Mediterranean Fling to Wedding Ring

by Jessica Gilmore

  ‘Thank you for the loveliest day, I feel very spoiled.’

  To be fair Lily didn’t just feel spoiled, she was being spoiled. Damir had pulled out all the stops for their postponed date, sailing her across to Sunset Bay on the Lapad Peninsula, a bustling tourist resort just outside Dubrovnik. They’d walked around the beautiful headland, popping into a bar built into a cave for a coffee before enjoying a swim from the bar’s bathing platform. Sunset Bay offered a very different holiday experience from Lokvar, with its myriad hotels catering for everyone from backpackers to luxury seekers.

  A vibrant, café-filled boardwalk offered visitors a cornucopia of dining and drinking choices, with music pumping from several bars, screens showing sports and sales booths tempting visitors with various excursions along the coastline and out to the islands. By contrast, Lokvar was sleepy and slow, and Lily was only just beginning to realise just how much she loved the island and its laid-back pace.

  ‘You deserve spoiling, especially after all those breakfast shifts,’ Damir said, and she laughed.

  ‘Breakfast, lunch and dinner. No wonder Marija is so fit, there is no gym programme that can burn as many calories as I have managed to burn over the last few days. The waitress work out with optional chambermaid cardio. I highly recommend it, I’ve never had such definition in my arms.’ She flexed one for him to admire and he reached out to squeeze it, the caress softening as he ran a finger down her bare arm. Lily half closed her eyes as sensation rippled through her. How could one light touch leave her needing more in this way?

  ‘Would you like to order coffee?’ The waiter was back, and Damir looked enquiringly at Lily.

  ‘Coffee? Or would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?’ The words were innocuous enough but the playful gleam in Damir’s eyes told her he hadn’t forgotten their conversation on the beach just before they had made love for the first time.

  ‘A nightcap sounds nice,’ she said as nonchalantly as she could, while every nerve fired up in anticipation. ‘I’m happy to go back to your place if it’s easier.’

  A wolfish grin spread across his face and the anticipation intensified. ‘Then let’s go.’

  It took less than five minutes for Damir to pay, waving away Lily’s attempts to do so, before escorting her along the road. They’d travelled to Lapad by boat, then moored in the old harbour where they’d moored last time she’d visited the city, and Lily had expected that they would return there and sail to Damir’s home. Instead they left the Old Town by a different gate and he led her along a wide promenade overlooking the sea. Villas and hotels were set back behind imposing gates and lush green gardens on either side, and he stopped at one gate, keying in a code so that it swung open.

  ‘You live here?’ She eyed the gracious stone building in some surprise. It was clearly old, at least a hundred years old, stately with its shuttered windows and pretty balustraded balconies fronted by neat lawns and cypress trees. She’d been expecting something modern and sleek and soulless, all glass and steel and cutting edge, not this beautiful piece of history.

  ‘Do you approve?’

  ‘I... On first impressions, yes, but I’ll need to look around first,’ she said. ‘I have no idea about your taste in decor yet. You can’t expect me to judge sight unseen.’

  She needn’t have worried. The villa more than lived up to its promise thanks to high ceilings, curving staircases and polished wooden floors. An enormous kitchen diner dominated the back of the house, sliding doors opening onto a huge flower-filled terrace furnished with a table and chairs and comfortable loungers. Steps led down to a swimming pool and hot tub nestled into the cliff side, the sea far below.

  The decor was plain but clearly expensive, original pieces of modern art on the walls and some beautiful glass sculptures cleverly displayed. But there were no personal effects, no photos, no left-out books or notes, not even an unwashed mug in the sink. It was a beautiful house, but it wasn’t a home. It could be one of his holiday lets, rather than the place in which he lived.

  It wouldn’t take much, she mused as she followed him around. Some family photos, a throw on the pristine, stylish sofa, a cosy armchair in the bay window, some bright rugs. And people. This was a house made for a family, not a man who spent most of his time elsewhere.

  ‘You are so lucky to live in a beautiful place,’ she said, once they were sitting on the terrace with the promised coffee and a glass of Croatian walnut brandy. The terrace was lit by subtle lowlights all around, candles burning on the table in front of them. The air was sweet and flower scented, birds calling from the trees all around. It was so peaceful they might have been in the middle of the countryside, not the centre of a bustling city. ‘Have you been here long?’ Maybe he’d just moved in. That would explain the lack of personal effects.

  ‘I bought it for Kata, she always wanted to live in one of these houses. But she left before we could move in.’

  ‘You kept it?’

  ‘Why not? It’s central. Close to the harbour, to the business district, to the main road.’ This was all true, but she still felt that this should be a family home with its large rooms and many bedrooms, not an austere bachelor pad. ‘And I feel at peace here,’ he added, his voice so low she barely heard him. ‘Sitting here, looking out to sea at the horizon and the water. It renews me.’

  ‘I think I understand,’ Lily said softly, trying to reconcile this admission with the self-confessed workaholic he was. ‘It is restorative, isn’t it? Not just the view but the air, the silence—I can feel my soul reviving just sitting here. Although I suppose that could be the brandy.’

