Kitabı oxu: «Italian Attraction»

A taste of Italy …

Italian Attraction

Three satisfying and passionate romances from three beloved Mills & Boon authors!

Italian Attraction

THE ITALIAN TYCOON'S BRIDE HELEN BROOKS

AN ITALIAN ENGAGEMENT CATHERINE GEORGE

ONE SUMMER IN ITALY… LUCY GORDON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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THE ITALIAN

TYCOON’S BRIDE

HELEN BROOKS

About the Author

HELEN BROOKS was born and educated in Northampton, England. She met her husband at the age of sixteen and thirty-five years later the magic is still there. They have three lovely children and a menagerie of animals in the house. The children, friends and pets all keep the house buzzing and the food cupboards empty, but Helen wouldn’t have it any other way.

Helen began writing in 1990 as she approached that milestone of a birthday—forty! She realized her two teenage ambitions (writing a novel and learning to drive) had been lost amid babies and family life, so she set about resurrecting them. Her first novel was accepted after one rewrite, and she passed her driving test (the former was a joy and the latter an unmitigated nightmare).

A committed Christian and fervent animal lover, Helen finds time is always at a premium, but walks in the countryside with her husband and dogs, meals out followed by the cinema or theatre, reading, swimming and visiting with friends are all fitted in somehow. She also enjoys sitting in her wonderfully therapeutic, rambling old garden in the sun with a glass of red wine (under the guise of resting while thinking, of course!).

Since becoming a full-time writer Helen has found her occupation pure joy. She loves exploring what makes people tick and finds the old adage “truth is stranger than fiction” to be absolutely true. She would love to hear from any readers.

CHAPTER ONE

MAISIE sat staring at the navel ring of the spiky-haired girl sitting opposite her on the tube train. It was a very nice piece of jewellery but definitely flamboyant, encrusted as it was with tiny, different coloured stones. Then again its owner was flamboyant; the purple and red striped hair below which sparkled a pair of blue eyes surrounded by panda make-up was meant to catch the attention. This is me, take it or leave it. No compromise.

Maisie shifted in her seat, her eyes still locked on the little ring and the tanned flat stomach surrounding it. The girl certainly hadn’t pigged out on pizza and toffee doughnuts the night before; in fact Maisie doubted if she had ever pigged out in the whole of her life. The ultra-long legs encased in strategically torn jeans were as thin as any model’s, and the cropped vest top showed slim arms heavily weighed down with bangles and beaded bracelets. she looked gorgeously slender and brimming with the joy of life. Technically the girl was very different from the tall willowy blonde whom Jeff had just waltzed off with, but the pair were definitely sisters under the skin.

The thought of Jeff and Camellia—apparently the name meant perfection, one of Maisie’s not-so-good friends had taken covert pleasure in informing her—brought tears stinging at the backs of her eyes, and Maisie fumbled for a tissue. She couldn’t cry here, not on the tube in the middle of a Saturday morning, she told herself fiercely, turning her head and staring at her reflection in the tube window. This wasn’t a good idea. It reminded her that her wavy brown hair and brown eyes were fairly nondescript and that her face was definitely of the round variety.

Possibly because she was concentrating extremely hard on not glancing at the girl across the way again, Maisie realised in the next moment or two that she had missed her stop. Great. Now, on top of acknowledging that everyone probably thought they were sharing the carriage with a fat little munchkin, she was going to be late for her weekly coffee date with Sue and Jackie. And they would be bound to assume it was because she’d been howling over Jeff.

Poor Maisie. They might not say it out loud but that was what they would be thinking. She could read it in everyone’s eyes. Well, it was up to her to show them that she wasn’t poor Maisie, wasn’t it? That she didn’t give a damn, in fact? She bet the ringed beauty across the way wouldn’t. Not that a girl like her would have her fiancé walk out on her a few weeks before the wedding in the first place.

Determinedly keeping her eyes from straying but employing her brain into the bargain, Maisie alighted at the next stop, eventually emerging into the bright sunlight of a busy Oxford Street. The June sun was hotter than she had expected it to be, and she found herself wishing she had worn something other than her calf-length denim skirt and long-sleeved top as she battled her way through Saturday shoppers.

Why was she breaking her neck to get to a meeting she had no wish to be at?

As the thought struck, Maisie’s frantic pace slowed. She was going to arrive at the coffee bar looking like something the cat wouldn’t deign to drag in at this rate, and ten to one Sue and Jackie would be sitting there all cool and relaxed, sipping iced water or something non-calorific.

Not that the pair of them weren’t dear friends, Maisie assured herself as she continued at a more measured pace past John Lewis. They had all been inseparable from primary school, but Sue was a successful fashion buyer and Jackie a beautician with her own business, which had come on in leaps and bounds since she’d started it three years ago.

She, on the other hand, had followed her heart and not her head—or, more to the point, her prospective bank balance—in her choice of career. On leaving sixth-form at eighteen with three quite presentable A-levels in chemistry, maths and biology, she’d had to accept that the grades were not the straight As needed for the veterinary degree course she had aspired to. With only six universities in the UK having veterinary schools, and five applicants for every one of the three hundred or so places, she had been presented with the unpleasant truth that she could try for ever and not obtain the necessary qualifications.

Maisie was nearing the coffee bar now and guilt at being late speeded up her feet even as her mind meandered on.

And so, in spite of encouragement from her teachers and even stronger encouragement from her mother to apply for a degree course in biochemistry or animal physiology or even agriculture, she had opted for veterinary nursing. The money was poor, the hours long and, since there was no equivalent to the nursing service within human hospitals, there was no formal career structure and promotion prospects were limited. And she loved every minute. Or she had done until two weeks ago.

‘Whew.’ She breathed out a sigh as she dived off Oxford Street into the side street in which the coffee bar was situated, standing by some iron railings as she smoothed her hair back from her hot face, pulled down her top and wished she didn’t feel so sticky. After energetically fanning herself with a leaflet for vitamin pills she’d found in her handbag, she conceded it just made her more over-heated. She glanced at her watch. It wasn’t the expensive little silver beauty Jeff had given her for Christmas, because that was now the pride and joy of her local charity shop, along with every other gift which had come from him in the two years since she had known him; the ring she had flung back in his lying, cheating face. No, this watch was a sturdy plastic thing from a market stall. Which summed up her entire life at present really.

The rich smell of coffee was overpowering as she stepped through the open doors of the coffee bar, her glance moving swiftly over the assembled clientele. She saw Sue and Jackie in the same moment that both women raised their hands to her, but what made her pause for a second was the fact that they were not alone. A man was sitting lazily beside Jackie, one knee crossed over the other and with both arms stretched out along the back of the booth in which the three were situated. And what a man. Raven-black hair, tanned skin, chiselled features—even from six or seven metres away he was drop dead gorgeous. Not that she was really noticing such things at the present time, of course, not with her life in tatters, she assured herself as she made her way over to them.

‘You’re twenty minutes late.’

This was from Sue, who was such a stickler for punctuality she had made sure none of them ever got a detention for being late at school.

‘Sorry.’ Maisie smiled brightly. ‘Missed my tube stop.’

‘That’s fine, no problem.’

As Jackie spoke Maisie saw her flash Sue a glance which said all too clearly, Don’t have a go at her; remember what’s happened. Poor Maisie.

Maisie kept the smile in place with gritted teeth. ‘I’ll just go and grab a coffee, won’t be a tick.’

‘Please, let me. What will you have?’

Drop dead gorgeous had risen to his feet at her approach, and now Jackie said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I should have introduced you. Maisie, this is my uncle, Blaine Morosini. Blaine, my other best friend, Maisie.’

Uncle? But he was nowhere near old enough to be Jackie’s uncle, was he? And then, as Maisie stared into a pair of greeny-blue eyes heavily fringed by black lashes, she found her thoughts moving in a different direction. She didn’t consider herself particularly small at five-foot-six, but she was having to look up a considerable way. Blaine Morosini must be at least six-foot-three or-four, and big with it. Well, not big exactly, she amended, answering his formal, ‘How do you do?’ with a smile and a nod. There didn’t seem to be the tiniest bit of fat on the lean broad frame from what she could see. But certainly he was more muscled and honed than most men. Or perhaps it was just that he gave an overall impression which was a bit overwhelming.

She blinked, finding it surprisingly hard to break the hold the beautiful eyes had on her.

‘I know what you’re thinking, Maisie.’

Jackie was smiling as Maisie’s gaze swung to her friend’s face. Maisie almost blurted out, If you do, don’t say it out loud, before she stopped herself.

‘You’re thinking, how can Blaine possibly be my uncle when he’s only a couple of years older than us, aren’t you?’

Maisie breathed a silent sigh of relief. ‘Something like that.’

‘I’m Jackie’s half-uncle, to be strictly accurate.’

