One Night In His Bed
Christina Hollis
A night of unsurpassable passion. . . Penniless and widowed, Sienna has caught the eye of the one man who can save her–Italian tycoon Garett Lazlo, who can't resist her beauty. But cold-hearted Garett doesn't do anything for nothing, no matter how desirable the prospect.He offers Sienna a ruthless deal: he will help her, but she must play by his rules–by giving herself to him totally for one night of unsurpassable passion. . . .
Christina Hollis
ONE NIGHT IN HIS BED
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
To Jenny, whose enthusiasm
really keeps me going!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
‘SUPERSTITIOUS old Enrica saw a black cat this morning. She told me it means there are pirates in town. You had better put on something sexier than that black shroud and try to catch yourself a rich one, Sienna!’ Imelda Basso jeered out of an upstairs window. Down in the courtyard, her stepdaughter Sienna gritted her teeth and smiled. She said nothing. Sometimes, silence was her only weapon against Imelda.
Sienna loaded a last box into the local Co-operative’s van and escaped to market. Working on the stall got her out of the house, but freedom was a mixed blessing. It made her feel like a hen released from a broody coop. The noise and dazzling colour of Portofino always came as a shock to her. It was such a contrast with her daily life that all Sienna wanted to do when she got there was to retreat back into herself, to concentrate on her knitting and take up as little space as possible. But that was no good. Nobody would buy from a mouse. The Piccia Co-operative needed sales. Its members relied on this stall. They intended to increase their contribution to local charities this year, too. That meant everyone had to do their bit—Sienna included. She had to push herself.
She was developing a coping strategy. She kept her head down, and made sure she always looked busy. It was the perfect way to avoid having to talk to anybody until the exact moment they were ready to buy.
Sienna recognised a lot of familiar faces around the market, although she had never been brave enough to strike up a conversation with any of them. Yet today was different. Someone new caught her eye—and held it. A tall stranger was moving through the chaos of deliveries and conversations on the other side of the square. Sienna had to look away, fast. He was so different from the market men that her stomach contracted. A single glance was enough to tell her that this was someone special. He was really well dressed, and the quiet confidence of his movements set him apart from the brash, swaggering pitchers around him. Sienna risked a couple of direct looks at the stranger, as well as more covert glances from beneath her lashes. She reassured herself that no one would suspect a shy widow of anything more than curiosity.
The new arrival was certainly worth examining. His determined attitude, coupled with that neat dark hair and the clean, strong lines of his jaw, marked him out as someone very special indeed. He moved from stall to stall with all the style of a Roman emperor on a tour of inspection. Sienna wondered what it was like to be so self-assured. This man obviously expected to go anywhere and do anything. She watched as he sampled olives, tasted walnuts, or accepted a spoonful of goats’ cheese spread on a biscuit. He did not stop anywhere long enough to buy, but moved on in a restless search for the next novelty. Sienna would never have dared to try something at a stall and then leave without purchasing. She wondered how he could have the nerve. His easy manner showed it was not a problem for him.
Hypnotised by watching him idle along from place to place, she suddenly realised it was almost time for her stall to come under his scrutiny. Her mind dissolved in horror. What would she say? Here was a gorgeous man—with plenty of money to spend, judging by his appearance. He would be an ideal customer. If only she could succeed in getting him to buy where everyone else in the market had failed…
With difficulty, she kept her gaze away from the approaching stranger. If she didn’t look at him directly, he might pass on by. She screwed her hands into balls of nerves. Why did this have to happen when she was working alone? Anna Maria or any one of the other co-op members would have leapt forward and made a sale. All Sienna could do was blush and shrink and turn aside, hoping that the handsome newcomer would pass straight by.
She counted the change in the pouch at her waist. Then she switched her attention back to her table, making sure the goods were still neatly displayed, touching everything as though for luck. She repeated her little rituals until she was sure he must have passed by. Even so, it was quite a while before she felt brave enough to glance around the market again.
There was no sign of the stranger. With a huge sigh of relief Sienna relaxed. It was all too much for her. She hadn’t wanted to be seen blushing, as she knew she would have done if she’d spoken to the handsome stranger. In Piccia, where she lived, good reputations took a lifetime to forge. And people expected to see a certain standard of behaviour from a widow. One word or action out of place could destroy her reputation in an instant. Sienna thought of the local woman whose husband had divorced her in order to marry his mistress. The wife had been the innocent party, but looks and whispers had followed her everywhere. Eventually she had been hounded out of her birthplace.
Sienna could not bear to think of being the subject of gossip. Her stepmother, Imelda, would never forgive her. And her anger frightened Sienna. Just the thought of Imelda’s displeasure was enough to keep Sienna on the straight and narrow—but then virtue was an easy path in Piccia. There was no temptation. All the boys left as soon as they could. Only men with private incomes or those too old to escape lived in Piccia now.
Sienna sighed. She liked the quiet village life, but it came at a huge price. Imelda was determined to marry her off to a rich man again as soon as it was decent. Sienna’s late husband had had only one blood relative, a distant cousin called Claudio di Imperia, and Imelda had him in mind as Sienna’s next suitor. One look at Claudio’s pinched, pale face had told Sienna that ‘fun’ was not a word with any meaning for him. If I have to be married, why can’t I choose who it’s going to be? she thought angrily.
The good-looking stranger was now bending over a stand on the far side of the market. He was concentrating on a display of everything imaginable that could be made from chestnuts. While he was busy, Sienna took the chance to study him again—but only while the other stallholders weren’t looking.
The visitor was dressed in Armani, she noticed, and his thick dark hair was neatly trimmed. What a contrast he made with her unwanted future husband. Claudio wore his frayed cuffs and bad haircut like medals for economy. But Imelda always said it didn’t matter what a man looked like as long as he had plenty of money in the bank. In Sienna’s house, Imelda Basso’s word was law. The only thing that woman feared was public opinion—which was why Sienna was determined to wear black for as long as possible. It was protection. No one in the village would forgive Imelda if she tried to marry off her stepdaughter when the ‘poor girl’ was still in mourning.
Snared away from her thoughts, Sienna realised in a panic that he was coming in her direction again. She looked down quickly, already worrying about what to say if he spoke to her. Then she remembered her stepmother’s mocking laughter. Who is going to be interested in Piccia’s homespun rubbish?
Sienna’s shoulders sagged. Was there no escape from the echo of that woman’s voice? It was even invading her daydreams.
Was Imelda right? Would anybody as rich as him be interested in her stall? The gorgeous stranger would probably buy some of those dark handmade chocolates wrapped in crackling cellophane and ribbon for his equally shrink-wrapped and sophisticated girlfriend. He’s bound to have one, Sienna thought, and I’ll bet she never wears black.
