What made this arrogant stranger think he had the right to look down on her?
She curved her lips into a smile. Be pleasant, she urged herself. Or, at least, be outwardly pleasant. Don’t react. Reacting will look like a challenge and this man looked too ruthless an adversary to risk challenging.
‘Think you can manage it OK?’ she asked kindly.
The insincere smile was almost as insulting as her question. She was employed by his godmother, for heaven’s sake—and here she was looking down that freckled snub of a nose as though he was some kind of odd-job man! Giovanni fought the desire to retaliate, even though she was just asking to be put in her place.
‘Give it to me,’ he instructed softly, his voice dipping in Latin caress.
And to her horror Kate found herself responding to that silky order as if he had been talking about something entirely different. She felt her senses spring into some kind of magical life—inspired by nothing more than a throwaway comment. Since when had her self-esteem been so low that she found something as derogatory as that a turn-on?
‘Here.’ She would have dumped the precious package in his arms if it hadn’t been worth a small fortune. As it was she laid it there as tenderly as if it were a newborn infant, and just for a moment their hands brushed and she felt the unwelcome sizzle of longing. ‘I’ll bring the rest of the stuff inside,’ she said, hoping that he hadn’t noticed.
He had, of course. It had happened too often in his past for him not to. Desire could strike inappropriately and randomly; he accepted that. And sometimes, though not often, he was tempted as any man would be tempted—but he had never yet succumbed to the lures of fleeting desire. His sense of honour was too deeply ingrained in him to ever do that.
But Giovanni could never recall a temptation as potent as the one he was experiencing now. He turned his back on her and without another word began to walk back towards the house.
Lady St John was still in the Blue Drawing Room and she turned around with a smile as Giovanni brought the heavy package into the room and placed it on a table.
‘Would you like us to leave you alone now, Kate?’ she asked. ‘I know you prefer to work undisturbed.’
‘Oh, yes, please!’ answered Kate gratefully, trying to imagine hanging heavy brocade under the scrutiny of that critical blue gaze. Why, she would probably break the habit of a lifetime and drop the curtains all over the floor!
‘And afterwards you’ll join us for lunch, I hope?’
Usually, of course, she did. But today? With this moody-looking godson? Thanks, but no, thanks! ‘Well, it’s very sweet of you, but I think I might run over time, and I’d hate to delay you—’
‘No trouble at all,’ said Lady St John immediately. ‘Giovanni has expressed a wish to see the gardens—and I can’t wait to show him how many exotic plants we have acquired in the conservatory!’
‘But perhaps Miss Connors has lost her…appetite?’ he murmured, and his eyes darkened in predatory challenge.
She most certainly had—and he knew it, too! Kate met a mocking blue gaze and knew that this was something she could not refuse—and when she thought about it, why ever should she? Why let this contemptuous individual put her off, when during every other visit she had enjoyed a congenial and delicious meal with Lady St John before setting off back to London? Surely she was accomplished enough in the ways of the world to be able to act indifferently when she wanted to?
‘I haven’t eaten since six this morning,’ she said truthfully. ‘I’d love lunch!’
Giovanni looked at her, and wondered if she was one of those women who could eat with genuine appetite and remain as slim as a blade of grass. Or would a hearty lunch mean that she would exist on nothing but water and fresh air for the next three days?
‘Good! Come on, Giovanni,’ said Lady St John resolutely. ‘Let me show you colours that could rival your Sicilian flora!’
He gave a benign but disbelieving laugh. ‘I do not think so!’
Once they had gone, Kate took out the heavy brocade curtains, and set about pinning them up, running her fingertips down their shiny pleats. When she worked she was focused, seeing nothing more than colour and texture taking shape before her eyes, and she put the dark-haired Sicilian out of her mind.
She had just finished when she heard a soft footfall behind her, and she turned on her stepladder to find Giovanni standing there, his gaze arrested by the brilliant glimmer of deep blue and gold.