Again she was forced to look at him and now the overall width of strong male shoulders registered deep in her body with a definite jolt. That and the smoky rich voice with its curl of an Italian accent.

‘And the relationship is quite simple. My brother, Jackie’s father, was conceived by our father’s first marriage. My father married again many years later and I am the result of this union.’

‘I see.’ She nodded in what she hoped was a brisk, it’s-none-of-my-business fashion. She knew Jackie’s father had come over from Italy as a young man because he had quarrelled bitterly with his father. Jackie and her siblings had never met the Italian side of their family; in fact her friend had told her their mother had warned them never to ask questions or speak of their father’s homeland. Obviously something had happened recently to change this.

Jackie probably guessed what she was thinking again because now she said quietly, ‘My grandfather is very ill but I’ll explain later. Come and sit down while Blaine gets you a coffee. What would you like? Your usual?’

Her usual was a large latte, often accompanied by the out-of-this-world coffee cheesecake the coffee bar was famous for. Maisie swallowed. After the pizza and toffee doughnuts she had lain in bed feeling like a beached whale, and had gone to sleep promising herself tomorrow would be the start of a stringent diet. No more comforting herself with the fact she had always been rounded and that some men preferred curvy women; that was what Jeff had said and he had disappeared into the blue with a beanpole. ‘A black coffee, please.’

‘A black coffee?’ Sue, never the most tactful of creatures, fairly screeched in amazement. ‘You hate black coffee.’

‘I’ve developed a taste for it recently.’ A few hours ago, as it happened. And then, before Sue could say anything else, Maisie added firmly, ‘And nothing to eat, thank you. I’ve just had breakfast. I got up late.’

‘Black coffee it is then.’

Blaine’s voice was matter-of-fact, but Maisie had the nasty notion that he knew her mouth was watering for the cheesecake. And that told her Jackie had informed him of her recent broken engagement and he had put two and two together and made four. But of course she could be being paranoid here. It was something which was happening fairly frequently recently.

She sat down as Blaine walked away and immediately Sue whispered, ‘What do you think of Jackie’s uncle, then? A real Italian dreamboat, or what?’

Maisie smiled. She hadn’t been looking forward to seeing Sue and Jackie; she hadn’t been looking forward to anything, and it felt like she never would again, but now she was glad she had made the effort to come. Sitting here like this, she almost felt normal again instead of the fattest, ugliest, most unfanciable female in the whole of London. ‘He’s very good-looking,’ she agreed quietly.

‘Very good-looking? That’s like saying the Taj Mahal is a little bit famous. If anyone’s got the X-factor, he has. I couldn’t believe it when I walked in here and saw him sitting with Jackie. For a minute I thought it was a new boyfriend and I was going to scratch her eyes out. Why you didn’t tell me he was coming so I could have made more of an effort, I don’t know,’ she added in an aside to Jackie. ‘I’d have worn something new.’

‘Sue, you always look immaculate, besides which this isn’t about you,’ Jackie said shortly. ‘You know the history and all the trouble in the family and the whole thing’s very awkward. Blaine arrived from Italy yesterday and, although he’s staying with us and Dad’s flying out with him tomorrow to see my grandad, they’re not getting on that well. I’ve got the impression Blaine blames my dad for everything that happened although he hasn’t said so, not in so many words. Anyway, I persuaded him to come with me today to give Dad breathing space at home, that’s all.’

‘Blaine isn’t Italian, is it?’ Maisie asked hastily into the very tense pause which followed. Sue didn’t appreciate criticism. ‘The name, I mean.’

‘His mother’s American.’ Jackie’s dark eyes went to the tall figure now paying for the coffee. ‘Which is pretty ironic because, from what I can make out from Mum on the quiet, the main cause of the quarrel between my dad and my grandfather was her. Dad met her when she was on holiday in Italy and they started writing to each other, and then he came to England to see her a couple of times. When my grandfather realised things were serious he hit the roof apparently. Said my dad had to marry a nice Italian girl or he would be disowned, something like that. My dad said fine, disown me, and came over here and married my mum. And that was that.’

Three pairs of eyes watched the pretty redhead at the till, who was fluttering her mascaraed eyelashes at Blaine. As she dimpled up at him he bent closer to hear what she was saying. Maisie’s lips curled. Typical man. He was soaking up the attention; they all did. Jeff had. Although, with him, she had been foolish enough to think he was different. Big mistake, but she wouldn’t be making it again.

When Blaine turned and glanced their way in the next moment Maisie didn’t have time to straighten her face. She saw his eyes narrow as they took in her expression and for an instant she froze, then she turned her head and asked Sue how things were going at work. It was a fail-safe ploy because if there was one thing that Sue loved besides men and chocolate it was her job. She made sure the two of them were deep in conversation when Blaine reached the table, accepting the coffee with a smile and a ‘Thank you', before pretending an interest in the latest in-colour and current top designers.

‘You are welcome.’ It was cool and faintly derisive.

Maisie’s stomach did a fairly good imitation of a pancake on Shrove Tuesday and flipped right over. He had seen. But of course he’d seen; she knew that, didn’t she? But somehow she had expected him to at least pretend he hadn’t noticed she had been looking at him as though he was something just emerging from the slime.

Sue seemed to have lost interest in ribbon belts and bow bags and other accessories one just had to have for that perfect outfit this season now Blaine was back. Maisie watched as her friend went into femme fatale mode. The last time she had seen this was two years ago at a summer barbecue just after she and Jeff had started dating, and the man Sue had been after then had succumbed even before the kebabs had cooked. Not so with Blaine Morosini. He remained charming and lazily amused but infinitely cool as Sue put the girl at the till to shame in the seduction stakes.

Eventually it seemed Jackie couldn’t stand it any more. ‘We’d better be going; Mum’s expecting us back for lunch,’ she said, standing up so abruptly that everyone stared at her for a second.

‘OK.’ Maisie stood up too, followed by Blaine and then—grudgingly—Sue.

‘Heavens, is that the time?’ Sue suddenly reverted from Mata Hari mode to career woman. ‘I was supposed to be on the other side of Regent’s Park by now. We think we’ve found a wonderful new designer, but if he’s as good as one of my staff thinks he is, the other houses will be after him when word gets out. I’ve managed to persuade him we’re doing him a favour by my going along to see his work today. Must fly. Blaine—’ she smiled sweetly ‘—it was such a pleasure to meet you. Bye everyone.’

The next moment she was gone in a whirl of flirty chiffon skirt, spaghetti-strap top and expensive perfume.

Blaine spoke into the brief pause. ‘And you?’ he said softly to Maisie. ‘Have you got to rush off to some business appointment or other?’

Perhaps Jackie hadn’t told him about her situation then, or not the full story at least. She didn’t think he was being nasty and that was what it would have been to point out that she didn’t have a job as from last night. Jeff hadn’t just been her fiancé; he’d been her boss as well and owner of the veterinary practice she had worked at for the last three years. On the same evening she had flung his ring at him and he had told her he was taking a couple of weeks off to ‘let everything cool down', she had written her resignation letter and had given it to his secretary the next morning. It had been added confirmation that she had done the right thing when word had filtered through that the two weeks cooling off period for him had involved a holiday somewhere hot with the beanpole.

She had worked her two weeks’ notice with an aching heart and a doggedly cheery manner—at work at least—and had left the practice last night without looking back.

She had two interviews lined up for the next week. Veterinary nurses were in increasingly short supply these days—most girls wanted better pay and working conditions than the job offered—and so she wasn’t too worried about finding new employment. Just whether she would earn enough to meet the rent. Jeff might have been the biggest rat on two legs but he had been that rare thing in the veterinary world—a vet who paid the least of his staff extremely well. Even his kennel maid earned more than the average experienced veterinary nurse.

Aware that Blaine was waiting for an answer, Maisie forced a bright note into her voice as she said, ‘Nothing so exhausting, I’m glad to say.’ Refusing to elaborate further, she turned from the greeny-blue gaze to Jackie. ‘Give your parents my love, won’t you.’

‘Why don’t you come and have some lunch and give it yourself?’ Jackie invited at once. ‘Mum was only saying the other day she hasn’t seen you for ages.’

Another ‘poor Maisie’ conversation, no doubt. When she had sent out all the cards informing everyone that the wedding and reception scheduled for the end of August was cancelled, she had known a great deal of sympathy and pity would inevitably follow. She just hadn’t realised it would be so hard to cope with. And she did appreciate everyone’s kindness and concern, she really did, but it was so embarrassing and depressing somehow and increased the feeling of humiliation a hundredfold, besides making her feel she was being smothered.

‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ Maisie said firmly.

‘Yes, you could,’ said Jackie, equally firmly. ‘We’re only having a barbecue. It’ll be quite relaxed, everyone sitting about in the garden listening to music and enjoying the sun. Light conversation, people dozing off in deckchairs with a glass of wine, nothing heavy.’

