want to check his rash. The last message I got was from my secretary. She told me you suspected a bacterial infection. His mother had meningitis at this age. She only survived because, like you, I can recognise signs.’
That stunned her.
‘Oh… Then I’m sorry, Signor Rossi.’
Cheryl relaxed her grip, but did not move. They were locked together, still bending over their patient. When Marco Rossi bobbed his head slightly in acknowledgement, Cheryl felt the movement stir her own body. Her heartbeat reacted instantly, but one look at his face shook it back into line. His expression was tense and inflexible.
‘If that’s the case, then hearing Vettor was sick must have given you a terrible shock,’ she said. ‘But the moment the doctor made his official diagnosis I rang your office number to give you the news. Vettor has scarlet fever. He’s being treated with antibiotics, which are already taking effect.’
‘Scarlet fever sounds serious.’ Marco turned his aristocratic face towards her. ‘Why isn’t he in hospital?’
His expression was like flint, and its effect on Cheryl was instant. He trapped her in his gaze and looked right into her soul. A warm glow began creeping up from her breasts and flushed her cheeks with colour.
‘The doctor said home was the best place for him,’ she said, desperately trying to keep her mind on track.
Marco Rossi might be scary, but he was gorgeous, too. It was amazing to be pressed up against him like this, with neither of them willing to give way. He sent shivers right through her.
‘I can see an improvement in him already, so there’s no need to move him now. Besides, where would you rather be if you weren’t feeling well, Signor Rossi? In an unfamiliar hospital ward, or safe at home with someone who cares about you, not just for you? This is the best place for Vettor,’ she added, half afraid her employer would wheel away with a snarl.
He didn’t. Instead, he went on staring at her with those piercing blue eyes. Eventually his lips twitched into a slow, teasing smile. Then he pulled straight out of her grasp, as though all her strength was nothing. Standing up straight, he confronted her, head on.
‘You English, with your manners and your stiff upper lips!’ He spread his hands wide to emphasise his point. ‘Let me tell you something, Cheryl—’
‘My name is Miss Lane, Signor Rossi.’
He raised one eyebrow in a gesture she wasn’t supposed to defy.
‘And my name is Marco, Cheryl. I don’t have time for airs and graces. That’s why I couldn’t care less if you don’t like the fact I haven’t been here for my nephew. Your opinion means nothing to me. But why don’t you just come straight out with your complaints, instead of tossing that lovely brown mane of hair and flashing those beautiful eyes?’
Cheryl had been about to answer back, but his last words disarmed her completely. All her nervous tension about Vettor, the storm, meeting her new employer dissolved, and she giggled. Actually giggled! She couldn’t help it. But what sort of dedicated professional did something like that? Horrified, she clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling the sound. As she stared round-eyed at Marco Rossi she could hear her whole career shattering around her, louder than the storm.
And then he smiled. It was a triumphant gesture, as though she had fulfilled all his expectations.
The effect on Cheryl was alarming. Feathers of feeling began rippling up and down her spine. She tingled in such an intimate way it scared her. To cover her confusion she started flouncing the bedclothes and bustling around her patient’s bed to neaten the far side.
‘I’m sorry to cut your visit short, Signor Rossi, but Vettor needs peace and quiet. I shall have to ask you to leave.’ While I’ve still got a sensible thought left in my head, she thought. Marco Rossi filled her mind and distracted her body. The silent strength of his tall figure stopped her looking at him as she spoke. She couldn’t trust herself not to fall into the magnetism of his eyes again.
‘Of course.’
That was a surprise. She had expected an argument. Despite all her good intentions, Cheryl looked up. He nodded in agreement with her. As he did so, the light in his eyes faded. Looking down, he swore softly, as though noticing the state of his sodden clothes for the first time.
‘You’re right. And I shall be no good to Vettor if I catch my death of cold,’ he announced. ‘Did all my day staff get away safely?’
Cheryl nodded. ‘They left at around 5:00 p.m. That was when the weather warnings started to get really serious.’
‘I don’t blame them. Storms are trapped here by that ridge of hills.’ He nodded towards the far side of the building, moving restlessly inside his wet suit. ‘I need to dry off and change into some clean clothes. My staff take care of all my domestic details, but with no one else about I’ll have to ask you a favour, Cheryl. I know it’s not in your job description, but could you have a look around and try to find where they keep the towels?’
Cheryl blushed. This was awkward. She was only one of dozens of people who worked for Marco Rossi. She had already glimpsed a side of him the others had never even hinted at. She had been glad—far too glad—of his gentle reassurance when alone and scared. Flinging herself into his arms had been the most delicious, daring thing she had ever done in her life. But all that had happened before she knew who he was. Now it was a case of an employer giving his wage-slave instructions. The change was painful.
Cheryl hoped he would forget the way she had mistaken him for an electrician in the entrance hall. That had been a terrible mistake, but she’d never underestimate him again. She would make sure of that. From now on she would treat Marco Rossi with respect. There was a barrier between them for all sorts of reasons. One short tour around his estate and house had convinced Cheryl the rumours in the media were true. He really must be one of the wealthiest men in the west. Anyone who had the self-confidence to take on a wreck like the Villa Monteolio would need barrowloads of cash to back it up. Which Marco Rossi obviously has, she thought.
She didn’t need to look at the quality of the brand-new handcrafted staircase, or the Olympic-sized pool being installed on the south terrace to know that Marco Rossi was obviously mega-rich…and right out of her league. Thank goodness he’s not really my sort, she told herself. So why had his almost perfect features long ago burned their way into her brain? Somehow Cheryl knew that even if she never saw Marco Rossi again, his face would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Uninvited, the memory of jostling against him over Vettor’s bed rose up to tease her. For a few glorious moments they had been locked together. The touch of Marco’s hands was all power. She had felt them twice now. Once in gentleness, once with determination. They were so unforgettable they fired her blushes all over again. Trying to calm her emotional turmoil, Cheryl thought back to Nick Challenger. He’d been her one and only boyfriend, and the relationship had been disastrous.
As a distraction, her memory worked far too well. Her heart froze. The smile died on her lips. She shivered, hugging her arms around her body. Not that they could give her any protection against a man like Marco Rossi! Nick was only half his size, and she still carried the scars. Marco would make a much more formidable enemy. She didn’t want to put him to any sort of test.
His shoulders were wide and powerful, and two metres was such an awkward height. She already had a crick in her neck from looking up to him.