And then the gaze was lifted almost reluctantly to her face, and Kate felt herself imprisoned—impaled, almost—by a shaft of blinding sapphire light.
‘You look surprised,’ she observed in a low voice.
He was. He had expected…what? That she was too modern, too up-to-the-minute, and that the fabric she chose would look shockingly out of place in this beautiful old house.
‘A little,’ he conceded, with a very Sicilian shrug of his shoulders.
‘You thought I would have poor taste?’
He looked at her. She had perception, he noted. And such green eyes. And hair like fire. He felt some unknown and unwanted sensation washing over his skin. ‘You should not ask questions to which you do not wish to hear the answers.’
How ridiculously old-fashioned he sounded! ‘I’m a big girl, Mr Calverri—’
‘Signor Calverri,’ he corrected softly.
How could he possibly make his own name sound so beguiling? ‘And?’ she challenged in a husky voice she didn’t quite recognise as her own. ‘On the question of taste?’
He saw the quickening of her breath, and felt it fire a rapid response in his heart. ‘Your taste is quite exquisite,’ he said quietly.
Kate let her eyelids flutter down before he read the unwelcome hunger in her eyes. She didn’t like him! So why did she want to keep running his compliment round and round in her head like an old-fashioned record?
‘Thank you,’ she said breathlessly, feeling as uncoordinated as a giraffe as she slowly stepped down off the ladder, unspeakably relieved to see his godmother appear, her face one of delight as she surveyed the finished effect.
‘Oh, Kate! It’s perfect!’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Better than I could have hoped for in my wildest dreams!’
Kate found herself having some pretty wild dreams of her own—and most of them seemed to involve the unsmiling face of Giovanni Calverri, trying to imagine what it would be like to be undressed by him or to be kissed by those hard, sensuous lips.
‘Why, Kate,’ said Lady St John, with a little frown of concern, ‘you’d better come and have some lunch—you’ve gone quite pale!’
‘H-have I?’ She touched her fingertips to her cheeks, and prayed for co-ordination to return.
The three of them walked to the light-filled room which overlooked the garden and Giovanni found his eyes being drawn to the graceful curve of her neck, feeling his senses spring into life as he told himself that she was resistible. Easily resistible. But the sunlight that flooded through the windows had made her hair look even brighter—as though someone had put a flame to it, and the waves were made of dancing fire.
He was unsmiling as he waited for the two women to sit down, and Kate thought that she had never seen a face quite so devoid of emotion. Or so compelling. And she became aware of the sudden soft rush of colour to her cheeks.
Giovanni saw her blush, and interpreted the unmistakable reason behind it, feeling his heart begin to hammer in his chest as he realised how much she wanted him.
‘Have a glass of wine, Kate,’ smiled Lady St John.
Kate shook her head as she tried to avoid the clash of that blue stare, the small but knowing smile which was playing at the corners of a mouth which looked almost cruel. Wine was the very last thing she needed. ‘Just water for me, thanks— I’m driving. And I have to get back to London straight after lunch.’
What a pity, Giovanni found himself thinking and then, with a huge effort of will, pushed her green-eyed temptation to th
e very recesses of his mind.
It was an endurance test of a meal which Kate forced herself to eat. Because if she pushed her food round and round her plate, wouldn’t he be able to tell how debilitated she felt in his presence? How aware she was of those long, olive fingers as they casually broke bread and then sensuously placed a fragment in his mouth? Why, she was in danger of acting like an overgrown schoolgirl, with a schoolgirl’s crush! At twenty-seven, for heaven’s sake!
She cleared her throat and forced herself to look directly at him, unprepared for another sudden, sharp tug of longing. He isn’t your type, she told herself again. He isn’t!
‘So are you just over here for business or for…for—’ she got the next word out with some difficulty ‘—pleasure?’ she finished on a gulp.
He noted the faltering quality of her voice without surprise, the tremble of her mouth which made him long to taste its sweetness, and was appalled at his own weakness. ‘Business brings me to England,’ he said, his accent deepening. ‘But it is always a pleasure to see my godmother.’