  ‘What about you? Where is home for you? Where are you at peace?’

  Home. There was a concept. Not in her apartment, as soulless and modern as she had expected Damir’s to be. Not even the small Ealing terrace where her mother and Josip lived.

  The only place where she had ever felt anything like the peace Damir described was in Lokvar, and she was only a temporary resident there. ‘In a way I’ve been looking for a home all my life, but in another way I think it’s safer not to have one, because then you can’t lose it.’

  Where had that come from?

  ‘Lose it?’ Surprise flashed in his eyes as he turned to look at her.

  ‘We moved around a lot when I was a kid,’ she said as offhandedly as she could. ‘My mother was a bit of a traveller. As soon as I was settled in one place we’d be on the move, until she met Josip, that is. They’ve stayed put since they got married. They don’t even really go on holiday.’

  ‘That must have been difficult.’

  ‘It was all I knew, you know what kids are like. Adaptable.’ She fixed a bright smile onto her face. ‘It was a long time ago. Ancient history.’

  ‘Not that ancient if you’re still searching for a place where you feel safe,’ he said gently.

  ‘I do feel safe,’ she protested. ‘People make me feel safe, they make a home, not a place. Josip, Izzy... I guess that’s why I am struggling so much. I haven’t just lost my friend, I’ve lost part of me.’

  ‘And your mother? Does she not make you feel safe?’

  Lily bit her lip, old habits of loyalty making it hard to be honest. ‘That’s a big question. I do love her, I love her a lot. But she was really young when she had me for a start, not yet eighteen, and totally not ready for a baby.’

  ‘Just a child herself.’

  ‘I understand that now. My goodness, when she was my age she had an eleven-year-old. It must have been hard. I do see that.’

  ‘And your father?’

  ‘Unknown. That’s what it says on my birth certificate and that’s what she’s always said—that’s the problem when you’re conceived at a seven-day-long rave during the second summer of love. You try tracking down a man whose name she can’t remember from thousands of attendees. My grandparents were kind of strict and Mum really rebelled a
gainst that, was always running away to raves and festivals. And then, once I was born, she just took me with her.

  ‘Some of my earliest memories are of hanging out at a festival with anyone sober enough to take care of me. She lived in squats or travelled around in vans, we crashed with friends or lived in communes. Sometimes there were boyfriends, some more long term than others, a few better than others, but none that could be thought of as any kind of father figure. It was chaotic.’

  Saying the words aloud brought it back. The constant change and uncertainty. The days or weeks when there was no money, the mornings her mother didn’t wake up at all.

  She took another sip, staring out to sea but not seeing anything but the past. ‘When I was ten my grandparents took me away and I lived with them. They were very keen to make sure I didn’t turn out like Mum. Very strict, it couldn’t have been more of a contrast.’

  ‘That must have been really hard.’ His voice was gentle, the chill of his earlier words gone.

  ‘Yes and no. I missed her so much, but all I wanted to do was live in one place and have a normal life. No more parties, no more changing schools or missing school.’ She paused, remembering the relief mixed with the pain of missing a mother who had barely noticed her absence. ‘But my grandparents didn’t really want me, I was a duty, and I knew it.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Mum overdosed. She nearly died. Josip was the paramedic who saved her. A year later she was sober, they were married and I went to live with them. She went to university, became a social worker. She’s amazing, I am so proud of her. Josip changed her life and he changed mine. I’ll always be so grateful to him. But I suppose part of me will always remember what it’s like not being able to depend on the people who are supposed to look out for you. I look at Mum and Josip, they are so happy, they have this perfect partnership and I want that closeness and trust. But I don’t think it’s in me.

  ‘I don’t trust people not to leave. Izzy did, she didn’t mean to but she did.’ She stared at him in horror, covering her mouth with her hands as if she could push the words back. ‘I didn’t mean...’

  ‘It’s okay to mean it. Anger is part of grief. There’s no one way to miss someone, one way to feel.’

  ‘We were supposed to be friends all our lives,’ she whispered. ‘What if no one else ever knows me the way she did? What if I’m alone for ever?’

  ‘Hey,’ he rose to his feet in one graceful moment and walked around the table, pulling her to her feet and tilting her chin so she met his gaze. ‘You are loyal and funny and kind and there are lots of people out there who would love to be part of your life if you let them.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I know,’ he told her. His gaze darkened as it moved to her mouth and she was aware how close they were, every part of her pressed up against him. She looked up at him, lips parted, breathless, expectant, needing until he finally claimed her mouth with his. His kiss was gentle, weakening her with its sweetness as he explored her mouth unhurriedly, the tenderness in his kiss melting her. His arms slipped around her, keeping her close, but made no attempt to touch her further, to reach under her clothes, to move them onto the next stage in this particular age-old dance. This was a kiss for kissing’s sake and all the more potent for it.

  Lily rose onto her tiptoes, better to lean in, entwining her arms around his neck, pulling Damir closer, luxuriating in the feel of his mouth and hands, savouring every sensation. Time slid away, all she knew was him, the taste of him, the feel of him, his muscles under her hands, his light touch on her waist, those clever, sinful lips and the feelings they sparked shooting through her, weakening her.

