resting against her thigh and talking to him. Sometimes she could still hardly believe that she was once again living a life that was no longer controlled by strict regulations and ringing bells. Having spent hour after hour locked in a cell, she appreciated the freedom of physical activity. In prison the only exercise she’d had was pacing doggedly round the exercise yard. The open prison, of course, had not been as restrictive and there she had had access to a gym.
When her mobile phone rang she did not initially realise that it was hers and finally wrenched it out of her pocket, believing that it had to be one of her family as she answered it.
‘It’s Vito. I need your address. I want to speak to you.’
Surprise gripped Ava. She was already on her feet. She reluctantly gave her address, telling herself that it was foolish to be embarrassed about her humble accommodation. He would scarcely expect to find her inhabiting a penthouse apartment. As there wasn’t time to return Harvey to Marge’s and get back in time to meet Vito, she walked the dog back fast with her. Her mind was working even more actively than her feet.
Vito would want to tell her that the kiss had meant nothing. As if she didn’t know that! As if she hadn’t got old enough and wise enough yet to appreciate that workaholic billionaires of his calibre didn’t come on to the office junior, particularly not when she was a former offender, guilty of causing a tragic car crash that had cost his closest relative his life. Vito, she assumed, had succumbed to a lusty impulse as she had heard even the best of men did occasionally. Was that her fault? she asked herself anxiously. Had her shockingly physical awareness of Vito Barbieri somehow put out the vibes that had lured him into that kiss? It was a lowering suspicion and her chin came up. He had better not try to tell her that she had tempted him again!
A SLEEK silver limo with a driver was parked outside the building where Ava lived. As she hurried down the street lined with weathered and grimy brick-fronted houses Vito emerged from the back seat, looking every bit as immaculate in his dark cashmere overcoat and suit as he had earlier. Her hair was wind-tousled, her make-up long since worn off, and her shabby jeans and fleece jacket far from flattering but she told herself that she didn’t care. How could you even begin to impress a guy who had everything and dated international models and celebrities?
‘Ava …’
‘This is Harvey. Be nice,’ Ava urged as Harvey growled. ‘Show me your paw.’
Somewhat taken aback, Vito watched the hairy dog sit and raise a paw, round doggy eyes pinned to him with suspicion. ‘You have a pet?’
‘No, actually. Harvey’s a stray who needs a home. I’m not allowed to keep a dog here. I live on the third floor.’
‘This isn’t a good area for a woman living alone,’ Vito remarked following her up the stairs.
‘Did you think I hadn’t noticed?’ Ava asked, unlocking her door and stepping inside before bending down to free Harvey from his lead.
Disconcerted by that mocking reply, Vito watched the worn denim flex over her curvy derriere. The more he saw of the sleek elegant lines of her body, the more he liked it. His fingers curled into loose fists. ‘I don’t like to think of you living round here … although at least you have a watchdog.’
‘I can’t keep Harvey here overnight. I’ll have to take him back to Marge’s later.’
‘Who’s Marge?’
‘She runs a small boarding kennels and takes in strays. I worked there for a few months while I was in an open prison. I still help out when I can. She has a whole network of volunteers, who provide foster homes for strays and try to rehome them. The same people also make those dog cushions and the like to sell for funds,’ she explained.
Vito had already lost interest. As Harvey settled on the rug by the single bed Vito paced deeper into the small room to take a considering look at the shabby furniture and the severe lack of personal effects and comforts. The rug on the linoleum floor was the sole luxury. ‘I can’t believe your family are leaving you to live like this.’
‘Look, living here is a lot more comfortable and private than a hostel dormitory would be,’ Ava replied with spirit. ‘Would you like coffee?’
‘I’ve just had a meal. I’m fine,’ Vito responded with a polite nod, stationing himself by the dirty window. He noticed that his breath was misting in the air; there was no heating. He was appalled to find her living in such surroundings and no longer marvelled at the fact that she had been wearing second-hand shoes.
‘You can take your coat off—I promise not to steal it!’
‘It’s too cold in here.’
Ava crouched down to switch on the gas fire. She used it for an hour every evening to heat the room before she went to bed. She smiled to herself. Vito might be tough but he loved heat. If there was no sunlight he had to have a fire on. Olly used to tease him about it. At the thought her smile died away as quickly as it had come and she wondered if she would ever be in Vito’s company without remembering the awful loss she had inflicted on him.
‘You said you wanted to speak to me,’ she reminded him, turning to face him.
His eyes glittered like black diamonds in the light from the lamp by the bed. ‘I have a suggestion to put to you.’
Ava rested her head to one side, copper-red hair glinting like fire across her dark jacket, strands of honey gold lightening the overall effect.
‘You look like a robin when you do that.’
Ava didn’t want to be compared to a bird. Since when was a robin stylish or sexy? It was more of a perky, cheeky bird, she reasoned, and then flushed at the way her mind was working, seeking a compliment, approval, anything other than his indifference, that was her and it was pathetic at her age to still be so needy!
‘I want to hold the Christmas party again this year,’ Vito continued doggedly. ‘Well, I don’t really want to but I believe it’s time.’
‘You mean you haven’t had one … since?’ Ava completed, her voice cracking a little on that final emphatic word, which encompassed so much.
A haunted darkness filled Vito’s stunning eyes, revealing a clear glimpse of pain, and it tore up something inside her. ‘No, not for three years,’ he responded flatly.
‘OK …’ Recognising that further enquiry would be unwelcome, Ava strove to match his detached attitude and ram down the pained feelings swelling inside her that sometimes felt too big and powerful to hold in. ‘So?’ she prompted jerkily, wondering what the subject could possibly have to do with her.
‘I want you to organise it—the party, the decoration of the house, the whole festive parade,’ Vito extended, a sardonic look on his handsome face.
‘Me? You want me to organise it?’ Ava was incredulous at the idea, utterly filled with disbelief.
‘You and Olly always took care of it for me before,’ Vito reminded her, noting how very white she had become, the subject no easier for her than it was for him. ‘I want you to do it again, deal with the caterers and all the