Kate persevered, forcing herself to continue as if he were just anyone and she was networking. ‘And what is your business, exactly?’
‘This!’ Lady St John waved an elegant hand at the solid silver candelabra which adorned the centre of the table and at the exquisitely fashioned knives and forks they were using. ‘The Calverri family exports silver all over the world,’ she said proudly.
And suddenly Kate made the connection—if she hadn’t been quite so reluctantly dazzled by the man she might have made it a whole lot sooner. ‘Calverri silver?’ she asked him faintly. ‘You mean, the Calverri silver?’
‘There is only one,’ he told her arrogantly.
Which explained the outrageously expensive car and the outrageously expensive suit—his air of only being used to the very best. Because Calverri silver—recreating classic, antique pieces, or creating timeless new ones—was a must-have for anyone with taste and plenty of money.
‘Your company is doing very well,’ Kate offered.
‘But of course! Under Giovanni’s guiding hand, it has become truly international,’ said Lady St John, with another proud smile at her godson.
He shrugged. ‘We have an exemplary workforce, Elisabeth,’ he murmured. ‘I am simply a small cog in a very well-oiled machine.’
Kate thought that modesty did not become him, and something in the look of challenge which he glittered across the table at her told her that he probably had a good idea exactly what she was thinking. She broke the stare and looked down with determination at her salmon instead. Was she going completely mad? Since when had anyone ever been able to read her mind?
‘This is delicious,’ she said politely.
Liar, thought Giovanni as she chewed without enthusiasm. You have barely touched a thing, angela mia.
The plates had just been cleared away, when her mobile phone began shrilling from her bag, and Kate stared down at it in consternation as she heard Giovanni’s unmistakable click of annoyance. What had she been thinking of? She always switched her phone off when she was eating!
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, reaching down for her bag.
‘The curse of technology,’ came his low, mocking response.
‘You’d better answer it, hadn’t you?’ asked Lady St John mildly.
‘If you don’t mind.’ Kate grabbed the bag and rose to her feet. ‘I’ll take it outside.’
But she was happy to escape from that unsettling stare and equally unsettling presence, and even happier to discover that it was Lucy who was calling. Lucy, her beloved older sister, who worked for Kate and ran her life like clockwork.
Kate clicked on the ‘talk’ button. ‘Lucy, hi! No, no, no, of course I understand—it can’t be helped! An emergency is an emergency!’
‘Kate, what on earth are you talking about?’ Lucy sounded confused. ‘What emergency?’
‘No, of course I can come back immediately,’ babbled Kate loudly. ‘I’ve just finished here, and I’m sure that I can be excused pudding and coffee!’
‘No doubt you’ll give me some kind of explanation later,’ came Lucy’s dry response.
‘Oh, definitely! Definitely!’ breathed Kate. Though how on earth would she put into words that she had fallen for a man with a cold, contemptuous face? The most beautiful man she had ever seen? And she wanted him, this blue-eyed stranger.
She shivered as she acknowledged the awful truth.
She wanted Giovanni Calverri!
CHAPTER TWO
‘KATE, what on earth is the matter with you?’
Kate looked at her sister with an unaccustomed blankness in her eyes.
She had spent the whole drive back from Lady St John’s house in Sussex veering between disbelief and self-disgust. In fact, the whole journey had been negotiated on some kind of auto-pilot. She had gone straight upstairs to Lucy’s flat, and it wasn’t until she was inside its elegant interior that she began shaking uncontrollably—like a person who had just come down with a fever.
‘It’s stupid. It’s nothing.’ She shook her head distractedly. ‘It would sound too far-fetched to explain—’
Lucy’s forehead creased with perplexity. ‘But Kate, you never leave your phone switched on during lunch. It’s one of your “unbreakable rules”, remember?’
Oh, yes, she remembered all right. And another of those rules was that she didn’t fall victim to grand and irrational passions. That she was ruled by her head, and not her heart. That she liked and respected herself, so that falling for a man who played the ‘treat them mean and keep them keen’ ticket was simply not on her agenda.
