Beth. I’ve been waiting for you to get home. Mind if I join you?’
Not waiting for an answer, Tony strolled through the gate.
‘What is it this time? Sugar, milk or are you begging a meal?’ she asked dryly, watching as he straddled a chair and propped his elbows on the back.
‘For once, none of the above.’ He grinned. ‘But I wouldn’t mind sex, if you’re offering,’ he declared with a mock-salacious grin.
Beth couldn’t help it. She laughed and shook her head. ‘Not in a million years, Tony Hetherington.’
‘I thought not. But you can’t blame a guy for trying,’ he said, his blue eyes sparkling with humour. ‘But, to get down to business, are you at home this weekend or are you going to the cottage again?’
‘No, I’ll be here for the next two weeks and then I’m taking three weeks’ holiday to go down and do some much-needed decorating—and with luck get in some surfing. I’m hoping you’ll keep a check on this place, as usual. You do still have the spare key?’
‘Yes, of course. Consider it done. But to get back to my problem … As you know, Monday was my birthday and I had dinner with my parents—boring! So on Saturday I plan to have a party for all my friends, and you are invited! We’re a bit short on women, so please say you’ll come.’
‘Why am I not flattered by the invite?’ Beth queried mockingly. ‘Making up the numbers is bad enough, but I also remember your last party, at Christmas, when I served most of the food and drink and then ended up chasing the guests out when you and Mike passed out! Not to mention cleaning up afterwards….’
Tony chuckled. ‘That was unfortunate. But it was a great party—and it will be different this time, I promise. For a start, it’s going to be a barbecue. The guests are invited for four in the afternoon until late, and we’ll be outside, so no cleaning up.’
‘Ah! I see. So what you really mean is can you use my garden as it is twice the length of yours?’
‘Well, there is that, yes—but more importantly Mike is making a list of the food he thinks we need. Personally, I think a few dozen sausages and burgers and a bit of salad would do, but you know what he’s like—he thinks he’s a great cook. He’s talking marinated chicken, special kebabs, fish and stuffed heaven knows what! As for the salads—you name it and he is going make it. You have to help me, Beth,’ he declared, looking at her with pleading puppy-dog eyes.
‘You are such an actor,’ she said dryly. ‘But your boyish charm does not wash with me.’
‘I know, but it was worth a go.’ He grinned. ‘But, honestly, I really do need your help. We had a barbecue last month, when you were away for the weekend, and it was a bit of a disaster,’ he confessed sheepishly. ‘I knew you wouldn’t mind, but unfortunately Mike nearly poisoned half the guests with his stuffed pork loins. We will never hear the end of it from our pals at the bank.’
‘Oh, my God, he didn’t?’ Beth exclaimed with a laugh.
‘Oh, yes, he did,’ Tony said wryly, getting to his feet. ‘Which, when I think about it, is probably why we are short on females this time. What right minded girl is going to risk getting food poisoning again?’
‘All right, all right. I’ll come and help,’ Beth agreed when she could stop laughing. ‘On condition the barbecue is set up in your garden. I don’t want any of my plants burnt—which is quite likely to happen with you two in charge. The guests can use my garden to drink, eat … whatever. But my apartment is strictly out of bounds. Understood?’
‘Yes, you gorgeous woman, you. We can keep the beer bins on your patio.’ He grinned and walked back though the open gate. ‘And thanks!’ he called back, before disappearing into his own apartment.
At seven on Saturday evening the sun was shining in a clear blue sky, and a relaxed smile curved Beth’s lips as she looked around the garden, which was crowded with casually dressed people. Some were eating, drinking or standing chatting, whilst others were already dancing to the music. A few more guests were upstairs in the boys’ apartment, where the hard liquor was being served. Beer and white wine was stacked in big bins full of ice outside Beth’s kitchen window. She had taken the precaution of locking her back door, and had the key in the pocket of her jeans.
‘Alone, Beth?’ A slightly inebriated Tony slid an arm around her waist. ‘That will never do. Thanks to you talking Mike out of his flights of fancy over the food, the barbecue is going great and the party is really taking off. Have a drink.’
Smiling, she shook her head. ‘You know I never drink.’
‘Well, I’m going to get another—catch you later.’ Tony’s arm fell from her waist and he half turned, then stopped. ‘I don’t believe it!’ he exclaimed, grabbing her waist again. ‘My big brother is here! I left a message at his London office, inviting him, but I never expected him to come. He’s a lawyer—the intense, intellectual type—and he speaks about six languages and travels all over the world with his work. In fact he’s a workaholic. I haven’t seen him since last year, but Mum told me he finally got engaged a couple of months ago. I guess the woman with him must be his fiancée.’
‘I didn’t know you had a brother,’ Beth said with a curious glance past Tony. Then she froze.
There in front of her she saw a hard, handsome face with heavy-lidded eyes that seemed to look straight at her, before the man turned to smile down at the woman by his side. Fear gripped Beth for a moment at the sight of the couple Mike had just led into the garden, and he was now indicating where she stood with Tony.
Cannavaro. It could not be! She stared in disbelief at the tall, broad-shouldered man walking towards them and felt a shiver run down her spine.
Beth noted that the thick black hair was longer now, and brushed the white collar of his shirt. Belted chinos clung to his lean hips and followed the long length of his legs. She stiffened as an icy coldness washed over her. There was no mistake—it was him….
She had only ever seen Cannavaro in a dark suit—the man in black who had haunted her dreams, her nightmares, for years. But he was just as intimidating in casual clothes, if not more so. His relaxed appearance would fool anyone into thinking he was one of the good guys. Not the smooth-talking devious devil Beth knew him to be.
Beth had not set eyes on him since her court appearance eight years ago. She had followed Helen’s plan and with the help and guidance of Clive Hampton had settled in London, where it was easy to go unnoticed among the teeming millions of people. Or so she had thought until now.
The odds against bumping into Cannavaro even once in London must be huge, but twice in a week they’d be astronomical … Or just sheer bad luck. And she was going to have to deal with the situation coolly and confidently. Running away would simply draw attention to herself.
But surely Cannavaro could not be Tony’s brother? For starters he was a lot taller, and he looked nothing like him. Tony was fresh-faced, young, fun, and he laughed his way through life. Cannavaro had black hair, olive-toned skin and, though handsome, his face held a hard ruthlessness, an arrogance that she recognised all too well. Secondly, and more importantly, they had different surnames.
‘You don’t look anything like each other,’ she probed cautiously.
‘Same mother. Different fathers. I take after my dad. Mum’s Italian, and she was a widow with a thirteen-year-old son when Dad met her in Italy. They married almost immediately and he brought her back to England to live. Dante went to school and university in Italy and England, so we only saw each other on the holidays—half of which we used to spend at Mum’s old home in Italy. Mum and Dad still go there, but I haven’t been for years. Being stuck in the middle of the countryside is not my idea of fun, but Dante loves the place. Actually, it belongs to him now, as he inherited his father’s estate and oodles of money along with half of the family law firm.’
It