Italian Attraction: The Italian Tycoon's Bride / An Italian Engagement / One Summer in Italy...

‘Sì, I like it.’ Liliana smiled. ‘And you say there is no chemistry, eh?’

Maisie stared at her, suddenly acutely worried. She didn’t want Blaine to think she was throwing herself at him. Should she nip upstairs and change, and perhaps take a little makeup off too?

She didn’t have time to even get to the foot of the stairs. She had reached the kitchen door when Blaine’s key sounded in the lock and the next moment he had opened the front door. She stood transfixed in the doorway. He had obviously called in on his way home from work because there was a dark stubble on his square chin and he looked tired, rumpled and good enough to eat. Like all her Christmases rolled into one, in fact. She wished.

He walked across to her, a single red rose in his hand. ‘You look stunning,’ he said softly, ‘and I had every intention of doing this properly before a crisis with the air-conditioning at our flagship hotel caused a few problems. It was a case of ringing to say I was going to be horribly late or collecting you en route before I go home to change. I decided on the latter. Right decision?’

Oh, yes. Maisie took the rose and hoped he hadn’t noticed her hand was trembling. This way she got to see where he lived and had longer with him. ‘You can show me a little more of the scenery,’ she said evenly, ‘so definitely right decision.’

‘Good.’ He smiled and she noticed the stubble showed he had a tiny cleft in his chin. For such a small thing it had a huge effect on her equilibrium.

After saying their goodbyes to Liliana, Blaine walked her out to the Ferrari with a hand at her elbow, and Maisie found she was working on automatic in an effort to ignore the effect he had on her. She had spoken to Jackie earlier in the day—her friend had called her several times while she had been at the villa to see how things were going—and had mentioned they were having dinner together that evening, eliciting a worried response from Blaine’s niece.

‘Be careful, Maisie.’ Jackie had sounded both embarrassed and sincere. ‘Mum has told me there’s some sort of thing in his past, I don’t know what, but it’s to do with a woman and it’s had a huge effect on him. I’m not saying he’s celibate but he never gets emotionally involved, you know? And you don’t want anyone with baggage.’

She had fobbed Jackie off with some light comment about this meal being a reward for handling the Iola thing well—she was getting pretty good at lying, which was a bit worrying—but now, as she slid into the car, she knew the baggage thing was the least of her problems. For some reason all the rules about emotional engagement, rules which were essential for self-protection, had become fuzzy in the last twenty-four hours. This might be a rebound thing; she really didn’t know any more but, whatever it was, it was powerful enough to cause her to cast aside every moral and principle she had lived by for the last twenty-eight years. She wanted Blaine Morosini.

Maisie tried to respond to Blaine’s comment about it being a beautiful evening with a coherent reply even as her mind was in another galaxy.

She had never dreamt in a thousand years she could feel this way; in fact she had always had a slightly patronising pity for women who said they just couldn’t resist a guy, but she was being forced to eat her words. Blaine had stirred feelings and emotions in her she’d never known existed and, although it was more scary than the worst cellulite, it was real.

She was still clutching the beautiful red rose and now she stroked its velvet petals as she said abstractedly, ‘There are no thorns on this rose.’

‘That’s because it’s not real.’ At her look of surprise he added, ‘Oh, I do not mean it is artificial; I was not talking in that sense. But this rose has been cultivated in protected surroundings and had all its sharp edges removed. It has never felt the rain on its petals or the insects landing on its leaves; it has not properly lived.’

‘Poor rose.’ She lifted it to her nose. ‘And it only has the faintest perfume. Perhaps it’s because it’s had it too easy that it has no perfume? Perhaps it needed the rain and the wind and everything to bring out its true beauty, its fragrance?’

‘Perhaps.’ He glanced at her and he was smiling that slightly lopsided smile again, which was sheer dynamite because the rest of him was so utterly perfect. ‘Or maybe we’re not meant to be philosophers and are talking a load of rubbish?’

Maisie smiled back. She was unutterably relieved that he didn’t appear to be offended or cross with her for her manipulation of tonight. Then again he might be fuming but hiding it under those Italian good manners and charm? She took a deep breath. She had to say something, now, at the beginning of the evening or she wouldn’t be able to stand it. She had to make it clear she had asked him out for a good reason. ‘Blaine, I know I shouldn’t have put you in the position I did last night, about pretending you’d asked me out, I mean, but I had to talk to you and it looked as though you weren’t planning to be around for a while.’

‘No, I wasn’t.’

‘Oh.’ For a second she was taken aback but then she rallied. It was going to be cards on the table and no dressing things up, was it? Fine. That suited her because if she didn’t have her say over all this she would burst. ‘The thing is, I’m someone who likes everything out in the open,’ she said firmly. ‘I know men have this tendency to keep stuff bottled up and think any emotional talk is just for women, but I don’t like secrets or playing games. I’m not made like that.’

He shifted his legs and in the close confines of the car it registered on Maisie like a punch in the solar plexus.

She swallowed hard and went on, ‘You said something about worrying that I was vulnerable last night when you …’ She faltered.

‘When I kissed you,’ he put in softly.

‘Yes. You said Jeff had taken away my self-esteem and that I was responding to you to prove something to myself, that I was still desirable. That’s absolute rubbish.’