‘I just met a man,’ she said slowly, and ridiculously it sounded like the first line to a love song.
The frown disappeared, and Lucy relaxed. ‘Oh! And about time, too,’ she smiled, with the approval of someone who was happily established in a long-term relationship. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to fall in love for years and years!’
Kate nodded. So had she. But love was not an appropriate word, not in this case. If she was being brutally honest—and she always tried for honesty—then wouldn’t falling in lust be a more fitting description of what had happened to her some time over lunch?
She compressed her mouth into a determined line. ‘It isn’t like that,’ she insisted. ‘I don’t love him. How can I when I barely know him?’
‘But Cupid’s arrow has hit you with unfailing accuracy?’
‘A thunderbolt,’ admitted Kate in a dazed kind of voice. ‘The kind of thing you read about but think will never happen to you.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Lucy gave a wistful smile. ‘The French call it a coup de foudre.’
Kate shook her head. ‘That would imply that it was mutual.’
‘And wasn’t it?’
Kate thought about it. There had been an undeniable fizzle between them, yes, but…but… ‘He looked at me as though he didn’t really like what he saw.’
‘Or what he felt perhaps,’ said Lucy perceptively.
Kate looked at her sister. Two years older and the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, with her dark copper hair and thick-fringed green eyes.
Lucy had been born with looks to burn and a certain irresistibility to the opposite sex. But in the end she had fallen for her boss, unwilling and unable to stop the relationship even when the powers-that-be had threatened her with the sack if she did not.
Lucy had duly lost her job, and although Jack had not he had left anyway, using the opportunity to work for himself at long last. But at least they had stayed together, thought Kate, even if Jack now spent the majority of his life abroad. And Kate had been able to offer her sister a job as her assistant at just the right time. That was the pay-off for being neighbours as well as workmates, she realised. As sisters, she and Lucy looked out for one another.
She looked around Lucy’s flat, which, with Jack helping to pay for it, was much larger and more opulent than her own.
‘How’s things?
’ she asked absently, still unable to get Giovanni out of her head.
Lucy stared at her. ‘Tell me about him,’ she said suddenly. ‘This man who’s making you tremble like that.’
Kate looked down with surprise at her unsteady hands. What could she say? That he had the coldest, proudest and most beautiful face she had ever seen? And eyes so startlingly blue that the summer sky would have paled in comparison? She shrugged, but her shoulders felt unusually heavy. ‘There’s nothing to tell. Like I said, I don’t know him. I’ve barely exchanged half a dozen words with him. He’s Lady St John’s godson—’
‘Mmm. So, he’s well-connected, then?’ murmured Lucy.
‘Oh, yes. And he’s Italian—or, rather, he’s Sicilian.’
‘There’s a difference?’
‘That’s exactly what I said! And apparently there is. A huge difference.’ Kate thought of his quietly furious response to her innocent question. ‘His family owns the Calverri silver factory. You must have heard of them.’
Lucy’s eyes widened. ‘You are kidding?’
‘No, I’m not. He’s rich. He’s handsome.’ Kate shut her eyes and forced herself to see facts rather than fantasy. He is curiously unsmiling and there is an impenetrable barrier between him and the rest of the world, she thought with an instinct which seemed to come from nowhere.
‘He sounds perfect.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ said Kate lightly. ‘For someone who doesn’t mind a man who looks arrogantly down his beautifully patrician nose at you!’
‘Hmm! So you’ve got it bad!’
‘Not really. A passing fancy,’ answered Kate tightly. ‘And anyway—I’ll never see him again. Why should I?’
Never. It sounded so brutally final. Oh, what magic had he woven during that tense, short meeting? she wondered despairingly.
She had gathered up all her belongings and left the house in an unseemly rush, driven by some self-protective instinct which was quite alien to her. She had just known that if she didn’t get out of the St John mansion quickly she risked making a very great fool of herself.
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