‘Excuse me, miss—I wonder if you could direct me to the Church of San Gregorio?’
A loud, cultured voice made her flush with confusion. She looked up—but it was not the person she had hoped it would be. Instead of her dashing hero, she found herself staring at the expectant faces of a couple of tourists.
All Sienna’s tension dissolved in a self-conscious giggle. She gave the directions, and even managed to exchange a few cheerful words. Then a cloud blotted out her relief. While she had been busy chatting, a presence had arrived beside her. That was the only way she could describe it. The tall, well-dressed stranger had materialised at her elbow.
All her worries flooded back, stifling her voice as soon as the tourists said goodbye. She was alone with him. Sienna had no option but to look up and smile. Straight away she made sure she could not be accused of flirting. It didn’t matter that she was twenty kilometres from home, Sienna knew that the moment she showed the slightest interest in any male over the age of ten, the news would reach her stepmother before you could say ‘torrid affair’.
The vision smiled back. Sienna gazed at him, at a loss. And then he spoke.
‘I heard you speaking English to that couple.’ He came straight to the point in a distinctive accent. It matched his frank, typically American expression. ‘I wonder—could you please direct me to the best restaurant around here?’
Was that all he needed? Sienna wanted to feel relief rush through her, but it didn’t happen. His steady gaze was too intense for that. His dark brown eyes mesmerised her, in the split second she allowed herself to look up into his face. Quickly, she looked down again. The very best place to eat was about twenty kilometres away, up in the hills. No one in Piccia could afford to eat in Il Pettirosso, where Anna Maria’s husband Angelo worked, but it was the restaurant Sienna always visited in her daydreams. As all the staff were local, and this visitor had chosen her for her ability to speak English, it might not be for him. But his confident yet relaxed stance told Sienna that this man would fit in anywhere. And he is exactly the sort who might try and turn my simplest reply into a conversation, she thought nervously.
Conversation was a risk Sienna could not take. She had enough grief in her life already, and didn’t want any more. This would never have happened if the man had bought something when he’d first walked into the market, she reflected. The other stallholders always spoke English when a customer showed real signs of spending money. She glanced sideways at the walnut-faced market men squinting through smoke from their roll-ups, and the nonnas sitting in judgement like black toads.
‘There are lots of good restaurants down by the sea, signor. Many of them have menus printed in French or English,’ she added helpfully.
‘I’ve heard that some places on the coast take advantage of the tourist dollar, and as I can actually speak a little Italian, signorina, the language won’t necessarily be a problem for me.’
He smiled, and Sienna could believe it.
‘In which case, the best place is twenty or thirty minutes’ drive out of town. And it’s quite a walk to the cab rank from here.’
Especially in shoes like those, she thought, her gaze firmly fixed on his Guccis.
‘That won’t necessarily matter. I was going to hire a car and invite some old friends out for lunch while I’m in their neighbourhood.’
The urge to look up at him grew too strong, so Sienna gave in. A change had come over his expression. It was as though a cloud had passed in front of the sun, and she realised he disliked giving out information about himself.
Sienna nervously passed the tip of her tongue over her lips. ‘The only thing is…the restaurant I recommended really needs somebody in your party who has an ear for the local dialect. Perhaps your friends are fluent, signor? Il Pettirosso is remote, and very much a haunt of those “in the know”, as I think the saying goes. Are you sure you wouldn’t be better off going to one of the fashionable places down by the sea after all? They get so much business from tourists that it’s accepted all their staff will speak English. All sorts of famous people go there,’ she finished lamely, in case he was famous, too, and she simply hadn’t recognised him. With those expectant eyes and resolute mouth, he looked as though he should have an international fan club.
‘I loathe watching money being thrown around solely in the hope of making an impression,’ he announced. ‘I prefer good food and service in excellent company. In which of your suggested places would you choose to eat?’
‘If I could go anywhere?’ Sienna could hardly imagine such luxury.
‘Go anywhere, spend anything—I don’t care what it costs as long as it’s value for money.’
‘Oh, then that’s easy!’ Sienna warmed with the thought of it. ‘Il Pettirosso—even if it means buying a phrasebook to help with the ordering. It’s a wonderful place with smoked glass windows so passers-by can’t see inside. They specialise in local dishes, and everything is freshly prepared from the finest ingredients. Regional food is cooked there to the highest possible standard.’
His smile returned. ‘That sounds just my sort of place. Authentic cuisine and an authentic name!’
‘It’s actually a sort of bird, signor. They live in the woodlands, and I shouldn’t think you would ever see one inside Il Pettirosso. Unless they have pictures of them on the menu, of course.’
Putting his head on one side, he looked at her acutely. ‘Are you telling me you’ve never actually eaten there?’
Sienna shook her head. The thought of trying to get her late husband Aldo over the threshold of a place like that made her smile.
The stranger reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small mobile phone. Flipping it open, he handed it to Sienna. She looked at him in bewilderment.
‘Go on, then—the choice is made. Would you mind booking it for me, please, signorina? I might have a problem making myself understood if I can’t give them some visual clues. I’ll need a table for four at midday. That will give me plenty of time to make all the other arrangements.’
‘I shall need a name, signor.’
‘Oh, just tell them it is for Garett Lazlo,’ he said, as though giving her the answer to everything.
Sienna’s eyes widened at this, but she rang the restaurant as instructed. To her amazement, the booking was accepted straight away. Within seconds the formalities were complete. Next moment, the receptionist at Il Pettirosso was thanking her for the call with a warm goodbye. For a few precious seconds Sienna could fool herself that she was his glamorous personal assistant, making an official business call.
The phone was warmed by a faint fragrance of handsome Mr Lazlo. Sienna savoured it for as long as she could, until she had to hand it back.
‘And now, signorina—can you achieve a double triumph, and point me in the direction of a decent car?’
Garett Lazlo tucked the phone back inside his jacket, all set to go. The part of Sienna that was not still under the influence of his masculine aroma almost managed to feel relieved.
‘If you go straight through the market, then turn right and carry on across town, there is a prestige hire firm within a kilometre. Keep your back to the harbour and you can’t miss it,’ she said quickly.
‘Thank you.’
It sounded as though there was a smile in his voice, but Sienna did not trust herself to check. When she eventually raised her head her visitor was strolling away, his jacket slung over one shoulder. With an unfamiliar pang of excitement she realised she could stare at him openly now, because everyone else in the market was doing exactly the same thing. Among that gallery, one more person admiring the tall, slim stranger would go unnoticed. Even if that person was ‘poor, downtrodden Sienna’, as everyone called her when they thought she could not hear.
