Page 37 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

He glared at his friend. “Are we going to sit here at the dock and gossip like a bunch of old ladies all day, or are we going to get underway?”

“Where to?” Zoe rubbed her hands together. Her nervous excitement lessened the sting of having his flirtatious friend along for the ride. “The Blue Grotto? I read about it in the guidebook. It said—”

Dante held up a hand, cutting her off. “What did I tell you about the guidebook?”

“No guidebook, no maps, no internet,” she recited in a monotone, ticking them off on her fingers. “You’re killing me with the suspense.”

“Don’t worry.” Gianni started the engine and moved to the bow of the boat to cast off. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

He took the helm and steered the boat away from the dock, navigating out of the crowded harbor and weaving around everything from luxury yachts to tinygozzos, traditional wooden boats popular with tourists.

Dante handed Zoe’s bag back to her. “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

She nodded, blond strands blowing into her face as the cabin cruiser reached open water and picked up speed. She pulled a neon green hair tie from a pocket in her sundress and gathered her hair into a messy ponytail.

“Good.” He pointed to the glossy teak door that led down to the galley and sleeping quarters. “You might want to go below and change before we drop anchor.”

“We’re going swimming?” She uncrossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees. He could smell the tropical, fruity, coconut scent of the suntan lotion she’d spent an agonizingly long time applying on the ferry ride.

“Possibly.”

“Tease.”

“Definitely.”

She let out a low, throaty laugh that had him half wishing they were alone and half thanking the powers that be they weren’t. Then she slung her bag over her shoulder and disappeared through the door. She hadn’t been gone thirty seconds before Gianni started the inquisition.

“So this girl—”

“She’s a woman,” Dante snapped at his friend’s back.

“So I’ve noticed.” Gianni turned his head and wagged his eyebrows suggestively, raising Dante’s blood pressure another degree.

“Shouldn’t you be watching where you’re going?”

“Does it look like we’re in danger of running into anything out here?” Gianni waved an arm at the acres of clear, iridescent water in front of them.

Dante shrugged. “You never know what’s under the surface.”

“I could say the same thing about you and Zoe,” Gianni shot back, returning his attention to piloting the boat.

Dante rose and moved to stand next to his friend at the helm. Shouting over the noise of the engine was getting old. And he didn’t need or want Zoe to hear any part of this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. “She’s renting Bella Vista from my grandmother. That’s it. There’s nothing under the surface.”

Gianni rolled his eyes. “I’m not blind. I see the way you look at each other. And the way you tense up like a coiled spring about to pop when I so much as touch her.”

“She’s a nice girl. You’re a player. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“I thought you said she was a woman.”

“Just do me a favor and leave her alone. Hands off.”

“I’ll leave her alone if you man up and admit you want her for yourself.”

The cabin door opened, and Zoe stepped out, cutting their conversation short in one of her dental floss bikinis, canary yellow with strings that tied around her neck and back and at her hips. Gianni let out a low wolf whistle, which prompted a sharp jab to the ribs from Dante.

“Hands off,” he hissed under his breath.

“Man up,” Gianni muttered back through clenched teeth.