she cut in bitterly. ‘I suppose I should be grateful, but you know, for some strange reason I am not. It might have something to do with the fact I went to bed with a stranger, or maybe just an old-fashioned idea of believing in the truth—something you obviously know nothing about.’ Her knuckles gleamed white on the hand that gripped the receiver. She was furious, and amazed he had the nerve to call her.
‘Listen to me, Kelly,’ Gianfranco demanded harshly; her last crack was an insult he would not accept. No one had ever questioned his honesty before. ‘I never had any intention to deceive you. The first day we met I tried to tell you my name and you, in your usual manner, leapt in with “Hello, Signor Franco.” You jump to conclusions like a bull at a gate.’
‘Oh, I see! So it is my fault. In a whole week you could not get around to telling me you were not a port worker but Count Gianfranco Maldini. I wonder why? Could it possibly be because you were ashamed of mixing with ordinary people, you arrogant snob?’ She was on a roll. From the minute last night when she had discovered who her so-called boyfriend really was, she had swung between hurt and humiliation, but now she was just plain angry. ‘Suddenly all the little out-of-the-way places you took me make perfect sense. And of course how could I forget your horror that I was not some vastly experienced woman? And your desperate worry I might slap a paternity suit on you.’
‘No,’ he snapped. ‘Now stop right there.’ The sheer force of his voice in her ear made Kelly do just that. ‘I am trying to be reasonable, but you are not making it easy for me. I apologise for misleading you about my name, but that is all I apologise for. Last night I was quite prepared to acknowledge we were friends, but you jumped in again and made it very obvious you did not want me to. I followed your lead because I thought that was what you wanted.’
He was right, but the ‘friend’ rankled. ‘Maybe so. But it does not alter the fact you deceived me about who you really were.’ She had to battle to retain her anger as the sound of his voice alone made her go weak at the knees.
‘Maybe, but I am the same Gianni you dated, the same Gianni who wants to see you again on Friday.’
He still wanted to see her; the thought floored her for a moment. ‘But you’re a count.’
‘So now who is being the snob?’ Gianfranco drawled mockingly. ‘If I don’t care, why should you?’
A glimmer of hope flickered in her heart, and for a second she considered the possibility. Then common sense prevailed.
‘Kelly? Kelly, are you still there?’ Gianfranco asked urgently.
‘Yes,’ she responded, hardening her heart against him. ‘And where are you calling from?’ she demanded in a tone laced with sarcasm. ‘Genoa—isn’t that where you were supposed to be visiting? Yet I could have sworn I saw you in Verona last night.’
‘Sarcasm does not become you, Kelly. I know I made a mistake; when I see you again I will explain everything. But I can’t talk now. I have a flight to catch to New York, a flight I delayed for a week to be with you. Surely that must count for something?’ Gianfranco Maldini could not believe what he was saying. He was virtually pleading with the girl for a date.
‘Then don’t let me delay you any further.’ It was no good prolonging the agony; Judy had told her about his countless girlfriends, and, even if she could fit into his lifestyle, Kelly did not want to. Eventually she wanted marriage and a husband, not to be a rich man’s plaything for a few weeks.
Gianfranco cleared his throat. ‘Will you still meet me on Friday as we arranged?’ And he held his breath as he waited for her answer.
‘No,’ Kelly said flatly. ‘The more I think about it I realise that last Friday was a disaster. Personally, I am going to put it down to experience and forget we ever met; I suggest you do the same.’ She glanced across at Andrea; he had put down the bread and was wriggling uncomfortably in his high chair.
‘Dio! Kelly?’ Gianfranco’s patience snapped. His ego had taken enough bruising from this woman, and it did not help to be reminded he’d been a failure in bed. ‘You be there on Friday, or I will be around at Bertoni’s to get you. Understand?’ he shouted. He was not used to having his commands disobeyed.
Andrea was watching her with an open mouth and worried brown eyes; he had never heard her angry before, and, though she doubted he understood the words, he could sense something was wrong, and he did not deserve to be upset.
‘Yes, OK.’ She hung up the telephone. When pigs fly, she thought, moving to lift the young boy from his chair and hugging him tightly to her; she nuzzled his neck while blinking a stray tear from her eye.
Gianfranco slipped the telephone into the inside pocket of his expertly tailored jacket, and strode across the concourse to the boarding gate for his flight. It was a new experience for him to have to persuade a woman to see him, and one he was not sure he liked. His hard mouth twisted in a wry grimace. He’d give it one more try. If Kelly turned up on Friday night, fine. If she didn’t he was not pursuing her. His decision made, he handed his boarding pass to the female attendant with a broad smile, and quite unconsciously made the girl’s day.
‘Who was that on the telephone?’ Judy asked as she walked into the kitchen, wearing only a blue satin robe.
‘It was for me,’ Kelly mumbled as she held Andrea in her arms.
‘Ah, the boyfriend,’ Judy said, and, moving to where Kelly stood, took Andrea from her. ‘And this is my favourite boyfriend.’ She kissed her son good morning, then placed him on his feet on the floor.
Kelly smiled; whatever Judy’s faults, she did love her son.
‘It’s no good hanging around with a silly smile on your face, Kelly,’ said Judy, totally misinterpreting the reason for the smile. ‘Take my advice and drop the local boy. You are a good-looking woman—you should set your sights a whole lot higher. Go after someone like Count Maldini, a real catch. Last night I could see he was interested—yours was the only hand he kissed,’ Judy opined with a sigh. ‘But then, even if you got him, keeping him would be the problem.’ Picking up a cup, she filled it with coffee from the pot and walked out with the comment, ‘For Carlo, poor dear; he is feeling very sorry for himself this morning.’
Judy’s comment gave Kelly pause for thought. She was intelligent, educated and considered herself as good as any other person on the planet. Gianfranco was a count. So what? Perhaps she had overreacted. He had called this morning, as promised. He did still want to see her and explain—well, according to him anyway. Surely he deserved a hearing, or was she the inverted snob he had intimated?
By the next morning Kelly had reached a decision: she would meet Gianfranco on Friday and hear what he had to say…
On Thursday afternoon Kelly was sitting on a plane winging its way back to England, glad to be going home and back to reality. On Tuesday Carlo Bertoni had declared there was no point staying in Italy any longer, since, as he could not compete in the yacht race, he might as well get back to work in London. Generously he had suggested Kelly stay on, on holiday, until the end of her contract in ten days’ time. Marta was staying that long anyway, and Kelly had immediately accepted his offer.
But on Wednesday morning she had been leafing through the pages of the national newspaper and seen a picture of Count Maldini taken at a reception in New York on the Monday evening, with a stunning-looking redhead on his arm. Kelly had been able to fool herself no more; the affair, fling, was over, and there was no point in deluding herself otherwise. It was time she cut loose any connection
