Ultimate Temptation (Harlequin Presents)

by Sara Craven

  ‘Now your memory is at fault, mia cara,’ Giulio drawled. ‘The bargain between us is cancelled, as I made clear. From now on, you remain at your own risk.’

  She said quietly, ‘So be it. But you’ll understand if I prefer not to take unnecessary ones by staying alone with you in an isolated place.’

  His face hardened. ‘First of all you accuse me of leering at you from the bushes like some callow adolescent,’ he said, ‘and now I am a potential rapist, it seems.’

  ‘I didn’t say that...’

  ‘But the implication was there,’ he cut back at her. ‘The implication that you cannot trust me. That I cannot be alone with you without taking something you do not wish to give.’ He shook his head. ‘You are wrong. I have never taken anything from any woman that has not been freely offered, and you, Lucia, will be no exception to that rule.’

  She said thickly, “Then why don’t I feel safe?’

  ‘Perhaps because you do not trust yourself.’ His tone was almost grim.

  She gasped, and colour flared in her face. ‘How dare you?’

  ‘Because, unlike you, I am not afraid of risks.’ His shrug was negligent. ‘Now, go on with your sunbathing, while I take my swim. The length of the pool should be enough space between us. Unless, of course, you wish to join me in the water?’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but I thought you realised last night that I’m not interested in that kind of—adventure.’

  ‘And I thought you realised I was teasing you.’ He pulled his shirt over his head, unzipped his grey trousers and stepped out of them to reveal brief black swimming trunks. ‘Does that appease your sense of decency, columbina?’

  It did her no favours at all, Lucy thought, the breath catching in her throat. He was magnificent—well muscled, without an ounce of surplus weight.

  ‘It doesn’t tempt me to stay.’ She forced herself to speak calmly, even casually, while her heart was thumping to beat the band. She slipped on her shirt, and began to button it with clumsy fingers.

  ‘And what is that supposed to achieve?’ he demanded cynically. ‘Do you think I have no memory—no imagination?’

  Lucy’s eyes sparked with sudden fire. ‘I know you have no conscience, signore, otherwise you wouldn’t behave like this. You couldn’t.’ She picked up her bag. ‘Another reason why I choose not to stay here.’

  ‘And I have no choice in this?’

  ‘Yours is already made.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘I’m here to work, signore, not to provide you with—passing amusement.’

  ‘That,’ he said harshly, ‘was not my intention.’

  ‘I’m not interested in your intentions. Let’s talk about responsibilities—obligations—instead. You seem to have forgotten those.

  ‘You are wrong, Lucia.’ The amber eyes travelled over her slowly, dismissing her flimsy covering, surveying her with frankly sensual reminiscence. ‘I don’t forget a thing. How could I?’

  She swung her bag over her shoulder. Her voice sounded ragged. ‘You’re not being fair, signore.’

  As she walked past him, he reached for her. His fingers closed round her wrist. Held her.

  He said softly, ‘What can ever be fair in this situation? Lucia, look at me, my little, sweet fool.’

  The air surrounding them seemed suddenly to be quivering, shimmering with an intensity which had nothing to do with the sun’s glare.

  The blood in her veins was slow and heavy, the pounding of her heart a pain in her chest. She had only to turn towards him, she thought dazedly. Only to turn...

  She heard, as if from nowhere, a girl’s laugh, deep and throaty, rippling out, snapping the tension between them. Shattering the dream.

  ‘Playing your usual games, Giulio, darling?’ She was standing on the steps, looking down at them. She was dark, and very beautiful, her frankly voluptuous body showcased by a shift dress in stinging pink, cut low over her full breasts, and finishing well above the knee. ‘And who is your latest playmate?’

  Lucy’s head went back, and the breath left her body in a silent gasp, as if she’d been struck and winded.

  No need to guess who the newcomer was. It was—it had to be—Angela. Giulio’s cousin by marriage and intended wife.

  Only she was no stranger. Lucy had seen her before, and quite recently too. In London, coming out of a restaurant in Knightsbridge. With Philip.

  Who was here too. Standing on the step behind her, his face frozen in disbelief and something bordering on horror.

