His Lost-and-Found Bride

by Scarlet Wilson

  It wasn’t real. None of this was real.

  Real life meant that now she lived and worked in Venice and Logan lived and worked in Florence.

  The meeting at Tuscany was merely a blip. The next few weeks of working together would only be a continuation of that blip. She could almost feel the protective coating going around her heart. She had to be careful. She had to be sensible.

  She lifted her head back from his, trying to ignore the warm feeling of his beating heart beneath her palm.

  It was time to put all the safeguards back in place.

  She gave him a rueful smile and stepped back, freeing herself from his grasp.

  The movement jolted Logan. He straightened his back, watching her carefully. It was almost as if he knew what was coming next.

  ‘We don’t really have time to reminisce, Logan. I have work to do. You have work to do. The sooner we can verify the artist of the fresco, the sooner we can both move towards our goals.’

  What were her goals? She’d always been clear about them in the past, but right now they were looking pretty muddy.

  Silence hung in the air between them. It almost shimmered in the slowly brightening daylight.

  She could almost hear him processing what she’d said.

  He chose his words carefully as he stepped forward and gently touched her cheek. ‘You’re right, Lucia. It’s best we leave things as they are.’ He nodded his head. ‘We both need to focus on work.’

  Something squeezed in her chest. For a few seconds she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

  Part of her wished he’d said no. Part of her wished he’d pull her back into his arms and kiss her all over again. Acknowledge this thing that shimmered in the air between them and refuse to walk away from it.

  But that was all a fairy tale. This was real life. She could tell from the slight waver in his voice that he was saying what he thought he should. This was just as hard for him as it was for her.

  If this was anyone else she might think they were toying with her. But Logan just wasn’t capable of that kind of thing. Not after what they’d shared.

  This was for the best. It didn’t matter that little parts of her brain were screaming at her. Every female hormone she’d ever possessed was currently marching in a charge towards all parts of her body.

  She blinked back the tears that were hovering behind her eyes. His fingers felt like butterfly wings on her skin. It was all she could do not to tilt her head towards his hand.

  She bent down and picked up her papers, which were strewn on the floor, trying not to acknowledge her trembling hands.

  His feet took a step backwards. She could sense him bending over her, probably reaching towards her, then he took a few further steps back. It was almost as if he forcing himself into a position of retreat.

  She straightened up and fixed a false smile on her face. ‘Let’s get to work, Logan. Can you see if we can find some light?’ She pulled her camera from her bag. ‘The sooner we get these pictures, the sooner we can move forward.’

  She tried not to wince at her choice of words.

  But Logan’s expression was resolute. Guarded. She had no idea what was going on behind those green eyes.

  He gave a brief nod. ‘Of course.’ And walked back towards the door to let in some light.

  She turned back to the fresco.

  Work. The only thing that was currently keeping her sane.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WORK WAS THE easy part. It didn’t take any time at all for Lucia to take the photos and to take the boat trip back to her office. The rest of Venice had woken up now, with the city becoming loud and colourful as their boat glided back through the water.

  The Italian Heritage Board building was every bit as exuberant as Logan had expected it to be. The architecture was a welcome distraction, with some of the really exclusive Renaissance pieces of art housed in the building.

  Lucia had uploaded the pictures to her computer and was running a comparison computer program that would take a few hours.

  All they could do was wait.

  And waiting was something Logan Cascini had never been good at.

  After that kiss he was finding it difficult to keep his cool, collected manner in place. One touch of Lucia’s lips had been enough to ignite all the sparks in his brain and frustration had been building ever since.

  He’d had enough. Not of Lucia. He’d had enough of them being in the same room together and not talking about the big elephant between them. Ariella Rose.

  It was twelve years on. It was time. Even if Lucia still felt that it wasn’t.

  There was no way he was getting on that plane back to Tuscany without tackling the subject. No way at all.

  But how?

  She had barriers erected so tightly around her she might as well have been wearing a spacesuit. The kiss had been one thing. She’d probably already written it off as a blip.

  But Logan couldn’t do that. He wanted more. Much more.

  No wonder every other relationship he’d had had fizzled out. No wonder he’d never wanted to commit to someone else.

  This was nothing to do with losing his daughter. This wasn’t about the fear of another pregnancy or another child.

  It was much more primal than that. It was about the fear of never finding someone he had the same chemistry with, the same connection with, as he had with Lucia.

  Life was hard. Life was tough. But twelve years of drifting had given him new determination.

  Seeing Lucia for the first time again had been like a lightning bolt. Kissing her again...well, that had been so much more.

  It was time to face things head-on.

  He turned from the view of Venice to face her. She was sitting behind her desk, twiddling her long dark hair around one finger.

  He reached forward and grabbed her other hand, pulling her to her feet. ‘Let’s go.’

  She looked shocked. ‘Let’s go where?’

  He held out his other hand. ‘Out there. Let’s see Venice.’ He pointed to the screen. ‘You already said the computer program would take a few hours. Let’s spend them wisely.’ He grinned at her. ‘Today I am a tourist. Today I want you to show me Venice.’

