The Art of Deception (Choc Lit)

by Liz Harris

  A look of pleasure swept across his face. ‘I’ve never thought about it like that.’

  ‘I’m being honest. Your paintings are fabulous. Despite you talking it down, the collection’s clearly worth something. Anyone who knows anything about art would know that the moment they saw the pictures – but it’s an investment based on real appreciation. And the same can be said of your house.’

  ‘Be careful: in a minute, I’ll be sacking you and taking over the art classes myself,’ he said with a laugh. ‘But seriously, I don’t think about their value. They’re not for sale: they’re for me to enjoy, not for me to make money from.’ He paused, and glanced at her. ‘Of course, collecting pictures, as with anything else, is much more fun when you can share your passion with someone else. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  His dark eyes remained on her face.

  She picked up her cup, and put it down again.

  She’d no idea why she suddenly felt as nervous as she did about the change in direction of their conversation, about the caress in his tone of voice. After all, this was what she’d hoped for when she’d come to Italy. She should feel triumphant, and be alert and ready to profit from the situation. She shouldn’t be feeling lost and confused. But she was.

  ‘Don’t you agree, Jenny?’ he repeated quietly.

  Playing for time while she struggled to overcome her emotional turmoil, she took one of the amoretti from a ceramic dish in the centre of the table and started to unwrap it.

  ‘Of course, I do,’ she said, directing her attention to the paper wrapper. ‘Everything is much better when you can talk about it with a friend.’

  He sat back in his chair, and stared hard at her. ‘I’m curious about something. Why did you come here this morning? Don’t get me wrong – I’m delighted that you did. But why did you come?’

  She stopped playing with the paper and looked at him, startled. ‘I told you. I wanted to help the Andersons with any Italian they needed.’

  ‘Now why don’t I believe you? Could it be because I’m certain you know as well as I do that you don’t need to speak Italian to hire a car online? I suspect you came over for a totally different reason.’ He leaned forward. ‘Or do I just want to think that?’

  She blushed. ‘Believe it or not, it’s the truth.’

  He straightened up and smiled wryly at her. ‘And that’s why you were looking at the photos of my family when I found you, is it? Despite the urgency of your desire to help the Andersons, you left them to struggle on without you while you stopped to look at a few snapshots.’

  ‘I was just curious.’

  ‘About what?’

  This was it, and she had to give it everything she’d got, even if it meant leading him on in a way that wasn’t fair to him. It could be the only way she’d get the truth.

  ‘About what your family looked like.’ She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes. ‘I haven’t met many businessmen before, but I can’t believe that there are many like you, with business prowess, a passion for art and real taste. I suppose I wanted to know more about you, and your family seemed the right place to start.’

  She let her clear blue eyes linger on his face.

  He reached out, took her hand in his and stroked it gently with his index finger. Her insides dissolved into liquid honey. ‘That’s what I hoped you’d say, because I feel the same about you, Jenny. You must have sensed that; you can’t not have done. I want to know everything that there is to know about you, about your family, about the things that made you the lovely person you are.’

  She pulled her hand away. His sensuous caress was doing things to her insides, turning them upside down, making her tingle all over, making her want to give in to the way she was feeling, the way she couldn’t stop herself from feeling, hard though she tried. But she mustn’t: it could never be. She had to keep a conscious distance, even if it didn’t look as if she was.

  ‘And I feel the same way about you, Max,’ she said, her voice hoarse to her ears, ‘although I know I shouldn’t. You’re the man I work for, and I mustn’t let myself forget that, much as I might want to.’

  ‘Isn’t that something I should have some say in?’ he asked quietly.

  She put her hands to her cheeks. They were hot to her touch. She stood up and pushed back her chair. ‘Talking of work, I really must get back to the class now. They’ll have started on their projects a while ago and I ought to see how they’re doing.’ She took a step away from the table, and paused. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to go.’

  He nodded. ‘I suppose you have,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘I won’t see you again till lunch – I’m going to do my drawing project here. There’s a wonderful view from my bedroom window, and I intend to sit there and draw what I can see. I’m going to include the window frame, too. It’ll be a sort of frame within a frame.’

