Lorel fiddled with a spoon. 'Perhaps,' she said finally, and with some reluctance. She glanced up at Lewis, and found his eyes were gleaming. 'No, I don't think you're right about that at all,' she contradicted herself rather crossly. 'I'm sure we haven't got anything in common.'
'You don't like the idea of sharing—certain things with me?' he suggested smoothly.
'I just don't think we're alike,' she insisted firmly. 'Anyway, stop trying to change the subject, and tell me more about your family. Haven't you got any brothers who could have taken over the company, instead of you?'
'There's only my stepbrother, Felix. And I don't think he's ever done a serious day's work in his life.' Lewis paused, then went on in a darker tone, 'Strictly speaking, I don't actually have any real family. My mother died shortly after I was born, and my father remarried a few years later. Now that he's dead, I'm left with a stepmother, a stepbrother, and a stepsister.'
Something in his tone clearly told her that he wasn't overly fond of this new family he had acquired.
'You don't get on with them?'
'Katie—my stepsister—is the best of the bunch. She's bright and clever, and we've always got along well. She got married recently, though, so she doesn't live at home any more. Felix, my stepbrother ‑'
Lewis's brows drew together in a gathering frown. 'Felix is extremely charming—and a complete pain in the backside. I don't think he even knows the meaning of the word "responsibility". I seem to have spent half my life—and heaven knows how much money— getting him out of one mess after the other.'
'What about your stepmother?'
Lewis's frown deepened, until it furrowed dark lines into his forehead. 'My stepmother is the reason that I don't go home very often. She spends my money, interferes in my life, and generally drives me mad. The house she's living in is mine, but she runs it as if it were her own.'
'Why not just kick her out?' Lorel asked practically.
'Because I promised my father, just before he died, that I'd take care of them all. Katie, Felix, and Rita, my stepmother. Hell, the times I've regretted that promise!' he went on darkly. 'Katie was never any problem, I'd have looked after her for the rest of her life, if that was what she had wanted. She was always very independent, though. The only thing she would ever take from me was an occasional word of advice! Not like those other two leeches,' he added, his features lapsing back into a scowl. 'I sometimes think they're going to be sucking the blood out of me until the day I die!'
Lorel looked at him with growing fascination. She seemed to be seeing him in a whole new and different way. Not some all-powerful executive, zipping round the world, making important decisions all day—and a lot of money—but someone a lot more human. A man who was doing a job he hadn't chosen for himself, and at the same time supporting a thankless stepmother and stepbrother.
Lewis pushed his empty coffee-cup to one side. 'Let's go,' he said briefly. 'I've done enough talking for one morning.'
She wished she could ask him more, but knew she wouldn't get any more information out of him. She had the feeling that he very rarely opened up like this, talking about his personal life with such frankness. She had no idea why he had talked to her, but found that she was glad that he had.
'Are you going back to the palazzo?' she asked, picking her way carefully through the mass of pigeons that were waddling around in front of them.
'Yes. Do you want to stay on here, and do some sightseeing?'
Although she wasn't sure why, that idea didn't appeal to her.
'I think I'll come with you, if you don't mind.'
'Would you like to go in a gondola?' he offered, as casually as he might have suggested taking a bus.
'They're very expensive,' she said doubtfully.
For the first time in quite a while, a glint of amusement returned to Lewis's eyes. 'You think I can't afford it?'
'Oh, I'm sure that you can. But we could quite easily get the vaporetto.'
His eyes deepened a shade, in that disconcerting way they had of doing. 'But it wouldn't be nearly as romantic.'
There didn't seem a lot she could say to that. In fact, she wasn't/ sure that there was anything she wanted to say.
'All right, then,' she agreed, with a rather feeble shrug of resignation. 'A gondola it is.'
They made their way towards the Grand Canal which, as always, seemed packed with boats.
'Perhaps there won't be one free ‑' Lorel began.