  And I know, Lucy thought, a bubble of hysteria welling up inside her, exactly how he feels.

  She disengaged her hand sedately. She said, ‘I’m the hired help, signorina. We had a slight disagreement over terms of employment, that’s all.’ She flashed a bright, meaningless smile around her. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me...’

  And she went past them, up the steps, two at a time, without looking back.

  ‘Oh, God,’ Lucy whispered to herself as she paced the living room at the casetta, ‘This can’t be happening. It can’t be true.’

  The shock of seeing Philip so unexpectedly had almost bowled her over. She’d always assumed that when they ran into each other again she would be devastated. But that hadn’t been her reaction at all. Dismay had been her uppermost emotion, and embarrassment too. Because, without a doubt, this was one big complicated mess.

  All she could concentrate on now was damage limitation. Clearly Angela had no idea that she and Philip had ever been involved. So far, so good.

  Nor was there any reason for Giulio to equate her own lost love with Angela’s English boyfriend, she thought. She surely hadn’t given that much away in those late-night confidences.

  There seemed every chance that they could both remain in blissful ignorance. Least said, soonest mended, she decided, as she would tell Philip immediately she got the chance.

  As for herself, she would maintain the lowest possible profile as the children’s nanny, and let things take their course. Although there was little doubt in her mind what that course would be.

  There was bitterness in her throat and a pain in her heart as she thought of Angela, so beautiful, so confident, radiating sexuality. Her smile had been amused as she’d surveyed the telling little scene in front of her, her glance at Lucy totally dismissive.

  As Fiammetta has suggested, she and Giulio took each other’s little diversions in their stride, it seemed. But where did this leave Philip? she wondered uncomfortably. Was he just a passing amusement too, or was his affair with Angela the real thing, at least as far as he was concerned?

  And what did Angela herself feel? She’d taken Philip, but did she really want him? Set against Giulio, he had little to offer. An aptitude for adventure sports and a propensity for hard work didn’t count for much against old money, power and a family tree that went back to the Renaissance. Or was Angela, as Lucy had prophesied, simply using him to spur Giulio into making a proposal?

  She sighed. The way things were going, she could end up a two-time loser, she thought wretchedly.

  Except, of course, that Giulio had never been hers to lose. And that was what she had to remember at all costs, if she was to keep her sanity.

  It was a relief when Teresa, full of smiles, arrived with the children and the performance of getting them washed and presentabe for dinner could get under way. It stopped her from thinking. From pondering the imponderable, and coming up with no answers at all. Or none that she could bear, she amended with a pang.

  ‘When I am a man, I shall have a vineyard,’ Marco announced ebulliently.

  ‘In the meantime concentrate on drying between your toes,’ Lucy counselled. She gave Emilia a quick smile. ‘And what are you going to do with your life?’

  Emilia shrugged. ‘I shall find a rich husband, like Zia Angela.’

  ‘Better get a new face first.’ Marco gave a crow of laughter, followed in short order by a yelp of real pain. ‘She pinched me.’ Accusingly he held out a chubby arm for Lucy to inspect
the tell-tale fingermarks.

  ‘If you didn’t say unkind things to your sister, maybe it wouldn’t happen,’ she pointed out as she hung the damp towels on the rail.

  ‘You are supposed to take my side, not hers.’ The small face was outraged.

  ‘I don’t intend to take sides at all,’ Lucy said cheerfully.

  ‘Then I shall tell Mamma what she did, and she will get into trouble.’

  Lucy stole a swift glance at Emilia. Her face was set and sullen, but there was apprehension in her eyes, and Lucy felt reluctant compassion for her.

  She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. ‘People who tell tales are horrid.’

  ‘But Nonna says that Emilia must be punished if she is bad to me.’

  ‘And what happens when you are bad to her?’ Lucy asked calmly.

  ‘Nothing,’ Emilia burst out. ‘Because I am always blamed.’

  ‘I have an idea,’ Lucy said. ‘Why don’t you both try to be pleasant to each other for just one day?’

  The idea was greeted without enthusiasm.

