One Night In His Bed

‘No, I’m not! I don’t know…I can’t…’ Sienna struggled, wishing she could say yes but knowing she would never allow herself to do so.

Garett Lazlo met all her excuses with amusement, which gave her no help at all.

‘Il Pettirosso has a strict dress code…it is that sort of place. I couldn’t possibly walk in there dressed like this!’ She flipped her fingers over the plain black of her clothes. This expanded his smile still further.

‘I don’t see why not. Black is always in fashion.’ His gaze travelled slowly down from her face in cool appraisal. ‘It’s true that your clothes are a little austere, signorina, but as far as I am concerned less is more in that department. Especially when it can be dressed up so easily.’ He threw his glance across the handicrafts on her table and it stopped when he saw a beautiful angora wrap. It was as blue as an angel’s eyes and as insubstantial as gossamer. Picking it up, he swept it in a misty billow around her shoulders, arranging it gently against her neck.

For those few precious seconds Sienna was enveloped in his clean, masculine fragrance once again. Intoxicated now, as well as astonished, she watched him in silence. He was casting a connoisseur’s eye over the delicate jewellery she had brought to sell. When he lifted a fine filigree of silver from her display, and held it up to catch the dancing sunlight, she knew there would be no resisting his next suggestion—whatever it was.

‘Now, all you need is this lapis necklace and matching bracelet and there will be no one at Il Pettirosso—no matter how sophisticated the place might be—who can raise a candle to you, signorina,’he said calmly, handing it to her.

Thank goodness he didn’t try to put it on me, Sienna thought, almost deafened by the sound of her heart hammering against her ribs. She hesitated at the sight of the beautiful necklace in her hands. It glittered and tempted her like cool water in a drought.

‘Yes…but I really cannot let you do this, signor!’ She shook her head and turned away, thinking of the craftsmen and women back in Piccia. They were depending on her to make them some money. ‘All these things are for sale. They aren’t here to act as a dressing up box for me. I can’t possibly use them! And what would I tell the co-operative—that I just danced off for lunch when I should have been taking care of business here?’

She put one hand up to her neck, touching the place where the beautiful necklace would have lain against her skin. She ached, and hoped it was because she wanted to feel the kiss of its metal there, rather than Garett Lazlo’s lips. That did not bear thinking about.

As her fingers fluttered over the smooth lines of her collarbone a shaft of sun streaked over the golden band on her wedding finger. Garett leaned back. It was only a slight movement, but it released Sienna from his shadow. Glancing up, she waited to feel relief that he no longer seemed about to force his presence on her. But when it came, the feeling was tinged with the faintest trace of disappointment.

‘I have a duty to the people who sent me here, signor,’ she said quietly.

‘Your loyalty does you credit, signora. But you have overlooked one simple fact. I’m not asking you to do anything immoral. Accompany me to lunch now, and I shall pay for all the things you are borrowing from your stall. When we return you will give me an estimate of the money you might reasonably have expected to make in the length of time you have been away. What could be fairer than that?’

‘Nothing!’ one of the stallholders called out.

Sienna looked around at the nonnas and market men. The thought that they were waiting for her to step out of line had been terrifying her for weeks. It was true that they were all watching her today, but it was with interest and genuine amusement. None of them looked in the least bit disapproving.

‘I’d go with him like a shot if I was fifty years younger!’ a nearby stallholder suggested. She was a tiny, bird-like woman, grinning up from her knitting.

‘Do you think it would be all right, signora?’ Sienna asked doubtfully.

The old lady rested the lacy beginnings of a matinee jacket in her lap. Loosening another length of baby-pink wool from the skein in her enormous carpetbag, she looked up with a mischevious twinkle.

‘My long life has taught me that you should grab opportunity with both hands whenever it shows up. And especially if it looks like him!’ She gestured with one long, fine knitting needle. Everyone within earshot laughed out loud.

Garett Lazlo studied them all as though his face was carved in stone. ‘Did I understand that correctly, signora?’

‘N-no. Probably not.’ She hoped.

‘I certainly hope you did, signor!’ The nonna chuckled with delight, speaking in heavily accented English this time. ‘Take her away with a clear conscience, signor, and for as long as you like. I shall look after her stall.’

‘Thank you.’ Garett inclined his head graciously and took a firm hold on Sienna’s elbow.

‘She speaks English?’ he queried, drawing Sienna quickly across the marketplace before she had time to think up any more delaying tactics.

‘We all do. If the price is right.’ But as she said the words she worried that he would take them the wrong way. Had she just wrecked her own reputation?