Then she noticed a gondola smoothly pulling into a nearby landing-stage, in response to a signal from Lewis. She briefly scowled. He was probably the sort of man who could whistle up a taxi from nowhere in the middle of London's rush hour!
She supposed the boat was stable enough, although it looked perilously long and thin. Just as Lewis was about to hand her down into it, though, he paused for a moment and shot her a quick look.
'I forgot you had a phobia about water. Will you be all right? You don't have to go ahead with this, if you don't want to.'
'I'll be fine,' she assured him. 'It's only the open sea that causes me real problems.'
She settled herself gingerly into one of the seats, and Lewis slid easily down beside her. There wasn't a lot of room but, even so, she didn't think his thigh needed to be pressed quite so closely against her own. He wasn't making any effort to move, though, and she didn't want to wriggle away in case she upset the boat. Even the smallest movement seemed to make it rock fairly alarmingly, and she clenched her fingers together nervously and told herself everything was going to be fine. She was going to enjoy this trip.
The gondolier was standing behind them, using the large, single-bladed oar to manoeuvre the boat away from the bank of the canal.
'Is he going to sing?' enquired Lorel.
'Not unless we pay him extra,' Lewis replied drily. 'Do you want to be serenaded?'
'No, thanks,' she said promptly. 'I think I'll Just sit back and enjoy the views!'
Their progress down the Grand Canal was slow, compared to the motor-boats that whizzed past them, but it gave Lorel plenty of time to soak up the marvellous panorama that stretched out ahead of them. She gazed admiringly at the palazzos, some of them now converted into hotels, while others remained private residences. The bright spring sunshine showed their arched windows, decorative balconies and fine facades off to their best advantage, and even those that were in a state of disrepair still looked incredibly romantic.
They finally left the Grand Canal, and began to make their way along one of the smaller side canals. The gondola slid under a couple of arched bridges, and the houses that loomed up on either side weren't quite so picturesque, but still had bags of charm.
'This is great,' said Lorel with some satisfaction. 'I suppose that everyone who comes to Venice ought to take a trip in a gondola. If you can afford it, that is,' she added, a trifle wryly.
Lewis looked at her assessingly. 'Does my money worry you?' he asked unexpectedly.
Since she hadn't been expecting that question, she floundered for a few moments.
'No—of course not. I mean—well—it's actually nothing to do with me, is it? I don't have to worry about it.'
When he didn't answer her, she shot a wary glance at him. What was this all about? His face was quite unreadable, though. Lorel waited for him to say something more, but he remained silent. Eventually, she gave a small shrug and settled back to enjoy the views again.
She was quite sorry when they at last arrived back at the Palazzo Gregolino. The gondolier tied the boat to the thick, striped pole in front of the palazzo, and Lorel carefully clambered out of the boat. Then, with even more care, she negotiated the flight of crumbling steps that led up to the palazzo.
Lewis followed closely behind—in fact, he was a little too close, Lorel decided, with a touch of irritation. It always made her feel edgy when he began to physically crowd her like that. As soon as they set foot inside the palazzo, though, Maria came bustling out to meet them. She began to chatter rapidly to Lewis,
who seemed to have no problem following her excited spate of Italian. With her message finally delivered, and having answered the couple of brief questions Lewis put to her, Maria returned to the kitchen.
Lorel looked at Lewis. 'What was that all about?'
'I thought your hotel might eventually contact the police when you didn't return to your room for several days, so I left a message with the local police, letting them know that you were staying here. They promised to get in touch if they had any word from the hotel.'
'And that's what has happened?' she asked.
'Yes. The hotel's finally reported you as missing.'
'So you know now where I'm staying? Good,' she said, with a pleased smile. 'That means I can get my own clothes back.'
Lewis's eyes had grown very cool. 'It also means something else,' he told her in an even tone. 'When we go round to your hotel room, I intend to search it thoroughly, to see if my missing briefcase is there. We're finally going to find out if you're a thief or not, Lorel Parker!'