  ‘And if we do?’ said Marco. ‘What will you give us?’

  ‘I’ll wait till you’ve done it,’ Lucy said grimly, ‘and then decide. Now, go downstairs and play quietly while I change.’

  She had just emerged from the tiny shower cubicle when she heard a crash and a shriek from downstairs. She wrapped a towel round herself sarong-style, and dashed down. One of the plants she’d brought in earlier lay on the floor, its terracotta pot smashed, and soil and broken blooms everywhere.

  ‘Who did this?’ she demanded.

  ‘It was Emilia. She threw it at me.’

  ‘I did not.’ Emilia was red with anger. ‘He was playing with it, and I told him to stop, so he dropped it.’

  ‘Liar,’ Marco yelled.

  ‘What is this name-calling?’ an icy voice asked from the doorway, and Giulio walked in.

  ‘One of them broke this plant,’ said Lucy, crushingly conscious of her lack of attire. ‘They each blame the other. Not a good start to the new regime,’ she added, looking fiercely from one sulky face to the other.

  ‘Lucia said if we are nice to each other for one whole day she will give us a reward,’ Marco told his uncle.

  Giulio’s mouth twitched. ‘Bribery, columbina?’

  ‘You have to start somewhere.’ Flushing, she yanked hastily at her slipping towel.

  Giulio looked directly at the children. Well, little rascals, if you can do this great thing, I will reward you myself.’ He pretended to think. ‘How about a picnic?’

  ‘Si, si,’ they chorused, jumping round him like puppies, all the sulks magically forgotten.

  ‘But it is for Lucia to say if you deserve it, agreed?’ He smiled coolly at Lucy. ‘Fiammetta says the children may go and talk to her while she dresses. I have come to collect them—and just at the right moment, it seems.’

  ‘Yes.’ The towel was perfectly adequate, but Lucy felt absurdly flustered under his lingering scrutiny. ‘Thank you,’ she added.

  ‘Prego.’ As the children scampered ahead into the evening sunlight, Giulio turned back suddenly from the door. The smile that curved his mouth now was intimate, and a little wry. He said softly, ‘And if I am good for a day, mia cara, will you reward me?’

  The blood burned in her face. She said quietly, ‘I think I’m on safe ground, signore. Twenty-four hours is a long time.’

  And, with as much dignity as she could muster in a bath-towel, she turned and retreated upstairs, aware that he was watching her every step of the way.

  From the window she watched him cross the courtyard, her fist pressed to her mouth so tightly that her lips felt bruised.

  Twenty-four hours, she thought. A very long time. Long enough to fall in love. Long enough to discover the kind of pain that could tear you apart, and leave you suffering for all eternity. Long enough to realise you wanted to die.

  Only it was never that simple. You just had to go on living—and hurting.

  ‘Hating him,’ she whispered rawly, ‘would have been so much easier.’

  Lucy expected to find the family already assembled in the salotto when she eventually made her reluctant entrance, but to her surprise Philip was the only occupant.

  He was standing staring moodily out of the window, holding a Campari and soda, but he turned as she came in, glaring at her.

  ‘What’s the game, Luce? What are you doing here?’ ‘I have a temporary job as nanny to Signora Rinaldi’s children.’

  “That’s rubbish, and you know it. I think you came here deliberately, to embarrass me.’ He shook his head, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Luce. I thought you had more dignity—more pride.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Lucy advised him curtly. ‘I had no idea that your girlfriend had any connection with this household. In fact, the entire family were strangers to me up until yesterday.’

  ‘You expect me to believe that? That you’ve taken a holiday job skivvying for a crowd you don’t even know?’ He laughed rudely. ‘Pull the other one.’

  ‘I really don’t care what you believe.’ How strange, she thought, that it should be true. ‘But it happened.’ She paused. ‘I got ripped off and needed some cash. They needed a nanny.’ She gave him a minatory look. ‘But as far as I’m concerned, Philip, you and I are strangers too. Our meeting like this is an appalling coincidence, but it doesn’t have to be a disaster.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ he said crossly. ‘Though it’s on a par with the rest of this ghastly trip.’ He sat down heavily on one of the sofas. ‘It was meant to be a romantic holiday for two,’ he complained. ‘And then, as soon as we got to Florence, Angela suddenly turned into this culture vulture. It was a nightmare. We actually had to queue to get into the Uffizi, and, as for that guy’s statue of David, there must be dozens of the damned things. Every time I turned round there was one looming over me.’

