“You dropped your towel.”

His voice, soft and golden like melted butter, stole into her thoughts, jolting her from her dreamlike state. Andrea, who had been lying on the sun-lounger, letting the sun kiss her bikini-clad body, now opened her eyes and looked up through the brown filter of her sunglasses.

Him again. She’d noticed him before, and now watched him as he stood beside her with a white towel in his hand.

He was gorgeousness personified and so different from the dark haired Italian men she was used to. This man before her was blue-eyed and golden and hotter than lava; she thanked the god of fitness, for she could see that the gym had been particularly good to him.

Blinking, she became vaguely aware that her own towel lay by her feet and she was just about to reply to the handsome stranger when Caprice beat her to it.

“That’s mine,” her friend purred, leaning over Andrea to take the towel from him and no doubt giving the man a good eyeful in her plunging cherry red bikini. Andrea’s eyes narrowed. Caprice, with her long straight hair and luscious body, had the type of figure and full lips that gave men ideas.

The man glanced at her friend and grinned, and Andrea was grateful for the huge Prada shades that shielded her eyes as her gaze swept easily over his chest and arms. He looked like a tower of strength, standing over her with his tall and taut gym-sculpted body. She felt vulnerable lying down in her bikini and propped herself up to a seated position. Her movement attracted his attention and he looked at her, making her feel self-conscious and excited all at once.

“Are you ladies enjoying your stay here?” he asked. His accent was American, she noticed and the more she stared at his electric blue eyes—as blue as the lake which the Villa Costanza overlooked—the more she recalled that she’d seen him yesterday, too.

The pitter-patter of her heart increased and she briefly wondered whether the sun had affected her. She was far too cautious and sensible to believe in insta-love, yet here she was ogling this man as though he was the last of his species.

Her body was reacting to him—even if her mind still sat on the side-lines wondering when to join the game. She tried to think of something to say, so that he would know she had a voice, that she wasn’t mute.

“We are,” said Caprice, wriggling around in her seat. “Someone had a big milestone birthday celebration this weekend.”

“A milestone birthday?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “A twenty-first?” he asked, all innocent.

“She turned thirty,” replied Andrea, nodding her head at Caprice and finally getting a chance to prove that she could talk.

“Thirty is the new twenty,” Caprice declared as she rubbed sun lotion slowly and suggestively over her upper body. Andrea smiled at the man, more out of embarrassment for her friend who had turned the art of applying sun cream into foreplay.

“I agree.  That’s quite a milestone you celebrated in style.” With his attention directed at Caprice, Andrea’s eyes darted to his body. Her gaze lowered to his swim shorts which hung dangerously low on his waist. Rivulets of water trickled down his chest and kept her transfixed as she watched them cling to the light dusting of golden hairs across his chest.

He caught her looking and her throat dried up like a prune. She didn’t know where to look.

“Nice meeting you, ladies,” he said, finally. “Happy belated birthday,” he told Caprice before stealing a look in Andrea’s direction. Then he walked away.

She stared at the perfect V-shape of his back. Caprice made lewd, low moans and licked her lips in pure, unashamed admiration as he stood at the side of the pool, getting ready to make a dive. The glittering water was blue and silver as slivers of sunlight fell and danced upon its gently moving surface. He dove in and disappeared, emerging moments later with his arms raised, thick and corded at the biceps, as he swept back his golden hair.

Andrea’s heart galloped as though she’d just sprinted four hundred meters. She lay back on the sun-lounger, her chest rising and falling.

Hot damn.

“Where did he come from?” Caprice sounded as though she needed an inhaler even though she didn’t suffer from asthma. “If I was single…,” she whispered, adjusting herself on the lounger. “Oh, look,” she cried, almost spilling out of her bikini. “I have my towel here, see.”

“Maybe someone else dropped theirs,” murmured Andrea.

“Or maybe that was his line,” purred Caprice. “I think he was interested.”

“You’re with Luigi.”

“I can still look.” Caprice pouted. “And he’s not here.”

“That makes it alright?” Andrea asked.

“I’m not breaking the law. You can be with one person and still have thoughts for another.”

“That’s called cheating.”

“It’s harmless, Andrea. I love Luigi and I would never do anything silly.” She settled back on the chair.

Andrea welcomed the silence and the feel of the sun as it licked her skin. This weekend had been the tonic she’d needed. The Villa Costanza nestled high above Lake Como and was set in a small wooded peninsula. An enchanting and luxurious hotel, it was tucked away in a quiet corner of Bellagio with only the view of the lake and surrounding greenery around. This magical paradise had enabled her to unwind completely during the long weekend.

It might have explained why her pulse had rocketed the moment she’d set eyes on the golden haired stranger. She didn’t usually notice men, not as easily as her friends Talia and Caprice did. They seemed to have been born with some sort of heat seeking device which locked onto all the hottest guys within a short range.

Yet she’d noticed him.

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