already have—’
‘I know. And it suits you so well.’
They entered the café, ordered, then chose a table near the window.
‘But you should wear something subtly different, that you’ll always associate with the most wonderful day of your life.’
‘Mamma,’ she protested, and was stalled in any further attempt as Teresa caught hold of her hands.
‘A mother dreams of her child’s wedding day from the moment she gives birth. Especially a daughter. I want yours to be perfect, as perfect as it can be in every way.’ Her eyes shimmered, and Aysha witnessed her conscious effort to control her emotions. ‘With Carlo you’ll have a wonderful life, enjoying the love you share together.’
A one-sided love, Aysha corrected silently. Many a successful marriage had been built on less. Was she foolish to wish for more? To want to be secure in the knowledge that Carlo had eyes only for her? That she was the only one he wanted, and no one else would do?
Chasing rainbows could be dangerous. If you did catch hold of one, there was no guarantee of finding the elusive pot of gold.
‘Your father and I had a small wedding by choice,’ Teresa continued. ‘Our parents offered us money to use however we chose, and it was more important to use it towards the business.’
Aysha squeezed her mother’s hand. ‘I know, Mamma. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.’ Their love for each other wasn’t in question, although she’d give almost anything to be able to break through the parent-child barrier and have Teresa be her friend, her equal.
However, Teresa was steeped in a different tradition, and the best she could hope for was that one day the balance of scales would become more even.
It was after eleven when they emerged into the arcade. Inevitably, Teresa’s list had been updated to include perfume and a complete range of cosmetics and toiletries.
Aysha simply went with the flow, picked at a chicken salad when they paused for lunch, took two painkillers for her headache, and tried to evince interest in Teresa’s summary of the wedding gifts which were beginning to arrive at her parents’ home.
At three her mobile phone rang, and when she answered she heard Carlo’s deep drawl at the other end of the line.
‘Good day?’
Her heart moved up a beat. ‘We’re just about done.’
‘I’ll be at the house around seven.’
She was conscious of Teresa’s interest, and she contrived to inject her tone with necessary warmth. ‘Shall I cook something?’
‘No, we’ll eat out.’
‘OK. Ciao.’ She cut the connection and replaced the unit into her bag.
‘Carlo,’ Teresa deduced correctly, and Aysha inclined her head. ‘He’s a good man. You’re very fortunate.’
There was only one answer she could give. ‘I know.’
It was almost five when they parted, slipped into separate cars, and entered the busy stream of traffic, making it easy for Aysha to hang back at an intersection, then diverge onto a different road artery.
If Teresa discovered her daughter and prospective son-in-law were temporarily occupying separate residences, it would only arouse an entire host of questions Aysha had no inclination to answer.
The house was quiet, and she made her way upstairs, deposited a collection of brightly-coloured carry-bags in the bedroom, then discarded her clothes, donned a bikini and retraced her steps to the lower floor.
The pool looked inviting, and she angled her arms and dived into its cool depths, emerging to the surface to stroke several lengths before turning onto her back and lazily drifting.
Long minutes later she executed sufficient backstrokes to bring her to the pool’s edge, then she levered herself onto the ledge and caught up a towel. Standing to her feet, she blotted excess moisture from her body, then she crossed to a nearby lounger and sank back against its cushioned depth.
The view out over the harbour was sheer magic, for at this hour the sea was a dark blue, deepening almost to indigo as it merged in the distance with the ocean.
There were three huge tankers drawing close to the main harbour entrance, and in the immediate periphery of her vision hundreds of small craft lay anchored at moorings.
It was a peaceful scene, and she closed her eyes against the strength of the sun’s warmth. It had a soporific effect, and she could feel herself drifting into a light doze.
It was there that Carlo found her more than an hour later, after several minutes of increasing anxiety when he’d failed to locate her anywhere indoors.
His relief at seeing her lying supine on the lounger was palpable, although he could have shaken her for putting him through a few minutes of hell.
He slid open the door quietly, and stood watching her sleep. She looked so relaxed it was almost a shame to have to wake her, and he waited a while, not willing to disturb the moment.
A soft smile curved his mouth. He wanted to cross to her side and gently tease her into wakefulness. Lightly trail his fingers over the length of her body, brush his lips to her cheek, then find her mouth with his own. See her eyelids flutter then lift in wakefulness, and watch the warmth flood her eyes as she reached for him.
Except as things stood, the moment her lashes swept open her eyes were unlikely to reflect the emotion he wanted.
‘AYSHA.’
She was dreaming, and she fought her way through the mists of sleep at the sound of her name.
The scene merged into reality. The location was right, so was the man who stood within touching distance.
It was the circumstances that were wrong.
She moved fluidly into a sitting position. ‘Is it that late?’ She swung her legs onto the ground and rose to her feet.
He looked impressive dressed in tailored trousers, pale blue cotton shirt, tie and jacket. She kept her eyes fixed on the knot of his tie. ‘I’ll go shower and change.’
He let her go, then followed her into the house. He crossed to the kitchen, extracted a cool drink from the refrigerator and popped the can, then he prowled around the large entertainment area, too restless to stand or sit in one place for long.
There were added touches he hadn’t noticed before. Extra cushions on the chairs and sofas, prints hanging on the walls. The lines were clean and muted, but the room had a comfortable feeling; it was a place where it would be possible to relax.
Carlo checked his watch, and saw that only five minutes had passed. It would take her at least another thirty to wash and dry her hair, dress and apply make-up.
Forty-five, he accorded when she re-entered the room.
The slip dress in soft shell-pink with a chiffon overlay and a wide lace border on the hemline heightened her lightly tanned skin, emphasised her dark blonde hair, and clever use of mascara and shadow deepened the smoky grey of her eyes.
She’d twisted her hair into a knot atop her head, and teased free a tendril that curled down to the edge of her jaw.
Aysha found it easy to return his gaze with a level one of her own. Not so easy was the ability to slow the sudden hammering of her heart as she drew close.
‘Shall we leave?’ Her voice was even, composed, and at total variance to the rapid beat of her pulse.
‘Before we do, there’s something I want you to read.’ Carlo reached for the flat manila envelope resting on the nearby table and handed