ice-man image, but now? Now she didn’t know—didn’t want to know, she qualified fiercely. If she didn’t let him get near her again he couldn’t hurt her again. Simple. What wasn’t so simple was the seductive need his touch had induced, the sweet, potent ache between her legs and the ripening of her breasts from their contact against his hard chest. But that was physical, just an instinctive response of her body to his as it had recognised the feel and taste of him, and as such it could be controlled. It could.
‘I know you loved Paolo, Donato.’ She didn’t try to prevaricate but it was only as she spoke her son’s name that she realised she had come a long way from the first devastating weeks of grief. Then the sound of his name had been like a sword piercing her through; now it produced a sad, tender yearning but without the raw, blinding pain. ‘We both did; we always will.’
‘Then for his sake could we not try to make the next few weeks as easy as possible?’ Donato asked quietly. ‘You have seen how things are with Lorenzo, you acknowledge he needs you here?’ She nodded silently. Yes, she could see the heartbroken little boy needed unconditional love and companionship in the immediate future. ‘Bianca has offered to take him into her home for the time being but he does not want that and I agree it would not be good for him. He needs to be in his own home, with things familiar. Benito for one,’ he added wryly.
She nodded again, guessing rightly that Bianca had refused to take the parrot; the two had always loathed each other but Benito’s dislike took the form of a verbal assault whenever Bianca was present, and although it was impossible it always seemed that Benito had planned exactly what he was going to say for maximum effect, proving himself a worthy adversary against Bianca’s caustic tongue. Perversely, the parrot adored Romano, Bianca’s husband, screeching with delight whenever he saw him and nuzzling his hand when Romano stroked him.
‘I shall need to let the surgery know as soon as possible,’ she said stiffly. ‘They may need to find a replacement.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they will keep the position open for you.’ His tone was smooth, but with that edge running underneath which she had recognised before. She ignored it; her nerves were shot to pieces as it was and she really couldn’t take much more. ‘Would you like to telephone now?’ he asked with suspect helpfulness.
‘I... Yes, I suppose I could.’ She stared at him warily. ‘Or after lunch; there’s no rush.’
‘There is also no time like the present; is that not what you English say?’ He smiled, but it didn’t reach the ebony eyes. ‘Use the phone in my study; you will not be interrupted there.’
He took her arm as he spoke, moving her out of the room and into the lower hall before she could reply, and although she wanted to speak the touch of his fingers was burning her through her thin cotton blouse and the delicious smell of him was sending all lucid thought from her head.
Why, oh, why did he have to affect her like this? she asked herself angrily as she trotted along at his side into the main part of the house. She didn’t want it—in the circumstances nothing could be more humiliating—so why did her senses go into overdrive at no more than a lift of those sardonic black eyebrows? It was over, finished. Her brain knew that, so why wasn’t it sending the message to her hormones? she thought testily.
‘Here we are.’ He opened the door to his study, standing aside for her to enter first with his normal courtesy and then following her into the room, shutting the door carefully behind him.
‘Would you like me to get the number for you?’ he asked silkily, walking across the beautifully furnished room to his large, gleaming walnut desk and picking up the phone before she could demur, his face impassive.
She stared at him, a little taken back without knowing why, but feeling even more certain that there was something running under the cool, controlled façade that was anything but cool and controlled. Following her into the room for what was obviously a private phone call was not Donato’s style; his manners were always impeccable, his good breeding absolute.
But perhaps he was merely trying to be helpful? she thought quickly. Especially after their conversation about compromise? ‘Thank you.’ She gave the number and then took the phone a few moments later when he spoke her name, his voice flat. After settling herself in the chair opposite his desk she hesitated, expecting he would now leave, but instead he strolled lazily to his own chair, seating himself without a word.
She was now positioned so that he was directly facing her across the polished expanse of wood, and he was making no effort to glance at any of the papers on his desk, his eyes tight on her flushed face as she began to speak.
‘Hello, Claire, is that you?’ she began hesitantly, annoyed to find he was making her nervous. ‘It’s Grace.’
‘Grace?’ Claire’s voice mirrored her concern and Grace felt warmed by her friend’s solicitude. They had only known each other for the last four months, Claire having come to work at the surgery following a long spell in hospital after a severe road accident, but the two of them had immediately hit it off. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day. How’s it going?’
‘OK.’ She took a deep breath and tried to clear her thoughts, which were gluing together under the rapier-sharp gaze across the desk. ‘But I’m going to need to stay in Italy longer than I thought,’ she said carefully.
‘You are?’ Now the anxiety was transparent. ‘You’re all right, aren’t you? I mean, I know it must be terribly difficult with the funeral and Donato and everything, but there’s nothing more?’
‘Don’t worry, Claire, I’m fine.’ She would have loved to unburden herself to this friend whom she had only known a short time but to whom she had been able to confide all the pain of the past and fears of the future, but with the dark presence across the desk freezing the air all around her it was most definitely not the time. ‘I’ll give you a ring once the funeral is over and we can talk properly, but I just thought I ought to let everyone know I shall be away a few weeks.’
‘I see. Hang on a mo and I’ll put you through to Jim; he left a message that he wanted to speak to you if you rang at any time.’ Claire paused before adding, ‘Take care, Grace, and don’t forget I’m here for you.’
‘I won’t; thank you, Claire.’ As the phone clicked she felt a moment’s surprise at Jim asking for her, and then told herself she should have expected it. Jim had joined the team of doctors at the same time that she had returned to England, and the fact that they were two newcomers had produced a certain affinity between them.
Jim was a mild-mannered, patient kind of individual, well suited to his chosen profession, and with her emotions still raw from Donato’s betrayal, coming as it had so swiftly after the horror of Paolo’s death, she had been grateful for his calm, placid friendship as she had struggled to take up the reins of her new life.
Grace had no immediate relations in England, having been brought up in a children’s home from the age of five, when her parents had been killed in a car accident, and all Jim’s family were in Scotland, so the two of them had got into the habit of eating together most evenings before they went home to their respective flats.
When Claire had joined the surgery she had accompanied them on occasion, as well as introducing Grace to her parents and friends, but Jim had still maintained a watchful, fatherly attitude towards her which she had thought rather touching considering he was only a few years older than her.
‘There is a problem?’ She looked up to find the brilliant dark eyes hard on hers.
‘No.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’m just waiting to be put through; I suppose there is someone with him at the moment.’
‘Him?’ Donato questioned softly.
‘Jim Penn.’ She flushed as she said the name although she wasn’t at all sure why, but there was something at the back of Donato’s glittering gaze that was unnerving. ‘He had left a message that he wanted to speak to me if I rang.’
‘How...thoughtful.’
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