at her heart? Because this was the stuff of forbidden fantasies she normally only allowed herself on restless nights when sleep refused to come?
It’s only a party, she told herself as she nodded, aware of his gaze burning into her as she rose to her feet. But then he turned away and punched out a number on his telephone and began to talk in rapid Italian and she realised he had already forgotten all about her.
And Aisling’s fingers were trembling as she opened the office door, wondering why he had issued such an unexpected invitation. To her.
An invitation she couldn’t refuse.
‘YOU look wonderful, Aisling.’
Aisling forced a smile. ‘You don’t have to say that, Jason.’
‘No, I know I don’t—but you do! Honestly—you look completely, well…different!’
Understatement of the year, thought Aisling as she sat upright against the soft-leather comfort of the car and watched as the lush green hills of Tuscany sped by. She felt different, too—and it wasn’t just the unaccustomed weight of her heavy dark hair falling about her shoulders or the large silver hoops which dangled from her ears. Nor even the sooty sweep of mascara which made her blue eyes look so enormous.
Where was the cool and calm Aisling she normally liked to present to the world? Gone. That was where. Left behind in some crazy little shop off the Via del Corso!
She turned to look at her strapping assistant who was lolling on the back seat of the fancy car, his legs sprawled out in front of him, as if to the manner born. ‘I hope you didn’t mind coming all the way out here, Jason—I know I said we’d eat in the city tonight.’
‘Mind?’ Jason pulled a comical face and gestured to the picture-postcard countryside which was zooming past the window. ‘Are you kidding? I have friends who would die to go to Umbria! To visit a real-live vineyard at the invitation of its world-famous owner!’
In spite of her reservations about the evening ahead, Aisling laughed. As well as tip-top college grades, Jason’s enthusiasm was one of the reasons she’d employed him straight after graduating—even though it was sometimes a bit over-the-top. Still, she guessed that was youth for you—and surely it wasn’t so long that she’d forgotten her own? ‘It’s a long way to go for one evening,’ she observed.
‘In an air-conditioned chauffeur-driven car? Bring it on! Anyway, we’ve just left the main road, so we must be nearly there.’
Aisling peered out of the window and her heart began to thud. ‘So we are.’
It had been an amazing drive. With the backdrop of a big, fat red sun sinking down over the horizon, they had driven past fields full of grazing cows which were the colour of pale fudge. The car had slowed to take in small villages along the way—where the tall, dark spears of cypress-trees made the landscape look so typically Italianate.
Now they were bumping their way up a winding gravel lane which led up a hillside—with row upon row of vines on either side. At the top of the hill was a building lit by the setting sun, so that it looked almost as if it were on fire.
Like a sacrifice, thought Aisling suddenly.
‘Hey, it’s beautiful,’ breathed Jason.
Yes, it was beautiful, but Aisling couldn’t rid herself of an overwhelming feeling of nerves—and she was terrified that Jason would notice her strange mood and start asking her what was the matter. And how on earth could she put it into words?
Wouldn’t it sound ridiculous that the casual clothes she was wearing made her feel somehow vulnerable? Like a little girl who had wandered by mistake into the wrong party and wasn’t sure just how to behave any more.
She could cope with Gianluca in the relatively safe environment of work, but here, on his luscious estate, with the setting sun making the evening look like the last reel in a corny film—how safe would she be from her own hopeless longings?
As the car grew closer Jason clicked the button so that the electric window slid down and Aisling could hear the sound of music playing and glasses chinking and the rise and fall of laughter and conversation. Driving through an imposing set of electric gates, they drew to a halt in a large courtyard, where a fountain played and a dog jumped to its feet and came running to greet them.
Aisling got out and bent down to stroke the dog, pressing his silky ear between thumb and forefinger, wondering what time she could reasonably slip away, when her thoughts were interrupted by the throaty roar of a powerful engine.
Straightening up, she turned to see a long, low sports car blasting its way up the hillside, spitting up clouds of dust behind it, and Aisling didn’t need to see the coal-black hair or lean body to know the identity of the driver. It was evident from that hard, autocratic profile and the tanned forearm which rested on the steering wheel and the sheer, physical presence of the man.
Gianluca turned the engine off, took off his dark glasses and for a moment his eyes deceived him.
‘Aisling?’ His black eyes narrowed in disbelief. ‘Aisling?’
Aisling wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t enjoyed seeing him looking so nonplussed—but the compliment held a sting in its tail. Did she normally look so unremarkable, then? ‘Yes, it’s me,’ she responded coolly. ‘Hello, Gianluca.’
Gianluca got out of the car slowly, as if expecting the bright apparition to disappear—like a butterfly suddenly taking flight. He had told her to go shopping and buy herself a pair of jeans, sì—but he had not been expecting such a…transformation in the process.
Gone was the boring suit and instead she was wearing denim—cut close to the leg and low on the hip and caressing a remarkably pert bottom. Who would have ever believed that her legs would look like that? As if they could go on and on…he swallowed…for ever?
With the jeans she wore some sort of filmy blouse, in swirls of bright, deep colours—hinting at a pair of lush and beautiful breasts beneath. And her hair was down—he’d never seen her wear it like that before. Nor realised it was so thick, or long, or dark.
The tight chignon which usually constrained it was actually hiding a midnight fall of glossy hair which shimmered all the way down to a surprisingly tiny waist. She looked, not exactly beautiful, no, but like someone you would want to explore with your lips and your hands.
‘Madonna mia,’ he murmured, an unfamiliar note of bemusement creeping into his voice. It was like finding that the onion you were holding in the palm of your hand had suddenly become the most succulent pomegranate. She was, he realised with a jerk of desire heavy enough to startle even him, the gleaming pearl within the oyster shell.
And despite every instinct in her body telling her not to, Aisling found herself responding to that unmistakable approval on his face, found her body glowing as if it were heated from the hot black fire which was blazing so unexpectedly from his eyes.
Quickly, she glanced over in the direction of the sports car to distract herself. ‘That was some entrance you made.’
He studied her, his eyes narrowed. ‘Parimenti. I could