  ‘How funny: I’m going to paint the view from my window too, even the frame.’

  His face broke into a smile of triumph. He stood up and went around the table to her side. ‘You see, Jenny, we’re kindred spirits, just as I thought. And kindred spirits definitely trumps the boss and employee relationship.’

  Her knees trembled. She couldn’t move.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, raising his hand and gently pushing her hair back from her face. ‘We’re kindred spirits indeed.’

  She looked up into dark brown eyes that were flecked with gold, eyes that were gazing down at her with love. Her power of movement returned, and she spun round and ran towards the cypress trees.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stephen sighed deeply and rubbed his stomach. ‘Do we really have to wait for Howard and Paula to get here, Jenny? I’m starving.’

  She glanced at her watch. ‘I must say, I thought they’d be here by now.’

  ‘They’ve probably changed their minds about coming.’ Nick’s voice was tinged with irritation. ‘Two lovebirds in an empty nest – they’ll be having a right old time in our absence. Shenanigans in the pool, at the very least.’

  Stephen and Clare glanced at each other and giggled.

  ‘I doubt that, Nick,’ Jenny said with a smile. She turned to Max, who was sitting next to her. ‘Shall we order now, Max? I’m not convinced about the shenanigans part, but it’s getting on a bit and Nick might be right about them deciding not to come. I think they’d have got here by now if they were intending to join us.’

  George shifted to a more comfortable position in his chair. ‘If I may say so, I agree with you, Jennifer. And like Stephen, I certainly feel ready to eat.’

  Nick laughed. ‘Be honest, Mr Rayburn. It’s the wine you can’t wait to tuck into.’

  ‘Tucking into the wine is not exactly the way in which I would have expressed it myself, dear boy, but indeed you are right in the sentiment: I am looking forward to sampling a very special grape this evening. Pleasant though this Prosecco is, it’s no more than a prelude to the main event.’

  ‘I’m quite hungry, too. More than that. If I’m honest, I could eat a horse,’ Clare said.

  Max smiled at her. ‘I think you’re unlikely to find that on the menu. But I hope something else will appeal to you.’

  ‘Ha, ha. What a wit you are, Uncle Max,’ Stephen said.

  ‘Why thank you, Stephen,’ Max said with exaggerated gratitude. ‘Your appreciation means a lot to me.’

  Jenny picked up her menu. ‘That decides it then. We’ll order now, and if the Andersons turn up later on, they can order for themselves. I don’t know why on earth they didn’t stay in Montefalco once they’d collected the car – it would have been so much more sensible. It’s not as if Howard drinks a lot. At least, he hasn’t this week.’

  George gave a sudden exclamation. ‘How slow of me. I’ve just realised that I might be able to benefit from Howard having a car.’ He beamed across the table at Jenny. ‘The vintner in Montefalco is going to bring a superior Sagrantino for me to taste tomorrow, one that will be considerably better than anything we have this evening.’<
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  She heard Nick snigger. Under the table, she kicked his foot. ‘Yes, I do remember,’ she said.

  ‘I’d been wondering how to get up here. I didn’t really want to ask if Carlo if he would bring me up in the minibus since this is a personal visit …’

  ‘Oh, but you should,’ Jenny cut in. ‘He’s there to help. And he’s on standby for anyone who wants to visit a local vineyard tomorrow afternoon, anyway.’

  ‘That’s very kind, dear lady. But Howard having a car solves the problem. I can’t imagine that he’d mind running me up to the piazza at some point. I can make my own way back. Going downhill is quite a different matter.’

  ‘I’m sure Howard would be delighted to help out, Mr Rayburn,’ Jenny said. ‘Ah, here comes the waiter with more bread and olives. Right, if we’re all ready, we’ll order now.’

  She ordered antipasti for the table and then they each ordered their main courses. Jenny looked around the table. ‘It’s a real shame that we aren’t all here. It’s the only dinner that we have out all week.’

