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room?”
    He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. She threw back her shoulders and crossed her arms. Did their rooms connect? Was that why he acted like she should know the answer to her question? She glanced around the room and strolled, touching the walls to find a door leading to another room. Besides a door that led to a bathroom as big as her bedroom in Austin, nada.
    “Save it. We’re sharing a room.”
    She swallowed hard and jerked back like he had thrown a bucket of frozen water on her. “Come again? This place has a gazillion rooms.”
    With a sigh, he removed his jacket and opened the armoire. “Yes, but if we’re supposed to be a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other, why would we need two rooms?” He slid his jacket on a hanger and closed the armoire.
    “Maybe you snore at night. Maybe we’re modern, and we like to have our own space.”
    “You were naked in my pool. That shot down any personal-space theory.” He stretched his back and cracked his knuckles. “And for the record, I don’t snore.”
    “That’s a relief,” she said, hands perched on her waist, and she drummed her fingers on the denim. Relief my ass. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. Mr.—Lorenzo. I work for you. We’re already crossing the line in so many ways just by spending more time with each other. I’d like to have some serenity at the end of the day, or after a shower, instead of worrying about, er, sleeping next to a man I barely know.”
    A man whose sterile relationship with her would resume as soon as they returned to Texas. It had to, didn’t it? She needed that job, now more than ever, to pay for her sister’s treatment. Most of all, she needed the money to pay Buck. Besides, if she unleashed her desire for him, there’d be a hell of an aftermath for her to deal with. Worse, he could just let her go. Fire her. And she’d be jobless and brokenhearted. Reliving that nightmare would be beyond stupid.
    Yeah. She had a major crush on Lorenzo—she jonesed over him. But she also had a thing for James Franco, which meant nothing. Stick with Franco. Instagram. Got it?
    “I’ll try my best to grant you your well-deserved serenity.”
    “One day at a time I guess, right?” she thought out loud. This was going to be a challenge. Workout boot camps had nothing on spending every waking moment next to the man who threatened to squash her self-control and questionable morals. Was she ready to face the reality of literally waking up to a man she had masturbated over?
    He winked at her. “There’s your motivational quote.”

    “H ow about some prosecco?” Viola lifted her glass as they met her downstairs. Lunch was served casually out on the main terrace overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Lorenzo nodded at the group of people gathered around and declined the alcohol. Yet again.
    “That would be great.” Alice accepted the flute the waiter offered, her fingers clasping the stem.
    Lorenzo reached to loosen his tie and was startled when he realized the shirt he wore already had the top button open. And no tie.
    Alice smiled and lifted the drink to her lips. A light blue V-neck dress outlined her curves, and her hair tumbled down her shoulders.
    He clutched his fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to touch her skin. Ever since a couple hours before, when they had to bathe and get dressed in the same confined space, his libido had stirred into fourth gear.
    He had checked his email in the en suite while she got ready and took the opportunity to call the camp and ask about Cara. Then Alice slipped to the balcony, and he caught a glimpse of that same entranced expression she wore earlier, as if the sea somehow kept her in a hypnotic state.
    He’d showered and shaved, and found himself patting the minty aftershave on his cheeks for a bit longer than usual.
    “Lorenzo?” Viola’s voice brought him to reality. He blinked and turned to the woman at his side. “May I introduce you to Paul Smythe?