wasn’t late when the bus deposited her at the terminal. But it had been a fairly strenuous day, and she was unwillingly aware that she was feeling the effects of doing too much, too soon. She wasn’t used to the heat, or to so much activity, and the next day she intended to take her own advice and do nothing at all.
Deciding she needed a drink before tackling the walk up to the villa, she entered the nearby gelateria and ordered an ice-cream soda. Italian ice cream was so delicious, as she’d discovered the previous day, and served with fresh lemonade it made a really delightful drink.
She took a table in the window instead of sitting outside, glad of the comparative coolness out of the sun. Happily the spreading awning protected the window, and she set her drink down in front of her and sucked greedily at the straw.
And that was when she saw him. He was sitting behind the wheel of a sleek, dark green convertible that was parked across the narrow street, and if it hadn’t been so incredible she’d have said he was staring straight at her.
But he couldn’t be.
Nevertheless, Grace’s eyes went wide with a mixture of confusion and dismay, and she drew back abruptly so that the straw left her mouth. But her lips were still parted, her pink tongue unknowingly provocative as it explored the corners of her mouth. Oh, God, she thought weakly, what was he doing here?
She wished she’d taken any table but this one now. She felt so exposed; so obvious. But the idea of getting up and moving back into the shadows on the off chance that he might have seen her was ludicrous. He didn’t intimidate her. Or, if he did, he must never become aware of it
Dumping her tote bag on the chair beside her, she determinedly clamped both hands about her glass and resumed drinking. The coldness of the drink was invigorating, the chilled condensation on the glass a boon to her moist palms. He’d go away soon, she told herself, deliberately not looking in his direction. He’d said he was coming to Portofalco, and he had. Her seeing him now was just a coincidence. She was tired, that was all. That was why she felt so threatened by his presence.
But he didn’t go away. She drank as much of the lemonade as she could before glancing in his direction again, but he was still there. She thought of ordering another soda, but it would have looked odd when there was still some left in the glass she had. She had no choice but to leave the ice-cream parlour. She just wished for once that she could fade into the crowd.
She had crossed the street and started up the steep slope of the Via Cortese when she heard the car behind her. She knew it was his car. The engine was purring gently at the moment, but there was still an underlying deep-throated roar that spoke of the power that was presently being controlled. Much like the man himself, thought Grace, with a reluctant twinge of irony. She doubted he’d appreciated being put down by a foreigner.
She wished she could quicken her step, but apart from anything else the incline didn’t encourage reckless gestures like that. Particularly not in her present condition. Besides, however fast she walked, he could always overtake her. So, instead of pretending she hadn’t noticed him, she chose a place that was practically smothered with scarlet bougainvillaea, and leaned back against the wall to wait for him.
At least she’d surprised him, she thought as he brought the powerful car to a halt a few yards down from where she was standing. But that didn’t prevent an instinctive tightening in her stomach when he opened his door and got out, or suppress the quiver of apprehension she felt as he climbed the hill towards her.
It annoyed her that she should feel any kind of reaction towards him. He was just another man, after all, and she was usually perfectly capable of dealing with them. But, despite the harshness of his dark features, he was undeniably sexy, and, although his black jeans and matching tee shirt were quite ordinary, on his lean, muscled body they acquired a sensual appeal.
‘So,’ he said, propping his hips against the wall beside her. ‘Did you need a rest?’
Grace’s lips tightened. Beyond his relaxed form she could see the busy waterfront and the blue waters of the bay. She doubted there could be a more perfect spot for a rendezvous, the lengthening shadows redolent with the perfume of the flowers. But this was not a rendezvous, she thought irritably. It wasn’t even a meeting she had arranged.
‘Why are you following me?’ she asked, determined not to lose the initiative, but whatever advantage she’d thought she had was quickly disposed of.
‘You looked tired,’ he said lazily, the sidelong glance he gave her spiked with malice. ‘Perhaps I felt sorry for you. It’s a long walk back to the villa.’
Grace’s hand tightened round the strap of her tote bag, her nails digging painfully into her palms. ‘How kind,’ she said, refusing to let him see that his words had in any way affected her. ‘But I’m sure a man of your—importance has better things to do.’
‘Straight to the point, as always,’ he remarked, pressing his palms down on the warm stones at either side of him. ‘Did you enjoy your trip to Viareggio?’
‘How did you—?’ Grace began to ask the obvious question and then broke off abruptly. He had evidently seen her get off the bus, and if he was familiar with the timetable he would know which bus it was. She took a deep breath. ‘Very much, thank you.’
He straightened then, and for a taut moment she thought he was going to touch her. But all he did was push his fingers into the back pockets of his jeans, arching his back reflexively, before turning to face her.
His eyes swept over her, from the top of her bare head—she had stowed her hat in her tote earlier—to the toes of her scuffed trainers and all points in between. Then he said, ‘Come on,’ when her cheeks were pink and she was intensely conscious of her sunburned knees and the untidiness of her braid. ‘Get in the car. I’ll give you a lift.’
Grace took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want a lift.’
‘Yes, you do.’ He glanced about him dispassionately. ‘Come along. I’m parked in a no-waiting area. You wouldn’t want me to have to pay a fine, would you?’
Grace tilted her head. ‘I couldn’t care less,’ she answered, and his mouth compressed with impatience.
‘What is your problem?’ he demanded. ‘Did I bruise that fragile ego of yours? It’s no sin to admit you need a rest.’
‘I didn’t need a rest,’ said Grace, clenching her teeth, but she could tell by his expression that he didn’t believe her. For God’s sake, she wished she’d kept on walking. She’d have been almost at the villa by now.
‘As you say,’ he declared dismissively. ‘But I still insist that you get into the car. Now, do you want to do it without my assistance, or would you rather I picked you up and slung you in myself?’
Grace’s jaw dropped. No man had ever threatened to pick her up before. With her height, and not entirely sylphlike form, she had always been too daunting a prospect, and she stared at him as if she didn’t believe a word he said.
‘It’s not necessary,’ she said at last, annoyed to find that he had disturbed her. Not in a sexual way, she assured herself, but there was no doubt that he’d made her look at him in a different light.
‘But practical,’ he pointed out reasonably. His lips twisted. ‘Do you want Julia to think that you don’t trust me?’
Grace