CHAPTER TWO

THEY were leaving the busy market behind. He was drawing her away from the crowds. If she were forced to call for help, then soon there would be no one to hear her. Panic began to bubble up, foaming into real fear. Garett Lazlo was so much bigger than she was. Fighting him off, if worse came to the worst, would not be an option.

Sienna did the only thing she could. Stopping abruptly, she caught him off balance.

‘Wait—I wasn’t expecting you to take me to lunch, Mr Lazlo, much less anything else. I’m not looking to make anything out of this at all—honestly! If you are going to regret dressing me up like this, then you should know that I made this wrap, and my friend designed and made the jewellery. I can pay her back for that, and at least no one but me will be any the poorer if my wrap has to be given away, rather than sold. It won’t cost you a thing. I can easily make the co-operative another one.’

‘You made this?’

She nodded, on firm ground for once. ‘I keep rabbits for meat. It is easy to hide a few Angoras in their shed as well.’ Sienna warmed with the thought of that tiny triumph, which she had managed in the face of Imelda and Aldo. Neither of them would have recognised a rabbit outside of a casserole dish.

Intrigued, he lifted the trailing edge of the cornflower-blue shrug and inspected the fine stitches. ‘It’s exquisite. And you look ravishing in it, by the way,’ he added disarmingly. ‘But I find dedication and skill like this in one so young slightly worrying. A beautiful woman like you really should get out more, signora.’

‘I’m not allowed—that is, I don’t get the chance. I have to keep house for my stepmother on top of everything else,’ Sienna corrected herself quickly. Imelda might treat her like Cinderella, but she did not want this real-life Prince Charming to think she was a push-over—especially if they were about to enter a secluded alleyway together. ‘That doesn’t leave me the time or the energy for anything else,’ she finished primly.

‘I see.’

Her message must have been clear enough, for his grip on her elbow eased slightly. To Sienna’s relief, he let go completely as they entered the warren of streets leading out of town.

She thought it was because he respected the line she had drawn between them, but Garett’s mind was actually elsewhere. He was uneasy. His escape from Manhattan had been so sudden, and it meant travelling without the comfort of a schedule. His working days used to run like clockwork, but that was behind him for the moment. The alphabet soup of PAs, PDAs and GPS which made sure he got from A to B and back again in the shortest possible time was nothing but a memory. He patted his jacket, feeling the reassuring bulge made by his passport. With that, and his unlimited funds, Garett could do what he liked and go where he wanted. The world should be his oyster. But he was finding freedom unexpectedly hard work.

This thought carved furrows in his brow. He had more money to burn than most people made in a lifetime, and yet it was no longer enough. Why not? Something—some basic truth obvious to everyone else—still evaded him. From the age of six he had worked continuously—because when he stopped the restlessness returned. A vital element was missing from his life. He had discovered a disturbing new side to himself earlier that week. It had made him realise he must find out what he lacked—immediately—but how? Work was clearly part of the problem. The only way he could think to avoid its siren song was to put a few thousands miles and complete radio silence between him and his headquarters. The moment he tried to log in to the office computer system his staff would be on his case like kids mobbing a tomcat. He needed space, and time to think.

Garett put one hand in his pocket. It was only the third time he had checked for the hire-car keys since they’d been handed to him. He must be slowing down. As he thought that, he noticed another change in himself. Strolling through these airless city passageways with a nervous stranger should have been hell—a horrible reminder of what he had escaped. Instead, he found himself actually enjoying the sensation of not being expected to make conversation. What was happening to him?

Without realising it, he slowed his walk still further. It gave him the chance to look around for once. Lifting his gaze from the pavement, he sent it up to where the tenement canyons showed a strip of sky. The silhouette of a woman with bulky breasts and a wayward home perm loomed out of an upstairs window. She was holding a big juice container. With a shout of cheerful warning she poured water from it into her flower boxes. A noisy cascade of liquid ran out from beneath her billowing scarlet geraniums, darkening the front of the apartment block before dripping down to the flagstones.

A trickle ran towards the feet of Garett’s unwilling companion. She was lost in thought and had not noticed the gardener overhead. Now she looked up and frowned at the clear, cloudless sky above.

‘An April shower?’ Garett spoke his thoughts aloud. Then he smiled, realising that for the first time in decades he was thinking about something other than work.

It might not be the whole answer to his problems.

But it was a start.

The car was every bit as beautiful as he’d said it would be. Sienna slid into the passenger seat with a sigh of real longing.