  A hint of a smile appeared on her face. She waved towards the window. ‘But it will be crazy out there. There’s another concert tonight. We’ll have all of last night’s gig-goers and all of tonight’s too.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘What, we can’t handle a few tourists?’

  She shook her head and let out a little laugh. ‘Now I know you’re definitely crazy.’ She picked up her handbag and swung it over her shoulder. ‘You’re right, the program will take another few hours, and as long as we start with ice cream I’m in.’

  He held out his hand towards her.

  She hesitated. She wavered. He could see it in every inch of her body. She finally let out the breath she’d been holding and put her hand in his.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  * * *

  It was hotter than hot. Her jacket was hanging over the top of her shoulder bag to try and deter any pickpockets and her shirt was in danger of sticking to her back.

  The queue for ice cream was snaking its way out the door of her favourite gelateria. She tugged Logan towards the end of the queue. His hand was still in hers. It felt odd, but she hadn’t quite managed to pull her hand free of his.

  The walk through the twisting cobbled streets had been like a step back in time. She’d noticed the women’s admiring glances. Logan was every woman’s Italian dream—dark-haired, broad shouldered, well dressed and devilishly handsome. His unexpected bright green eyes added a little twist.

  And he was free with his natural charm. He nodded and smiled at the numerous pairs of acknowledging eyes. A tiny swell of pr
ide surged in her chest. Memories flickered in her brain. People thought they were a couple. People thought that Logan was hers.

  He turned to face her as the queue slowly moved forward. ‘What kind of ice cream do you want? I take it you’ve sampled them all?’

  She gave a little smile. ‘All in the name of research. Dark chocolate and limon are my two favourites from here.’

  He nodded at her choices. ‘In that case we’ll get one of each. Why not try everything you like?’ He was smiling as he said the words, and the woman in front turned around with a gleam in her eyes.

  Lucia shifted on her feet. She didn’t want to allow the tiny seeds in her brain to flower and grow.

  Logan reached the front of the queue, ordering their ice creams and only releasing her hand when he reached to pay for them. They walked out into the building heat and he held both hands out towards her. ‘What’ll it be? The dark, tantalising chocolate or the sweet, zesty lemon?’

  He was teasing her. But the surprising thing was, she kind of liked it.

  She held her hand out for the chocolate. ‘I’ll start with dark and delicious.’ Her fingers brushed against his. ‘But don’t count on getting to finish the lemon yourself,’ she said smartly as she walked past.

  Within seconds he was walking shoulder to shoulder with her. ‘Where do you want to play tourist, then?’ she asked. ‘I can’t imagine that you want to visit Piazza San Marco, St Mark’s Basilica or the Clock Tower.’

  He shook his head. ‘Too busy, and anyway I much prefer Piazza San Marco at night. Much more romantic,’ he added.

  She ignored the comment.

  He pointed over in the distance. ‘What I’d really like to do is catch a vaporetto to San Giorgio Maggiore and go up the campanile. It’s still early. There will hardly be any crowds.’

  She gave him a sideways glance as she veered towards the nearest vaporetto stop. ‘Hmm, so you’re still a tourist at heart, then?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s been a few years since I’ve been in Venice. But I’m an Italian, I still know where to go to get the best view of the city.’ He held out his ice cream towards her. ‘Swap?’

  She nodded. The dark chocolate was starting to taste a little bitter. She took a nibble of the lemon and sweet, tangy zest nearly made her taste buds explode. But her brain didn’t have time to focus on that because Logan had slung his arm around her shoulders and was walking easily next to her as if they did it every day.

  And it did feel like they did it every day. She fitted under his arm. Always had— always would.

  He chatted as they made their way along to the vaparetto stop, joining the small number of waiting people and climbing on board as soon as it arrived. Most of the rest of the passengers were heading to Murano—the island famous for its glassware. He glanced at her as the boat stopped. ‘Did you want to get off here?’

  She shook her head. ‘I love Murano glass—I have the most gorgeous red and gold vase in my apartment—but I don’t like the hordes of tourists, or what they make for them. If I see one more orange fish in a clear square cube I’ll scream.’

  She was standing near the front of the boat and he laughed and pulled her down next to him as the next load of passengers climbed on board. ‘You old Venice snob.’

  ‘Oh, come on, you were exactly the same way in Florence. You hated the millions of ornaments of the cathedral and baptistery.’

  He lifted his ice cream towards her. ‘Guilty as charged.’ Then he glanced at the activity on the Grand Canal. ‘But sometimes it’s nice to play tourist.’

  They sat in silence for a few minutes as the boat glided along the canal. It was busy this morning, making the ride a little bumpy, and she inched closer and closer to him. His arm stayed loosely on her shoulders as they reached the stop for San Giorgio. Ice creams finished, they wiped their hands on the napkins provided and climbed out of the boat.

  It was getting hotter but most of the tourists hadn’t reached the island yet and the queue for the lift to the top of the campanile meant they only had a ten-minute wait.