She dared herself to take in his appearance for a few more minutes. There were always plenty of foreigners in Portofino, but this one was definitely something special. As she watched him walk away, Sienna was reliving every word he had spoken to her. Their conversation ran through her mind on an endless loop—his self-confidence, and her hesitancy. Butterflies were dancing in her stomach, although he had probably forgotten her almost instantly. He was looking over the other stalls again, and with genuine interest. The morning sunlight glowed against the dazzling white of his shirt. In contrast, his hair was gypsy-dark. Only a slight natural curl softened the depths of its carelessly expensive cut. Sienna found herself wondering what it would be like to trail her fingers through its luxuriance. The thought alarmed her, and she tried to look away. But it was hopeless. She had no choice but to watch him furtively until he was right out of sight, around the corner.
He never looked back. In contrast, Sienna spent the next hour glancing around for him.
It was still early in the day, and the season had barely started. Although there were a lot of visitors to Portofino, business was quiet. Sienna tried to keep her mind off the handsome American, but it was difficult. He had stirred a strange yearning in her. She made work for herself—arranging and rearranging the items on the co-op’s table. Handmade lace produced in her village was always popular, and now that Molly Bradley was learning to make it as well, there would be no shortage of things to sell.
Kane and Molly Bradley were new arrivals in Piccia—polite, and not at all pushy. Sienna had first met them in the local store, where their ‘teach yourself’ Italian had earned them nothing but mutinous stares from the staff. Once Sienna had sorted everything out, the Bradleys had slowly but surely worked their way towards acceptance by the villagers.
The best sort of incomers were like that. They felt they had to work twice as hard as the locals to be thought half as good. Sienna did not mind newcomers, as long as they were like Kane and Molly. At least they weren’t keeping holiday homes empty for most of the year, or playing at farming on the hills.
Sienna was wondering whether to pour herself a cup of coffee when someone spoke, making her jump guiltily.
‘Hello again, signorina—I’d like to thank you for your directions. They were perfect.’
There was no mistaking that voice. It was like mountain honey. With dread in her heart, but hope in her eyes, Sienna straightened up to be confronted by all her dreams and nightmares rolled into one handsome package. That old woman back at home had been right when she’d said pirates had landed today, Sienna thought, as the fluttering feeling rose up from her stomach and turned all her sensible thoughts into butterflies.
She did not dare acknowledge the stranger with anything more than a nod. He took no notice of her nervous silence. Leaning forward, he planted his hands firmly on the edge of the table. He made it instantly obvious that, whatever he had come for, it was not souvenirs.
‘Don’t mention it,’ Sienna said, turning hot pink as she felt the eyes of all the other stallholders fastening on her. She was already thinking of this stranger as ‘The Pirate’ so the thrust behind his next words should have come as no surprise—but it did.
‘I’ve got the hire-car, and as none of the phrasebooks on sale in town included detailed directions to Il Pettirosso, I’m here to collect you.’ He homed in on her with a devastating smile.
‘Me?’ Sienna stared around, flustered. Everyone was looking. She was the centre of attention, which she hated, but at least they were all smiling.
‘It’s the perfect solution, signorina. You’ll be able to make sure I get there on time, in one piece, and by the most direct route.’
Distracted, Sienna plucked at her skirt. If Garett Lazlo had been one of the regular guys who cruised the stalls on the lookout for lone girls that would have been easily fixed. She had no hesitation in telling strangers where to go. But this man was different. He was serious, formal, and truly stunning—and for the moment at least he seemed to have eyes only for her.
Sienna began to panic. She ached to break free from her boring life and do something different, but her reputation was on the line. She imagined all the elderly Ligurian matrons in their doorways and loggias, on their stalls and balconies, shaking their heads and sucking their remaining teeth in disapproval. She could almost feel their eyes boring into her. One wrong move, one word out of place, and Sienna was sure her honour would be gone for ever. She had not felt so totally alone since her wedding day.
Garett Lazlo smiled again. Sienna did not need to look up and see it. Her heightened senses were already filling in the details of his irresistible face and those tempting dark eyes…
If only she was free. She wished with all her heart that the world would go away and let her be herself for once. But who am I? she thought helplessly. It’s been years since I’ve been allowed to give it any thought. So now I’m nothing but a girl who is too scared to say yes. Even to a once-in-a-lifetime offer like this!
‘Don’t tell me you’re going to resist coming along for the ride?’ he said silkily. ‘I’ve picked up such a car. It’s beautiful—sleek and shiny—and it is exactly the same shade of Mediterranean blue as your eyes.’
‘How do you know, signor?’
Despite her nerves, this man aroused strange, conflicting feelings inside her, and she felt she had to challenge him.
‘My attention to detail is said to be legendary. But allow me to check—’
Before Sienna knew what was happening, cool, strong fingers had slipped beneath her chin and tilted up her head. In the last hour she had agonised over Garett Lazlo’s approach, and then been struck dumb by his presence. But such intimacy from this stranger cleared her mind in a flash. She jumped back, cannoning into her stall. As she did so her vacuum flask overbalanced, bounced off the corner of the table and landed with a shuddering thump in her open lunchbox. Coffee and sparkling shards of glass spilled out over the focaccia and salad she had been about to eat.
For one second everyone looked at the scene in shocked silence. Then Sienna drew in a great breath and rounded on the American. ‘Oh, look what you’ve done!’
Garett spread his hands in an artless gesture. ‘What can I say? I am sorry—but I didn’t expect you to act like a frightened rabbit. All I did was make a perfectly reasonable request for you to accompany me to an appointment as my guide and interpreter. I may have backed it up with a little harmless flirtation, but if you aren’t in the market for that—well, it’s fine by me.’ He shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned by what he deemed to be her overreaction.
Sienna had to concentrate hard to stop her eyes filling with tears. She was hungry, and she didn’t have any cash on her.
‘My food is ruined,’ she said in a small voice.
The way she spoke provoked a slightly amused expression.
‘Problem solved—you’re lunching with me.’
‘He’s got you there. You can’t argue with that!’ One of the nonnas nodded with satisfaction.
Sienna had been scared of the elderly ladies who manned the other market stalls. Now she turned to stare at this one with open amazement. The old woman grinned back at her.
‘He’s ruined your lunch. A girl must eat—so the least he can do is feed you!’
‘Thank you, signora,’ Garett replied to the bystander, whose intonation worked in any language. He looked back at Sienna in obvious triumph. ‘The fact is, signorina, you need a lunchtime break and some refreshment. I need directions and a translator. If I take you to lunch now, that will solve all our problems—yours and mine. Therefore I am your perfect lunch companion, and you are mine.’
‘No, I’m not! I don’t know…I can’t…’ Sienna struggled, wishing she could say yes but knowing she would never allow herself to do so.
