The Italian Tycoon's Bride Read online

  Blaine took a few sips of wine. ‘She said you were gentle, warm, kind and easily put upon. And pretty.’

  Jackie had made her sound like a cocker spaniel. She eyed Blaine warily. ‘And you don’t agree with that?’

  ‘I suppose one out of the five holds up.’

  She knew she shouldn’t be saying this; it was simply asking for trouble to give him more ammunition but she couldn’t resist knowing. ‘Which is?’

  ‘The last.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Sit still and I’ll get some food.’

  The last? The pretty bit. Maisie stared after the broad male back. Did he realise that right at the moment she would rather hear that than the rest? Not that she appreciated the inference that she was aggressive, cold and hard, of course, far from it, but when all was said and done…

  Blaine returned in a short while with two plates holding salad, savoury eggs, baked potatoes in their jackets, corn on the cob and several morsels of charcoal masquerading as steak and chicken. ‘This was actually the best there was,’ he said, when he saw Maisie glance at the plates.

  Loyalty to Roberto prevented her from speaking the truth, namely that she wasn’t surprised. ‘This is lovely.’ She really couldn’t tell which was the steak or the chicken. ‘I can’t bear my meat underdone.’

  Blaine moved a little piece of porous black substance with his fork. ‘Quite.’

  ‘I suppose you’re used to Italian cuisine,’ Maisie said a little tartly, trying to ignore that when he frowned the hard angles of his face were even more devastatingly attractive.

  Blaine put his plate at his feet and picked up his glass with the air of a man who had made a decision. Maisie suspected he wouldn’t pick it up again.

  ‘Is that a criticism?’ he asked softly. ‘Don’t you like Italian food?’

  She loved it actually, but she’d rather walk naked through the streets of London than admit it to him. She blanked her face and lied through her teeth. ‘I don’t remember tasting any apart from the odd pizza, and I don’t suppose that counts?’

  He didn’t exactly groan but his expression said it all. It was unfortunate that Jackie chose that moment to stroll over and, having noticed Blaine’s plate on the floor, mutter, ‘Dad’s not the best in the world at barbecues but he tries. Now something like carpaccio or risi e bisi and he’s in his element, isn’t he, Maisie? You always love it when Dad cooks, don’t you?’

  Maisie knew that Jackie was standing up for her father but she couldn’t have chosen a worse moment. She didn’t dare look at Blaine. There was a pause and then, as two of Jackie’s little nephews grabbed her and pulled her off, Blaine murmured, ‘Of course, when Jackie was describing you she left out the accomplished liar bit. But I’m impressed. You fooled me for a moment and that is not easy to do, believe me.’

  Maisie suddenly found she didn’t like this little game they were playing. She didn’t lie—not usually, anyway—and neither was she all the other things he’d got her down for. She turned to look him straight in the face and, as she did so, she noticed the sensual mouth was faintly stern and his eyes weren’t smiling any more. He hadn’t liked being fooled, that much was apparent. It gave her no sense of satisfaction, however. ‘I’m not an accomplished liar,’ she said painfully. ‘I’m not what you think I am at all, actually. It’s just that I’m in the middle of something awful and…’ Her voice cracked and died.

  To her horror she found she couldn’t go on, not without bursting into tears anyway. She looked down at her plate and speared a piece of shrivelled black something or other and began to chew.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was very quiet, the accent adding a smoky softness that brought her eyes up to meet his gaze. It was then that she made the mistake of trying to swallow.

  The next few minutes got her safely past the awkward moment with Blaine but created a hundred more in the pandemonium which followed her choking. The meat had lodged so firmly in her windpipe that it took one of Jackie’s sisters, an experienced nurse, doing a Heimlich Manoeuvre to remove it. As Anna was built like a brick outhouse with arms as powerful as any wrestler’s, Maisie seriously wondered if her ribs were broken once she could breath again.

