he said.
‘And we can’t have that, can we?’ she agreed.
The feel of his lips on hers was passionate yet comforting, confirming her sensation that she was in the right place with the right person.
‘I’m glad I met you,’ he whispered against her mouth.
‘I’m glad, too.’
They walked slowly back along the Via Vittorio Veneto. Neither spoke until they reached the hotel and he said, ‘Let me take you up to your room.’
She could have bid him goodnight there and then, but she didn’t. She knew now that as the evening passed the decision had been slowly building inside her. What she was going to do was right, and whatever might come of it, she was resolved.
When they reached her room he waited while she opened the door. Then he took a step back, allowing her time to change her mind. But she had passed that point, and so had he. When she held out her hand he took it, followed her inside and closed the door, shutting out the world.
In the morning she awoke to find herself alone. By her bed was a scrap of paper, on which was written, ‘Thank you with all my heart. Lucio.’
At breakfast she looked around but didn’t see him. She realised that she didn’t even know his last name.
Strangely the situation did not distress her. They had been ships that passed in the night because that was what both of them had chosen, both of them needed. He’d been passionate and at the same time a gentle, considerate lover, with a mysterious gift for making her feel as though her troubles were falling away. She could go on to whatever the future held, stronger and more confident.
But gradually, a few weeks later, she discovered what the future did hold, and she realised that nothing would ever be the same. Now it mattered that she didn’t know his full name. It took several hours’ online research to discover that he was Lucio Constello, one of the most notable men in the business, with vineyards all over the country. But the most famous one was in Tuscany.
She’d set out to confront him, wondering how this business could possibly end, and soon she would know.
There he was, far ahead. The moment of truth had arrived, and she had no choice but to go forward.
CHAPTER TWO
‘I’M NOT imagining this, am I?’ he asked slowly. ‘It’s really you?’
‘Sure it’s me,’ she said lightly.
‘You… here? In Tuscany? It’s great but I can hardly believe it.’
‘Why? There was always a chance we’d bump into each other again.’
The reference to chance was deliberate. She was determined to play it casual. There must be no hint of how frantically she’d searched for him, how much it mattered. She, who prided herself on fearing nothing, had been dreading this meeting, dreading the sight of his face when she told him her news.
She covered her feelings with a smile, a cheerful shrug. He mustn’t suspect before she was ready.
‘I’m flattered you even remember me,’ she said.
‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured. ‘I remember. We had a great evening. You made me laugh.’
She stayed calm, although it was hard. Was laughter all he remembered about that night?
‘As you did me,’ she returned brightly.
‘Yes, we had a wonderful time. I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly the next morning. You were deeply asleep and I didn’t want to awaken you.’
That wasn’t quite the truth. He’d been overtaken by a desire to keep that perfect night apart, separate from all other contacts, like a picture in a frame. It had made him slip silently out of the room, leaving behind only the note that gave no clue to his identity or whereabouts. Perhaps he should be ashamed of that, but he couldn’t think of it now.
The sight of her approaching had filled him with an overwhelming gladness. The awareness of that night was there again, spectacular, intense. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and for a moment he felt nothing but pleasure.
Then she destroyed it.
‘I had to find you,’ she said. ‘There’s something you need to know.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Wh-what?’
‘I’m pregnant. I’m carrying your child.’
To his own horror his mind went blank. The pleasure at seeing her, the joy at the beautiful memories, everything vanished. He had the sensation of being punched in the face.
‘Are you… sure?’ he asked, barely knowing what he said.
‘Quite sure. And in case you’re wondering, I don’t make a habit of doing what I did that night, so there hasn’t been anyone else. You’re the father.’
‘Look, I didn’t mean…’
He could have cursed himself for his clumsiness but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t mean—what? And what did he mean? If anything.
Watching him intently, Charlotte saw the last thing in the world she’d wanted to see. Confusion. Blank. Nothing.
A desert.
In a blinding flash her courage collapsed. Don had rejected her, and although her heart hadn’t been broken, rejection was still rejection. Now Lucio was working himself up to reject her, and she wasn’t going to hang around for it.
‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ she said with a good imitation of a cheerful laugh. ‘There’s no need to panic.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Oh, yes, you are. You’re on the verge of a panic attack. Oh, poor Lucio! Did you think I was trying to trap you into marriage? Not a chance! You and me? Get real! It would never work. We’d always—well, never mind that. Just don’t panic. You’re completely safe from me, I promise you. I’m only here because you have the right to know. Fulfilling my citizenly duty. How about that?’
She even managed a teasing note in the last words, and had the bitter satisfaction of seeing uncertainty in his face. He was floundering. Good. Serve him right!
‘So there it is,’ she said. ‘Now you know. If you want to talk about it you’ll find me here.’ She thrust a piece of paper into his hand. ‘But if you don’t want to, that’s just fine. Goodbye, Lucio. It was nice knowing you.’
Turning on her heel she walked swiftly away, determined to escape before he could insult her with any more blank-faced confusion.
But she gave him a last chance. That was only fair. After hurrying a few hundred yards she looked back, expecting to find him watching her, even perhaps stretching out a hand. That would have made her pause to see if he followed.
But he was frozen where she’d left him, immobile, staring down at the paper in his hand. She waited for him to look up, see her, call her name.
Nothing! Damn him!
There was only one thing to do, and that was vanish. She managed this by moving sideways between the vines so that she slipped into the next alley. This she did again, then again and again until she was several alleys away from the one where she’d started. Then she began to run, and didn’t stop until she reached her car. A few moments later she was speeding away from the estate.
As she fled she asked herself ironically what else she’d expected. A man who shared a woman’s bed and vanished without a goodbye had sent her an unmistakable message. The woman who chose to ignore that message had nobody to blame but herself if she suffered rejection.
And it certainly was rejection. Lucio hadn’t said the actual words, but only because he’d been trying to phrase them tactfully. She wouldn’t hear