Garett Lazlo met all her excuses with amusement, which gave her no help at all.
‘Il Pettirosso has a strict dress code…it is that sort of place. I couldn’t possibly walk in there dressed like this!’ She flipped her fingers over the plain black of her clothes. This expanded his smile still further.
‘I don’t see why not. Black is always in fashion.’ His gaze travelled slowly down from her face in cool appraisal. ‘It’s true that your clothes are a little austere, signorina, but as far as I am concerned less is more in that department. Especially when it can be dressed up so easily.’ He threw his glance across the handicrafts on her table and it stopped when he saw a beautiful angora wrap. It was as blue as an angel’s eyes and as insubstantial as gossamer. Picking it up, he swept it in a misty billow around her shoulders, arranging it gently against her neck.
For those few precious seconds Sienna was enveloped in his clean, masculine fragrance once again. Intoxicated now, as well as astonished, she watched him in silence. He was casting a connoisseur’s eye over the delicate jewellery she had brought to sell. When he lifted a fine filigree of silver from her display, and held it up to catch the dancing sunlight, she knew there would be no resisting his next suggestion—whatever it was.
‘Now, all you need is this lapis necklace and matching bracelet and there will be no one at Il Pettirosso—no matter how sophisticated the place might be—who can raise a candle to you, signorina,’he said calmly, handing it to her.
Thank goodness he didn’t try to put it on me, Sienna thought, almost deafened by the sound of her heart hammering against her ribs. She hesitated at the sight of the beautiful necklace in her hands. It glittered and tempted her like cool water in a drought.
‘Yes…but I really cannot let you do this, signor!’ She shook her head and turned away, thinking of the craftsmen and women back in Piccia. They were depending on her to make them some money. ‘All these things are for sale. They aren’t here to act as a dressing up box for me. I can’t possibly use them! And what would I tell the co-operative—that I just danced off for lunch when I should have been taking care of business here?’
She put one hand up to her neck, touching the place where the beautiful necklace would have lain against her skin. She ached, and hoped it was because she wanted to feel the kiss of its metal there, rather than Garett Lazlo’s lips. That did not bear thinking about.
As her fingers fluttered over the smooth lines of her collarbone a shaft of sun streaked over the golden band on her wedding finger. Garett leaned back. It was only a slight movement, but it released Sienna from his shadow. Glancing up, she waited to feel relief that he no longer seemed about to force his presence on her. But when it came, the feeling was tinged with the faintest trace of disappointment.
‘I have a duty to the people who sent me here, signor,’ she said quietly.
‘Your loyalty does you credit, signora. But you have overlooked one simple fact. I’m not asking you to do anything immoral. Accompany me to lunch now, and I shall pay for all the things you are borrowing from your stall. When we return you will give me an estimate of the money you might reasonably have expected to make in the length of time you have been away. What could be fairer than that?’
‘Nothing!’ one of the stallholders called out.
Sienna looked around at the nonnas and market men. The thought that they were waiting for her to step out of line had been terrifying her for weeks. It was true that they were all watching her today, but it was with interest and genuine amusement. None of them looked in the least bit disapproving.
‘I’d go with him like a shot if I was fifty years younger!’ a nearby stallholder suggested. She was a tiny, bird-like woman, grinning up from her knitting.
‘Do you think it would be all right, signora?’ Sienna asked doubtfully.
The old lady rested the lacy beginnings of a matinee jacket in her lap. Loosening another length of baby-pink wool from the skein in her enormous carpetbag, she looked up with a mischevious twinkle.
‘My long life has taught me that you should grab opportunity with both hands whenever it shows up. And especially if it looks like him!’ She gestured with one long, fine knitting needle. Everyone within earshot laughed out loud.
Garett Lazlo studied them all as though his face was carved in stone. ‘Did I understand that correctly, signora?’
‘N-no. Probably not.’ She hoped.
‘I certainly hope you did, signor!’ The nonna chuckled with delight, speaking in heavily accented English this time. ‘Take her away with a clear conscience, signor, and for as long as you like. I shall look after her stall.’
‘Thank you.’ Garett inclined his head graciously and took a firm hold on Sienna’s elbow.
‘She speaks English?’ he queried, drawing Sienna quickly across the marketplace before she had time to think up any more delaying tactics.
‘We all do. If the price is right.’ But as she said the words she worried that he would take them the wrong way. Had she just wrecked her own reputation?
CHAPTER TWO
THEY were leaving the busy market behind. He was drawing her away from the crowds. If she were forced to call for help, then soon there would be no one to hear her. Panic began to bubble up, foaming into real fear. Garett Lazlo was so much bigger than she was. Fighting him off, if worse came to the worst, would not be an option.
Sienna did the only thing she could. Stopping abruptly, she caught him off balance.
‘Wait—I wasn’t expecting you to take me to lunch, Mr Lazlo, much less anything else. I’m not looking to make anything out of this at all—honestly! If you are going to regret dressing me up like this, then you should know that I made this wrap, and my friend designed and made the jewellery. I can pay her back for that, and at least no one but me will be any the poorer if my wrap has to be given away, rather than sold. It won’t cost you a thing. I can easily make the co-operative another one.’
‘You made this?’
She nodded, on firm ground for once. ‘I keep rabbits for meat. It is easy to hide a few Angoras in their shed as well.’ Sienna warmed with the thought of that tiny triumph, which she had managed in the face of Imelda and Aldo. Neither of them would have recognised a rabbit outside of a casserole dish.
Intrigued, he lifted the trailing edge of the cornflower-blue shrug and inspected the fine stitches. ‘It’s exquisite. And you look ravishing in it, by the way,’ he added disarmingly. ‘But I find dedication and skill like this in one so young slightly worrying. A beautiful woman like you really should get out more, signora.’
‘I’m not allowed—that is, I don’t get the chance. I have to keep house for my stepmother on top of everything else,’ Sienna corrected herself quickly. Imelda might treat her like Cinderella, but she did not want this real-life Prince Charming to think she was a push-over—especially if they were about to enter a secluded alleyway together. ‘That doesn’t leave me the time or the energy for anything else,’ she finished primly.
‘I see.’
Her message must have been clear enough, for his grip on her elbow eased slightly. To Sienna’s relief, he let go completely as they entered the warren of streets leading out of town.
She thought it was because he respected the line she had drawn between them, but Garett’s mind was actually elsewhere. He was uneasy. His escape from Manhattan had been so sudden, and it meant travelling without the comfort of a schedule. His working days used to run like clockwork, but that was behind him for the moment. The alphabet soup of PAs, PDAs and GPS which made sure he got from A to B and back again in the shortest possible time was nothing but a memory. He patted his jacket, feeling the reassuring bulge made by his passport. With that, and his unlimited funds, Garett could do what he liked and go where he wanted. The world should be his oyster. But he was finding freedom unexpectedly hard work.
