The Italian's Unexpected Love-Child. Miranda Lee

Combine that with a delicate oval face, clear porcelain skin and a lush mouth and you had a package which would tempt a saint.

      And he was no saint.

      Hopefully, when she took her sunglasses off, she would have small squinty eyes and a bumpy nose, but he doubted it. Laurence’s eyes had been one of his best features and his nose had been nicely shaped. If his daughter took after him—and he suspected that she did—she would be a classical beauty, with a superb brain and an enquiring mind.

      The many hours Leonardo had spent with Laurence stood out as some of the most enjoyable times of his adult life. It hadn’t been just his house he’d enjoyed but the man himself. His company. His knowledge. His probing questions.

      Leonardo sighed as he was reminded how much he missed his friend.

      ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you off the ferry, Veronica,’ he said. ‘I had some unexpected trouble at my boutique in Rome which I had to attend to.’

      She turned to glance his way, her jeaned thigh briefly brushing against his. ‘Something serious?’

      ‘Yes and no. The manager was...what is the expression?...dipping her fingers in the till.’

      ‘That’s dreadful. Did you have her arrested?’

      Leonardo’s laugh was very dry. ‘I would have liked to, but she threatened to ruin me if I did that.’

      ‘How could she ruin you?’

      Leonardo shrugged. ‘Perhaps “ruin” is an exaggeration. She threatened to accuse me of sexual harassment if I had her arrested. In the end, I paid her off and she left quietly. But I’m not sure I trust her to keep her silence. She might still put something nasty on social media about me.’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘She could say that to get her job in the first place she had to sleep with me.’

      ‘But that’s slander!’

      ‘Not exactly. I did sleep with her. Once. It was a mistake, but I could not take it back after it happened, could I?’

      ‘Well, no. I guess not.’

      Leonardo noted the dry note in Veronica’s voice. She probably thought he was a playboy. Which he was, in some people’s eyes. But not of the worst kind. He tried not to hurt women’s feelings, but unfortunately the opposite sex often equated lust with love. He glanced over at Veronica and wondered if she was that type.

      This thought brought another one.

      ‘I didn’t think to ask over the phone if you had a boyfriend,’ he said. They’d talked about their professional lives but hadn’t touched on the personal. He’d told her about his sportswear company and she’d explained that she worked from home as a physiotherapist, treating mostly elderly patients. She’d sounded oddly spinsterish over the phone. He could see now how wrong that impression had been. A beautiful woman like her would surely have a love life.

      Her face betrayed nothing. But she stiffened a little.

      ‘No,’ she replied after a small hesitation. ‘No one at the moment. No one serious, at least,’ she added with a wry little smile.

      ‘Ah. You like to play the field.’

      Her laugh was both light and amused. ‘If you like...’

      He did like. Oh, yes, he liked that idea a lot, forgetting all about the antagonism towards the opposite sex that this morning’s confrontation had evoked in him. Suddenly, the prospect of keeping this lovely lady company this coming weekend was not a duty but a pleasure.

      ‘We have arrived,’ he announced when Franco turned his taxi through the high stone walls into the courtyard of the Hotel Fabrizzi. ‘What do you think, Veronica? Is not my parents’ hotel a delightful little establishment?’