that her face had gone scarlet from the combined effects of temper, frustration and her inability to pull the back zip all the way up.
And then, to her huge annoyance, Cesare’s reflection appeared behind her. ‘Allow me.’ In one concise movement he had the zip in place, the backs of his fingers brushing against skin that suddenly felt unbearably sensitised. ‘I thought you might have died in here.’ His mouth curved in sardonic humour and, Milly translated huffily, he thought she might have jumped out of the window with the family silver concealed in her underwear!
His reflected eyes, partially veiled by his thick dark lashes, swept slowly down her body and Milly’s insides squirmed, her face reddening again. The dress fitted like a second skin. Jilly had always worn her clothes on the tight side. ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it!’ Whereas she had always preferred not to draw attention to her curvy hips, tiny waist and the generous breasts that were even now humiliating her by peaking, thrusting unashamedly against the fine silk barrier of the dress.
She didn’t know what had come over her to make her body respond this way. The stress of the situation, she guessed, frustrated because she seemed to have no control over her own body.
Moving briskly to one side, she turned and marched back into the bedroom, pushed her feet into a pair of Jilly’s heels and followed him out into the corridor and now here they were, the ongoing stress of having to pretend to eat and respond to Filomena’s chatter thankfully coming to an end and he was leaning back in his chair, cradling his wineglass in one lean, tanned hand, the picture of smooth sophistication.
Cesare had made little contribution to the conversation, just watched her from the depths of those clever eyes, making her wish the floor would open like a trapdoor and swallow her up, but when a stout black-clad woman entered with a dark-haired slip of a girl in close attendance, Filomena stood. ‘No coffee for me, Rosa. I think I will retire early after today’s excitement.’ Cesare stood too and settled his grandmother back in her chair.
‘Stay a moment. I have a surprise for you.’
‘A nice one?’ Her smile was teasing.
‘I believe you’ll think so,’ he replied fondly. ‘Amalia is coming to see you tomorrow. She plans on staying for at least two weeks. Apparently, she’s spent the last six months in virtual hiding recovering from her latest facelift and various nips and tucks.’
‘Amalia! How splendid!’ Pleasure shone from the old lady’s eyes. She smiled for Milly. ‘The Contessa di Moroschini is my oldest friend and so outrageous! I know you will enjoy her!’
‘That’s something I’d like to talk to you about, Nonna.’ He turned to Milly, the gentle warmth that always transformed his harsh features when talking to his grandmother disappearing like water down a plughole. ‘As Amalia will be here to keep you company and amused with her latest and possibly near-scandalous doings, I thought I’d steal your companion for a week—take her to the island and allow her to rest and recover from her recent bereavement.’ He turned back to Filomena and Milly, too shocked to speak, felt a peculiar shudder race down her spine.
‘That’s if you approve, Nonna?’
‘A splendid idea!’ Satisfaction wreathed Filomena’s features as she again got to her feet and Milly decided that her guess had been right. Signora Saracino knew about her grandson’s affair with Jilly and hoped it would have a happy ending. She would have to be disabused at some time, told that her so-perfect grandson had cruelly given Jilly the elbow, had made her fly from the villa with a broken heart. But now? When she was so happy at the prospect of a visit from an old friend?
Assaulted by violently conflicting emotions, torn between coming clean and spoiling the old lady’s time with a much loved friend and carrying on the deception for a while longer and trying, somehow, to trace her sister, Milly also rose to her feet.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Certainly not!’ Filomena was already heading towards the door as the coffee things were laid out and the young maid cleared the table. ‘I manage perfectly well. Enjoy your coffee and discuss your plans for the island.’
Her retreat blocked, Milly subsided back in her seat and wearily accepted the coffee Cesare had poured for her and bit back the instinctive words that would tell him she had no intention of going anywhere with him.
The real Jilly surely would have jumped at what would appear to be a chance of reconciliation. The opportunity to convince him that she hadn’t forged those cheques.
Not having a clue as to how to play it, she sat back and left the initiative to him, merely swallowing sickly when he drained his cup, setting it back on its saucer as he got elegantly to his feet and told her, ‘Be ready to leave at six-thirty,’ and strode from the room.
Milly shuddered. She felt sick. Stuck on an island with him. No chance to try to trace her sister. No time now to get Filomena on side, either. Alone with him, he’d no doubt speak Italian to her and the cat would be out of the bag with a vengeance.
He’d know she wasn’t Jilly.
And what he’d do then didn’t bear thinking about!
Chapter Five
ENIGMA SOLVED!
Everything neatly explained, from her look of total incomprehension when he’d addressed her in Italian to her flustered attempts to cover herself when he’d walked into her room and found her in her underwear. The Jilly he knew would have displayed no such modesty.
Inwardly on a high of triumph, Cesare landed the helicopter on the specially constructed pad on the west side of the privately owned island, the rocky side that looked out over the azure sea to the lushly forested hills of Elba on the horizon.
Waiting for the rotors to come to a standstill, he angled himself into his seat and studied his passenger through narrowed, luxuriantly veiled eyes.
Lying, cheating, devious minx! He wondered idly how she thought she would get away with it and what her motive had been in the first place, then dismissed the consideration as unimportant.
Two could play that game and he’d make a better fist of it than she had.
She was staring ahead, her shoulders rigid beneath the silky blue top she was wearing above cropped, narrow fitting white jeans. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left the villa, not even to ask where he was taking her, her lush mouth downturned like a sulky teenager, the only indication that anything was seriously amiss being the stark apprehension in those deep emerald eyes.
He could understand the apprehension. She was afraid of being found out. As well she might be; she was on decidedly shaky ground and must know it.
When he’d taken that call from the English agent back there on the mainland airstrip, he’d been icily furious but not riven by surprise. He’d been puzzled ever since he’d escorted Nonna’s absconding companion back to the villa and the flare of triumph over running the devious little thief to earth had died down sufficiently to let him see clearly.
The agent had made short work of discovering that there were two of them.
Jilly Lee and Milly Lee.
Identical twins.
His overriding imperative had been to wash his hands of the imposter, give her