  Lucy wanted badly to laugh. She said gently, ‘I think most of them are copies and the original is in the Accademia.’

  ‘Oh, well, you would know, of course.’ He subjected her to a critical look. ‘I haven’t seen that before.’ He sounded almost pettish.

  Lucy glanced down at the floating wraparound skirt in blue, green and turquoise, which she’d teamed with a simple scoop-necked white top. ‘No, it’s new. I bought it for this trip.’

  ‘Hardly nanny gear,’ he said sourly. ‘But I suppose you know what you’re doing.’ He drank some of his Campari. ‘To be honest, Luce, I wasn’t expecting to stay with Angie’s relatives, either. She never said a word about it in London.’ He brightened slightly. ‘But I suppose it’s a good sign—wanting me to meet the family.’ He lowered his voice. ‘But the aunt—the contessa—she’s a bit of a blight.’

  ‘I find her charming,’ Lucy said mendaciously.

  ‘There’s no accounting for taste.’ He favoured her with another, longer look. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Luce. You’re looking terrific.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said drily.

  ‘I mean it.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘As fanciable as you were when I met you.’

  She said calmly, ‘Or until you started fancying Angela instead.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Luce.’ He gave her the boyish grin which would once have turned her legs to jelly. ‘We had some good times together, you must admit.’

  ‘Did we?’ She glanced at her watch. Where the hell was everyone?

  ‘You know we did.’ He put down his drink and stood up. Lucy watched these manoeuvres with disfavour.

  She said, ‘Whatever you’re planning, Philip, forget it. And stop calling me Luce. I’ve always hated it.’

  He stopped in front of her, staring down at her as if he’d never seen her before. And maybe, she thought, he never had, at that.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said unpleasantly. ‘Aren’t we suddenly high and mighty? Could it be because you think the great Giulio Falcone is making a move on you? I wasn’t blind to what was going on down at the p
ool when we arrived. According to Angela, he’s famous for his casual flings, but his standards are usually higher.’

  The smile she summoned cost Lucy a great deal. ‘Thanks. I—I’ll consider myself warned.’

  She heard a sound behind her and turned. Giulio was standing in the doorway watching them, his face expressionless.

  He said, ‘Good evening. It is a poor host who keeps a guest waiting.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right.’ Philip moved back towards the sofa, distancing himself from Lucy. ‘Angela said I should help myself to a drink.’

  ‘But of course. Usually there would be someone to wait on you, but at the moment we are having servant problems.’ He walked to the side-table where an array of bottles waited. ‘May I offer you something, Lucia?’

  ‘Just some fruit juice, please.’

  He said mockingly, ‘But how virtuous.’

  He poured orange juice from a pitcher and added ice, before handing it to her. It was only the tinkling of the cubes against the side of the glass that made her realise her hand was shaking.

  Philip downed the remainder of his Campari. ‘I think I’ll go and see what’s keeping Angela.’

  ‘The eternal problem of what to wear, no doubt,’ Giulio said courteously, pouring himself a whisky as Philip went towards the door.

  He left a silence behind him that could have been cut with a knife.

  Lucy made herself drink some of the fruit juice, forcing it down her taut throat, waiting for whatever was to come.

  When at last he spoke, his voice was almost gentle. ‘Keep away from him, Lucia. He is not for you.’

  Do you think I don’t know that? she wanted to scream at him. How can you be so blind? Don’t you know I’d have died rather than have him touch me?

  Instead, ‘Is that a warning?’ she asked, keeping her tone deliberately light.

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘An order—which you will obey.’

  ‘Because he belongs to your cousin Angela?’ she challenged.

  His smile was suddenly harsh, almost feral. ‘Perhaps. Until she tires of him. She is cursed with a low boredom threshold.’