She was surprised at how often she bumped into Alessandro around the estate. He always smiled at her, and they often swapped a few words of polite, meaningless conversation. Michelle was intrigued. The Bartlett family and their other guests spent all their time indoors, bent over computer screens or mobile phones. Alessandro seemed to like fresh air as much as she did.
Once the ringing of his mobile phone joined the rustle of grasshoppers and the chirrup of birds echoing through the dusty landscape. Then it fell silent. It was only when Michelle went to fetch some water for the houseplants that she found out why. A state of the art PDA was lying in the bottom of the soft water tank. Pulling it out, she dried it off as best she could and rushed to find him. The red ‘do not disturb’ light was showing on the console beside the door of his suite, so she left the soggy device there without knocking. An hour later, Alessandro sought her out as she arranged flowers for the music room.
‘I have something for the trash.’ Taking her hand, he put the PDA in her palm and carefully closed her fingers around it. ‘They say I need a break. Now I’ve had a few days’ rest, I’m inclined to agree with them.’
All the time he was pressing her hand between both of his. It brought back memories of his touch gliding over her body as he’d searched for her keys. His grip was warm and reassuringly firm. In contrast to the grating tension in his voice when he’d arrived, his speech was now softer and lilting. He was so different from the hard-bitten workaholic she had been expecting that Michelle laughed out loud.
‘You can’t throw this away! It must have cost a fortune!’
‘Michelle, it will not work now it has got wet. It’s been nothing but a curse to me.’
Looking into the turbulence of his eyes, she could believe it. In that moment her heart went out to him. ‘Don’t worry, signor. I’ll take care of it.’ She smiled.
When he smiled back, it illuminated his face in a way that stopped Michelle’s heart. Alessandro Castiglione was gorgeous, and he was smiling at her…
Alessandro wasn’t someone to be tiptoed around, like her usual boss. He was much more approachable, but his reputation still haunted her, so she kept out of his way. All the same, every tiny sound made her glance up in case it was him. She found herself looking out for him all the time. When they passed in a corridor he’d smile at her. That simple gesture made up for the hours of worry she had endured before he arrived.
Michelle kept herself busy around the villa, which helped stop her daydreaming. But after work, when she got back to her silent apartment, her mind always went into overdrive. She’d relive every single moment of his arrival. The touch of his hands on her as he searched for her pocket. His firm grasp when he supported her as he opened the door… And, more than anything else, his beautiful dark eyes with their long, dense lashes. She tried to distract herself by getting out paper and pencils and sketching. But although she sat outside, intending to draw the garden, her pencil kept trying to catch Alessandro’s likeness instead.
One evening, strangely dissatisfied, she decided on an early night. Sleep was impossible. The memory of him filled her off-duty hours as easily as he touched every moment of her working day.
It was long after midnight before she gave up trying to get to sleep. Staggering blearily into the studio house’s kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea. Comfort eating was the only way to distract herself from thoughts of her delicious employer—or at least push him to the back of her mind—so, grabbing a packet of biscuits, she headed back to her bedroom. One look at the tangled bedclothes was enough to put her off. She decided to take her guilty pleasure out onto the veranda.
Unlocking the studio’s French doors, she opened them wide. The night air was still, and fragrant with flowers. Stepping out into the dusky garden was like the first welcome of a deliciously cool swimming pool. She shivered at the thrill. It was a perfect night with no moon; every star was visible above the darkness of the estate.
‘Buona sera, Michelle.’ Alessandro’s voice came to her, soft and low through the dusk.
She whirled around. He was leaning back lazily on the swing-seat outside her apartment, a glass in his hand. Immediately she tried to cover herself with her hands, conscious that the sliver of satin and lace she was wearing was hardly decent enough to wear in front of a guest—especially this guest!
‘Would you like to join me for a drink, Michelle?’ He picked up a bottle of wine from the table beside him and filled his glass. Holding it out to her, he watched her hesitant approach with a smile.
‘Me?’ she breathed.
‘I don’t see anyone else around.’
‘But—but I can’t! I’m not dressed…’
‘You look fine to me.’ His smile flashed very white in the soft glow filtering through the studio’s curtains. ‘I couldn’t sleep, and came out looking for some fresh air. Was there ever a country estate with fewer places to sit? Don’t the Bartletts use this place?’
Michelle shook her head. ‘They prefer their computers. Guests are sometimes shown around before dinner, but apart from that I’ve usually got the gardens to myself.’
He chuckled. It was a soft, intimate sound, perfectly in tune with the warm dusk. ‘I never expected you to venture out here after dark. You seem so quiet and reserved.’
‘I love it out here, and it’s perfectly safe.’
‘That’s not surprising. The security lights around the villa are triggered by every step. When I was walking on the terrace I felt as though I was in a Broadway production. I wanted somewhere relaxing.’
He was wearing an open-necked shirt, as perfectly white as the one he had arrived in. It shone like nicotiana flowers against the gloom, but the fragrance of him was altogether more sexy. It combined male musk with an elusive cologne that was expensively discreet. Michelle’s fingers clenched on the condensation-frosted glass in her hand. It wasn’t enough to cool her thoughts.
She took a sip of her drink and coughed, not accustomed to the champagne bubbles.
‘Champagne is my secret vice.’ He chuckled, and as they sat back the atmosphere relaxed. ‘I met the gardener this afternoon. He’s very proud of the estate’s strawberries. When they didn’t appear on the menu this evening, I engaged in a little private enterprise and picked some for myself. Can you think of any better way to make the best of a sleepless night?’
Michelle shook her head. Her eyes were becoming more accustomed to the dark. Now she could see there was a dish on the table, too. He took a few berries from it and dropped them into her glass of champagne. Each one made a loud plop and an indulgent fizz in the stillness.
‘The perfect finishing touch,’ he murmured, watching her.
As she raised the slender glass to her lips she wrinkled her nose with pleasure at the rich aroma of ripe fruit and vintage wine. He smiled. Women were one of his greatest pleasures, but Miss Michelle Spicer was unlike any girl he had met before. She was as refreshing as a glass of ice-cold Vernaccia. He watched her, and knew that drinking champagne must be a rarity for her, from the way that half-smile danced across her face each time she took a sip.
She had completely forgotten the low cut of her nightdress, and the way its bias-cut satin clung to the rise of her breasts. Only a woman who spent too much time studying