  She was escorted into the house by a concerned Jackie, who managed to do a very good impression of a mother hen with a wayward chick, and once she was in the privacy of Jackie’s parents’ yellow and turquoise bathroom—something Jackie had long since stopped apologising for—she stared at her face in the mirror. She looked as though she had gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her eyes were swollen and bulging and the red blotches covering her face and neck were only matched in intensity by her bloodshot eyes.

  She sank down on the loo seat, gingerly feeling her ribs. They hurt. But not as much as her pride. She decided that as her eyes had been streaming for the last few minutes it was a good opportunity to have a surreptitious cry because no one would notice any difference.

  She felt a bit better afterwards, but not much. After washing her face, she removed the last of the black streaks from her cheeks which her mascara had left with some eye make-up removing pads from the bathroom cabinet. A scrubbed but distinctly the worse for wear reflection peered back at her from the mirror. A few minutes of splashing cold water on her heated skin took the worst of the colour away, however, and after liberally using the moisturising cream the cabinet yielded she rubbed her wet fringe dry and surveyed the result. Better. Not good, but better.

  ‘Maisie?’ Jackie’s voice sounded from outside the bathroom. ‘You OK in there?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Maisie took a deep breath and opened the door. She had to face the lot downstairs at some point and it might as well be now.

  Jackie had her poor Maisie face on, but as she was holding a make-up bag along with a comb and brush Maisie forgave her instantly. ‘Thought you might need a few running repairs,’ said Jackie sympathetically. ‘Come in to my old room and titivate.’ Jackie had moved out of the family nest some years ago but, owing to the fact she often dived back home for an odd weekend when she was short on cash or needed some TLC, her room was a home from home with everything a girl needed.

  Once she had applied some eyeliner and mascara Maisie felt happier, and with just a touch of foundation and some gloss on her lips she decided she looked better than when she had first arrived. She then whisked her hair into a high knot on the top of her head, which was cooler, leaving just a few curling tendrils to soften the look.

  Right, she was ready. She just hoped everyone pretended to forget what had happened and that she could slip away some time soon.

  The barbecue was still going on when she reappeared with Jackie, who insisted on giving her a fresh glass of wine and a new plateful of food, despite her protests that she didn’t want any. Maisie was just gazing down at her plate when a male voice spoke in her ear. ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ said Blaine.

  ‘You have?’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘Why?’

  His lips quirked. ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘I’ve absolutely no idea,’ she said with perfect honesty.

  ‘Come and sit down.’ The swinging seat was occupied by several small children, who looked in danger of upending it, but Blaine led her to two chairs in a corner of the garden under the shade of an old apple tree. Maisie went with him and sat down because it was easier than objecting. ‘I wanted to ask you something,’ he said once he was seated beside her, a glass of wine in his hand.

  She stared at him warily. Suddenly looking presentable again wasn’t enough protection.

  ‘Have you had a holiday this year?’ he asked coolly.

  ‘What?’ She was taken aback and it showed.

  ‘Have you?’

  She pulled herself together. ‘No.’ She was supposed to have been honeymooning in August but she wasn’t about to mention that.

  ‘I wondered how you’d feel about combining a holiday with some work for a few weeks?’

  She stared at him as though he was mad. �
��I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s very simple.’

  It might be but she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.

  ‘My father is very ill, as you know, and my mother visits the hospital every day, often staying eight or nine hours at a time. There is an excellent hotel virtually next door to the hospital, but as she has a couple of horses and numerous cats and dogs she won’t consider staying away overnight. That’s where you would come in.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I need someone to babysit the animals, someone who is trained and capable. My mother wouldn’t tolerate anything less. If you were taking care of the home or, more to the point, her pets, I know I could persuade her to stay most of the time at the hotel. That way she doesn’t have the travelling and she’s safe, my father sees more of her, the animals have someone who can exercise them and who understands their needs; everyone is happy. This would be very good, yes?’ He grinned a fascinatingly sexy grin. ‘What do you think?’

