“How do you know I'm not attracted to her?” Gray asked with a look of amusement. “Actually, I'm not. But I like her head. I loved talking to her. She's incredibly honest and perceptive about the art scene in New York. She's a no-nonsense kind of person.”
“I know. I could see that while she was talking to you. And I know you're not attracted to her, because she's not nuts. She looks about as normal as it gets. No one's threatening her life, she doesn't look as though she'd put up with being abused by anyone, and she doesn't look as though her prescription for antipsychotic medication just ran out. I don't think there's a chance in hell you'll fall for that one, Gray,” Adam teased. She was nothing like the women Gray normally wound up with. She looked entirely put together, totally competent, and completely sane. Saner than most in fact.
“You never know,” Charlie said philosophically. “Magical things happen in Portofino, it's a very romantic place.”
“Not that romantic,” Adam countered, “unless she has a nervous breakdown by tomorrow at eleven.”
“I think he's right,” Gray said honestly. “I have a fatal weakness for women who need help. When her husband left her for someone else, she picked up her kids and moved to New York without a penny. Two years later she was running a gallery, and now it's one of the most successful in New York. Women like that don't need to be rescued.” He knew himself well, and so did his friends, but Charlie was still hopeful. He always was, even about himself.
“That could be a refreshing change,” Charlie suggested, smiling at him.
“I'd rather be her friend,” Gray said sensibly. “It lasts longer.” Charlie and Adam both agreed as they got back on the boat, said goodnight, and went to their cabins. It had been a terrific night.
The entire group came on board the next morning, as the three friends were finishing breakfast. Charlie gave them a tour of the boat, and they motored out to sea shortly after. They were all immensely impressed. It was quite a boat.
“Charlie tells me you travel together for a month every year. What a fabulous thing to do,” Sylvia said, smiling at Gray, as they both drank virgin Bloody Marys. Gray had decided that it would be a lot more fun to talk to Sylvia and stay sober. None of them had a drinking problem, but they readily agreed, they drank far too much on the boat, like bad teenagers who had run away from their parents. Around Sylvia, it was more of a challenge to be an adult. She was so bright, and so on top of things, he didn't want his senses dulled when he talked to her. They were deep in conversation about Renaissance frescoes in Italy, when the boat stopped and they threw anchor.
Within minutes everyone was in bathing suits, diving off the boat into the water. They cavorted like kids, two of Sylvia's friends water-skied, and Gray noticed Adam on the Jet Ski with the niece astride behind him.
They swam and played until nearly two o'clock, and by then the crew had set out a fabulous buffet of seafood and pasta. They sat down to an enormous lunch, with Italian wine, and at four o'clock they were still at the table in animated conversation. Even Adam was forced to be intelligent with Sylvia's niece—it turned out that she was studying political science in Paris, and was planning to enter a doctoral program. Like her aunt, she wasn't anyone to take lightly. Her father was the minister of culture, and her mother was a thoracic surgeon. Both of her brothers were doctors, she spoke five languages, and she was thinking of getting a law degree after her doctoral degree in political science. She was considering a career in politics. This was not a girl who wanted implants from him. She expected intelligent conversation, which came as a shock to Adam. He wasn't used to women her age being as direct as she was, or as serious about their studies. Charlie laughed at him as he walked by—she was discussing foreign money markets, and Adam looked nervous. She had him on his toes, or on the ropes, as he ruefully admitted later. He was no match for her, despite her age.
Sylvia and Gray spent the afternoon discussing art, interminably, much to their delight. They went from one period of history to another, drawing parallels between politics and art. Charlie watched them all with fatherly pleasure, making sure that his crew was making them feel at home on the boat, and that his guests had everything they wanted.
