imagine.
Aldo beamed at him, staying to share a glass of wine, treating him as a favourite customer. At least he was in favour with Daniela’s grandad. The mother and father—the Adamis—were an exceptionally good-looking couple but, although charming, weren’t quite so warmly welcoming as Aldo. Linc supposed they were wondering about him. Who he was. What he wanted. On the couple of occasions he had called in he must have betrayed his interest in their beautiful daughter.
He was lingering over his coffee when Daniela surprised him by coming to his table. Most of their customers had left by now, expressing very positive comments and indicating they would be coming back.
‘You wanted to see me?’
That was the biggest understatement of all time, he thought, overtaken by dense emotion, fierce in its strength.
He stood up immediately, his heart wrenching yet again as he looked on her beautiful face. There was such grace about her, such refinement, sensitivity, the promise of passion. She was dressed very simply, in a crisp white shirt and black skirt, her lustrous hair clipped back behind her ears.
‘I did, as a matter of fact,’ he said. ‘Could you join me for a minute?’ He moved swiftly to hunt up another chair.
‘I’m finished for the afternoon,’ she said, sitting down and looking up at him—half expectantly, half what? He wasn’t sure, but her great eyes glittered. ‘So I take it the deal went through?’
He resumed his seat. ‘It was settled yesterday. I am now the master of Briar’s Ridge.’
‘Now, why does that sound like Briar’s Ridge is the first in a chain?’ she asked.
He was a bit startled. ‘I like a challenge.’
‘I know you do.’
‘More of that woman’s intuition?’ His eyes locked on hers. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not knocking it. I have ambitions, Daniela. But you must know all about ambition. You’ve studied and worked hard. Le Cordon-Bleu, wasn’t it, in Paris? Then London? You’re rising to the top of your game. And you’re what—twenty-four, twenty-five?’
‘Does that matter?’ She gave an expressive shrug of her delicate shoulders.
‘Yes,’ he answered bluntly. ‘I can tell you I’m twenty-eight, so why can’t—’
‘Twenty-five,’ she supplied. ‘It is as you’ve said. I did have to study and work extremely hard to rise to the top in a very tough business. There was a time when I wanted other things.’
‘Like what?’ he asked, needing to know.
Her beautiful eyes were distant in thought. ‘I wanted to go to university full-time. I was a good student. I could have got into any course I wanted. I was very interested in art history, psychology, the law—oh, lots of things. I wanted to stretch my wings. But there simply wasn’t the money. I had to accept that. All of us have had to work hard. We’ve had to make a go of things. I was needed at home. It was actually an elderly relative who eventually became my benefactor and sent me to Paris. I had four years of schoolgirl French, which was a help. The deal was it had to be food. I was to become a chef.’
‘Well, do you enjoy it?’ His family had lacked lots of things, but not money.
Her lovely mouth curved in a smile. ‘Of course I do. I’m Italian. I’m a woman. You could say my career was clear cut. My benefactor, for instance, wouldn’t have advanced the money had I wanted to study Fine Arts.’
‘How strange,’ he said, thinking it was. ‘But going on the reaction of your lunchtime customers you’re a big hit. I was one of them, and what I had was superb.’
She gave a little laugh. ‘I can do better. Lots better. I have to consider what our customers would like.’
‘So you’re telling me I don’t know the best?’
‘No, no.’ She shook her head, looking embarrassed. ‘I’m just saying…’
‘I know.’ He relented.
‘You went to university?’ She stared at him, unable to help herself. He was almost a stranger, yet she had a real sense of familiarity.
‘I have a degree in Economics,’ he told her. ‘Not entirely useless.’ Abruptly he caught hold of her fingertips. He hadn’t meant to. It had just happened. ‘Who’s been cruel to you?’
She tried to withdraw her hand.
He held on. ‘Well?’ The tormented look on her face stopped him. He let her go.
‘This is a mistake, Carl,’ she said.
‘Please don’t go.’ He was terrified she would. ‘I’m sorry. I came to ask if you would like to see over Briar’s Ridge.’
She paused uncertainly. ‘What? Out of curiosity?’
‘Not at all.’ There was a brilliant sparkle in his light eyes, neither silver nor green, but a blend of both. ‘There’s another reason. I want a woman’s opinion. Your opinion. You’re a smart woman, a woman of taste. The homestead doesn’t come with furnishings. I wouldn’t want them in any case. I want to start out afresh. I want the place to be my own.’
She studied him strangely. ‘How can that be, with my taste?’
‘To be honest, I believe with you I can’t go wrong. You have style. You’ve had time to acquire sophistication on top of your own inherent polish.’
‘You flatter me,’ she said. She put up a hand to remove a gold clasp from her hair, so one side went for a silken slide.
He watched in fascination. Everything about her was just so damned romantic, even exotic. ‘I don’t think so. I’m certainly not trying to.’
‘It’s a bad time,’ she announced, suddenly losing her composure.
‘Not a bad time at all. Please—no more excuses, Daniela. Aldo told me you’re always free at the weekend. Please say you’ll come.’
Again she hesitated. ‘You’ve asked me first?’
He frowned. She seemed to be making some point. ‘Who else?’
‘I really don’t know.’ She shook her head, looking as if she had concerns. ‘You appeared to be getting along very well with Alana’s cousins, Violette and Lilli.’
‘So?’ He gave her another puzzled frown.
‘One of them might be perfect for you,’ she said, really looking into his face. ‘They come from your world—pastoral families, establishment, that kind of thing.’
He sat back, caught in a moment of empathy. ‘I think I’m a lot wiser than that, Daniela. The people I most admire are those who make something of themselves, like you. You have ambition. You’re a fighter. You’re twenty-five. You haven’t stepped back. You’ve stepped forward. I happen to know Violette and Lilli haven’t done a day’s work in their lives. In my book even rich girls have to do something.’
