count was going to be to go through all the menus. You got there before me, that’s all.’ He saw her face flush deeply. Instantly concerned, he reached out to her. His strong brown hands grasped her elbows to give support. ‘Megan? What’s the matter? It must be the sun. Here—I’ll help you to a seat.’
She looked down at his fingers. They slid over her skin and closed around her with exactly the same relish she had conjured up in all her fantasies. It was wonderful.
‘There’s no need…I’m fine.’ She gasped, barely able to raise her voice above a whisper. The sheer delight of feeling his touch was breathtaking. ‘I’ve just had a bit of a surprise, that’s all. I—I thought the only men who weren’t afraid of cooks were head gardeners,’ she improvised quickly.
Gianni let go of her, offended. ‘I make the rules here. All of them. And that includes whether or not we employ a female head gardener,’ he finished with slow, devastating meaning.
Meg was alert immediately. ‘What do you mean?’
She bounced the question straight at him, but could see he wasn’t fooled for a minute. Gianni wouldn’t be taking any chances with her. Anyone who could put a cook on the back foot as she had done would need to be watched carefully.
He looked down at her for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary before giving her a meaningful shrug.
‘That rather depends.’
‘Thank goodness for that, as my original title was Curator of Exotic Plants. I’m no Head Gardener—though I’m more than qualified to do it,’ she added quickly, ‘But when I saw how things were here, I knew the staff wouldn’t take kindly to a newcomer’s suggestions so I took a chance and borrowed the title for a minute. The whole kitchen staff fell for it.’ She finished with a nervous little laugh.
To her amazement Gianni’s devastating smile burst into life, but he was careful to quash it almost straight away.
‘That’s what I call insight. A girl who shows insight and initiative? You’ll go far, ragazza insolente!’
Tiny muscles quivered all around his lips. Meg could see he was trying not to laugh. What made it worse was that he knew she knew. It wasn’t the sort of position she wanted to put her new boss in. Especially when that boss was Gianni Bellini, a man guaranteed to have any girl he wanted.
Dutifully, she looked down at the grass again to hide her own smile, but wasn’t about to stifle her ambition.
‘I already have, signor,’ she said, careful to hide any hint of humour. ‘I graduated top of my intake, I saved my parents’ business from ruin, then I landed the top job here. And I haven’t finished yet.’
‘I’m beginning to realise that,’ he said quietly. ‘So, Miss Curator of Exotic Plants—what are your plans for my new garden?’
Meg sensed he was trying to lighten the tone. Despite the twinkle in his eyes, she decided to tread carefully until she was certain where she stood with him.
‘I’m here to implement the old count’s plans, not my own,’ she said carefully. ‘At the moment, his collection of tropical plants is restricted to that old lemon house at the far end of the kitchen garden. They were all going to be moved and the collection expanded into this new glasshouse range as soon as it was finished.’
She began walking off toward a long, low building set against a distant wall. Gianni did not follow her immediately. When he did, he lingered a few steps behind.
‘Am I walking too fast for you, Gianni?’
‘Not at all,’ he said airily. ‘It’s a beautiful day, and I have a beautiful view. Why hurry?’
She looked back over her shoulder and realised what he was watching.
‘Signor!’
‘I’ve told you before—my name is Gianni.’
‘Not when you’re looking at my bottom like that, it isn’t,’ Meg said, desperately reminding herself how many plants he had bought from her stand at the Chelsea Flower Show. He had done it to keep all the women in his life happy. She had no intention of becoming one among many. Even though her limbs turned to water whenever he looked at her in that deep, meaningful way…
The original lemon house had been built with an open front. Later on, its graceful stone arches had been glazed to create a greenhouse. Meg opened the door on its riot of damp, lush leaves and exotic flowers.
‘Isn’t this wonderful?’ She took in a leisurely lungful of the warm, moist air. It was rich with the fragrance of bark and tropical flowers.
‘As a twenty-first century woman, I hope you’re being ironic,’ Gianni observed drily, following her into the building. ‘Keeping these plants in luxury must cost the earth, both in money and resources. Air conditioning isn’t in vogue, Megan—especially for flowers,’ he finished severely.
‘Oh, I know it’s extravagant and old fashioned.’ Meg ran her hand lovingly over one of the crumbling stone pillars. ‘That’s why the count wanted me to build him a dedicated range of greenhouses, to give his plants ideal growing conditions. That means computer-controlled atmospheres. He wanted to include the latest equipment and ideas, so that everything will be perfect. He intended his estate to be a showcase. His idea was that this part of the Val di Castelfino should become an extra special tourist attraction, and an example of best practice.’
‘How does this steam-filled white elephant qualify?’ Gianni was haughty. ‘Had my father never heard of climate change? I’m surprised someone as well qualified as you didn’t put him right, Megan. My father always lived in the past. An educated woman like you must be well briefed in all the drawbacks.’
Meg knew it wasn’t her place to comment, but a point of honour was at stake. She tried to pin a bold stare on him, but it was difficult when he could out-stare her so easily. ‘You don’t seem impressed by my qualifications, signor.’
Though outwardly calm, she was trembling too much to say any more. His penetrating gaze made her too light headed for words. Instead she raised her eyebrows, simply inviting more comment.
‘In my experience, the more exam success someone has, the less likely they are to get their hands dirty. I’d rather someone had worked their way to the top of the tree, in the same way I’ve done.’
‘With no help from your family name, your position in life or your father?’
There was an ironic lilt in Meg’s voice. She regretted it instantly, but Gianni hardly seemed to notice.
‘Exactly!’ He dropped one hand onto the greenhouse staging with a resounding thump. ‘The Castelfino vineyard is my baby, from conception right through to international prize-winning status. I’ve earned every penny—there’s no job on the land I’m not happy to do myself, and I’ve never had a cent from my father. As you must know,’ he finished gruffly.
‘I never discussed you with the late count, Gianni. I had no idea you were related to him until a few hours ago, remember.’
His eyes narrowed into channels of suspicion. ‘You mean to say he never complained to you about the way I only wanted money spent on cost-effective