This thought carved furrows in his brow. He had more money to burn than most people made in a lifetime, and yet it was no longer enough. Why not? Something—some basic truth obvious to everyone else—still evaded him. From the age of six he had worked continuously—because when he stopped the restlessness returned. A vital element was missing from his life. He had discovered a disturbing new side to himself earlier that week. It had made him realise he must find out what he lacked—immediately—but how? Work was clearly part of the problem. The only way he could think to avoid its siren song was to put a few thousands miles and complete radio silence between him and his headquarters. The moment he tried to log in to the office computer system his staff would be on his case like kids mobbing a tomcat. He needed space, and time to think.
Garett put one hand in his pocket. It was only the third time he had checked for the hire-car keys since they’d been handed to him. He must be slowing down. As he thought that, he noticed another change in himself. Strolling through these airless city passageways with a nervous stranger should have been hell—a horrible reminder of what he had escaped. Instead, he found himself actually enjoying the sensation of not being expected to make conversation. What was happening to him?
Without realising it, he slowed his walk still further. It gave him the chance to look around for once. Lifting his gaze from the pavement, he sent it up to where the tenement canyons showed a strip of sky. The silhouette of a woman with bulky breasts and a wayward home perm loomed out of an upstairs window. She was holding a big juice container. With a shout of cheerful warning she poured water from it into her flower boxes. A noisy cascade of liquid ran out from beneath her billowing scarlet geraniums, darkening the front of the apartment block before dripping down to the flagstones.
A trickle ran towards the feet of Garett’s unwilling companion. She was lost in thought and had not noticed the gardener overhead. Now she looked up and frowned at the clear, cloudless sky above.
‘An April shower?’ Garett spoke his thoughts aloud. Then he smiled, realising that for the first time in decades he was thinking about something other than work.
It might not be the whole answer to his problems.
But it was a start.
The car was every bit as beautiful as he’d said it would be. Sienna slid into the passenger seat with a sigh of real longing.
‘Good, isn’t it?’ He smiled, slipping behind the wheel with similar satisfaction.
Sienna nodded, but did not speak. She was determined to keep her head down. Garett Lazlo had not laid a finger on her since letting go of her arm. Whatever her secret feelings about that, she knew she must not encourage him in any way. But modesty was not the only reason for her silence. On the way to the restaurant they would be passing within a few kilometres of Piccia. She could only hope and pray that none of the villagers saw her being driven along in a car like this.
Although I’m the last person anyone would expect to see in a Lamborghini. She smiled to herself. They’d probably write it off as a hallucination, brought on by too much sun.
‘You’re the first girl who’s ever smiled at my driving. They usually squeal and grab at something.’ Garett glanced at her as he pulled away from the kerb. ‘What’s the joke?’
‘N-nothing,’ she said nervously, ‘except that…travelling along like this reminds me of that old song: “If My Friends Could See Me Now”. I was wondering what my stepmother would say if she caught sight of me in this!’ She ran her hand lovingly over the passenger seat. It was made from softest glove-leather, and had the fragrance of money well spent.
His face cleared, and his eyes narrowed with devilment.
‘Let’s call in on her and find out, shall we?’
Sienna was horrified. ‘No! Please don’t! She would kill me! Respectable women aren’t seen in fast cars with strange men.’
‘Why not? Better that, surely, than being spotted in a strange car with a fast man? Are we going to pass your house?’
‘No—thank goodness,’ Sienna said with real feeling. ‘It’s too far from here to take a detour without making you late for your table reservation, signor.’
‘I get the message—you’re keeping me safely at arm’s length. But that’s no reason to be so formal. You can call me Garett.’
Sienna’s lips flickered briefly into a smile. Then it was gone and she looked out of her window again. This was not what he had come to expect from women.
‘Don’t you have a given name, signora?’ he prompted her.
‘Of course, but perhaps we should keep this formal.’ Sienna pursed her lips.
‘I call all the ladies of my acquaintance by their first names, so why not give me yours?’
Sienna took this as an order. She was used to those, but it didn’t make carrying them out any easier. Besides, this was a total stranger. She had to make a stand somehow, and insist on keeping him at a distance. Resisting would overturn everything she had been taught about obedience—but the idea excited her. She had already done one astonishing thing today, by coming this far with him. Why not another?
‘My name is Signora di Imperia.’ She looked at Garett boldly, daring him to challenge her for more information.
One hand on the steering wheel, he watched her with interested eyes. Sienna returned his look. And then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled. Then he transferred his gaze to the road ahead. As he did so, he gave the same small, formal bow of his head he had given the respectable matron back in the market place.
Sienna knew now why the old woman had giggled like a teenager. Garett Lazlo’s talent for melting women with his smallest gesture was at work on her, too. Oh, if only they could exchange more than pleasantries…
After Garett pulled his car into Il Pettirosso’s car park and killed the ignition, he drew out his mobile and made a quick call before getting out.
‘First they’re engaged. Now they’ve switched their damned answering machine on!’ he announced.
Sienna flashed a look at him. His lips were a taut line. A pulse was beating visibly at his temple. But when he finally spoke into the phone his confident tone was in total contrast with his strained features.
‘It’s me,’ he said, without bothering to explain who ‘me’ was. ‘The time is eleven fifty-nine a.m., Tuesday. I’m sitting in Il Pettirosso with my credit card in my hand just waiting to entertain you. So if you want to make the most of this outrageous offer, you’ll get down here for lunch ASAP!’
He ended the call, and then clicked his tongue in disappointment. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he slammed the door of his hire-car with a report that echoed across the nearby valley like a gunshot. Sienna gulped. As they walked the few metres from his car to the smoked glass door of the restaurant she hoped he would not need her to do much translating for him. If he was cross already, he might not take kindly to having the menu deciphered for him as though he was illiterate.
She need not have worried. They followed in the restaurant manager’s highly polished footsteps to a discreetly placed table for four. Sienna was gazing around in awe at the clean, modern lines of the restaurant, but Garett had his eyes on something much more down to earth.
‘Ah—so that’s what a pettirosso is!’ He pointed to the beautifully painted European robin on the front of his menu. ‘Do you know, there’s a duke in England who has one of these living in the grounds of his historic house that will actually hop onto his hand to be fed?’
Sienna watched him for a minute to see if he was joking. But his smile seemed quite genuine, and she decided to probe further.
‘How do you know?’
‘He does it as a kind of party trick to impress visitors. I think the poor old guy’s lonely. He valued me as much as someone to talk to as a business advisor.’