  ‘I’m surprised that you didn’t pick tomorrow night for the final beanfeast, Friday being the last night and all,’ Nick remarked.

  ‘I was going to at first, but in the end I changed my mind.’

  ‘How come? Going out tomorrow would have brought the week to a rousing finale, I would have thought.’

  ‘That’s true. But in the end, I thought it better to leave tomorrow evening clear for any last-minute packing. Also, you might want an early night before you embark on a day with a lot of travelling. Not to mention that there’d be less risk of you having to travel with a hangover.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘You’ve got a point there,’ Nick said, grinning at George.

  ‘You can take it really easy tomorrow – paint, relax by the pool, read, do whatever you like. If you want, you can visit the vineyard in the afternoon, though I’d be careful how much tasting I did, if I were you. We’ll be having more wine with dinner tomorrow evening.’

  ‘You can be sure that I, too, shall exercise moderation,’ George remarked, dipping a piece of rustic bread into a mixture of oil and balsamic vinegar.

  Nick sniggered.

  ‘I’ll need to confirm the time that all of you have to leave for the airport on Saturday,’ she went on. ‘If I remember rightly, everyone’s leaving quite early, so it’d probably be wise to do most of the packing tomorrow. Apart from Paula and Howard, that is. They don’t have a flight to catch so they can take their time.’

  ‘You needn’t worry about their packing. It’s done. Or rather not undone,’ Clare said.

  Jenny laughed. ‘That sounds convoluted. What d’you mean?’

  ‘One of their cases is already packed, or rather not unpacked.’

  ‘How come you know that?’ Nick asked. ‘Have you been a naughty little nurse and been peeking into the honeymooners’ boudoir?’

  ‘Idiot.’ Clare pretended to throw a piece of bread at him. ‘No, I saw it when I was passing their room this morning, didn’t I? It was full to the brim and Paula was kneeling on it, trying to zip it up. I asked if she wanted any help, but she said she was fine. She said they’d only used the things in the other suitcase, but she’d had to open that one as they needed more toothpaste.’

  ‘I wish I’d already packed my suitcase, ready to go,’ Nick remarked. ‘I hate packing,’

  ‘It’s easier packing when you’re going home,’ Clare said. ‘You don’t have to think what to take with you like you do when you’re going away.’

  ‘Aha, here comes our antipasti,’ George said, as the waiter appeared, carrying two large round wooden boards. He picked up his napkin and tucked it into the neck of his shirt while the waiter placed the boards in the centre of the table, followed by a basket of fresh bread between the platters.

  ‘Ooh, look at that,’ Clare said, gazing at the food in front of them.

  ‘Yes, that does look quite delicious,’ George murmured. He leaned forward, his eyes shining as he gazed at the variety of cold cuts, cheeses and grilled vegetables on the board closest to him. He glanced across to the second board, which was filled with a variety of crostini and bruschette. ‘Yes, quite delicious,’ he repeated. ‘If it weren’t a cliché, I’d say that it all looks good enough to eat.’

  He smiled around the table in satisfaction.

  ‘Good enough to eat and good enough to paint,’ Nick added. ‘But preferably not in that order.’

  Max pointed to a small white pot at the side of one of the trays. ‘That’ll be honey. You eat it with the pecorino cheese and often with walnuts. It’s an Umbrian speciality. It makes a delicious starter – you should try it.’

  ‘How interesting,’ George said, and he helped himself to a couple of pieces of cheese. The others followed suit and also took some of the bread and antipasti.

  Jenny sat very still, staring at the table with unseeing eyes. Something was niggling away in the back of her mind and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  One of them had made a comment a few minutes earlier that had jarred, but it had slipped into the back of her mind, just out of reach, and she couldn’t get hold of it. If only she could bring it forward and see what it was. It was something that had struck her as strange when it had been said.

  ‘Come on, Jenny, help yourself. There won’t be anything left soon,’ Max said, his eyes warm upon her face. ‘Here, let me pass you the bruschette.’

  Smiling her thanks, she took the two nearest to her.