Maisie got the distinct impression that Jackie wasn’t just trying to reassure her that her broken engagement wouldn’t be under discussion, but that there was a definite hint to Blaine to lay off his brother here. It did nothing to reassure her that she wouldn’t be better off taking a book to the park and idling the afternoon away under a leafy tree, or even giving the somewhat grotty little bedsit she had rented for the last three years a spring-clean.

As she sought in her mind for a suitably convincing lie to let her off the hook, Jackie took her arm and pulled her out of the coffee bar, leaving Blaine to follow in their wake. ‘Please, Maisie,’ Jackie whispered, ‘come back and stay the afternoon. The atmosphere at home is so bad you could cut it with a knife and it’ll be better if everyone has to make an effort to be civil because you’re there.’

As an invitation it left a lot to be desired but what could she say? Jackie wasn’t the sort of friend who often asked a favour, besides which, in a similar situation she knew Jackie would do the same for her. ‘OK,’ she said flatly as they walked out of the door into what was fast resembling an oven, ‘but I’ve things to do this evening, all right?’ Like wondering if Jeff was back in the country yet and what he would think when he knew she had left, whether he’d care, things like that.

‘All right.’ Jackie turned round to face Blaine. ‘Maisie’s coming back,’ she said happily.

If Blaine knew the reason for her enthusiasm he didn’t show it, his manner easy and his voice lazy as he said, ‘That is good. We did not get a chance to converse much, did we, Maisie?’ He smiled at her.

Maisie stared at him. She wasn’t sure if the glint in his eye was because he was amused at the way Sue had tried to charm him, or that he knew that with or without Sue she wouldn’t have put herself out to hold his attention. He was too good-looking, too smooth, too utterly sure of himself; in fact everything she disliked in a man, she told herself vehemently. Anyway she was off men. For good. No more worrying about what she looked like or trying to remain civil when they turned up half an hour late for a date, no more feigning an interest in football. All that could go out of the window now.

So why was she dieting?

That was for her, she told herself. For her own self-satisfaction and sense of worth. Absolutely nothing to do with the male sex at all. No way.

When they walked into Oxford Street and Blaine raised his hand and a taxi skidded to an immediate halt, Maisie wasn’t surprised. He was that sort of man.

Blaine helped both women into the taxi and then sat down beside Maisie, who was horrified to discover she was positioned beside him. Ridiculous, truly ridiculous, but she hadn’t wanted to be so near him. She tried not to mind that she could feel his thigh against hers and that his arm along the back of the seat seemed curiously intimate.

He was wearing a pale blue shirt with the cuffs folded back and light cotton trousers, and as Maisie breathed in she caught the faint tang of a delicious aftershave. It made her wonder if she’d put on perfume that morning; she couldn’t remember. Anyway, now was hardly the time to sniff her wrists to find out.

Her stomach lurched as he stretched out his legs slightly before turning in his seat and addressing Jackie over her head. ‘I would like to buy your mother some flowers to thank her for her hospitality. Perhaps you could tell the driver to stop for a moment at an appropriate florist?’

‘Yes, of course. There’s a nice shop on the outskirts of Bethnal Green; we’ll be there shortly and it’s only a couple of minutes from home.’

Although Jackie had spoken normally, Maisie could tell that her friend was a little flustered. It made her wonder just how awkward things had been between Jackie’s father and his younger brother. Whatever, it looked to be a great afternoon!

‘So, Maisie, you have a sensible job which means you do not have to work on a Saturday?’ Blaine asked in the next moment in an obvious attempt to make small talk and not because he was really interested in the reply.

Maisie made the mistake of glancing at him as she opened her mouth to reply. Across the table in the booth he had been pretty devastating, an inch or two away the effect was magnified a hundredfold. Her confusion prevented the careful reply she would have given if she hadn’t been so flustered—something like, As a veterinary nurse I work every fourth weekend but that’s all right, I enjoy it. As it was, she blurted out, ‘I don’t have a job.’

‘No?’ Black eyebrows rose. ‘You are a lady of leisure?’

He made it sound like a lady of the night. She decided she had been absolutely right in her first impression of Blaine Morosini; the man was a pig. ‘I left my last job yesterday,’ she said, very stiffly. ‘I’m going for a couple of interviews this week, as it happens.’

‘I see.’

It was obvious that he didn’t but Maisie was blowed if she was going to elaborate. Let him think what he liked.

Jackie, however, had different ideas. ‘Maisie is a veterinary nurse,’ she said helpfully. ‘She’s absolutely wonderful with animals, aren’t you, Maisie, but owing to a bit of, well, domestic difficulty, she couldn’t stay at her job any more.’

This was getting ridiculous. ‘My ex-fiancé was also the owner of the practice where I worked,’ Maisie said shortly. ‘And I can get another job easily enough.’

Blaine nodded. ‘I see,’ he said again.

And he probably did this time. Unfortunately. Maisie suddenly found Blaine Morosini was the last person in the world she wanted sympathy or pity from. Not that she was going to get any, she found out in the next moment.

‘What happens if you do not get another job as easily as you think?’ he asked interestedly. ‘Would this be a problem?’

Oh, no, of course it wouldn’t. I mean, I look like the daughter of a Rothschild, don’t I? Dripping diamonds, hair and clothes designer level. Struggling to keep the irritation out of her voice, Maisie said, ‘I will get a job.’

He studied her with unfathomable eyes. ‘This is good,’ he said lazily. ‘The confidence. I like this.’

She really didn’t care what he liked.

It was at this point that Jackie said hastily, ‘Here’s that shop I spoke of coming up, Blaine. She leant forward and tapped on the glass separating them from the driver, saying, ‘Could you stop here for a minute, please? Outside Bloomingdales, the flower shop on the corner.’

After Blaine had exited the cab the two women sat in silence for some moments before Jackie said in a small voice, ‘Sorry.’

Maisie didn’t try to pretend she didn’t understand. She shrugged, forcing a smile. ‘I presume you’d already told him I’d just split from Jeff?’

Jackie nodded. ‘No details, though,’ she said hastily.

‘I’d gathered that.’

‘Sorry,’ said Jackie again.

‘Don’t worry.’ This time Maisie’s smile was natural. Jackie had sounded like a chastised child. ‘Jeff did dump me, he is with Camellia and I have left my job without securing another one first. Not the most sensible thing, I know, as your uncle so kindly intimated.’

‘You don’t like him.’

Did a worm like a blackbird? ‘I don’t know him,’ Maisie prevaricated. Neither did she want to.

‘I didn’t at first,’ Jackie whispered, although apart from the driver, who was reading a newspaper, they were alone. ‘Especially because he and Dad haven’t hit it off, but the more I’ve got to know him the more I’ve found he’s just very straightforward. Calls a spade a spade.’

In her fragile state she could do without garden implements and any normal person would realise that. Maisie ignored the fact that she had been moaning to herself all week about being treated with kid gloves by everyone. ‘I’ll take your word for that,’ she said drily.

The flower shop door opened and they watched an enormous bouquet beneath which stretched a pair of legs walk to the taxi. Once inside the vehicle the gigantic bunch of pale lemon roses, white and lemon freesias and Baby’s Breath filled all the available space.

‘Wow.’ Jackie was impressed. ‘Mum’ll go ape when you give her that.’

Blaine smiled. ‘Your mother has been very kind to me.’

Yeah, right. And the fact that a massive bunch of flowers like this might annoy Jackie’s dad had nothing to do with it? Immediately the thought materialised, Maisie felt ashamed. She was turning into a right sour crab, she admitted silently. The flowers were a lovely gesture and probably Blaine’s motives had been entirely honourable. Probably.

She hadn’t been aware she was frowning until Blaine said mildly, ‘You do not like flowers, Maisie?’

The delicious Italian accent—and OK, Maisie grudgingly acknowledged, it was sexy too—gave her name a peculiar little twist and she didn’t like what it did to her nerve-endings. ‘Yes, of course I like flowers,’ she said evenly.

‘You think these are not right for Jackie’s mother?’

‘I didn’t say that. No, they’re fine. I’m sure she will love them.’

‘Good.’ He settled further in his seat. ‘Most women adore being given flowers, I’ve found.’

And you’d certainly know. She glanced at him and saw the beautiful eyes were laughing at her. Arrogant, irritating man. Maisie turned her head and stared across Jackie out of the window for the remainder of the short journey.

CHAPTER TWO

ONCE at the large semi-detached house where Jackie’s parents lived, Maisie found herself relaxing a little. Jackie’s mother had oohed and ahhed over the bouquet and Roberto, Jackie’s father, hadn’t seemed too put out at the obvious attempt to win his wife over. Or, if he was, he wasn’t making an issue of it.