Sienna raised her eyebrows and lowered her head to study the menu. She did not want Garett to see her amazement at what he had said. A man who talked to dukes was sitting opposite her in the restaurant of her dreams! She tried to concentrate on the list of dishes before her, but that made her feel still more nervous. Il Pettirosso offered everything from asparagus to zucchini. She had no idea what to select, nor—more importantly—how much of his money Garett would be willing to spend on her.
‘Choose what you like, Signora di Imperia.’ he announced, as though reading her thoughts. ‘If a place is good value for money, I don’t bother with budgeting. Just order, and I’ll see to the rest. For myself, I’ve been living off chateaubriand and fries for days, so I think I’ll make it something vegetarian for my main course. I fancy a change today.’ He lifted one shoulder in an easy gesture.
Vegetarian—that sounded reassuringly cheap. Sienna decided to order the same thing he did, but went on pretending to study the menu. This was partly to give his friends time to arrive, but also because it was a rare luxury. Sienna had not been out to lunch for years, and certainly never to a bewitching place like this. The experience ought to be played out for as long as she could manage.
Poring over the deckle-edged, beautifully inscribed menu, she waited until, despite his obvious good manners, Garett showed signs of becoming a little restless. Eventually she looked up shyly. He smiled and summoned the waiter.
‘What have you chosen, Signora di Imperia?’
Sienna stopped smiling. ‘Oh…er…actually, it all looks so good I was hoping you could give me some suggestions…Garett…’
‘I think we need a few more moments to decide, signor.’ Garett nodded to their waiter. The moment the man stalked away, Sienna’s host leaned forward with the look of someone who was about to reveal a great secret.
‘You were right, signora, this place might have been beyond me if I had come here on my own. I thought to follow your selection! I can recognise all the general words, for things like soup and pasta, but some of these regional names are beyond me. Could we perhaps puzzle them out between us?’
Laughing, they went through the choices together, and came up with cacciucco for their starter, with pansôti al preboggion to follow. Sienna stayed with her idea of choosing the same things he did. It made ordering easier, and gave her a few extra seconds to gaze around in awe at her surroundings—and, more secretively, at her host.
The headwaiter materialised beside Garett the moment they were ready. Sienna looked up and smiled a little apprehensively as the man flourished his silver fountain pen over a small leatherbound notepad.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll do the ordering,’ Garett said smoothly, before she could open her mouth.
She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen.
His pronunciation was faultless. Before Sienna could congratulate him, a telephone call from his mobile burst in between them.
‘Darn—it seems like we’re going to be lunching on our own after all, signora. My friends can’t make it,’ he said when he had taken the call. He clicked his tongue, and then smiled at her reaction. ‘What’s the matter? Anyone would think you weren’t looking forward to eating here in your dream restaurant.’
‘It isn’t that.’ Sienna watched him switch off his phone and tuck it away. Suddenly it was as though the shrinking market girl had returned, trying to take up as little room as possible at his table. ‘I had not expected to be dining alone with you.’
He narrowed his eyes in a way that made her smile, despite her nerves. ‘That cuts both ways, you know, signora. But I suppose we’re both going to have to buckle down and endure it.’ He sighed theatrically, making Sienna giggle.
As her laughter died away, the sophisticated silence of the restaurant closed in. Garett was completely at ease. He sat back and studied his surroundings openly. Sienna could not manage to look anywhere directly, taking small swift glances around the room when she thought no one else was looking. Her mind was as active as her eyes, although it was not doing her much good. She desperately wanted to start up a witty, sparkling conversation. Only two things stopped her. Not being able to look at him without blushing was bad enough, but the second reason was still more of an obstacle.
She could not think of a single sensible thing to say. But then she was rescued by the most unlikely of sources. A butterfly flitted in through an open window of the restaurant.
‘Oh, look—an orange tip!’
‘You know about butterflies, signora?’ He quirked a brow, suitably impressed.
‘Not really, but they’ve increased at home since the place has been allowed to run wild. They like the purple flowers that have seeded themselves all the way through the old terrace walls. The name is one I like, too—easy and obvious.’
Sienna almost felt she might be about to relax, but the arrival of their wine and first course put a stop to that. Her stomach contracted to the size of a split pea again. As usual, Garett took the attentions of the staff in his stride. Even before they swept away he leaned over his dish and inhaled appreciatively.
‘Ah—so cacciucco must be fish soup, Signora di Imperia?’
‘That’s right. I don’t know how much you picked up from the menu, but it said all the restaurant’s raw materials are brought in fresh each morning. They come from a few kilometres away at the coast, or from local farms and smallholdings.’
He paused while breaking his bread, and leaned towards her with an enigmatic look on his face.
‘I saw that. It made me realise that the ordinary people around here have to make things, as you do, or wrestle produce out of their surroundings. The menu really brought it home to me.’ He paused again, considering what a strange word ‘home’ was in his circumstances. He tried to laugh again, but it came out as a harsh, dry sound. ‘I ate nothing but junk until I managed to make a better life for myself. The chance to eat fresh local food in a place like this is a luxury.’
Sipping at a spoonful of her soup, Sienna regarded him. His mouth was a grim line now, and his eyes were hard as he stared past her into space.
‘Perhaps it is all this home-grown fresh food in Liguria that keeps us so good-tempered?’ she risked, testing his mood.
That broke Garett’s trance. A puzzled frown flickered across his features, and he looked down at his clenched hand as though it belonged to someone else. Sienna noticed that it took him a conscious effort to relax his fingers. She went on watching him from beneath her lashes, and as she did so he began to lose the hunched tension that made him look like a prizefighter. He picked up his spoon, but to Sienna’s relief did not actually attack his meal. He skimmed the cacciucco with graceful, economical movements.
Relieved, she concentrated on her own lunch. Even so, he had completely finished before she dared to speak again.
‘I wish I had more of the killer instinct,’ she said, almost making it sound casual. ‘It would make an event like this less of an ordeal for me.’ She tried to laugh, but it did not work.
‘Fine dining is supposed to be a pleasurable experience.’ Tipping his bowl away from him, he finished the last of his soup. Then he laid down the spoon. His every movement seemed measured to Sienna, as though he was unable to relax for a moment.
‘Do you enjoy it, signor?’
‘In the right company, yes.’
‘Then it is a shame your friends are not here.’
‘Oh, I’m doing fine, signora.’
He smiled, and the richness of his tone made Sienna wonder if he was only talking about lunch…
CHAPTER THREE
FOR once in his life, seduction was not on Garett’s agenda. He was visiting Europe for a rest, not more of the same. He glanced across at her, the smile still teasing his lips. Seduction might be too much hassle at the moment, but fantasies…they were another thing altogether. He would find time for those instead.
