“Of course not. I already have a girlfriend, and this whole affair was something your parents and mine hatched together. I must say, I’m glad to hear you’re not so keen either. My mother said you were all for it...”

Kim’s eyes widened. To think that he believed she was eager to nab him—because of his status. Ugh.

She was glad now that she’d had the good sense to take off. What kind of women was this guy used to? The kind Kim’s parents thought she was, obviously.

“Well, I hope your folks aren’t too inconvenienced,” she told him.

“And I hope yours come round.”

Unlikely, she thought. “They’ll get over it.”

“Indeed. Well, thanks for ringing, Kim, and best of luck with...whatever you’re doing,” Spencer said, before ending the call.

“Thanks.”

Just what the hell was she doing? Kim wondered now. She stared out at the twinkling water, watching Colette and Annie frolic in the waves.

The three had decided that it was a perfect day for a trip to the beach. They were at Fornillo, the smaller sister to Spiaggia Grande, the bigger and much more touristy beach in the center of Positano.

Up till now, they’d spent their days together wandering through the streets and alleyways of the practically vertical town, and visited some of the other popular tourist sites along the coast, as well as a couple of local art galleries.

Well, she and Colette did; Annie told them right from the beginning that she wasn’t in the least bit interested in culture or sightseeing, and was far more concerned with getting a tan, which was why she in turn spent most of her days at the villa soaking up the sunshine by the pool.

But today, Kim and Colette had dragged Annie out, and down the perilous 400-or-so-step descent to the beach. Unlike the soft underfoot of, say, the Hamptons back home, the “sand” at Fornillo consisted primarily of sharp rock pebbles and was volcanic in origin, making it hot as hell to walk on.

“Are you coming in or what?” Annie chimed in now, as she approached. The brunette was wearing a light pink swimsuit that flattered her hourglass figure.

Kim looked at her own shape. She knew she was model-thin with a pretty decent body, but Annie had the shape that every woman wanted, and by the looks she was getting from guys on the beach, one that men appreciated, too.

“Must be a real page-turner,” Colette commented, nodding at the paperback. Kim flinched a little, thinking she’d spotted the little journal slotted within the pages, but no, Colette was referring to the thriller she was reading.