  The danger signals which had been activated by that grin prevented her from replying immediately. Finally she managed to say, ‘From all you’ve told me about your mother, she would never agree.’

  ‘Ah, but she would. I have already spoken to her.’

  She stared at him disbelievingly. ‘How? When?’

  ‘That wonderful invention, the telephone. A few minutes ago, when you were in the house.’

  She couldn’t quite take this in. ‘You mean you suggested a total stranger living in her home and looking after her animals and she agreed without even seeing me?’

  ‘You are not a stranger to me, Maisie, and she trusts my judgement.’

  His judgement of her hadn’t been exactly flattering. Maisie eyed him suspiciously, wondering if she should speak her mind or find out more about this crazy idea—an idea which, she had to admit, she’d been stirred by the minute he’d voiced it. To get right away from everything for a while, to spend some time in the sun doing what she loved best in all the world—taking care of animals—sounded too good to be true. And when something sounded too good to be true, that was usually because it was. ‘How long are you thinking of?’ she asked carefully.

  ‘That is hard to say.’ He frowned thoughtfully. ‘My father is due to have heart surgery in the near future. If this is a success it will mean further time in hospital and a period of convalescence. It might be a matter of weeks or even a few months.’

  Maisie knew she couldn’t ask what would happen if the operation his father was to undergo wasn’t a success. Instead she said, ‘Surely he’ll convalesce at home?’

  Blaine shrugged. ‘Possibly, but your presence would still relieve my mother of taking care of the animals, which occupies a considerable amount of her time normally. Of course she could still ride if she wishes or take the dogs out, but this would be when she feels it is possible rather than because she has to. You understand? I must mention that your duties would not involve any housework or things of this nature; my mother has a very able but elderly housekeeper who has been with her since I was born. Unfortunately Liliana has no rapport with the animals in the house and is frankly terrified of the horses.’

  So she wouldn’t be totally alone in a strange country. Maisie’s mind was moving rapidly. And things like shopping and so on would be taken care of. Great, a few weeks minus carting a trolley round the local supermarket was a thumbs up. But how could she pay the rent on her bedsit in advance when she didn’t have two pennies to rub together? And did he mean that his mother would pay for her ticket to Italy and things of that nature? If all this had only been discussed hastily a few minutes ago, he probably wouldn’t know, anyway.

  Blaine disabused her of this notion in the next moment. ‘All travelling expenses would be taken care of,’ he said smoothly, ‘and of course you would receive an initial sum of money to take care of any bills or obligations here while you are away. Perhaps we could say until the beginning of September, for argument’s sake? And then, of course, you would be paid weekly or monthly—whichever you prefer—during your stay at my mother’s home.’

  This was happening much too fast. She felt as though she had been caught up in a whirlwind. ‘What…what if your mother doesn’t like me when she meets me?’ Maisie asked a trifle shakily.

  ‘Of course my mother will like you. You are a family friend, are you not?’

  His brother’s family, actually, and was she the only one here remembering that up until yesterday the two sections of the family had been estranged for umpteen years? Roberto and his father were still estranged, if it came to it. Her head was telling her she was mad to even consider this crazy idea. Her heart was saying she had done all the right things—had been sensible, steady, practical and down-to-earth—for all of her twenty-eight years on this planet and look where it had got her. Nowhere, that was where. And if it didn’t work out in Italy she could hightail it home and put it down to experience. Or hormones. Something, anyway.

  Another thought hit her and she really didn’t know how to even begin to voice this one. She had gathered that Blaine didn’t live with his parents, but how far away from the family home was he situated? The last thing she wanted was to run into him every day. She stared into the beautiful eyes which were watching her closely.

  No. She couldn’t ask. She would just have to hope his home wasn’t too close. That was when it dawned on her that she was going to go against everything her prudent nature—not to mention her mother—would advise and accept this ridiculous offer. And quickly, before he changed his mind. Just like the girl in the tube would have done. She wouldn’t have let such a crazy opportunity slip through her fingers without giving it a try.