As though reading his mind, the girl blushed and lowered her head. Amused, Garett went back to his meal. He did not anticipate any trouble from a casual lunch guest like this. She was intended as nothing more than visual entertainment for him. He liked to furnish his world with beautiful things, but, while he looked on works of art as investments to be studied as well as displayed, his women were different. They were like butterflies. They flitted into his life through one window of opportunity and out through the next. This one would be no different. If anything, she would make less impact on him than his usual pick-ups. Signora di Imperia was safe from everything but his active imagination—although he intended to let that run as free as it liked.
Garett went on watching her covertly. He was savouring the idea of stripping away her inhibitions one by one, as her shock and confusion melted into desire. It awakened in him a feeling that he thought would be hard to better—and then something happened that improved on it. She looked up as their main course arrived, and in a reflex action her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Her anticipation fired Garett’s—but for something far more pleasurable than mere food. He imagined her using that neat little pink tip to caress him all the way to paradise. As the waiter moved to his side of the table, Garett had to pull his chair in closer to the table to hide the most obvious sign of his arousal. Trying to distract himself, he stared down into the white porcelain dish of ravioli that had been placed before him. It was still bubbling, as hot as his thoughts.
A squeak from the other side of the table made him jerk his head up again. An eruption of sauce had splashed out and burned Signora di Imperia’s hand. As he watched, she sucked her finger to cool the heat. But it did nothing to quell Garett’s desire.
Then her gaze flew to his. Her blue eyes opened wide. Instantly she withdrew her finger and hid it in her lap.
‘Oh—I am so sorry, signor! What can I say? It’s just that…I’m so nervous. Coming to a place like this is such a novelty for me—I’ve never been anywhere so wonderful—’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he murmured, his mind on something else entirely.
‘Be careful—the dish is very hot. I hope you like it.’
‘I’m sure I shall.’ He smiled with complete conviction.
While waiting for his food to cool a little, Garett took a sip of wine and congratulated himself on his choice. This Moscato was a light, yet aromatic example of its type. It perfectly complemented both their soup and now their main course. He counted himself lucky to be able to experience it. No, I’ve earned the right to do this, he corrected himself quickly. Garett was a strong believer in making his own luck. Anybody could do what he had done if they wanted success badly enough. When would people learn that all it took was hard work?
Then Garett realised his companion was dissecting her dish of pasta pillows in their velvety sauce in a particular way. It was a delaying tactic he recognised from his life on the streets. She had already told him that dining like this was out of her league. Now he sensed she was trying to make the experience last for as long as possible.
He could only hope there was not another, darker reason for her time-wasting. Watching her slender wrists and delicate hands as she toyed with her food, he wondered when she would next see a decent meal. An unlikely interest in some people’s habits was another legacy of his deprived childhood.
Garett’s frown of concern was enough to bring their waiter scurrying to his side.
‘I wonder, could you bring me some more of this, please? And another serving of garlic bread?’
Sienna was so amazed, words burst from her before she could stop them.
‘But you haven’t touched what is in front of you yet, signor!’
‘Good grief—that isn’t the sort of reaction I’m used to from my dinner guests.’ He laughed.
Sienna paused, and then shot a glance across at him.
He had turned on a particularly winning smile, aimed at the restaurant staff scurrying up with his additional order.
‘It’s all for you, signora,’ he whispered. ‘Enjoy!’
Plates were juggled and the table rearranged to make space for the extra dishes. Sienna was speechless, but at least the shock gave her time to consider her reply.
‘This is very kind of you, Signor Lazlo,’ she murmured as soon as all the waiters were out of earshot, ‘but I’m sure I shall never manage all this. What made you think my own meal wasn’t big enough?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re as thin as a rail, and white as paper. Eat up. The servings here may not be American-sized, but they’ll still put some roses in your cheeks.’
‘So…does that mean your own meal is too small?’
He began making great inroads into his own ravioli, with evident satisfaction.
‘Not at all. I can never stand to see good food go to waste, so I always eat everything that is put in front of me.’
‘It seems to do you good.’
The words were out before Sienna could stop them. She gasped, desperate to take them back, but Garett had heard too many empty compliments in his life to take much notice of hers. And he chuckled at her innocent remark.
‘What I meant was…I mean, you look perfectly—that is…’
He let her flounder about, watching with amusement as she got more and more flustered, and more and more embarrassed. It pleased him to see a woman struggling over compliments. The girls who slinked up to him at parties all read from the same script. They had their patter worked out. This Signora di Imperia was anything but practised. She was obviously attracted to him, but trying not to show it. This made a refreshing change for Garett. Though of course he would never respond to any come-on from a mousy little innocent like her! It was all he could do not to laugh out loud at the idea of it. What sort of attraction could she possibly hold for him?
The lure of the forbidden: the most powerful one in the world, his body told him suddenly, with an alarming jolt.
Disturbed, he looked up from his meal. Their eyes met across the table and he found himself looking temptation straight in the face. Suddenly the innocence in her large, clear eyes began to inflame rather than quell his feelings. The urge to stir those Mediterranean depths with desire—desire for him and him alone—was almost overwhelming…
But he wouldn’t let that distract him now. He smiled lazily in her direction. ‘Forget it, signora—I already have. Now, let’s enjoy our delicious lunch!’
His unruly libido was not so easily distracted.
Their pudding was a wonderful shared confection of cream, chocolate mousse and chestnut puree.
‘It’s such a shame your friends weren’t able to enjoy this lovely meal.’ Sienna slumped in her seat with a sigh of satisfaction as coffee was served. Garett had been so charming over lunch that she was almost tempted to forget her suspicions about his motives. Then she thought of what Aldo would have said at such terrible backsliding, and sat up again smartly.
‘I shouldn’t waste too much sympathy on them, signora. We all eat like this far too often for our own good. It’s the executive’s plague.’
Sienna believed him, but could tell instinctively that this wasn’t a man who overindulged too often. He liked to be in control. She suddenly had a delicious vision of him working his body in his private gym…
‘I wish I could eat like this all the time.’ She sighed with longing, dabbing her lips with her starched white napkin. Even that was luxury. The damask was so thick and perfect. She folded it neatly and dropped it beside her plate as her host summoned the waiter.
‘But you can if you want to, signora,’ Garett said softly as he paid the bill.
She looked up at him. Was this the moment he closed in on her? What would she say? What could she do? Resistance would be useless—but how could she possibly square it with her conscience, or keep it a secret, or—?
‘All you have to do is get yourself a dream, then go all-out to seize it with both hands,’ he went on smoothly.
Sienna might have been relieved—if she hadn’t been so disappointed.
‘That’s easy for you to say, signor. Dreaming isn’t going to pay my bills or put food on our table, is it?’ She spoke quickly, trying to cover her confusion.
