that leave her misty dreams of true love? But screams of reason, no matter how shrill, never had a chance. Meg’s whole body, mind and spirit had been taken over by thoughts of Gianni. Common sense dissolved. Everything about him overwhelmed her, from the delicious fragrance of his aftershave to the lilt of his voice. She wanted him, even if he slipped away through her fingers like a sunbeam. Whatever heartbreak the future might hold, she would be sure of at least one brief moment of happiness.
In that instant, Gianni’s expression changed. His eyes narrowed. A triumphant smile teased his lips. He became as watchful as a panther. Instead of being caressed by his gaze, Meg now felt invisible hands bending her to his will. The more certainty there was in Gianni’s expression, the more unstable she felt. I’m way out of my depth! she realised desperately. I can’t allow myself to fall into the hands of a man who’ll drop me in an instant! What will he think of me?
Even as she cringed at the thought, that wicked voice of temptation called to her again. This could be the most spectacular night of my life. If I never take a risk, I’ll never know. As long as we’re both discreet, where’s the problem? it said, loud and clear. The sudden rush of bravado raised her head and lowered her lashes. When she gazed across the table at Gianni now, it was with new eyes.
Delicious courses of the finest organic produce the Castelfino estate could produce came and went. Meg barely noticed. The conversation washed over her like a gentle tide. Finally, when the last pudding dish had been spirited away, more champagne arrived. Gianni pushed back his chair and stood up to give his speech. He spoke to the whole room, like the seasoned professional he was, but Meg felt every word of thanks and praise directed straight at her. He was laid-back, and delighted them all. She followed his every movement, every gesture. His gaze ranged right across the assembly but he never once made eye contact with her, however much she lusted after his attention. He announced many toasts, but barely touched his own foaming glass of Taittinger. In her nervousness, Meg emptied her glass twice. As Gianni sat down a waiter moved in to fill her glass again. The host was equally swift. Reaching across the table, he removed the crystal flute from her fingers.
‘That’s quite enough for tonight, don’t you think? You’ll need to keep your wits about you on the dance floor.’
His words wiped the smile straight from her face. ‘I’d forgotten that. I was looking forward to escaping to my greenhouses,’ she muttered, watching the glittering assembly with a hunted expression.
’Whose greenhouse?’ Gianni’s supercilious expression was only slightly softened when he raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t worry. A couple more hours of dancing to my tune, then you’ll get your reward. You promised me a deluxe tour of the new empire you’ve created for me out in the grounds, remember? I’m the only person who hasn’t inspected Castelfino’s new exotic plant ranges, ladies and gentlemen,’ he explained to all the guests seated within earshot. ‘This evening has been such a success I’ll need some time to wind down afterwards. Would you mind if I took full advantage of your tropical paradise later on, Megan?’
His voice was as seductive as his expression. The promise in it was dark, dangerous and totally irresistible. She could only nod in reply. He smiled, his eyes flashing something that might have been triumph. Meg was on fire, but that look warned her she would have to be patient. This was Gianni’s evening. His cool confidence would keep him in control—until the moment they were alone together…
Meg yearned for a touch, or a look. It was a long time in coming. She had to watch him working the room in the same way he had charmed everyone at the Chelsea Flower Show. He had a smile and a friendly word for everyone—except Meg. She developed a way of flicking glances around the ballroom while still appearing to keep her full attention on the guest who was talking to her. Meg wasn’t one of life’s minglers, but she could do it when necessary. Gianni was an expert, and tonight he was conducting a masterclass. By the time his circuit of the room brought him back to her, she was burning with anticipation.
‘Thank goodness you’re back, Gianni! I’m running out of things to say!’
‘Oh, I doubt that.’ He chuckled. ‘You’re a natural at this, Megan. I’ve been watching you. You’ve missed your vocation in life. You would have been a great addition to the English royal family.’
Blushing furiously, Meg opened her mouth to protest at his joke but Gianni waved her worries aside.
‘Don’t disagree with me, Meg. I don’t have time for any of this “English reserve” nonsense. Diffidence never won any sales.’ All the time he was speaking, Gianni was casting an eye around the ballroom. He was the perfect host to his fingertips. Although concentrating on his guests, he noticed something the moment he began guiding Meg onto the dance floor.
‘It’s good to know you haven’t been trampling all over my clients’ feet. Not many girls can dance as well as you, Meg.’
Remembering his earlier words, she accepted the compliment gracefully. ‘Thank you, Gianni. It’s a useful social skill.’
‘And you have plenty of those. Thank you for being such a help to me this evening.’ He stopped studying his guests and looked down at her. His smile was too calculating to warm his eyes, but she couldn’t help reacting. Warmth flowed through her limbs like melting chocolate, slow and sweet. All the compliments she had been given about her work in the kitchen garden finally made sense. Gianni appreciated her efforts. His guests liked her work. They couldn’t all be saying nice things simply to be polite. They must mean them. All the compliments on top of two glasses of champagne made it a night for bravery.
‘It’s all an act,’ she admitted.
‘Mai!’ he laughed. ‘I don’t believe you. For instance, if I were to take you in my arms properly, and sweep you across the floor like this—’
With one bold movement he drew her into his body and propelled her towards the centre of the room. Other dancers melted away before them. Breathless with amazement, Meg was carried along by his expertise, held as though she were precious porcelain. Her beautiful new gown shimmered like a peacock’s feathers in the glow of a thousand candles. Caught up in the moment, she looked up into his eyes and saw the chandeliers were reflected in the darkness of his eyes, too.
‘Gianni…I never thought anything could feel like this…’ she gasped. His smile broadened. Meg knew instinctively she had said the wrong thing. This was Gianni Bellini. His silence had led to her spilling her soul in his office. Now his firm grasp and sure footsteps were dancing her into more danger. Her mind whirled in waltz-time. Only silence could have saved her. Telling him how she felt had only confirmed his already high opinion of himself as a ladykiller. She had played right into his hands. Hating herself for melting so completely against his body, Meg still could not stop. His touch was light but so assured she was powerless to resist. While his left hand clasped hers, the fingers of his right hand spread out in a protective cage across her back. He kept up the pressure, her breasts held secure against the broad expanse of his chest as they made turn after turn around the room. Meg shone in his arms, shown to her best advantage as she followed his lead. When the final strains of Strauss died away, Meg felt her face fall with disappointment. Then the applause began. Looking around with the confusion of a sleepwalker, she realised everyone was clapping—including Gianni.
‘Ladies and gentlemen: I give you the best qualified, the most nimble and the most beautiful head gardener in the history of horticulture!’ he announced.
Meg threw her hands up to her face, trying to cover her embarrassment. The crowd cooed its approval, and Gianni reached out to her. Meg looked at him with shining eyes. All he did was pat her shoulder in a parting gesture.
‘There—I