  Maisie’s chin lifted fractionally. ‘If you’re sure your mother will be in agreement, then thank you,’ she said clearly. ‘I would like to look after her animals for as long as she thinks fit.’

  ‘Good.’ The greeny-blue eyes had been narrowed as they’d assessed her response but now his expression changed and his voice gentled as he said, ‘I am glad.’

  Three little words. Just three little words, so why did they have the power to send a sharp thrill of something she couldn’t name right down to her toes?

  ‘If you give me your mobile number I’ll call you when I have made the arrangements,’ he said smoothly.

  Ah. Slight problem there. ‘I’ve lost my mobile,’ she said shortly. To be precise, it had slipped from under her chin, where she’d been balancing it whilst talking and doing the washing-up, straight into the soapy suds. ‘But I’ll give you my home number.’

  ‘Fine.’ He smiled. ‘That is settled, then.’

  Maisie nodded even as a little voice in her head wondered what on earth she had let herself in for.

  Chapter 3

  ‘You’re going where? And to do what?’

  Susan Burns’s voice was shrill, and Maisie winced as she held the receiver further away from her ear. She had been expecting something like this, she told herself, and she didn’t have to justify her decision to her mother. She was a grown woman, not a schoolgirl. But everything was always a battle.

  From the moment her father had walked out on them when she was eight years old and her mother had had to assume the role of a single parent, she had tried to rule Maisie with a rod of iron. She had been that way with her husband to some extent; perhaps that was why he had decided enough was enough and had taken himself off to America, where he’d obtained a very good job in his specialised branch of microbiology, before being killed in a car accident just eighteen months after he’d left England.

  Most of the time Maisie went along with her mother’s demands, for an easy life, but there had been a few issues over which she’d dug her heels in. The first had been her decision not to apply for a degree course in one of the areas her mother had deemed suitable. The second had been to take up relatively low paid employment simply because she liked the work, and the third—over which her mother was still smarting—had been her resolution not to move up north when
her mother had announced her plans to move to Sheffield three years ago. It had been high time to finally cut the umbilical cord. Maisie had seen it clearly, even though her mother had not and probably never would.

  ‘I’m going to Italy for a while to take care of some animals for a branch of Jackie’s family,’ Maisie repeated patiently. ‘It’s a good opportunity to get away and assess where I want to go from here. To take stock of my life.’

  Her mother snorted. She’d got it down to an art and it was the most irritating sound in the world. ‘You would be far better served to move up here with me and get a decent job. You’re too old to go gallivanting. Your Aunt Eva only said the other day that this thing with Jeff was probably a sign for you to be here with us all.

  Maisie was glad they weren’t connected by camera phone. ‘Us all’ meant her mother’s branch of the family, which consisted of three sisters and their families all living in and round about Sheffield. All her aunts were like her mother, and Maisie would have considered it hell on earth to be up there. She had made a rude face but now she took a deep breath and said evenly, ‘I don’t see it that way and, like I’ve said before, all my friends are here, Mum. I like living in London.’

  ‘Is that why you’re skedaddling off to Italy?’

  ‘I’m going for a couple of months or so—a short break, that’s all—and when I come back I’ll find another job. It’s no big deal.’

  ‘And what if this Italy thing doesn’t work out?’

  ‘Then I’ll be back sooner than I expected.’ Maisie decided to cut the phone call short; a quarrel was brewing and she wasn’t in the mood to continue in saintly mode. ‘I’ll talk to you again in a day or so but I have to go now. OK? Bye, Mum. Take care.’ She put down the receiver before her mother could object.

  Having been satisfyingly assertive, Maisie sat staring round her bedsit once she had finished the phone call. It was dreary, although she’d tried to make the best of a bad job with bright cushions and pots and throws to brighten the place. The trouble was that it needed some money thrown at it to make it anything like light and modern, and if anyone did have any money they wouldn’t choose to live here in the first place. Why spend time and effort on a rented property if you had some spare cash which meant you could perhaps take on a mortgage?