Summer Surrender: Capelli's Captive Virgin / Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim / The Italian's One-Night Love-Child

She’d been hoping for safety in numbers for their flight to the Caribbean, instead of which it was just her and Alessio and a discreet cabin staff who only materialised when something was needed.

Trying not to be overawed by the sumptuous interior of the plane, Lindsay steadily called her way through her list of clients, relieved to have something to do that didn’t involve talking to Alessio Capelli. ‘I know, Alison,’ she soothed as she listened to the latest round of developments in her client’s tempestuous marriage, ‘but do you remember what we talked about last time we met? About selective listening?’ Catching Alessio’s amused gaze, she gritted her teeth. ‘I’ll be back next week and we can talk about it then.’ Lindsay ended the conversation and dialled her next number, determined that he wouldn’t unsettle her, but all too aware of his own conversation.

‘Let her sweat, Jack,’ he drawled, the phone tucked between his cheek and his shoulder as he studied the screen of his laptop. ‘She’ll be lucky to walk away with the staff flat by the time we’ve finished with her.’

Lindsay gritted her teeth, kept her own call as brief as possible and tried to ignore the worsening pain in her head.

When he finally hung up, she glared at him. ‘Don’t you ever feel guilty? That poor woman has probably given the best years of her life bringing up his children and making him a home, while he was off picking a younger model.’

Alessio stretched his legs out in front of him, completely relaxed. ‘That “poor woman” abandoned her two young children to pursue her affair with her ski instructor.’

Taken aback, Lindsay frowned. ‘Oh—that’s terrible. The poor man. Is he doing all right?’

‘He will be by the time I’ve finished.’ Alessio gave a deadly smile as he pulled a file out of his briefcase. ‘Revenge is sweet. We’ll get her where it hurts her most.’

Lindsay ignored that comment. ‘How are the children?’

‘Better off without her.’ Alessio opened the file and scribbled something in the margin of the first page while Lindsay watched him, deeply troubled.

‘However deep his own pain, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hurt the mother of his children.’

‘Are you?’ Alessio reached for a file from the table. ‘That’s why you’re not a divorce lawyer.’

Lindsay put down her appointments diary carefully. ‘You can’t apply cold, hard facts to people’s relationships. It just doesn’t work. It’s important to delve deeper. I’m immediately asking myself why she would do a thing like that. Why would any mother leave her children? Was she depressed or something?’

Alessio gaze was faintly mocking. ‘I think it’s fair to say that she was extremely depressed once she realised that she’d trashed her chance of receiving a generous settlement.’

Lindsay lifted her fingers to her forehead, telling herself that his warped humour and lack of sentiment was good. If he kept talking like that it would make it easier to ignore the chemistry that still managed to crackle between them. Chemistry that made it impossible for her to relax.

How was she going to survive a week with him?

It wasn’t that she had doubts about her own willpower, because she didn’t; it was more that their powerful sexual connection stirred up something dark and ugly in the depths of her brain. Something that she didn’t want to face.

Feeling a flicker of panic, she concentrated her mind on work. ‘People usually have reasons for the way they act, Alessio. If she left her children, then—’ her hand dropped to her lap as she pondered the issue ‘—perhaps she didn’t want children in the first place. Did he pressure her? Was he a lot older than her? Was parenthood an issue that they discussed before they married?’

Incredulous dark eyes met hers. ‘Accidenti, how would I know? I’m a lawyer, not a psychiatrist.’ With an impatient flick of his long fingers, Alessio flipped through the pages.

‘But surely they should try some form of counselling before they just give up. He should let her come back and try again. There are children involved—’

‘What makes you think she wants to come back?’

Appalled, Lindsay stared at him. ‘Doesn’t she?’

He lifted his gaze to hers. ‘Lindsay—’ his voice held a warning note ‘—you’re doing it already. Ignoring the facts and looking at the emotions.’

‘Emotions are important.’

‘But they’re your emotions,’ he pointed out gently, ‘not my client’s.’

‘But the children—’

‘You seem particularly sensitive to this situation. Are you this emotionally involved with every case you deal with? No wonder you’re always so tense.’

‘I’m not tense.’ She was agonisingly aware of him, of his powerful shoulders and his hard, handsome face. Why is it, she wondered desperately, that a person can still be devastatingly attractive even when they are so deficient in other more important qualities? ‘You hate women, don’t you?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is this my cue to say that some of my best friends are women?’

‘That’s not friendship.’

His smile was impossibly attractive. ‘Friendship means different things to different people.’

And she was in no doubt as to what it meant to him. ‘But you seem to make it your life’s work to make sure that women don’t profit from marriage.’

‘Only when the purpose of their marriage was profit. I don’t believe that marriage should be a source of income.’ His long bronzed fingers played idly with his pen and she lifted her own fingers and rubbed her forehead again. The dangerous mix of cool and charismatic was making her head spin.

‘It’s the source of your income,’ she pointed out, and his smile widened.

‘Touché.’ He glanced up as a uniformed girl sashayed down the plane with a tray of refreshments. ‘Ah—supper. Are you hungry, Lindsay?’

Her head was getting worse and to make matters worse her stomach was starting to churn. ‘Actually, no. But thank you.’ She wished once again that she hadn’t left her pills at home. This whole situation was going to be difficult enough without having to do it with a headache. ‘Perhaps this would be a good time for you to tell me something about the objective of this trip. If I’m to assist you, I’d better know something about the case.’

‘My prospective client hasn’t yet appointed legal counsel,’ Alessio purred. ‘He simply wishes to discuss his situation. I’ve agreed to listen.’

‘So he’s not even sure he wants a divorce?’

‘He knows he wants a divorce—he just hasn’t yet decided how to go about it. Or who he wants to represent him.’

‘So he might choose you.’

‘If he can afford me, he’ll choose me.’ Alessio suppressed a yawn and Lindsay shot him a bemused glance.

‘Why do you do this? You obviously don’t need the money.’

‘I enjoy the mental stimulation. I’m naturally competitive. I enjoy winning.’

‘Do you really think it’s “winning” to destroy someone’s marriage?’

‘Marriages come to me ready broken.’ His dark eyes flashed a warning. ‘And lecturing me isn’t in your job description.’

‘But has your client even tried to fix what’s wrong? Perhaps if he talks to an outsider—someone who isn’t involved—’ Lindsay broke off and winced as another shaft of pain lanced her head. Her stomach churned horribly and she sat totally still, willing it to settle.

Not now. She didn’t need this to happen now.

Alessio frowned, his eyes fixed on her face. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Nothing at all.’ She could just imagine how a man like him would react to a woman with a migraine. Deciding that it was best to make her escape while she could, she stood up gingerly. ‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment. I need to use the bathroom.’

His eyes lingered thoughtfully on her face. ‘Last door on the left.’