  ‘This prosciutto is really yummy,’ Clare said, happily. ‘But I’ve got a horrible feeling that I’ve been a pig and taken too much. If I eat everything on my plate, I’ll never have room for my spaghetti.’

  Stephen put his arm round her shoulder. ‘It’s a case of your eyes being bigger than your stomach.’ He pulled her gently to him and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘And what lovely eyes they are. I could drown in them.’

  ‘Yuck.’ Nick rolled his eyes in mock disgust. ‘You could drown in someone’s eyes? Let me guess, you’re studying English …’

  ‘That’s it,’ Jenny cried out. ‘They’ve only got one suitcase!’

  They all stared at her in surprise.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t follow you, dear lady,’ George said, leaning across and helping himself to another of the crostini.

  ‘Who’s only got one suitcase?’ Max asked.

  ‘They have – the Andersons. Don’t you remember, Nick? You and I were talking yesterday while we were waiting for everyone else to arrive, and then Paula and Howard joined us. They said that they had another week in Italy, and had packed light so they could fit all their luggage in the boot of the hired car.’

  Nick stared at her. ‘Well, yes, she did say something like that. I wouldn’t swear to the details, though. But why does it matter?’

  ‘It probably doesn’t. It’s just that if they do have only one case, it means that they’ve already packed it, although there’re almost two more days to go. That’s funny, don’t you think?’

  ‘So you think she was lying?’ Max asked, frowning.

  She shook her head. ‘There’s no reason to lie about something like that. There must be a simple explanation.’

  ‘And I’ll tell you what else is funny,’ Clare said, ‘I saw the corner of that hideous flowery thing she wore one evening sticking out of the suitcase. It didn’t really register at the time, but it does now. It means she was definitely lying about the case not being unpacked. And maybe she was lying about not speaking Italian. I’m sure the car hire man wasn’t speaking English – it’s the body language. I tried to kid myself that I was mistaken, but I wasn’t.’

  George wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘But, dear girl, there’s no reason why Paula and Howard would lie about speaking Italian or how many suitcases they had.’

  Max put down his knife and fork. ‘Actually, there is,’ he said slowly, ‘if you don’t want anyone to know that you’re familiar with an area and probably have fri
ends and contacts there. Paula was very keen to see my paintings and virtually bulldozed me into showing her around …’

  ‘And she asked about your security.’ Jenny’s words fell out in a rush. ‘You told her about the shutter locks, and just after that, she was in the sitting room by herself while we went to look at that still life. At her suggestion. She could have easily disabled the most important locks in the time that she had. Oh, Max.’ Her hands flew to her mouth.

  ‘And then Howard kept us standing in the hall while he talked about the hire car,’ he added. ‘He was alone upstairs for some time, too.’

  The blood drained from Jenny’s face. ‘I know it’s virtually impossible to believe, but could they be thieves?’

  ‘It’s certainly looking that way, and I’m not going to take any chances,’ Max said grimly. He stood up, took his mobile phone from his pocket and held it out to her. ‘The number for the police is 112. Will you ring them, explain the situation and ask them to get to the house as fast as they can? Road blocks might be an idea, too.’

  She took the phone from him. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going across the square to get Carlo,’ he said. He glanced at the worried faces around the table. ‘There’s nothing the rest of you can do, so you might as well stay here and finish your meal.’ He took a handful of notes from his wallet and handed them to Stephen. ‘I’ll leave you in charge of settling up.’

  ‘But—’ Clare began.

  ‘No buts. You must all stay here.’ He turned to Jenny. ‘Except for you, Jenny. I hate to ask you to go anywhere where there might be trouble, but would you come back to the house with me? I might need your help with the police when they arrive. I don’t know whether they speak English or not.’

  ‘Of course I’ll come with you,’ she said, tapping 112 into the phone. ‘But I doubt we’ll catch them. They’ll be long gone by now.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Max said. ‘We left the house later than planned – they won’t have dared to make a move until they were absolutely certain we were out of the way and no one would come back for something they’d forgotten. It’ll take some time to get the paintings down and stack them in the car without damaging them. Remember there are two houses to do.’