a lightweight—if you know what I mean.’
Her glance flicked around the palatial surroundings of her suite. She hoped he wouldn’t take her words personally. Seeing all the brand new luxury decorating the age-old splendour of the Castello Sirena, Josie decided she was going to like staying here, despite its attractively distracting Count.
‘I most certainly do know. I get plenty of gold diggers prospecting around me,’ he said grimly.
Josie laughed. ‘The only digging I’m interested in is the historical sort. So if you’ve got any ancestral skeletons hidden in your wardrobe, I’m the one to find out where their bodies are buried. Your dark secrets are your own affair, though!’
She was still glancing idly around the room as she spoke. When he didn’t reply, she looked back at him quizzically. For a second, there was such a depth of feeling in his irresistible dark eyes that not even Dario could hide it. The instant she trapped his gaze, the look vanished. His expression was left as bland as any first-time house guest could wish for, but Josie wasn’t fooled for a second.
In that instant she had seen a genuine reaction from a man who must be as used to putting on a public face as she was. Somehow, Josie knew, she had touched Dario di Sirena on a raw nerve. The man was hiding something. She had no idea what it was, or what she had done to provoke him.
All she knew was that she would have to be on the alert from that moment on.
Dario rarely allowed himself to be anything but alert. He had been born an aristocrat, and now fell back on the full force of his upbringing. He kissed her hand again and covered his momentary lapse with his most charming smile, which usually distracted even the most stubborn woman. Except … it didn’t have that effect on Dr Josie Street. Right now her green eyes were as bright and hard as emeralds, and her long silky lashes could do nothing to soften her curious, intelligent gaze. For a moment, she’d forgotten to be shy. Then a lock of hair dared to escape from the band that was holding her severe ponytail in place and she snatched back her hand. The wayward strand was scraped irritably behind her ear and she turned her back on him to fuss with her suitcases.
Dario chose to take the hint. ‘Goodbye, Josie. I hope you enjoy your stay here.’
‘I’m sure I shall, Dario. Especially when Toni and Fabio get back here next week.’
‘You could still join them both in Rimini now, if you like.’ Dario lifted his tennis racket again and began idly spinning it over his palm. ‘I could arrange transport for you right away.’ For some reason, the thought of Josie and her all-too-perceptive gaze staying here for the week made him uneasy.
‘No, thank you.’ She glanced over her shoulder at him with a glint of green ice. ‘As I said before, I’d rather work here than gossip with the beautiful people of Rimini.’
He raised his eyebrows again. ‘It’s a rare woman who would choose that.’
‘Not rare, just honest,’ she countered.
Dario tipped his head in salute. ‘That quality is in short supply in the circles I move in. I can see why you would have difficulty fitting in.’
She shrugged. ‘Research demands honesty, and it gets to be a habit. That’s all.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Dario said as he left, wondering what it would take to make Dr Josephine Street loosen up.
Josie couldn’t wait to plunge out into the estate and start exploring. She unpacked as fast as she could, intending to get busy straight away, but her suite was as distracting as Count Dario di Sirena himself. It seemed odd to hang up her cheap white T-shirts on beautiful hand-made padded hangers filled with lavender. The marble wet room that was part of her en suite bathroom was an irresistible temptation as the sun climbed higher outside. Tearing off her shoes and tights, she padded around in it barefoot for a while.
By the time she had changed and finished exploring the three floors of her hideaway in the tower, Dario’s other guests were in a holding pattern down in the courtyard. Watching all those chauffeur-driven limousines and prestige sports cars jockeying for position was an entertainment in itself. Josie spent much more time than she meant to with her elbows on her windowsill, staring down at the magnificent procession.
It was only when the Count himself came into view that she dodged back from the window. She moved as though she had been burned, not wanting Dario to think that her claim to be busy was just empty waffle.
Work first, play later, she kept reminding herself, although, for her, later never quite seemed to arrive.
Antonia was always joking that no one would ever catch Josie idling. Josie wasn’t sure she liked what that said about her, but she really did have a lot of work that had to be done before the new academic year started.
Italy and its history had fascinated Josie since she was a child. Pottering about in her back garden, she was always unearthing things and taking them in to school. One piece had turned out to be a broken Roman brooch, lost by a woman over two thousand years ago. That single piece, and an inspirational teacher, had really fired Josie’s imagination. Now, twenty years later, she was here in the land of the Romans preparing to inspire others, allowed to design a whole new course! She was acutely conscious of her luck, and grateful for the sacrifices her mother had made. The downside was the extra pressure she felt to make the best of all her chances.
That was why watching Dario walk across the courtyard was bound to disrupt her plans. Something about him drew her back to the window again like a flower to sunlight. He had swapped his tennis kit for taupe jodhpurs, a white shirt and a pair of highly polished riding boots. The pale clothes showed off his exotic colouring perfectly. Josie could hardly believe her luck. Hard work had brought her here to Italy, and now she was staring down at a drop-dead gorgeous guy from a tower that would have made Rapunzel sick with envy. Dario strolled across the forecourt, heading for the shade of the lime avenue like an emperor inspecting his lands. His leisurely strides were deceptive. They ate up the distance so quickly that soon the canopy of lush green leaves would hide him from view.
Then Count Dario di Sirena stopped, turned and looked quite deliberately straight up at where Josie was watching him from her window. She was transfixed. Something made her raise her right hand to wave, but another impulse snapped it straight back down to her side. She could imagine how her mother would sigh if she knew about this little tableau. Mrs Street would go all misty-eyed and lose herself again in the story of how she had met Josie’s father. Josie hated that. Her mother was the sad proof of how easy it was to misjudge a man, and it always dragged her own personal error of judgement out into the light again.
Dario continued to look up at her thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded a salute and turned to disappear into the trees. In a burst of embarrassment, Josie ducked away from the window and scrabbled around to find her notebooks and camera. This was a working trip, with a lot to do and not much time in which to do it. She had to build her reputation as a serious academic. Gawping at Dario di Sirena wouldn’t help that at all! Packing her things into a messenger bag, she slung it over her shoulder and headed down to the castle’s entrance hall.
Once out in the sunshine again with a map provided by the resident housekeeper, Josie was careful to turn her back on the lime avenue. She set off in an entirely different direction from Dario, in case he got the impression she was following him. Heading out to the far side of the estate, she passed through shady groves of ancient olive trees and fragrant citrus, soaking up the sun. She wanted to reach the point where the di Sirena estate’s grand gated drive met the twisting country road that idled past on its way to Florence.