Jackie’s numerous siblings, all of whom were married and a couple of whom had children of their own, were dotted about the garden in chairs and sun-loungers and the general atmosphere was easy.

‘You didn’t really need me here,’ Maisie murmured to Jackie after Roberto had given both women a glass of wine and ushered them to a swing-seat close to the barbecue, which was glowing nicely. ‘There are plenty of people to act as referees between your dad and Blaine.’

Jackie giggled. ‘It might come to that. But anyway, I wanted you to have a nice lazy afternoon with people who think you’re lovely. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’

‘You remembered that Jeff’s getting home today,’ Maisie said flatly.

It wasn’t a question but Jackie nodded anyway. ‘The git,’ she said, just as flatly.

They watched a couple of sausages turn to cinders and Roberto’s attempt to moderate his language in front of the children as a steak went the same way. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been to a barbecue at your mum and dad’s when your dad hasn’t cremated the food,’ Maisie said after a moment or two when Jackie’s mother bustled up and extracted the shrunken black morsels with a pair of tongs. She did it deftly but she’d had lots of practise.

‘I know.’ Jackie grinned, finishing the last of the wine in her glass and smacking her lips. ‘I just hope Blaine doesn’t offer to help. I bet he controls a barbecue beautifully. Fancy another glass?’ she added, rising to her feet.

‘Lovely.’ Maisie proffered her own half-full glass. ‘Just top it up, would you.’

She watched Jackie walk across to the long table at the side of the patio where all the drink was gradually beginning to sizzle, but when her friend got waylaid by one of her sisters Maisie leant back against the upholstered back of the swing-seat and shut her eyes. This was very pleasant, she admitted to herself, letting the seat move gently to and fro beneath its canopy of bright red linen. There was a small breeze in the garden and, shaded as she was from the blazing heat of the June sun, she felt comfortably warm rather than sticky. And it had been so sweet of Jackie to think of her, to be concerned.

The gorgeously fruity rich red wine she’d consumed thus far had already left her feeling mellow, a result of skipping breakfast in an effort to fast forward the diet, she thought ruefully. She would have to be careful to eat something before she drank any more; Roberto’s wine was always delicious but extremely potent and she didn’t want to get tipsy. She didn’t trust herself at the moment, that she wouldn’t get maudlin and burst into tears, and she’d rather die than do that in front of anyone.

As Jackie sat down beside her, Maisie didn’t open her eyes as she said, ‘Thanks for this, Jackie.’

‘I am not Jackie.’

Maisie opened her eyes and sat up so abruptly she was in danger of knocking the glass of wine Blaine was holding out to her all over him. As it was, only a drop fell on to the pale blue shirt. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Maisie stared at the stain as though it covered a vast expanse.

‘It is nothing.’ He smiled at her as he handed her the wine. ‘Jackie is tied up for the moment so I thought I would keep you company.’

Maisie stared at him. He had her wine, so had Jackie asked him to come and talk to her? Probably. If only to keep Blaine out of her father’s hair. Not that Roberto had much hair. Unlike his brother who had plenty, on his body as well as his head. She tore her eyes away from the drift of black at the top of his shirt where a couple of buttons were undone and tried to ignore how his trousers had pulled tight over muscled thighs. She had to make conversation—fast. She couldn’t let him suspect even for a moment that she was bothered by him. ‘When—’ her voice had emerged as a squeak and she took a swallow of wine before she tried again ‘—when are you flying home?’ she said, as though she didn’t already know.

‘Tomorrow evening.’

She nodded. ‘I suppose you’re in a hurry to get back and see your father?’ she said, before she realised it probably wasn’t the most tactful thing in the world to say.

If Blaine objected to being reminded of how ill his father was he gave no sign of it, however, merely inclining his head and saying quietly, ‘It was at my mother’s wish I came to England to see my brother, but I did not like leaving her at such a difficult time. She has some distance to travel to the hospital each day, and I worry her mind may not always be on her driving.’

Maisie nodded again. Even arrogant irritating pigs were allowed to worry about their mothers, she supposed. ‘Couldn’t your mother get a cab or maybe have friends drive her?’

‘Yes on both counts.’ He took a deep swallow from his own glass before he added, his voice wry, ‘But my mother has a mind of her own. She does not always listen to reason.’

Neither did his father, if what Jackie had said was true. Blaine certainly had an interesting mix of genes in that very male body of his. ‘Jackie said your mother’s American.’

‘Very American.’ It was rueful. ‘And my father is very Italian. It made for a stimulating childhood if nothing else. They fight like cat and dog but think the world of each other, nonetheless. I understand Roberto’s mother was very different. She was his childhood sweetheart and theirs was a peaceful, tranquil existence. He loved her very much, I know this.’

Did he mind that his father had loved his half-brother’s mother so much? He didn’t appear to. Maisie took refuge in being a third party. ‘And your mother doesn’t mind that?’

‘Of course not. Luisa had died before they met, long before they met, when Roberto was in his last year of school, in fact.’

That might be the case, but she didn’t think she’d like to know that a previous relationship had been so altogether perfect. Not that there were going to be any more relationships or men for her. Not serious ones anyway. Maybe the odd date when she felt better, a no-strings attached type thing, but nothing more than that. Twice now she had been in love and both times had ended in disaster; she’d had enough. Men were a different species, let alone a different sex, and they weren’t to be trusted. Any of them.

‘You frown an awful lot for such a young woman.’

Maisie found the greeny-blue gaze was fixed hard on her face and she flushed. She would have given a month’s supply of chocolate to tell him to mind his own business. As it was he was Jackie’s uncle and this was supposed to be a nice friendly afternoon. She took a deep breath and then said sweetly, ‘I don’t, actually, not usually. It must be the company.’ And then smiled to insinuate she’d been joking when they both knew she hadn’t.

Blaine shut his eyes, leaning back in the seat as he said lazily, ‘Are you always this prickly? No, don’t bother to answer that. It is me, is it not? You do not like me for some reason. I sensed this earlier.’

Maisie did not know what to say and so she said nothing but her face turned a deeper shade of beetroot.

‘You are very different to how Jackie described you.’

She stared at the handsome face. A loaded statement if ever there was one. She let a few moments tick by and, when she couldn’t stand it any more, she said, ‘How?’

‘How what?’ He opened his eyes.

He knew what she was asking. ‘How am I different?’

‘How long have you got?’

From across the garden Jackie waved gaily. It probably looked as though she and Blaine were having a nice tête-à-tête, Maisie thought grimly. How wrong could you be? ‘OK,’ she said flatly. ‘Let me put it another way. What exactly did Jackie say about me?’

Blaine took a few sips of wine. ‘She said you were gentle, warm, kind and easily put upon. And pretty.’

Jackie had made her sound like a cocker spaniel. She eyed Blaine warily. ‘And you don’t agree with that?’

‘I suppose one out of the five holds up.’

She knew she shouldn’t be saying this; it was simply asking for trouble to give him more ammunition but she couldn’t resist knowing. ‘Which is?’

‘The last.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Sit still and I’ll get some food.’

The last? The pretty bit. Maisie stared after the broad male back. Did he realise that right at the moment she would rather hear that than the rest? Not that she appreciated the inference that she was aggressive, cold and hard, of course, far from it, but when all was said and done …

Blaine returned in a short while with two plates holding salad, savoury eggs, baked potatoes in their jackets, corn on the cob and several morsels of charcoal masquerading as steak and chicken. ‘This was actually the best there was,’ he said, when he saw Maisie glance at the plates.

Loyalty to Roberto prevented her from speaking the truth, namely that she wasn’t surprised. ‘This is lovely.’ She really couldn’t tell which was the steak or the chicken. ‘I can’t bear my meat underdone.’

Blaine moved a little piece of porous black substance with his fork. ‘Quite.’

‘I suppose you’re used to Italian cuisine,’ Maisie said a little tartly, trying to ignore that when he frowned the hard angles of his face were even more devastatingly attractive.

Blaine put his plate at his feet and picked up his glass with the air of a man who had made a decision. Maisie suspected he wouldn’t pick it up again.

‘Is that a criticism?’ he asked softly. ‘Don’t you like Italian food?’

She loved it actually, but she’d rather walk naked through the streets of London than admit it to him. She blanked her face and lied through her teeth. ‘I don’t remember tasting any apart from the odd pizza, and I don’t suppose that counts?’

He didn’t exactly groan but his expression said it all. It was unfortunate that Jackie chose that moment to stroll over and, having noticed Blaine’s plate on the floor, mutter, ‘Dad’s not the best in the world at barbecues but he tries. Now something like carpaccio or risi e bisi and he’s in his element, isn’t he, Maisie? You always love it when Dad cooks, don’t you?’