She saw him blink. He obviously wasn’t used to quite such plain speaking from his women, she thought, but she had started now and she might as well say it all. She was going to be stark staring crazy if she didn’t get this off her chest.

‘I’m over Jeff,’ she declared evenly. ‘I don’t know how it’s happened so fast—’ that was a lie but she was only going to go so far with this truth thing, and he probably knew it was because she had met him anyway ‘—but it has and I’m glad. We wouldn’t have lasted. I think I was more a mother than a girlfriend to him.’

One black eyebrow rose quizzically. ‘Whatever else, Maisie, rest assured I do not see you as a mother substitute.’

She knew that. From the way he had kissed her last night, she had no illusions on that score. ‘So from my side there’s no reason why you shouldn’t—’ hell, how did she say this? ‘—kiss me,’ she finished weakly. ‘Not from my side.’

‘Meaning you suspect I have reasons why I do not wish to be in a relationship?’

Hearing it like that was a bit daunting, to say the least, especially when he had spoken in a tone of voice which suggested she was right. Maisie felt a fresh riot in her stomach, which came with the realisation that she might have done better to let sleeping dogs lie. She got the distinct impression she was forcing him to say things she didn’t want to hear. ‘I suppose so,’ she managed after a long pause.

This time the pause went on even longer. ‘Maisie,’ said Blaine, just as she was ready to scream or burst into tears or both, ‘I can’t do togetherness. No, wrong, I do not want to do togetherness, but it’s nothing to do with you. I want you. I might as well admit I’ve wanted you from the minute I set eyes on you when you rushed into that café all flushed and warm and ruffled—’

‘Why?’ She had to interrupt him because, being a man, he was making this ten times worse. ‘Why can’t you—why don’t you want to be with someone? With me. Why don’t you want to be with me?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘We’ve got time.’

‘I don’t talk about it.’

‘Try,’ she said through gritted teeth. Because if you don’t, the way I’m feeling right now, I’ll forget I’m a lady and do something I’ll regret.

‘I’m sorry, but it is pointless. Would you prefer me to turn the car round and take you home now?’ It was final.

Maisie stared down at her toes. ‘If you meant what you said, about even liking me a little bit, please tell me,’ she whispered. ‘I.I need to hear it.’

He swore very softly. She didn’t know Italian but she did know a swear word when she heard it in any language. They drove on in silence for some moments and Maisie was quite oblivious to the clifftop views and scenic splendour. Eventually Blaine said, ‘We will talk over dinner but not at the restaurant where I have reserved a table. I will cancel this. I will cook for you and we will talk, sì? With this you will be satisfied?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘But understand this, mia piccola. I have nothing to give you. Oh, I am a man, I have needs, but these can be sated without the heart being involved. There are many wealthy and influential career women who want commitment even less than I do; you understand what I am saying? They do not desire obligations and ties, they are content with a good time and their freedom. You are not like this, I see that. For you physical affection would mean more.’

Physical affection? He was talking about love-making without the love part. ‘Surely that reduces us to animal level?’ she said quietly. ‘Not even that really, because animals often choose to be paired for life.’

He moved his head impatiently. ‘It is possible for some men and women to enjoy each other’s bodies with only friendship, rather than love, as the root emotion. Not everyone wants roses round the door, Maisie. Remember that. Just because you feel differently, it does not mean that they are wrong, merely that they have chosen an alternative way. The sexual act between a male and female is a very enjoyable one, regardless of whether they have rings on their fingers or not.’

It sounded well thought out and reasonable. And cold. Very cold. But Blaine wasn’t a cold man, she knew that. What was really going on in his heart? And what sort of super woman had Francesca been to have the power to mess him up so completely? And—much, much more to the point—how could she, little Maisie Burns from England, even begin to compete? She couldn’t. All she could do was be herself because she had nothing to lose, she saw that now. She’d lost him. Not that she had ever had him in the first place.

Maisie turned her head and looked out of the car window. ‘I admit I don’t see things the way you do,’ she said quietly, ‘and I believe absolutely in roses round the door. I believe some people are meant for each other and relationships like that are heaven on earth.’

‘And the other kind can be hell on earth.’

‘Look at your brother. He left Italy because he’d fallen for Jackie’s mother and I know for sure they’ve been madly in love ever since. And then there’s your own parents. They’re happy, aren’t they?’

‘I do not deny this.’ He sighed, raking his hair back from his brow and narrowing his eyes. ‘But they are lucky. I am no longer prepared to take gambles. It is as simple as that. I run my life exactly how I want to and answer to no one.’

Well, bully for you. Frustration made her want to slap him. She wriggled in her seat. ‘You might have an answer for everything but you’re still wrong,’ she said vehemently.

‘I thought I might be,’ murmured Blaine, his mouth curving.

How could he remain so calm and even smile when he was effectively slamming the door on any chance they had to be with each other? She shouldn’t have come tonight. She should tell him he could do what he had suggested and turn the car round and take her back.

She glanced at him under her eyelashes. He looked hard and handsome and his very sexy mouth wasn’t smiling any more. And there was no way, no way on earth, she was going to tell him to take her home.