of apologising. Roman was the sort of man who equated apology with weakness. She had a perfect right to take a job without consulting him and she would make that quite clear.
As they reached the rise in the drive she leaned forward, looking through the windscreen anticipating seeing a house, but the drive just stretched on bounded either side by parkland grazed by sheep and a few cattle. ‘Are we here?’
‘Next bend you’ll see it.’
Izzy sat up straighter in her seat, holding on to the door as the four-wheel drive negotiated a wooden bridge. ‘Does all this land belong to the house? Oh, my goodness!’
‘Sì, it is a bit of a dump,’ came the dour response to her amazed gasp.
Izzy couldn’t decide from his expression if he was joking or not because the dump he spoke of was an enormous golden-stoned mansion.
Izzy took a deep breath. ‘It’s beautiful.’ Actually beautiful did not do the building justice; it was stunning, with mullioned windows and mellow golden stone—totally breathtaking!
Gennaro brought the car to a halt on the gravelled area in front of the house. ‘The boss said—’
‘Where is …?’ Gennaro pulled open his door and she raised her voice, adding, ‘When will I be meeting him and his wife?’
It was fine by her if the elusive clients did not want to be hands-on, but, as she had told Layla, it was essential that she at least meet them. Her job was not about ticking off a list of requirements or filling a place with the current fashionable must haves; a home had to reflect a person’s personality.
‘The boss isn’t married—’
Izzy frowned as the man crunched around to her side. ‘But I thought …’ She accepted the hand he offered as she jumped down.
‘And I’d say you’re about to meet him.’ In response to Izzy’s questioning frown, he nodded his head to a point behind her. ‘Here he is now. Don’t worry about the baby. I’ll get her out.’
Izzy turned around to face the direction the burly Italian indicated in time to see a tall, lithe figure vaulting over the six-bar gate that kept the sheep from straying into the garden.
‘Oh, my God!’ Izzy felt as if a giant hand had pushed into her chest and for several heart-thudding moments she literally couldn’t breathe. How do I get out of here?
Roman, seemingly oblivious to her state of near collapse, walked straight up to the older man, who nodded and removed his shades. ‘Any problems, Gennaro?’
‘No, boss, the train was actually on time.’ Gennaro unfastened the baby seat complete with baby and lifted it out.
‘I’ll take that.’
Izzy watched, too stunned to protest, as Roman took hold of the baby carrier.
‘Should I take the bags up?’
‘If you would. Oh, and could you ask Mrs Saunders to send some coffee through to the library, and maybe some sandwiches? Then I won’t be needing either of you until tomorrow.’
Gennaro nodded his thanks at Roman and tacked something on the end of his conversation in Italian that made Roman laugh.
Izzy wasn’t laughing.
She wasn’t even capable of acknowledging Gennaro’s nod as, with a case under each arm, he walked up the shallow flight of steps towards the open front door.
‘Good trip, Isabel?’
He spoke as though this was a prearranged meeting, which of course it was—only she hadn’t been kept in the loop. She had stepped right into the trap he’d so cleverly baited. He knew exactly what her weakness was; she’d told him about her guilt at being a stay-at-home mum even if she could afford it financially. And he had sown the seeds of doubt when he had suggested that it might not be so easy to step back into the job market after a lengthy break. This was the set-up to end all set-ups!
Why hadn’t she seen it coming? The too-good-to-be-true offer … why hadn’t she smelt a rat?
Possibly because she wasn’t twisted and sneaky. She wanted to laugh or throw something at him or both. Instead she stood like a rabbit caught in the headlights, thinking, Any moment now I’ll wake up and realise this was all a dream—a nightmare.
‘So what do you think?’ he asked, gesturing towards the building behind them, but looking at Izzy.
She shivered at his voice. The dictionary would sound like an indecent proposal when read in that deep, husky, dangerously seductive timbre.
‘This is your house.’
‘I knew you’d get there eventually, cara.’ He watched the two spots of angry colour appear on her smooth cheeks. ‘So, what’s your opinion … professionally speaking? Does it have potential?’
‘Professionally?’ she echoed, thinking very unprofessional thoughts as she fixed him with a murderous glare. Just how long was he going to insult her by pretending this job offer was anything but an elaborate hoax?
‘I realise it’s all subjective, but do you like the place? Could you see yourself—?’
‘I can see myself pushing you off a cliff!’
She sucked in a deep breath, causing Roman’s glance to drop. Having a baby changed a woman’s body and though Izzy was lighter and more fragile-looking than he recalled, her breasts were definitely fuller. His eyes darkened as he remembered how one had fitted perfectly in the palm of his hand. Now they would overflow, the soft, silky, milk-pale flesh … He took a deep breath and pushed away the tactile image, but not before his body had hardened helplessly.
His sculpted lips twisted in a smile of self-mockery. For some reason around this woman his normal iron self-control took a holiday. What was it about her? It wasn’t as if she were overtly sexual. She had a great body, as he knew only too well, but she didn’t flaunt it. Look at the way she was dressed today, the shirt buttoned up to the neck, baggy creased trousers, and not a scrap of make-up. It was something elusive and intangible about her that, like smoke, defied his attempts to pin it down, control it.
As he scanned her tense features he wondered why he looked at her and saw something different from everyone else … How many times at that damned wedding had he heard her referred to as serene?
She had not been serene that night they had spent together. He saw an image of her sitting astride him, her smooth thighs locked tight around his hips, her head thrown back and the sheen of sweat making her pale skin glisten in the darkness. She didn’t look serene right now either; she looked like an exhausted young mother who had just received a nasty shock.
A beautiful but exhausted young mother. It would take more than lines of exhaustion bracketing her soft full mouth and dark shadows under her stunning blue eyes to diminish her looks.
He was in part at least responsible for putting the shadows there, he thought, and pushed away the stab of unaccustomed guilt. This was a situation that needed resolving. He had already missed out on the first precious months of his daughter’s life and he was not going to miss out on the next while they bargained