  ‘Damir...’ Lily half moaned, wanting more, and yet at the same time not wanting this gentle seduction to end. He didn’t answer in words but deepened the kiss, starting to demand, to taste, to make clear his want, and she responded in kind, wiggling closer, her body pressed against his. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer still, and Damir groaned against her mouth, his hands finally, finally beginning to move, sliding down to her hips to move her against him, backing her up until she hit the table.

  ‘This isn’t the most comfortable place to do this. We could take it inside.’ He hesitated. ‘If you want, you can stay. You’re not working tomorrow morning, are you?’

  ‘Is this your usual line?’ Lily half joked, resorting to humour as she tried to process what had happened, her confession followed by the sweetest kiss she had ever experienced. ‘Nightcap on the terrace then move it upstairs for a sleepover?’

  Damir was silent, and she felt his body rigid against hers. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I have dated many women since my divorce, yes. I’ve had sex with some of those women, always monogamously, always carefully. But I’ve never invited any of them to spend the night here. I sleep alone. You will be the first.’

  She had no idea how to process that information. No idea what it meant. But Lily understood that the invitation was more than casual. That for Damir to ask her stay in a place that was obviously his sanctuary was a privilege. That for him to make himself vulnerable enough to ask her to stay was a gift, one she couldn’t easily turn down. ‘In that case I’d be honoured.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ The question seemed loaded. As if he was asking her about more than her agreement to stay the night, and she held his gaze as she answered. The next step Lily knew, was down to her and she thrilled with the power he entrusted in her.

  ‘I’m sure,’ she said. She leaned back and looked up at him fearlessly, her whole body tingling at the intensity in his dark gaze.

  She led the way, wiggling out of their close embrace and walking as confidently, as provocatively as she could to the open doors that led into the villa. Damir stood by the table, one white-knuckled hand gripping it as he watched her, heat dancing in his eyes. Not breaking his gaze, Lily stepped inside, every nerve alight with trembling desire and need.

  She walked through the kitchen diner to the tiled hall and slowly, purposefully up the curving staircase until she reached the wide landing and continued down it. Damir’s room was at the far end, a corner suite overlooking the sea.

  She didn’t falter but turned the handle to open the door, pulling her dress above her head as she did so and discarding it on the floor. With one quick movement she unclasped her bra, discarding it likewise, and wiggled out of her underwear. Pulling the top sheet off the bed, she climbed in, resisting the temptation to cover herself. Instead she half turned to face the door, leaning up on one elbow, her legs curved behind her, and watched Damir stop at the door of the room.

  With satisfaction she heard his intake of breath as he saw her waiting for him, his eyes travelling over her in excruciatingly slow detail, as if he were touching her remotely. Lily had never felt so powerful, never felt so beautiful, never felt wanted the way she felt wanted right now. The hunger in Damir’s face was a gift, a homage to her, and she gloried in it.

  He stood, holding her gaze as he disposed of his own clothes. Tall, powerful and, oh, so sexy it took less than two strides for him to join her.

  ‘What took you so long?’ she managed to say.

  Damir cupped her face and stared at her for one long, endless moment. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said hoarsely, before his mouth took hers in a searing kiss that made Lily forget who she was, where she was, forget everything but the sensations pulsing through her.

  All she knew was the feel of this man under her hands as she tried to learn every part of him, the play of the muscles on his back, the strength in his arms, the delicious subtleness of his touch, the way he made her gasp, the way he made her yearn and want, teasing and giving until all she could do was call out his name, biting down on his shoulder, tasting him and knowing him, giving as she received.

  But at the back of her mind, as with one delicious movement he joined them as one, Lily was aware of an extra intensity in her, an
awareness that her response wasn’t just provoked by the day they’d shared, by the chemistry between them, by the undoubted skill of his lovemaking. She could tell herself all she wanted that this was a summer fling, but her response to him was fuelled by emotion. She had no reason to trust him, every reason to remember that this was just a game they played, but as she held onto him and allowed the sensation to carry her away, Lily tried to block out the realisation that she might just be falling for him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LILY FIDGETED NERVOUSLY as the boat sailed around the headland, Dubrovnik lit up in the distance, pulling her wrap more closely around her shoulders although the early evening air was warm. She felt a little uncomfortable, the only passenger on the charter boat Damir had sent to collect her, although she had insisted she would have been fine jumping on one of the open-topped passenger ferries that connected Lokvar with the mainland. The driver of the small speedy boat hadn’t spoken to her beyond a few grunts, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  And she had a lot to think about, two emails that day jolting her from the contented haze that had enveloped her the last few weeks as she had spent her days either working or spending time with Damir—time that was becoming increasingly important to her. She pulled at her wrap impatiently. How she wished he had picked her up so she could discuss her news and thoughts through with him.

  Damir had asked her to accompany him to the opening ceremony of the Summer Festival, a six-week celebration of arts and culture that encompassed the whole area—Lokvar would be hosting a theatre company who would perform several times a week in the small but idyllic botanical gardens. The opening ceremony, a concert, was by invitation only, followed by a champagne reception.