Maisie knew that Jackie was standing up for her father but she couldn’t have chosen a worse moment. She didn’t dare look at Blaine. There was a pause and then, as two of Jackie’s little nephews grabbed her and pulled her off, Blaine murmured, ‘Of course, when Jackie was describing you she left out the accomplished liar bit. But I’m impressed. You fooled me for a moment and that is not easy to do, believe me.’

Maisie suddenly found she didn’t like this little game they were playing. She didn’t lie—not usually, anyway—and neither was she all the other things he’d got her down for. She turned to look him straight in the face and, as she did so, she noticed the sensual mouth was faintly stern and his eyes weren’t smiling any more. He hadn’t liked being fooled, that much was apparent. It gave her no sense of satisfaction, however. ‘I’mnot an accomplished liar,’ she said painfully. ‘I’m not what you think I am at all, actually. It’s just that I’m in the middle of something awful and …’ Her voice cracked and died.

To her horror she found she couldn’t go on, not without bursting into tears anyway. She looked down at her plate and speared a piece of shrivelled black something or other and began to chew.

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was very quiet, the accent adding a smoky softness that brought her eyes up to meet his gaze. It was then that she made the mistake of trying to swallow.

The next few minutes got her safely past the awkward moment with Blaine but created a hundred more in the pandemonium which followed her choking. The meat had lodged so firmly in her windpipe that it took one of Jackie’s sisters, an experienced nurse, doing a Heimlich Manoeuvre to remove it. As Anna was built like a brick outhouse with arms as powerful as any wrestler’s, Maisie seriously wondered if her ribs were broken once she could breath again.

She was escorted into the house by a concerned Jackie, who managed to do a very good impression of a mother hen with a wayward chick, and once she was in the privacy of Jackie’s parents’ yellow and turquoise bathroom—something Jackie had long since stopped apologising for—she stared at her face in the mirror. She looked as though she had gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her eyes were swollen and bulging and the red blotches covering her face and neck were only matched in intensity by her bloodshot eyes.

She sank down on the loo seat, gingerly feeling her ribs. They hurt. But not as much as her pride. She decided that as her eyes had been streaming for the last few minutes it was a good opportunity to have a surreptitious cry because no one would notice any difference.

She felt a bit better afterwards, but not much. After washing her face, she removed the last of the black streaks from her cheeks which her mascara had left with some eye make-up removing pads from the bathroom cabinet. A scrubbed but distinctly the worse for wear reflection peered back at her from the mirror. A few minutes of splashing cold water on her heated skin took the worst of the colour away, however, and after liberally using the moisturising cream the cabinet yielded she rubbed her wet fringe dry and surveyed the result. Better. Not good, but better.

‘Maisie?’ Jackie’s voice sounded from outside the bathroom. ‘You OK in there?’

‘I’m fine.’ Maisie took a deep breath and opened the door. She had to face the lot downstairs at some point and it might as well be now.

Jackie had her poor Maisie face on, but as she was holding a make-up bag along with a comb and brush Maisie forgave her instantly. ‘Thought you might need a few running repairs,’ said Jackie sympathetically. ‘Come in to my old room and titivate.’ Jackie had moved out of the family nest some years ago but, owing to the fact she often dived back home for an odd weekend when she was short on cash or needed some TLC, her room was a home from home with everything a girl needed.

Once she had applied some eyeliner and mascara Maisie felt happier, and with just a touch of foundation and some gloss on her lips she decided she looked better than when she had first arrived. She then whisked her hair into a high knot on the top of her head, which was cooler, leaving just a few curling tendrils to soften the look.

Right, she was ready. She just hoped everyone pretended to forget what had happened and that she could slip away some time soon.

The barbecue was still going on when she reappeared with Jackie, who insisted on giving her a fresh glass of wine and a new plateful of food, despite her protests that she didn’t want any. Maisie was just gazing down at her plate when a male voice spoke in her ear. ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ said Blaine.

‘You have?’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘Why?’

His lips quirked. ‘Why do you think?’

‘I’ve absolutely no idea,’ she said with perfect honesty.

‘Come and sit down.’ The swinging seat was occupied by several small children, who looked in danger of upending it, but Blaine led her to two chairs in a corner of the garden under the shade of an old apple tree. Maisie went with him and sat down because it was easier than objecting. ‘I wanted to ask you something,’ he said once he was seated beside her, a glass of wine in his hand.

She stared at him warily. Suddenly looking presentable again wasn’t enough protection.

‘Have you had a holiday this year?’ he asked coolly.

‘What?’ She was taken aback and it showed.

‘Have you?’

She pulled herself together. ‘No.’ She was supposed to have been honeymooning in August but she wasn’t about to mention that.

‘I wondered how you’d feel about combining a holiday with some work for a few weeks?’

She stared at him as though he was mad. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s very simple.’

It might be but she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

‘My father is very ill, as you know, and my mother visits the hospital every day, often staying eight or nine hours at a time. There is an excellent hotel virtually next door to the hospital, but as she has a couple of horses and numerous cats and dogs she won’t consider staying away overnight. That’s where you would come in.’

‘Me?’

‘I need someone to babysit the animals, someone who is trained and capable. My mother wouldn’t tolerate anything less. If you were taking care of the home or, more to the point, her pets, I know I could persuade her to stay most of the time at the hotel. That way she doesn’t have the travelling and she’s safe, my father sees more of her, the animals have someone who can exercise them and who understands their needs; everyone is happy. This would be very good, yes?’ He grinned a fascinatingly sexy grin. ‘What do you think?’

The danger signals which had been activated by that grin prevented her from replying immediately. Finally she managed to say, ‘From all you’ve told me about your mother, she would never agree.’

‘Ah, but she would. I have already spoken to her.’

She stared at him disbelievingly. ‘How? When?’

‘That wonderful invention, the telephone. A few minutes ago, when you were in the house.’

She couldn’t quite take this in. ‘You mean you suggested a total stranger living in her home and looking after her animals and she agreed without even seeing me?’

‘You are not a stranger to me, Maisie, and she trusts my judgement.’

His judgement of her hadn’t been exactly flattering. Maisie eyed him suspiciously, wondering if she should speak her mind or find out more about this crazy idea—an idea which, she had to admit, she’d been stirred by the minute he’d voiced it. To get right away from everything for a while, to spend some time in the sun doing what she loved best in all the world—taking care of animals—sounded too good to be true. And when something sounded too good to be true, that was usually because it was. ‘How long are you thinking of?’ she asked carefully.

‘That is hard to say.’ He frowned thoughtfully. ‘My father is due to have heart surgery in the near future. If this is a success it will mean further time in hospital and a period of convalescence. It might be a matter of weeks or even a few months.’

Maisie knew she couldn’t ask what would happen if the operation his father was to undergo wasn’t a success. Instead she said, ‘Surely he’ll convalesce at home?’

Blaine shrugged. ‘Possibly, but your presence would still relieve my mother of taking care of the animals, which occupies a considerable amount of her time normally. Of course she could still ride if she wishes or take the dogs out, but this would be when she feels it is possible rather than because she has to. You understand? I must mention that your duties would not involve any housework or things of this nature; my mother has a very able but elderly housekeeper who has been with her since I was born. Unfortunately Liliana has no rapport with the animals in the house and is frankly terrified of the horses.’

So she wouldn’t be totally alone in a strange country. Maisie’s mind was moving rapidly. And things like shopping and so on would be taken care of. Great, a few weeks minus carting a trolley round the local supermarket was a thumbs up. But how could she pay the rent on her bedsit in advance when she didn’t have two pennies to rub together? And did he mean that his mother would pay for her ticket to Italy and things of that nature? If all this had only been discussed hastily a few minutes ago, he probably wouldn’t know, anyway.

Blaine disabused her of this notion in the next moment. ‘All travelling expenses would be taken care of,’ he said smoothly, ‘and of course you would receive an initial sum of money to take care of any bills or obligations here while you are away. Perhaps we could say until the beginning of September, for argument’s sake? And then, of course, you would be paid weekly or monthly—whichever you prefer—during your stay at my mother’s home.’

This was happening much too fast. She felt as though she had been caught up in a whirlwind. ‘What … what if your mother doesn’t like me when she meets me?’ Maisie asked a trifle shakily.

‘Of course my mother will like you. You are a family friend, are you not?’

His brother’s family, actually, and was she the only one here remembering that up until yesterday the two sections of the family had been estranged for umpteen years? Roberto and his father were still estranged, if it came to it. Her head was telling her she was mad to even consider this crazy idea. Her heart was saying she had done all the right things—had been sensible, steady, practical and down-to-earth—for all of her twenty-eight years on this planet and look where it had got her. Nowhere, that was where. And if it didn’t work out in Italy she could hightail it home and put it down to experience. Or hormones. Something, anyway.

