set behind him, casting a red glow over him, making him otherworldly, the cove a place of magic and mystery. He was taller than she had realised, lean to the point of slimness but with a coiled strength apparent in his stance, in the definition in his arms and legs. Casual in a grey T-shirt and khaki shorts, his dark hair, wet from the sea, falling over his eyes, he still radiated a confidence and purpose she coveted. Barely aware of what she was doing, she took a step closer and then another. He didn’t move but his eyes tracked her every movement. Posy was used to feeling graceful, assured in her every gesture, but right now she didn’t know what to do with her limbs, every part of her body a stranger.

      She knew his name, nothing more—no, that wasn’t quite true. She knew that he had craved an hour’s peace and solitude. Knew that she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, knew that every fibre in her body was aching to be given a purpose, a meaning. She was a creature of movement, she belonged in the dance, in the pairings of a duet or the exhilaration of many feet and arms all placed in exactly the right way at exactly the right time. For so many years that had been enough. Or so she’d thought.

      But it wasn’t. Pouring her body and soul into her craft had left her lacking. She had no fire; she hadn’t lived. Those overheard words had burned through her, the truth of them hurting the most.

      With the sunset blazing behind him Nico looked like a fire god personified, Mars come to earth blazing. Could some of that fire touch her? Warm her? Bring her to life?

      Posy took another step. He leaned against the arch, watching her every move. She swallowed, the dryness in her throat a mixture of apprehension—and anticipation. ‘Not too chivalrous, I hope.’

      He stilled. ‘Depends on the task.’

      ‘If I was a selkie, would you hide my seal skin, just for the night?’

      ‘I never thought that was playing fair. I’d prefer the selkie to come to me of her own free will.’

      ‘Would she?’

      ‘I think so.’

      Another step. He was close now, close enough that, even as the dusk drew in, Posy could see the heat in his eyes, the tension in his stance for all his supposed nonchalance, the muscle beating in his cheek. He felt it, this connection. He wanted her. ‘I think so too. Just for one night.’

      He nodded, understanding her every meaning. ‘You can’t trap a wild creature.’

      Her entire life Posy had put ballet first. Her few relationships fizzling out,

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