against his chest and let it go.
He had damn near kissed Lucy on the dance floor, Lorenzo realised with a sense of shock, but she had given him plenty of provocation. Her sexy little body had moved against his with a sensuality that instantly aroused him. The scent of her, fresh and light, had filled his nostrils, and the soft silken smoothness of her skin beneath his palm, the gentle brush of her glorious hair against his hand on her back as they danced, had been a constant caress. Then she’d licked her lips, and he had been in imminent danger of embarrassing himself and her in front of everyone. He needed to get her alone.
Taking a step back, but keeping an arm lightly around her waist, he quipped, ‘I think you deliberately hide your light under a bushel, Lucy—you have great rhythm.’ And he was supremely confident he could induce her into being even more rhythmic in bed. Her fabulous body was made for sex. Looking down into the slightly dazed eyes of the woman curved in the crook of his arm, he added, ‘But now I think a glass of champagne and some fresh air is needed.’
‘Lorenzo?’
He heard his name called, but ignoring it, he attempted to steer Lucy away.
She looked over his shoulder. ‘I think the man at the table behind you is trying to get your attention … ‘ she said, and he silently groaned.
‘Come have a drink with us, Lorenzo!’ the accented voice demanded.
LORENZO recognised the voice, and good manners dictated it was a request he could not ignore. With his hand on Lucy’s waist, he reluctantly turned.
A moment later Lucy, with Lorenzo’s arm still around her waist and a glass of champagne in her hand, was being introduced to Aldo Lanza, the bridegroom’s uncle from Italy, his wife Teresa, their two sons and their wives, and four grandchildren.
‘Trust Lorenzo to grab the beautiful bridesmaid before anyone else had a chance,’ Aldo said as he kissed Lucy’s hand. Casting a knowing glance at the man holding her, he added, ‘Don’t be fooled by his easy charm—he can be a hard devil when you get to know him.’ And he winked.
‘I already gathered that,’ Lucy said with a grin, enjoying Aldo’s easy banter and putting her glass down on the table. ‘We have met before.’
‘Ah—you have visited Verona, perhaps? A beautiful city, no?’
‘Yes, I have, and the architecture is stunning. The arena is amazing, too, but I did not have much time to look around as I was there on business.’
‘Beautiful and clever. What line of business are you in?’ he asked.
‘Enough questions, Aldo,’ Lorenzo interrupted. ‘I’m sure Lucy does not want to discuss business at a wedding.’ He had introduced Lucy without mentioning her surname, thinking the less Aldo knew the better—because his wife Teresa was the biggest gossip in Verona.
‘No, really—I don’t mind,’ Lucy said swiftly. The arrogance of Lorenzo speaking on her behalf had touched a nerve. Her father and brother, much as she had loved them, had had a habit of doing the same. Which was partly the reason she had decided to move to Cornwall after her father’s death, although Damien had been nothing but encouraging about her setting up her own business in Looe.
‘I own an art and craft gallery here in the town. But I specialise in painting portraits, and was in Verona to deliver a completed commission to my client—a charming Italian lady. You may know her—the Contessa della Scala? In fact, I met Lorenzo in the foyer of her apartment block,’ she said, giving Lorenzo a saccharine-sweet smile, reminding him he was not always as invincible as he thought.
Lorenzo’s dark eyes narrowed angrily on her mocking green. It was the worst thing she could have said, given his recent appearance in the gossip columns. The Lanzas knew Olivia Paglia had an apartment in the same building.
Suddenly Lucy was aware of a pause in the conversation, and she wondered if she had gone too far. Then Aldo said something in Italian to his wife, and Teresa frowned. Looking at Lorenzo, she spoke equally swiftly.
Lucy looked on in amazement as the conversation became animated between the three, with much waving of hands. She barely caught a sentence, but was enthralled by Lorenzo’s deep husky voice—and then she heard Aldo repeat the words ‘Contessa della Scala’ and all eyes turned on her.
‘You know the Contessa della Scala well? ‘ Teresa asked in English.
‘I wouldn’t say well, but I have met her couple of times and spoken to her on the phone. She is a lovely lady, and a delight to talk to.’
‘Oh, so clever and bella signorina … ‘ Teresa switched back into Italian, and the conversation went right over Lucy’s head again.
Lorenzo’s hand slowly tightened around Lucy’s waist. He thought he had covered well by telling them they had met a couple of times and he had known Lucy for a while—which wasn’t an outright lie. But then he’d had to field a dozen questions about his ‘artist friend’ and he’d realised he actually knew next to nothing about Lucy and had jumped to the assumption she did nothing. He also realised he had made an even bigger fool of himself than he had imagined, presuming Lucy had come to Verona specifically to see him about the Steadman deal when her main priority had obviously been her own business.
The chatter that had broken out at her comment and Lorenzo’s fingers biting into her waist surprised Lucy. His dark head was bent towards her, and he spoke softly against her ear.
‘You could have told me you are an artist, Lucy.’
His warm breath and the way he said her name did funny things to her tummy, and she wriggled out of his hold just as James appeared and saved her from answering.
‘I see you have met the Italian side of my family, Lucy—and now it is my turn to dance with the bridesmaid, according to my wife Samantha.’ He said wife with such pride Lucy smiled. And, glad of the reprieve from Lorenzo’s constant presence, she let James lead her on to the floor.
‘They can be a bit overwhelming en masse, and Sam thought you might need rescuing.’
‘Not really—they all seem charming, if a little intimidating.’
She danced with James, and then threw herself into circulating and lost count of the number of men she danced with. With relief she accepted when Samantha asked her to accompany her back to the house and help her get changed into her honeymoon outfit. Her wedding dress, though fabulous, was killing her, she said, and as Lucy had stitched her into it in the first place, when a seam had split, she knew just what she meant.
Half an hour later she lined up with most of the guests along the drive as Samantha and James drove away in his treasured vintage green e-type Jaguar sports car.
Waving with one hand, Lucy wiped a few tears of joy for her friend from her cheek with the other.
‘Proof positive of my suspicion that you are a hopeless romantic.’ A long arm wrapped around her waist and she was spun round against a hard male body. ‘Here—use this.’ Lorenzo handed her a pristine white handkerchief.
‘It’s not necessary.’ She placed her hands on his chest and
