Glancing around, she came to a decision. The garden wasn’t overlooked. Working in her underwear was no worse than wearing a bikini, and she had worked in one of those often enough at home. The door into her sanctuary was locked. No one would see. If she was careful to avoid getting sunburned, no one would ever know.
Impulsively, she tore off her outer clothes and went back to work. When the sun parched her skin too fiercely, she dodged back into the shade and enjoyed a drink of pool-cooled water from her bottle. She was straightening up to assess how the outline was developing when a frighteningly familiar voice almost sent her into orbit.
‘Is this how all English gardeners dress, Megan?’
Meg whirled around and her heart stood still. It was Gianni: the real one, not the exhausted version who had tried to send her away the day before. Today he looked every inch as seductive as he had done at the Chelsea Flower Show. That alarmed her as much as his anger had done.
‘What are you doing here?’ she burst out, her hands trying ineffectually to cover all the bits her scanty underwear was failing to hide.
He nodded towards the villa. ‘I live here, remember?’
Meg was caught completely off guard. ‘I’m sorry—how could I possibly forget?’ She gasped. A blush was no defence against him. He continued looking at her with undisguised interest.
‘You certainly seemed to have done.’
‘I never dreamed anyone would disturb me in here. The door was locked. I have the only key. How did you get in?’ she blustered, embarrassment mixed up with growing anger.
One hand in his pocket, Gianni strolled over to the old medlar tree where Meg had hung her hat and shirt. Plucking them from the branches like particularly desirable fruit, he made his way over to her. He took his time. It was painfully obvious to Meg that he was making her wait for her clothes. She wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with. As soon as he got close enough she snatched her things from his hands and pulled them on. He watched with something close to amusement. Then he drew a second key from his pocket with a flourish.
‘As I said—I live here. I have a copy of every key in the place.’
Barefoot but otherwise decent, Meg rallied.
‘That doesn’t explain why you felt the need to come in here.’
‘It wasn’t a need. It was a want. I wanted to see you, Megan.’
There was a haunting look in his dark eyes. It was so delicious she could hardly meet his gaze. Nervous that he might be able to read all sorts of things from her own expression, she looked down at the coarse wiry grass at her feet. All sorts of hope were beginning to stir deep within her, but there was only one she could put into words.
‘I hope you’re feeling better, Count.’
His smile widened, bright as pearl against the golden warmth of his skin. ‘Yes, I am—but call me Gianni, please.’
Meg’s heart did a little skip—until she realised he probably gave that bonus to all his staff.
‘Part of the reason I came out here was to thank you,’ he went on. ‘You were right. I was overtired when you arrived. All I’ve done since then is sleep—and enjoy an excellent late lunch.’
‘That’s good,’ Meg said with genuine relief.
‘Afterwards I went down to the kitchens, where they told me that the meal I so enjoyed was your idea. What made you challenge Cook?’
She looked up quickly to find out exactly how much trouble she was in. In response Gianni smiled, raising his eyebrows in silent approval. It was an expression that made her shiver, despite the heat.
‘You looked so distracted. I knew eating would be way down on your list of priorities. When I saw steak on today’s menu I thought it sounded far too heavy for this weather. I decided to cater for myself, and guessed you might like something light and familiar too. I’d already discovered from chatting with the other staff that you attended boarding school in England. It just so happens my aunt is now Head Chef at the same place. I rang and asked her what dishes would be most popular at your old school on a day like today.’
Meg didn’t add that everyone loved comfort food in times of trouble, but could see he knew that already. The softening around his eyes proved it to her.
‘That shows real initiative, Megan,’ he said with conviction. ‘Especially in view of what happened when you suggested it to my cook. I’ve come straight from the kitchens. As soon as she has finished the larder inventory, she’ll be coming out to apologise to you for the things she said.’
Meg blinked at him. An apology was the very last thing she expected, in the circumstances.
‘Pardon?’
‘The staff said she tried to pull rank, but you stood your ground. Well done. You’re the first member of staff who’s done that to her.’
‘Are you saying you don’t mind?’ Meg said warily. People grand enough to employ gardeners never usually bothered to praise their staff.
‘I’m delighted, Megan.’ His voice lilted slowly over her name, trying it out for size.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ She asked uncertainly. ‘I mean, I hadn’t been here for more than two minutes before picking a blazing row with your cook. She’s an old family faithful; I’m the new arrival—and you’re taking my side?’
Gianni searched her face, mystified that she seemed incapable of taking in what he had said. ‘But of course. It’s the only stance to take. She was wrong, you were right. One of my first duties as the new 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
