His Lost-And-Found Bride

She walked back to the entranceway. ‘Give me some time to run the program and see what it comes up with.’

Logan held out his hand as she made to leave. ‘And in the meantime?’ He spun around. ‘Time is marching on, we’ve still got work to do in the chapel—even if we aren’t anywhere near the fresco.’

She looked around and gave a little nod. ‘Let me give you some recommendations on the best way to protect it in the meantime from dust, plaster and paint.’ Her gaze connected with his. ‘This could be a really amazing discovery, Logan.’

It was the way she’d said his name. Her accent, her lilt. He’d heard it on so many occasions. Last thing at night, first thing in the morning. In the heat of passion and in the depths of despair.

He just hadn’t admitted how much he actually missed it.

His feet were rooted to the spot. But Lucia’s weren’t. She was headed out the door. She was leaving. Who knew how long she would actually stay here. He could get up tomorrow morning and discover her gone.

‘Have dinner with me?’

‘What?’ She stopped. She looked shocked.

‘Have dinner with me,’ he repeated, stepping closer to her. The words had come out of nowhere. He couldn’t take them back. He didn’t want to take them back.

‘We have things we need to discuss.’ He saw a wave of panic flit across her eyes. ‘Business we need to discuss.’

‘Oh, of course.’ She glanced down at her digital camera. ‘My program will take a few hours to run.’ She was stalling. Of course she was. The last thing she’d want to do was have dinner with him.

‘Then you’ll have a few hours to kill,’ he said quickly. This was embarrassing. Logan Cascini wasn’t used to women saying no to him. But Lucia wasn’t just any woman. Lucia was the woman he’d once loved. Sure, it felt awkward. Sure, this wasn’t an ideal situation.

But this was the first time he’d seen her in twelve years. If this fresco turned out to be important, it could have significant repercussions for his business. He had to keep on top of this.

He almost laughed out loud. His mind was giving him all the rational, professional reasons for having dinner with Lucia. But his heart was giving him a whole host of completely irrational, emotional reasons for having dinner with Lucia.

None of them professional. All of them personal.

His mouth kept talking. ‘We can discuss any paperwork that will need to be completed. I’ll need to translate everything for Louisa, and if there’s going to be any extra expenses we’ll need to discuss those too. There’s a nice restaurant in Monte Calanetti. It will give you a chance to see the village.’

She was hesitating, looking for a reason to say no, and he wasn’t prepared to accept that.

He walked around her in long strides. ‘Leave the arrangements to me.’

‘Well, I... I...’ She was still murmuring while he left.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1ecd0d71-bfa4-54b7-a76f-0649cbbacd0a)

FOUR DIFFERENT OUTFITS. That’s how many she’d tried on. She hadn’t brought that many clothes as she’d only expected to be here a few days and hadn’t expected to be socialising at all, let alone socialising with the man she used to live with. Two suits, one pair of trousers, one extra skirt and a variety of tops were all that her trusty red case held.

A white shirt, a pale pink shirt and a bright blue one were currently lying on her bed. She was wearing a flared white skirt and red shirt. And against all her better judgement a bright red pair of stilettos.

The shoes gave some height to her diminutive stature. Right now she was praying that the restaurant wasn’t in the middle of the cobbled streets of Monte Calanetti.

Logan was waiting outside for her in an idling car. She’d expected him to drive something black and sleek but instead he was in a four-wheel drive.

He gave her a nod as she opened the door and climbed in. Catching sight of her shoes, a glimmer of a smile appeared on his face. ‘We’re going to the local restaurant—Mancini’s. I hope you like traditional food.’ His eyes were gleaming.

She was nervous. And she couldn’t quite work out why. Logan had changed into a white open-necked shirt and dark fitted trousers. His dark hair still had that rumpled look that she’d always loved. It was like a magnet—all she wanted to do was lift her hand and run her fingers through it.

She shifted her legs nervously in the car, crossing them one way then the other. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. She eyed her shoes warily. ‘Where is the restaurant?’

Logan was completely cool. He didn’t seem at all unsettled at being around her. ‘It’s a converted farmhouse on the edge of the village. The chef’s family have owned the restaurant for years, his wife-to-be is the maître d’—she’s from the US.’ He gave a little smile. ‘It’s an explosive combination.’

With Logan this was all about business. She would clearly have to adopt the same attitude.

He pulled up outside the restaurant, switched off the engine, and before she even had a chance to think he had come around the car and was opening her door and holding out his hand towards her.

She stared at his tanned hand and fingers. Touch him. She’d done it once. Her palm had burned for around an hour afterwards. Did she really want to touch Logan Cascini again?

How on earth could she say no?

She placed her hand in his. The sparks didn’t fly this time. Probably because she was a little more prepared. This time it was a warm buzz, a little hum running up her arm and straight across to her heart.

Twelve years on, and he could still do it to her.

It was unnerving. She could hardly keep her thoughts straight.

The first glimpse of Logan had sent tingles around her body. But that had been quickly followed by a rush of emotions associated with bad memories. Memories that were locked away deep inside her.

There was a reason she wasn’t happily married with a family. There was a reason she always backed off when a few dates started to turn into something else.

Professionally, her life was good. She had a gorgeous apartment, a motivating and challenging job, along with a whole host of good friends and colleagues.

That would be enough for most people. That should be enough. And right up until she’d glimpsed Logan again it had been.

Now she felt...unbalanced.

She walked into the farmhouse converted into a restaurant. Thankfully there were no cobbles outside and the added height from her stilettos seemed to buffer her confidence a little.

It was cute. There were shutters on the windows and exposed brickwork on the walls. Wooden tables filled the dining room, but they weren’t all uniform, like in most restaurants. They were all different shapes and sizes, perfect for all numbers of guests, and it gave an old-world charm to the place.

They were shown to their table and the waiter lit the candle, then handed over the wine list. He nodded at Logan and pointed to the back wall. ‘As you can see, we have a wide variety of wines from all the local vineyards. If you need a recommendation just let me know.’

Lucia ran her eyes down the list and sighed. Italians were passionate about their wine and the wine list was thicker than the actual menu.

‘What’s your preference?’

Couldn’t he remember? Had he forgotten everything about their time together?

Before she had a chance to speak he waved to the waiter. ‘Can we have some bread, olives and some oil while we decide?’

The waiter gave a nod and disappeared. It seemed he hadn’t quite forgotten everything after all. Lucia had always enjoyed taking her time to peruse a menu, and Logan had always been starving.

She swallowed, her fingers drifting back to the file she’d brought with her. This made it seem more real. This was work. The reason she’d agreed to dinner tonight.

She licked her lips. Nerves were doing strange things to her. ‘I think I’d like to keep things simple. I’d like to have some white wine, I think, something light. A frascati.’