CHAPTER SEVEN
This time, they didn't go in one of the elegant, leisurely-paced gondolas, but in a water-taxi. The motorboat whizzed them through the canals, and in a fairly short time deposited them at a landing-stage on one of the much smaller back canals.
'Is this where I was staying?' asked Lorel, looking up at the decidedly dilapidated hotel.
'This is the hotel which reported that a Miss Lorel Parker seemed to have gone missing.'
Lewis's tone was so neutral that she didn't have the slightest idea what was going through his head at the moment. Not that there was anything new in that. Lewis Elliott was a very hard man to figure out!
Lewis headed straight towards the entrance, but Lorel dawdled a little way behind him. Now that she was here, she was suddenly very reluctant to go in. Something inside her seemed to be afraid of what they might find there.
Come on, she told herself impatiently. Don't be such a coward! You're not scared of remembering those lost couple of days, are you?
She walked firmly into the reception area, and then looked around, trying hard to recognise the shabby surroundings. None of it seemed in the least familiar, though. She might have been setting foot in here for the first time.
Lewis was already talking to a middle-aged woman behind the desk. Then he nodded, took something from her, and came over to Lorel.
'She says you had a room on the first floor. She's given me the key.'
'Well, I suppose we'd better go up there,' she said, hoping he couldn't hear the nervous tremor that had somehow found its way into her voice.
They climbed the stairs in silence. When they reached the door, Lewis inserted the key in the lock, and opened it.
The room turned out to be small, but neat and clean, and it had a rather nice view from the window. Lorel looked round; then she turned back to Lewis, who had been watching her rather closely.
'Does any of this ring any bells with you?' he asked.
She shook her head. 'Absolutely none,' she said gloomily. 'I don't think that anything's going to bring back that lost bit of memory.'
He shrugged. 'I suppose it doesn't really matter, as long as I find my briefcase.'
'What do you mean, it doesn't matter?' demanded Lorel, with a sudden flash of pure anger. 'It sure as hell matters to me!' Then, as he opened the nearest wardrobe, and began rummaging through the contents, she added indignantly, 'And what do you think you're doing? Those are my things you're turning over.'
'How do you know that?' replied Lewis coolly. 'You can't remember if they're yours or not.'
'If this is my hotel room, then they've got to be mine. Stop treating them as if they're just jumble!'
Lewis straightened up. 'There's no need to get so uptight about it. Anyway, I don't need to look any further. I've found what I was after.'
Lorel's gaze slid down to his left hand; then she swallowed hard. He was holding a small black leather briefcase, which had his initials stamped on it in gold.
'Er—I wonder how that could possibly have got into my room,' she said rather feebly.
His blue gaze rested on her in a way that she definitely didn't like.
'It's here because you stole it,' he replied calmly.
She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it again. She could hardly go on denying it when the evidence was there, right in front of her eyes!
'All right,' she muttered at last, 'I suppose I must have taken it.' She raised her head, and flung a fresh look of defiance at him. 'But if I did, then I want to know why. I must have had a very good reason.'
Lewis's own face altered. An expression swept across it that she just couldn't fathom at all.
'Perhaps you decided that you didn't like me very much,' he suggested in an even tone. 'Maybe you wanted to get back at me in some way.'
'Then what did you do to make me dislike you so much that I stole your case?' she demanded. She shook her head in frustration. 'You know, don't you? And all I can do is guess, because you won't tell me a damn thing!'
'Some things are best forgotten,' Lewis replied briefly. Then, before she could ask him exactly what he meant by that, he moved to the door. 'You'd better get your things together,' he instructed. 'I'll wait for you below, in reception. When you're ready, we'll go back to the palazzo.'
'And what if I prefer to stay here? After all, this is my hotel room. If I'm to stay anywhere in Venice, it should be here.'
He raised one eyebrow. 'Can you pay for it?'
'I don't have to, I booked it for a week ‑' Lorel began. Then her voice trailed away. That week was already more than up, and she certainly couldn't afford to book another.