Another thought hit her and she really didn’t know how to even begin to voice this one. She had gathered that Blaine didn’t live with his parents, but how far away from the family home was he situated? The last thing she wanted was to run into him every day. She stared into the beautiful eyes which were watching her closely.

No. She couldn’t ask. She would just have to hope his home wasn’t too close. That was when it dawned on her that she was going to go against everything her prudent nature—not to mention her mother—would advise and accept this ridiculous offer. And quickly, before he changed his mind. Just like the girl in the tube would have done. She wouldn’t have let such a crazy opportunity slip through her fingers without giving it a try.

Maisie’s chin lifted fractionally. ‘If you’re sure your mother will be in agreement, then thank you,’ she said clearly. ‘I would like to look after her animals for as long as she thinks fit.’

‘Good.’ The greeny-blue eyes had been narrowed as they’d assessed her response but now his expression changed and his voice gentled as he said, ‘I am glad.’

Three little words. Just three little words, so why did they have the power to send a sharp thrill of something she couldn’t name right down to her toes?

‘If you give me your mobile number I’ll call you when I have made the arrangements,’ he said smoothly.

Ah. Slight problem there. ‘I’ve lost my mobile,’ she said shortly. To be precise, it had slipped from under her chin, where she’d been balancing it whilst talking and doing the washing-up, straight into the soapy suds. ‘But I’ll give you my home number.’

‘Fine.’ He smiled. ‘That is settled, then.’

Maisie nodded even as a little voice in her head wondered what on earth she had let herself in for.

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU’RE going where? And to do what?’

Susan Burns’s voice was shrill, and Maisie winced as she held the receiver further away from her ear. She had been expecting something like this, she told herself, and she didn’t have to justify her decision to her mother. She was a grown woman, not a schoolgirl. But everything was always a battle.

From the moment her father had walked out on them when she was eight years old and her mother had had to assume the role of a single parent, she had tried to rule Maisie with a rod of iron. She had been that way with her husband to some extent; perhaps that was why he had decided enough was enough and had taken himself off to America, where he’d obtained a very good job in his specialised branch of microbiology, before being killed in a car accident just eighteen months after he’d left England.

Most of the time Maisie went along with her mother’s demands, for an easy life, but there had been a few issues over which she’d dug her heels in. The first had been her decision not to apply for a degree course in one of the areas her mother had deemed suitable. The second had been to take up relatively low paid employment simply because she liked the work, and the third—over which her mother was still smarting —had been her resolution not to move up north when her mother had announced her plans to move to Sheffield three years ago. It had been high time to finally cut the umbilical cord. Maisie had seen it clearly, even though her mother had not and probably never would.

‘I’m going to Italy for a while to take care of some animals for a branch of Jackie’s family,’ Maisie repeated patiently. ‘It’s a good opportunity to get away and assess where I want to go from here. To take stock of my life.’

Her mother snorted. She’d got it down to an art and it was the most irritating sound in the world. ‘You would be far better served to move up here with me and get a decent job. You’re too old to go gallivanting. Your Aunt Eva only said the other day that this thing with Jeff was probably a sign for you to be here with us all.

Maisie was glad they weren’t connected by camera phone. ‘Us all’ meant her mother’s branch of the family, which consisted of three sisters and their families all living in and round about Sheffield. All her aunts were like her mother, and Maisie would have considered it hell on earth to be up there. She had made a rude face but now she took a deep breath and said evenly, ‘I don’t see it that way and, like I’ve said before, all my friends are here, Mum. I like living in London.’

‘Is that why you’re skedaddling off to Italy?’

‘I’m going for a couple of months or so—a short break, that’s all—and when I come back I’ll find another job. It’s no big deal.’

‘And what if this Italy thing doesn’t work out?’

‘Then I’ll be back sooner than I expected.’ Maisie decided to cut the phone call short; a quarrel was brewing and she wasn’t in the mood to continue in saintly mode. ‘I’ll talk to you again in a day or so but I have to go now. OK? Bye, Mum. Take care.’ She put down the receiver before her mother could object.

Having been satisfyingly assertive, Maisie sat staring round her bedsit once she had finished the phone call. It was dreary, although she’d tried to make the best of a bad job with bright cushions and pots and throws to brighten the place. The trouble was that it needed some money thrown at it to make it anything like light and modern, and if anyone did have any money they wouldn’t choose to live here in the first place. Why spend time and effort on a rented property if you had some spare cash which meant you could perhaps take on a mortgage?

‘I don’t want to live here any more.’ Maisie spoke the words of truth which had been hovering in her subconscious for some time, now she thought about it. With Jeff’s ring on her finger and their marriage in view she had thought her days here were numbered. Now she found she wasn’t about to compromise.

It was a revelation. But a good one, she decided, after the distinctly iffy ones concerning Jeff and the beanpole. She hadn’t engineered this but she had already discussed the rent of the bedsit with Blaine, and she had a hefty cheque in her bag right now to cover her four months sojourn in foreign climes. She wouldn’t complicate things by explaining she had decided to move home, but simply bank the money after giving her landlord notice here in the next day or so. And once she was back in England in the autumn she would reconsider her position. London was expensive, horrifically so, and she could easily up sticks and move elsewhere. Not Sheffield—never that—but there were other places where her family wouldn’t take over and she would be allowed to live her own life. She would still continue to keep in contact with her real friends like Jackie, and the rest of them didn’t matter in the overall scheme of things.

The intrusive ring of the telephone cut short her musings. It could only be her mother, determined to have the last word. Excusing the words that came to mind by telling herself she hadn’t actually voiced them, Maisie snatched up the phone. ‘Yes?’ she snapped.

There was a succinct pause. ‘Something tells me I’ve rung at an inopportune moment?’ Blaine drawled softly.

You’d think he’d done it on purpose. Well, she wasn’t sure he hadn’t, Maisie snarled to herself. She counted to ten before she said, ‘Blaine, sorry. I’ve just had some milk boil over. You know how it is.’ Of course he didn’t. He had the air of a man who had never had to do anything domestic for himself in the whole of his life.

‘Cocoa?’

‘What?’

‘The milk. It’s eleven o’clock at night. I thought it might be cocoa you were making. I understand it is a passion of you British at bedtime.’

She ignored the curls in her stomach that his intonation of the word passion had caused and breathed through her nose. He was being nasty. She just knew it. Insinuating that she had nothing better to do at night than drink cocoa.

Because her brain wouldn’t compute milk and the uses thereof, she said, ‘Is there a problem?’ Please don’t say you have changed your mind, not now I’ve called my mother.

‘No problem,’ he said lazily. ‘Just to let you know I’ve reserved your tickets and you’re flying out on Tuesday afternoon. I trust you can tie up any loose strings here by then?’

There wasn’t enough to merit a knot. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Good.’ A brief pause ensued. ‘I’ll meet you at the airport and take you to the house.’

‘There’s no need for that. I can get a taxi.’

‘I’m sure you can, Maisie.’ It was dry. ‘Nevertheless I shall meet you. You are a guest in my country.’

‘I’m an employee.’ She didn’t want him to think she had any expectations.

‘Not my employee,’ he said silkily.

She floundered, the image of a long lean body and wickedly handsome face flashing on the screen of her mind. ‘You … don’t have to.’

‘I know.’ The deep voice and accent was an unfair combination. ‘I want to. You are Jackie’s dearest friend, after all.’

He was laughing at her. She couldn’t see his face but she was sure he was laughing at her. Stiffly now, she said, ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

This time the throb of amusement was unmistakable. Maisie glared at the receiver. The telephone in the bedsit was antiquated. She had seen the state-of-the-art whizkid mobile phone he’d used earlier—it added insult to injury. ‘Goodbye,’ she said tightly.

‘Goodnight, Maisie.’ His tone was easy and relaxed. It told her more blatantly than any words could have done that she could indulge in her little tantrums and he didn’t give a damn. And then she realised she’d got it wrong again when he added, ‘His loss, Italy’s gain. The guy was a fool, Maisie. Don’t waste time thinking about him. He isn’t worth it.’ And the phone went dead.

When Maisie exited Naples airport on Tuesday afternoon she was tired and more than a little apprehensive. It hadn’t been until she was actually on the plane that the enormity of what she had let herself in for had hit her, along with the fact that she would be in effect homeless once she returned to England. But that was all right, she told herself firmly as she shaded her eyes with her hand and glanced round for Blaine, berating herself for not buying a pair of decent sunglasses before she left England. A friend was storing her few bits and pieces and personal belongings in a spare room until she returned home, and Sue had been very enthusiastic about Maisie staying with her until she fixed up a job and somewhere to stay. So she wouldn’t exactly be destitute. Far from it, in fact, with Blaine’s very healthy cheque having plumped up her bank balance, which hopefully would be added to while she was in Italy.

