Mediterranean Tycoons. JACQUELINE BAIRD
a yacht she had assumed he meant some big luxury motorised ship. A smile quirked her lips. She did think he looked like a pirate sometimes, so she should not be surprised, she told herself as they walked back to the house.
Lunch was served, and Anna’s doctor, who was a widower, joined them at the table. He was a distinguished-looking, charming man, and Lucy warmed to him immediately. She had a sneaky suspicion his interest in Anna was more than medical.
Then the butler appeared, and Lucy was surprised when he informed her Lorenzo was on the private line and wishing to speak to her. He escorted her to the rear of the house, into what was obviously a study, and handed her the telephone.
‘Hello?’ she said. She could hear voices in the background, one a woman’s—probably his secretary.
‘Ah, at last.’ Lorenzo’s deep dark voice echoed in her ear. ‘Are you getting along all right on your own, Lucy? No slip-ups?’
‘Yes. And if by that you mean have I told your mother that her brilliant saintly son is really a rat? No, I have not.’
‘Sarcasm does not become you. Do I detect a bit of frustration there? Missing me already?’ he drawled throatily.
‘Like a hole in the head,’ she snapped, and heard him chuckle.
‘No chance I would be given an opportunity to miss your smart mouth—you really know how to dent a man’s ego.’
‘Not yours, that’s for sure.’ Her pounding heart was telling her she was more disturbed by his flirtatious tone than she dared admit, but knowing it must be for his secretary’s benefit she said, ‘Cut the pretence and just tell me what you want. I am in the middle of lunch.’
‘Right.’ His voice was brusque. ‘I have arranged with an English agency for a Miss Carr who lives in Cornwall to help at the gallery. She will call in tomorrow afternoon at three to arrange the details with Elaine. Tell my mother I have back-to-back meetings all day and I’m staying in Verona tonight. I will be back tomorrow evening for the party. Can you do that?’
‘Yes. If that is all, I am going back to finish my lunch.’
Lorenzo was deliberately staying away—or he might even have another woman lined up for tonight, Lucy thought. As if she needed any more proof it was over between them!
‘Enjoy your meal,’ he said, and hung up.
Lucy relayed the conversation when she got back to the table. Anna did not look happy, but accepted the news with grace.
FOR some reason Lucy hadn’t been able to enjoy her lunch—in fact she’d hardly eaten anything. The doctor, noticing, had mentioned that Anna had told him Lucy had been sick that morning and enquired if she still felt unwell.
Unthinkingly Lucy had told him she thought it was the red wine, because she didn’t usually drink, and then added that she was not used to eating such rich food so late.
The doctor had agreed that might be true, but then mentioned the possibilities of gastro enteritis or food poisoning. Anna had looked mortified, and that was why Lucy was now lying on her bed, having submitted to numerous tests.
Lucy liked the elderly man, and at his enquiries had told the doctor about her medical history—including an operation she had undergone a few years earlier, which was one of the reasons she was careful what she ate and rarely drank, and probably why wine affected her so quickly. He had nodded his head and agreed with her.
Her lips twitched and parted in a grin, and she chuckled—then laughed out loud. She was the guest from hell … who had unwittingly implied her hostess had poisoned her. At least Lorenzo would be happy, because when Lucy left there was not the slightest fear of Anna wanting her to visit again.
On the contrary, Anna appeared to be quite happy when Lucy went back downstairs. Dinner was arranged for seven in Anna’s favourite garden room at the side of the house, where a small table was set for the two of them. The meal was light and delicious, and Anna confessed she usually ate there, only using the formal dining room when Lorenzo was home—which Lucy gathered was not very often.
Wednesday was chaotic. The huge house was a hive of activity as caterers, florists and extra staff bustled around the place.
The doctor came early—he was staying the night—and after lunch, when Anna had retired to her room to rest, told Lucy her blood tests were clear. It was probably, as she’d thought, the wine—or maybe the stress of visiting Lorenzo’s home and mother. He remembered when he’d met his late wife’s parents for the first time he’d been sick with nerves before he even got to their house.
Lucy tried to laugh, thanked him, and followed Anna upstairs.
She had a leisurely soak in the huge bath before washing her hair, and then, not feeling in the least tired, decided to go out into the garden and let her hair dry naturally in the fresh air, as she did at home. She pulled on jeans and a light blue sweater and, slipping her feet into soft ballet shoes, she stuck a comb in her pocket and left the house. There were so many people running around she would not be missed.
It was another sunny afternoon, with a slight breeze rustling the trees, and she wandered down the garden until the noise from the house faded away. Finally she stopped on one of the terraces. A circular fountain stood there, with water cascading down from a fifteen-feet-high centrepiece into a big pool, where koi carp in various shades of gold and yellow were swimming lazily around.
She sat down on a seat conveniently placed, and taking the comb from her pocket pulled it through her hair. It was half dry already. With a sigh she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun. Bliss, she told herself. Just one more day and then no more Lorenzo. She would have her life back. But the pain in her heart told her she lied.
‘Lucy—I have been looking all over for you.’
For a second she thought she had conjured his voice up in her mind, then her eyes flew open. Lorenzo was standing a foot away, his dark gaze fixed on her face.
‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Nothing,’ she muttered. He was wearing a suit, but his jacket and tie were loose, his black hair dishevelled, and he was looking grimly at her, as if she had committed a cardinal sin. Even so she felt herself tense in instinctive awareness of the magnetic attraction of his big body. ‘I didn’t realise I had to ask permission,’ she said sarcastically, to hide her involuntary reaction to him.
‘You don’t. But I rang before lunch and spoke to my mother. She told me you were sick and you saw her doctor—are you all right?’
‘You are a day late. That was yesterday, and I am fine.’
His apparent concern was too little, too late, and she wasn’t fooled by it for a second. It was over. He had made that plain on Monday and they both recognised it—which was why she had not seen him since.
‘I guess she told you I think it was the wine and the food. Sorry about that. But, hey—look on the bright side, Lorenzo. She must think I am the guest from hell, accusing her of poisoning me. She will never invite me back.’
He didn’t so much as crack a smile. If anything, he looked even grimmer.
‘No, she hinted you might be pregnant. Very clever, Lucy, but no way will you catch me in that trap.’ His lips twisted in a sneer. ‘If you are pregnant try your last partner—because it has nothing to do with me. I was meticulous with contraception, as you well know, cara.’
Only Lorenzo could make an endearment sound like an insult, Lucy thought sourly. If she had ever had the slightest glimmer of hope that he might care for her it was snuffed out in that moment.
Flushed and angry now, she rose to her feet. Tilting back her head, she let her green eyes