  Logan shook his head as they approached. ‘This is one of the architectural glories of Venice. Palladio is one of my favourite architects. Look at it, the gleaming white Istrian marble façade and lithe brick and bell tower—why, it almost seems to float in the middle of the Bacino San Marco, supported on its own tiny island. It’s only a few hundred yards off St Mark’s Square but most people just take a photo on the way past. They have no idea it’s decorated with works by Tintoretto, Carpaccio and Jacopo Bassano. This is the one place in Venice I just wouldn’t want to miss.’

  Lucia smiled at him. The passion and enthusiasm in his voice was so good to hear. She could see heads turning at his voice, obviously relieved they’d chosen this venue to visit.

  The lift opened to take them up the sixty-metre-high bell tower and a few minutes later they stepped out on to the observation deck. Logan held out his arms and spun around. ‘And this is why I love this place. Hardly a queue to get in, only a couple of euros and no crowding up here. The view is perfect.’ He pointed across the water towards the campanile San Marco. ‘While our brother over there has long lines, a higher price tag, is crowded and doesn’t have the same panoramic views.’

  Lucia grinned. ‘But you can get a full-on postcard shot of the Piazza San Marco just across the water.’ She pulled out her phone and held it in front of her, snapping a quick photo.

  ‘Hold it.’ Logan pulled out his own phone, but put his hands on her shoulders and turned her, so instead of having a background shot of Piazza San Marco he had a full shot of the Grand Canal. ‘Smile,’ he said as he held up his phone. ‘You know, on a clear day you can see right across the Adriatic Sea and all the way to the Alps.’

  The smile was still on her face and she didn’t have much time to think about the fact that Logan would now have a picture of her on his phone. As soon as he’d snapped the shot he walked over and leaned his elbows on the balcony, looking out at the panoramic view. ‘This is what Venice should be about,’ he said quietly.

  She spun around and put her elbows next to his. There were a few other people wandering around on the observation deck, but it was nowhere near as busy here as it was on the other side of the water. St Mark’s Square was already packed. It seemed most of the people who’d attended the concert hadn’t had much sleep.

  She could hardly blame them. Anyone who was lucky enough to visit Venice—even for a few hours—usually tried to squeeze in as many of the sights as they possibly could.

  Something flickered through her brain. With one concert last night and another tonight there would be a whole host of new people in and out of the city today. ‘You won’t be able to get a flight home today either, will you?’

  A gentle breeze blew across her skin. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about this. Having Logan stay over one night had seemed like an unavoidable hiccup. Having him stay for two nights was something else entirely.

  He didn’t answer for a few seconds, fixing his eyes instead on the hustle and bustle of the masses of people on the other side of the canal. ‘I’m sorry, Lucia.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I had no idea about any of this. I didn’t mean to put you in a difficult position.’

  He looked a little uncomfortable but not entirely unhappy. She’d hardly slept a wink last night. How could she, knowing that the person she used to love with her whole heart had been lying naked next door?

  Logan had always slept naked, hating anything on his skin once he was in bed. The only thing he’d ever wanted next to his skin had been her.

  She was trying so hard to seem cool, to seem professional. The atmosphere between them today had been lighter, less pressured.

  Exactly the opposite from what it should have been after that kiss.

  But that kiss had ignited the good memories in her brain. Before t
hat, everything about Logan had been a build-up of frustration and a reminder of grief.

  It was almost as if that kiss had brought alive the side of her brain she’d shut off. She just didn’t know what to do with it.

  ‘It’s fine, Logan,’ she said quickly, as she held out her hand towards the busy St Mark’s Square. ‘The hotels will be every bit as busy again today. Don’t worry.’

  His head turned towards her and he lifted his hand, running one finger down her arm towards her hand. ‘But I do worry, Lucia. I’ll always worry about you.’ His voice was low, husky and it sent a little tremble up her spine.

  She couldn’t turn to face him, just kept looking out at the people of Venice as her skin tingled and his hand slid over hers, slowly interlocking their fingers.

  Her breath caught in her chest. Just when she’d thought she was safe around Logan. Just when she’d thought she could relax, he did something like this.

  Something that made her catch her breath and nibble her bottom lip.

  It was the closeness that made her feel vulnerable. Made her feel as if she was on the verge of opening herself up to a whole host of hurt. She’d spent so long protecting herself, hiding herself away.

  Logan was a whole part of her life that she’d chosen to close the door on. But having him standing next to her, his breath warming her cheek and his hand interlocked with hers, was like dangling her over a precipice she wasn’t ready for.

  And it was as if he could sense it. He didn’t go any further. Didn’t make any other move. Didn’t bring up the biggest subject in the world.

  Logan was carefully skirting around the edges of her life. But he wouldn’t stay there for ever.

  ‘How do you enjoy living and working in Venice?’

  She swallowed, trying to push all other thoughts away. ‘I love Venice. But it’s not the city that captures my soul. I still miss Florence.’

  The words took her by surprise. She’d always felt like that. She’d just never said it out loud.

  He was facing her again and she could feel his eyes watching her carefully. She wondered if he’d pick her up on what she’d just said. But he didn’t. He let it go, keeping things in safe territory. ‘How do the restorations work?’