No, her apprehension wasn’t caused by the situation she would face when she returned home but by what she would be facing in the immediate future, she thought, watching a sleek and beautiful black Ferrari nose towards her. It wasn’t until Blaine called her name that she realised it was his car, however.

Oh, wow … She tried to stop her mouth from falling open as she watched him jump out of the sleek confines of the elegant car.

‘Hi, Maisie. Good journey?’

He was wearing an open-necked black shirt and pale cotton trousers, and with his eyes hidden by screamingly expensive sunglasses he was a perfect moving monochrome of black and white. The epitome of Italian manhood, in fact. Jackie had filled her in on the wealth the family enjoyed in Italy, which was considerable due to the successful chain of hotels and cafés Roberto’s father owned and which Blaine now managed, and everything about him reflected this as he reached her side. ‘Very good, thank you,’ she managed evenly as he took her suitcase and sports bag. ‘How is your father?’

‘Bearing up.’

Probably because they were in Italy his accent seemed more pronounced than it had in England, and as he opened the car door for her she felt ridiculously shy as she slid into the car with an excessive show of leg. She had never been in such a low-slung powerful car before and it felt almost as though they were on a level with the road as Blaine folded himself into the driving seat.

Gathering her skirt chastely round her, Maisie said nervously, ‘Thank you for coming to meet me.’

‘My pleasure.’ He smiled at her before starting the engine and her stomach twirled.

As he drove out of the airport she sat stiffly beside him, her hands unconsciously clenched into two fists on her lap and her back straight. He seemed even more good-looking and overtly sexy than he had in England, and the close intimacy of the car had every nerve in her body twanging. And they had well over an hour’s drive in front of them, she thought despairingly. Not that she fancied him, of course—she wasn’t that stupid—but it was the whole experience that had wound her up—the car, the man, the bright sunshine, the foreign climes …

He drove the car surely and expertly through the busy traffic, which to Maisie’s fevered gaze didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason to it. There was a great deal of blaring of horns and screeching tyres, which was less than reassuring, especially as she felt more vulnerable than she’d ever felt in the whole of her life.

‘In a little while you will begin to see the beauty of my country,’ Blaine assured her as the car weaved and dived through the mêlée all around them. ‘I am probably biased, but to me Sorrento is everything that is good about Italy. For centuries it was our best kept secret, contained to just a few privileged foreign travellers, and then Tennessee Williams made it the playground of the affluent and the famous.’ He shrugged. ‘Fortunately Sorrento’s charm cannot be spoilt by excess or those who do not understand her.’

Maisie could detect the delicious aftershave she had smelt before in England, something sharp and sensual, and her voice came out less controlled than she would have liked when she said, ‘Surely the jet set’s presence is good for the hotel and restaurant business?’

‘Of course.’ He shrugged again, a very Latin action. ‘One cannot have everything in life; isn’t that what they say?’

Whoever ‘they’ were, they’d nearly got it wrong with Blaine, she thought ruefully. Roberto’s younger brother might not have absolutely everything, but he was well on the way to it. A privileged upbringing in a stunning part of the world, good looks, wealth—Blaine was the original Italian playboy, in fact. Forget being born with a silver spoon in his mouth; he had a whole cutlery set.

The traffic thankfully became a little more orderly as they left the airport behind and as the car gathered speed Maisie was enchanted with what she saw. Dominated by Mount Vesuvius, Naples was everything she’d heard it to be—bustling, alive, full of breathtaking architecture and rich colours. She made up her mind that before she went home she would explore the city. She could always delay her departure by a week or so and book into a cheap hotel for a few nights. She might never come to this part of the world again and now she was here she wanted to explore most of it.

It was as they wound around the peninsular towards Sorrento that Blaine, without glancing at her, said, ‘Could you try and relax a little? You’re making me feel as though you expect me to run out of petrol or something.’

Maisie had been looking out of the window at the spectacular view that was unfolding, but now her eyes shot to his face. ‘I’m perfectly relaxed, thank you,’ she said tightly.

He said nothing, simply turning his head for a moment and glancing meaningfully at her hands, which were still clenched in her lap.

She breathed in deeply. OK, perhaps not then, but Blaine Morosini was not a man you relaxed with easily. Not that she wanted him to guess that it was his close proximity that was keeping her on tenterhooks. Hastily she said, ‘It’s all a bit unnerving, that’s all. Coming to a foreign country to work for someone you haven’t seen and not knowing anyone.’

‘You know me.’

Well, yeah. Not a great help, actually. That was the main problem, in fact.

His frown smoothed to a quizzical ruffle. ‘I will show you the sights while you are here. You would like to see a little of Italy, yes?’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ she said quickly.

‘Maisie, I never do anything I do not wish to do.’

Now that she could believe. She opened her mouth to insist that she was here to work first and foremost but he continued seamlessly, ‘Besides, my mother would be horrified at the thought that you do not expect to enjoy yourself while you are here. She is very grateful for your services but would not dream of taking advantage of your good nature.’

She looked at him warily. She wasn’t sure Blaine thought she did have a good nature. And this smacked of him feeling sorry for her. She wouldn’t be at all the sort of female he was used to escorting. Socialites, models, the beautiful and the talented, all exquisitely dressed, no doubt, and all used to caviar and the rest of it—they would be the kind of woman he would be seen out and about with. He was probably looking at her as a little waif and stray and she didn’t like it.

She swallowed. ‘I think it might be best to see how things go,’ she said carefully. ‘Whether your mother wants me to stay, if the animals settle with me …’

‘As you wish.’

He didn’t sound as if he cared one way or the other, which bore out her supposition. She slanted a look at him under her eyelashes as he concentrated on the winding road ahead. She didn’t think she had ever met such a male man, she thought uncomfortably. It wasn’t just the broad shoulders and muscled arms or the curling black hair visible at the top of his chest through the open-necked shirt, it was him, an aura—oh, she couldn’t find the words to describe it. But, whatever it was, it was dangerous and all the more powerful for his casual unconsciousness of it.

She turned her head and stared out of the window. Blaine was the very antithesis of Jeff. He was blond and boyish-faced, the sort of man she usually went for. Gary, her first love, had been the same. And they had both been cheating so-and-so’s. They’d both been the helpless kind of male too, but she hadn’t minded that. She’d enjoyed looking after them and fussing round them. At least that was what she’d told herself at the time.

As the thought struck her eyes narrowed. Neither of them had wanted to look after her, she realised with something of a jolt. They wouldn’t have dreamt of meeting her like Blaine had done today; they would just have assumed that good old practical, sensible Maisie would have sorted herself out. And she probably would have, she admitted, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice to have someone take charge once in a while.

Why hadn’t she realised this before? She frowned to herself as she searched her feelings. Probably because she had been too busy making sure no one tried to tell her what to do or forced their will on her in the way her mother had attempted to do all her life. Subconsciously she had started a pendulum swinging without realising it had gone too far. Her frown deepened. Hell, she hadn’t realised she was so mixed up.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘What?’ She came out of her reverie to the sound of Blaine’s voice and blushed scarlet as though he’d been privy to her thoughts. ‘Oh, a little. Not too bad.’

‘I’m starving.’

They were climbing high above the blue waters of the Bay of Naples now and had just passed a tiny village of terracotta-roofed stone houses clinging to the cliffs. Citrus orchards, vineyards and olive groves were becoming apparent in the golden sunshine bathing the southern coastline.

‘There’s a wonderful old inn on this road where I eat sometimes; they serve the best fish and crustaceans in the world. We’ll stop there. You like seafood?’ he added as an afterthought.

Maisie smiled. No one could accuse Blaine of being a helpless male, that was for sure. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Good.’

He smiled at her, just a quick smile before his eyes returned to the windscreen, but Maisie found her heart was pounding and it horrified her. What was the matter with her? she asked herself silently. She was broken-hearted over Jeff, wasn’t she? So how could another man’s smile—a man she didn’t even like—make her heart race and her senses heighten in what was a definitely sensual way? Certainly she had never had this problem with Jeff or anyone else for that matter. In fact, she had always considered herself rather a cold fish sexually. It certainly hadn’t involved an enormous amount of sacrifice on her part when she had kept any lovemaking to boundaries that did not involve full intercourse. She had always felt that ultimate commitment was for marriage and, although most of her friends had thought she was mad, she’d stuck to her guns on the issue with both Gary and Jeff, neither of whom had seemed to mind too much. She couldn’t see Blaine Morosini accepting such stipulations from any of his girlfriends, though. She glanced at him again, her eyes registering the way his trousers pulled tight across lean hips in the confines of the car, accentuating his flagrant masculinity. She suddenly felt hot.

By the time they arrived at the inn, situated on a vertiginous slope, its window-boxes blazing with bougainvillea and bright red geraniums, Maisie was glad to get out of the Ferrari. She didn’t know if it was the car or what, but she had never been so conscious of every tiny movement from another human being in the whole of her life and it was not conducive to easy conversation or relaxed travelling.