‘It’s worked OK for me.’
‘Yes, but I live in the real world, signor.’
‘So do I.’
He stood up to take possession of Sienna’s wrap and draped it around her shoulders. As he did so, he half-turned to thank their waiter for his service. The movement threw her against Garett—their bodies touching and her lips only inches from his.
What happened next was almost too much for Sienna to bear. With a gentle smile he lifted his hand and caressed it softly against her hair. This was the moment. The moment she had wished for, daydreamed about in the marketplace. For a heartbeat Sienna was paralysed with fear. She had been terrified that this might happen. She didn’t know what to do or how to react. Instinctively she leapt away from him and ran like a frightened rabbit.
Garett watched her go, stunned. What was all that about?
‘Well, that’s a first!’ he joked to their equally astonished waiter. ‘I’ve never been abandoned by a girl before.’
‘Don’t take it personally, signor,’ the man confided. ‘Women don’t like insects. It was just a reaction to feeling that butterfly on her head, that is all. She will return.’
But she didn’t.
A few hours later, Garett was revelling in the amusement the tale of his lunchtime adventure was giving his hosts.
‘I tell you, Kane, it was such a pity you couldn’t make lunch today. You should have been there. All through the meal that girl looked at me as though I was trying to buy her soul. I had no intention whatsoever of coming on to her, but watching her wondering how on earth she was going to say no to me was priceless. And then I just moved to brush that butterfly away from her, and she vanished.’
‘And when did any woman last say no to you, Garett?’ Kane Bradley nudged his guest confidentially.
‘I don’t remember.’
‘That’s because it’s never happened.’ Kane’s wife Molly chuckled indulgently, then stood up. ‘But if you two are going to start talking dirty, I’m off to check on dinner.’ She moved smoothly to the dining room door.
The moment she was out in the hall, she called for her butler.
‘Is Sienna here yet, Luigi?’
‘Sì, signora—I showed her straight upstairs to your dressing room.’
‘Good. Did she manage to smuggle a decent dress from home to change into, do you know? Or will she be borrowing one of mine?’
Molly did not need an answer. The sight of her second dinner guest appearing on the first-floor landing silenced all her questions.
Sienna looked stunning in a perfectly plain black evening dress. Its plunging neckline and sleek, stark lines were accentuated by a glitter of diamonds at her neck and a worried look in her eyes.
‘You look absolutely wonderful!’ Molly rushed forward to brush a kiss against Sienna’s cheek as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Slipping an arm around her friend’s narrow waist, the hostess led her across the hall. ‘Now, don’t forget—your job is to bring a little local colour into the life of one of Kane’s oldest friends. We’re worried about him. There’s something wrong, but he’s not a guy who makes a lot of fuss. He won’t tell, and we know better than to pry. At least we’ve managed to persuade him to stay here with us for a while. His original idea was to work his way around the Med, but it’s clear he needs more than that. You’ll see it as soon as you look at him. And, as we don’t speak Italian fluently yet, I thought you would be the perfect bridge between him and the locals while he’s here.’
Sienna allowed herself to be drawn along to the dining room. She was fretting about everything—from the excuses she had made at home to the unfamiliar make-up she had applied so hurriedly in the borrowed dressing room. ‘You know I’d do anything to help you, Molly, but if my stepmother finds out about this—’
‘For goodness’ sake, girl! You’re twenty-six years of age. The mistress of your own house and estate. You don’t need anybody’s say-so!’
‘Yes…but I’m still not sure…’
‘Then the least you can do is come in and enjoy a good dinner with us while you make up your mind.’ Molly gave her reluctant guest a gentle shake, and put her hand to the dining room door.
Garett was trying to let the future take care of itself for once, but one thing still bothered him. For some reason he had been unable to shake off the memory of Signora di Imperia. Until now, no woman had ever lingered long in his memory. They passed through and vanished with all the speed of happy thoughts. But images of the girl from Portofino would not let him go. Speaking about her to Kane and Molly had been his way of exorcising her image, but it had not worked. It was beginning to irritate him. He could not forget the woman, and it was no longer funny.
He tapped the rim of his cocktail glass, unable to concentrate on the conversation in hand. As his host talked, Garett’s mind wandered far away. What was she doing right now? He had waited for her, and he had worried—two notable firsts for Garett. Learning that she had got a lift back to Portofino market with one of the restaurant’s cleaners had not really satisfied him. He needed to know that she had returned safely. Thoughts of what might have happened to her had been distracting him all day. It was proving impossible to pull his thoughts away from that girl. Especially when the alternative was listening to Kane’s tale about some old dame living in the villa next door.
Garett took another drink, and tried to concentrate on what his friend was telling him. As a favoured guest, it was the least he could do. Relaxation was impossible for him, but the Bradleys were old friends, and they were trying so hard. He owed it to them to make an effort—right down to discreetly investigating the financial situation of the respectable widow who would be joining them for dinner that evening. He accepted another vermouth from Kane, and nodded as his host droned on about their worries for this Sienna.
The open fire crackling in the hearth had warmed Garett from the moment he’d first walked in. Whether it could thaw the ice at his core was another matter. He went on letting his mind wander. It was supposed to head away from trouble, but it kept on veering towards the unattainable girl he had picked up in the market. Her quiet beauty had attracted him from right across the square, like a panther drawn to a fawn. But his recent escape from routine had stopped him following his usual well-worn path from banter to bedroom. He sighed. Sleeping with her would definitely have prevented her gaining such a hold over his mind. Giving in to instinct there and then would have stopped her image working its way under his skin so successfully.
On the surface, Garett seemed to be the perfect guest. He made small talk and nodded in all the right places as his host chatted. Yet behind this polite façade his mind was working. There was only one way to rid himself of his beautiful distraction. He would find that girl again. Whatever it took. He began to work out a plan of campaign. A suite in the Hotel Splendido would do it. If Il Pettirosso had impressed her, then a visit to that peach of a place would guarantee her fall. And Garett would be there to catch her in his arms.
All he had to do now was track her down again.
That might take time. He already knew that separate markets were held on different days. For any other man, there would be no guarantee she could be found. But success for Garett was a mere formality. He was already drawing up details of where to go and who to see in the search for his shy interpreter when something momentous happened. It was something that had him mentally screwing up all his plans and kicking them into touch.
He wouldn’t have to bother going all the way to Portofino—visiting markets and asking around—because his mystery girl was walking straight into the room to meet him.
CHAPTER FOUR
GARETT considered himself to be the complete master of his emotions. People only saw what he wanted them to see. So when the shimmering vision of Sienna di Imperia was formally introduced to him, Garett’s calming, confident smile was already in place.
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