'The way I see it, you don't have much choice except to return to the palazzo,' Lewis pointed out.
'Of course I have a choice! I can go back home, to England,' she declared, determined that this irritating man wasn't going to make all her decisions for her.
'Your return ticket is out of date,' he reminded her. 'Getting a refund, or re-booking it for a future date, could take some time. You'll need somewhere to stay while you get it sorted out.'
'And you're kindly offering to let me stay at the palazzo!' she enquired acidly.
'Yes, I am.'
'And what do you expect to get from me in return?'
Lewis's gaze froze to a very icy shade of blue. 'What exactly do you mean by that?'
'I'd have thought it was perfectly clear,' retorted Lorel. 'You took me in after my fall, paid all my doctor's bills, and now you're offering unlimited hospitality. So, what's the catch? What kind of price am I going to be expected to pay for all this generosity?' She could see his mouth beginning to set into an angry line, but that didn't intimidate her.
'What makes you think there's a price to be paid?' he said grimly.
'You're a very successful businessman, aren't you?' she challenged him.
'I run my company competently and efficiently,' he agreed. 'What the hell's that got to do with any of this?'
'A man doesn't get into your sort of position by giving anything away for free. That's how you got to the top, isn't it? By knowing the exact value of everything—including people!'
'Because I run my company to maximum efficiency, that doesn't automatically make me a complete bastard where my private life is concerned,' Lewis growled, his face glowering now.
'So now I'm part of your private life? And how did that happen?' demanded Lorel.
But Lewis had apparently run completely out patience. He muttered something under his breath; then he turned and strode towards the door.
'I'll wait for you in reception. And don't be long!' he instructed. 'Now that I've got my briefcase back, I need to make several extremely important phone calls.'
After he had gone, Lorel stood in the middle of the room for a couple of minutes, quietly fuming. He really was an exasperating and overbearing man! And why wouldn't he tell her what she wanted to know? She was absolutely certain by now that he was keeping a lot back from her. Why wou
ld he do that, though, unless he had something to hide? And what was it? She frowned irritably. Unless she remembered it for herself, it looked as if she was never going to find out.
She glanced round the room, and then frowned again. She had an even more pressing problem at the moment—what was she going to do now?
Common sense told her that she didn't actually have much choice. She was short of money—and short of friends. It looked as if she was going to have to take up Lewis's offer of hospitality at the Palazzo Gregolino. She needn't stay for long, she comforted herself. It shouldn't take more than a day or two to sort out her return ticket; then she could go back home.
She had to admit that she wasn't exactly thrilled by the thought of going back to England. There would be all the hassle of getting a new job, and trying to make a life for herself that was more interesting and fun than the last couple of years had been. It was going to take an enormous amount of effort on her part, and she wasn't sure that she had the energy or enthusiasm for it right now. Life in general seemed to have been one big muddle for such a long time, and no matter what she did, or how hard she tried, things only seemed to get worse, never better. Look at this holiday. She had planned to have a luxurious trip on the Orient-Express, and then spend a few fun days in Venice, hopefully meeting up with people of her own age and making new friends. Instead, she had somehow landed in a complete mess. She couldn't even remember her trip on the Orient-Express, and the only friend she had made was Lewis. Her mouth set into a wry grimace. Did he count as a friend? She really wasn't sure what category she ought to put him in!
One thing was pretty clear, though. He was the only person around right now who was offering any kind of help. Did that mean she was going to have to take him up on it? With a small sigh, she admitted there really didn't seem to be any alternative.
Reluctantly, she shoved her things into a suitcase. She took one last look around the room, to make sure she hadn't left anything behind, and then staggered downstairs with her luggage.
When they arrived back at the palazzo, Lewis immediately disappeared into the library, presumably to make his phone calls. Lorel went upstairs to unpack, and then she carefully put all the clothes Lewis had bought her into a neat pile, ready to return them to him.
Night with a Stranger Page 11