Sorrento was only a short distance away now, however, and once fortified by a good meal she could keep her thoughts under control until she was safely at Blaine’s mother’s house. She hoped.

In view of her suddenly improved bank balance she had splashed out and bought a couple of new things before she’d left, the first new clothes she had had in ages. Green had always suited her warm colouring and brown hair, and as they walked up the steps leading to the front door of the inn Maisie was glad she’d decided to wear the pale green gypsy skirt and delicate fitted chiffon top in a mixture of greens and browns to travel in. She probably wouldn’t eat out with Blaine ever again and she wanted to look … nice.

Once inside the inn she found the view from the big shuttered windows was tranquil and the glass of wine Blaine placed in her hand was like the nectar of the gods. They had been seated at a little table for two by the smiling inn-keeper and she sensed immediately that Blaine was a favoured customer.

‘This is lovely.’ She absorbed her surroundings like a child at a wonderful birthday party. ‘It’s so utterly Italian.’

Blaine nodded gravely. ‘I’ve always thought so,’ he said seriously and then, as he caught her eye, he allowed his mouth to twist in a smile. ‘You will love Italy,’ he assured her softly. ‘It’s a passionate country, warm and vibrant and emotional.’

She stared at him. ‘Do you consider yourself more Italian than American?’ she asked curiously, wondering how his mother would feel about that.

The raven head tilted as he considered. ‘I think so,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve always lived in Italy, of course, but several times a year I’ve taken trips to America to see my maternal grandparents and aunts and uncles and so on. It is certainly my second home. But Italy is my lifeblood; it sings through my veins like rich red wine. You know?’

Maisie shook her head. ‘Not really. I’m just an ordinary English girl,’ she said, half jokingly.

He frowned. ‘Do not say that. That you are ordinary.’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘But I am.’

‘I do not think so.’ The greeny-blue eyes were almost luminescent. ‘The other friend of Jackie, the girl who was with us in the coffee bar, her name escapes me—’

‘Sue.’ It felt indescribably good that he’d forgotten Sue’s name, which she knew was horribly bitchy.

‘Ah, yes, Sue. Now Sue is an ordinary girl. Articulate, attractive, independent, successful—’

He needn’t spoil it.

‘But without that spark.’

‘Spark?’ She didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you fishing for compliments?’

‘No.’ She glared at him over her wineglass. ‘Of course not. I don’t know what you mean, that’s all.’

‘Perhaps that’s the secret.’

He was talking in riddles and her stomach was rumbling. She’d discovered since she had been in the inn and smelt the food that she was, in fact, ravenously hungry. Her brow wrinkled. ‘Secret?’

‘No matter.’ He looked at her quietly as a waiter appeared at their elbow with two menus. Once he had departed and she gazed helplessly at the writing, which was all in Italian—only to be expected, of course—Blaine said, ‘Would you like me to choose something delicious for you? As I said, I eat here fairly often and I’m used to the various dishes.’

‘Thank you.’ He probably knew she couldn’t speak a word of his language, so Maisie said, ‘I was never any good at languages at school; it was the sciences that grabbed me.’

‘Interesting.’ His eyes laughed at her. ‘And lucky sciences.’

Was he flirting with her? Maisie stared at him uncertainly. But then Italian men flirted all the time, didn’t they? Of course Roberto didn’t but he was Jackie’s father and therefore relegated into a different strata. She gave a tentative smile.

‘I will have to teach you some basic Italian while you are here, yes?’

Umm, probably no.

‘Polite words, of course—thank you, please, how to ask for directions if you are lost, that sort of thing. And the casual brush-off to unwanted suitors. That might not be quite so polite.’

He was definitely flirting with her. Maisie refused to acknowledge how captivating it was to have a man like Blaine flirting with her, telling herself that as she was the only woman present it wasn’t quite such a triumph. Any port in a storm sort of thing.

The waiter appeared again and Blaine fired off an order in rapid Italian, which still managed to sound utterly soft and enchanting. It really was a gorgeous language. Like the country. And the men. The last thought jolted Maisie into realising she hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast—thanks to the euphoria of losing six pounds in as many days she’d been motivated to starve herself some more—and the glass of wine in her hand was empty. She had also had two gin and tonics on the plane to steady her nerves—perhaps not such a good idea with hindsight.

Another glass of wine appeared in front of her like magic. Obviously Blaine had seen her empty glass when he had ordered the food. Not wishing his mother’s first impression of her to be one where she was carried into the house like a sack of coal, Maisie left it exactly where it was, saying, ‘What is it we’re eating?’

‘We are making the most of the fresh fish by having two courses where seafood features. Not exactly the done thing, I know, but …’ He gave another of his Latin shrugs and she wondered if he knew quite what it did to her. ‘We begin with carpaccio di tonno, which is essentially cooked peeled crayfish and very thin slices of fresh raw tuna on a bed of lemon iced salad sprigs. Following this I have chosen linguine all’aragosta because the lobster here is second to none. In most restaurants you would be lucky to get a few mouthfuls of lobster with the pasta but here even I am satisfied.’

Maisie nodded as though she knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘Ah, the appetisers.’ As the waiter reappeared with several small plates holding delectable-looking morsels, Blaine thanked him, adding to Maisie, ‘The Italian word for appetiser is antipasto, sì? This is your first lesson, mia piccola.’

He was becoming more Italian by the moment. And more irresistible. Something told her not to ask what the last two words meant. Instead she tucked into the appetisers and discovered they were absolutely delicious. As was the rest of the meal when it came.

Maisie had always liked her food and made no apology for it, although she would have loved to wave a magic wand, of course, and eat what she wanted without it showing on her waistline. Somehow she had never quite managed the knack of surviving on lettuce leaves and brown rice and all the other things which were devoid of cream and butter and everything that made life worth living, though. Halfway through the meal she decided to put the diet on hold until she was back in England. Time enough then for being miserable. She was well overdue a bit of pleasure with all she’d gone through in the last few weeks.

She did refuse dessert though. Not through any misguided and belated feeling of guilt but simply because she couldn’t eat another thing after the most wonderful lobster since the beginning of time.

‘You eat like a true Italian.’

They were sitting having coffee and Maisie was wondering how she was going to waddle out to the car when Blaine spoke. She looked at him warily. ‘Meaning?’

‘You enjoy your food. I cannot bear to sit and watch a woman move the food about her plate as though it is going to poison her.’

But he had probably been sufficiently attracted by their slim nubile bodies to take them out in the first place. Maisie acknowledged the waistband of her skirt was threatening to split. She had been thrilled to bits to find she could actually fit into a size twelve for the first time in years when she had gone on her shopping spree, even though it had been a bit of a near thing between that and the size fourteen. She wrinkled her small nose. ‘I’m not fashionably thin,’ she said, stating the obvious. ‘Jeff, my ex, went off with a size eight blonde who’s recently had breast enhancements.’ And then she wondered why on earth she had told him that.

He folded his arms over his chest, studying her with an air of quiet interest. ‘That must have been hard for you.’

In a nutshell, yes. She tried to inject a note of nonchalance into her voice. ‘It obviously wasn’t meant to be.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’

Not into comforting words and polite platitudes, then. Although he had only agreed with her, she found herself bristling. ‘Actually, we were very well matched.’

He raised cryptic eyebrows.

‘We both love animals and long walks and good food,’ she said determinedly, ‘and going to the theatre and lazy Sundays …’ What else? She knew there was more.

‘So does most of the population,’ said Blaine, his mouth curving.

‘We would have been very happy together.’

‘I doubt that.’

‘Oh, really?’ Maisie glared at him. ‘Why is that?’

‘Because if he was fool enough to let you go in the first place he would not have had sufficient fire to match you flame for flame,’ Blaine said with lazy coolness. ‘Fire and water never mix and this is the cause of many divorces. Passion must be met by equal passion or one partner will be left feeling unfulfilled and the other believing they haven’t measured up. This Jeff sounds like a water person to me.’

‘You don’t know him,’ she snapped while secretly thrilled that he thought she was a fire person. She wasn’t at all sure she was but she was glad he thought so.

‘I don’t have to. If he had fulfilled all he should have done you wouldn’t be like you are now at his going. You would be devastated, distraught—’

‘I was. I am!’ She was furious. ‘Just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, it doesn’t mean I’m not upset, does it.’

‘He did not touch the core of you, Maisie. Face it. He didn’t have what it takes. If you had married him you would both have been miserable in time. Maybe this size eight, breast-enhanced female is what he needs.’

‘So he did the right thing in starting an affair behind my back when we were due to be married in a few weeks’ time? Is that what you’re saying?’ She couldn’t remember when she had been more mad.