‘Good, isn’t it?’ He smiled, slipping behind the wheel with similar satisfaction.

Sienna nodded, but did not speak. She was determined to keep her head down. Garett Lazlo had not laid a finger on her since letting go of her arm. Whatever her secret feelings about that, she knew she must not encourage him in any way. But modesty was not the only reason for her silence. On the way to the restaurant they would be passing within a few kilometres of Piccia. She could only hope and pray that none of the villagers saw her being driven along in a car like this.

Although I’m the last person anyone would expect to see in a Lamborghini. She smiled to herself. They’d probably write it off as a hallucination, brought on by too much sun.

‘You’re the first girl who’s ever smiled at my driving. They usually squeal and grab at something.’ Garett glanced at her as he pulled away from the kerb. ‘What’s the joke?’

‘N-nothing,’ she said nervously, ‘except that…travelling along like this reminds me of that old song: “If My Friends Could See Me Now”. I was wondering what my stepmother would say if she caught sight of me in this!’ She ran her hand lovingly over the passenger seat. It was made from softest glove-leather, and had the fragrance of money well spent.

His face cleared, and his eyes narrowed with devilment.

‘Let’s call in on her and find out, shall we?’

Sienna was horrified. ‘No! Please don’t! She would kill me! Respectable women aren’t seen in fast cars with strange men.’

‘Why not? Better that, surely, than being spotted in a strange car with a fast man? Are we going to pass your house?’

‘No—thank goodness,’ Sienna said with real feeling. ‘It’s too far from here to take a detour without making you late for your table reservation, signor.’

‘I get the message—you’re keeping me safely at arm’s length. But that’s no reason to be so formal. You can call me Garett.’

Sienna’s lips flickered briefly into a smile. Then it was gone and she looked out of her window again. This was not what he had come to expect from women.

‘Don’t you have a given name, signora?’ he prompted her.

‘Of course, but perhaps we should keep this formal.’ Sienna pursed her lips.

‘I call all the ladies of my acquaintance by their first names, so why not give me yours?’

Sienna took this as an order. She was used to those, but it didn’t make carrying them out any easier. Besides, this was a total stranger. She had to make a stand somehow, and insist on keeping him at a distance. Resisting would overturn everything she had been taught about obedience—but the idea excited her. She had already done one astonishing thing today, by coming this far with him. Why not another?

‘My name is Signora di Imperia.’ She looked at Garett boldly, daring him to challenge her for more information.

One hand on the steering wheel, he watched her with interested eyes. Sienna returned his look. And then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled. Then he transferred his gaze to the road ahead. As he did so, he gave the same small, formal bow of his head he had given the respectable matron back in the market place.

Sienna knew now why the old woman had giggled like a teenager. Garett Lazlo’s talent for melting women with his smallest gesture was at work on her, too. Oh, if only they could exchange more than pleasantries…

After Garett pulled his car into Il Pettirosso’s car park and killed the ignition, he drew out his mobile and made a quick call before getting out.

‘First they’re engaged. Now they’ve switched their damned answering machine on!’ he announced.

Sienna flashed a look at him. His lips were a taut line. A pulse was beating visibly at his temple. But when he finally spoke into the phone his confident tone was in total contrast with his strained features.

‘It’s me,’ he said, without bothering to explain who ‘me’ was. ‘The time is eleven fifty-nine a.m., Tuesday. I’m sitting in Il Pettirosso with my credit card in my hand just waiting to entertain you. So if you want to make the most of this outrageous offer, you’ll get down here for lunch ASAP!’

He ended the call, and then clicked his tongue in disappointment. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he slammed the door of his hire-car with a report that echoed across the nearby valley like a gunshot. Sienna gulped. As they walked the few metres from his car to the smoked glass door of the restaurant she hoped he would not need her to do much translating for him. If he was cross already, he might not take kindly to having the menu deciphered for him as though he was illiterate.

She need not have worried. They followed in the restaurant manager’s highly polished footsteps to a discreetly placed table for four. Sienna was gazing around in awe at the clean, modern lines of the restaurant, but Garett had his eyes on something much more down to earth.

‘Ah—so that’s what a pettirosso is!’ He pointed to the beautifully painted European robin on the front of his menu. ‘Do you know, there’s a duke in England who has one of these living in the grounds of his historic house that will actually hop onto his hand to be fed?’

Sienna watched him for a minute to see if he was joking. But his smile seemed quite genuine, and she decided to probe further.

‘How do you know?’

‘He does it as a kind of party trick to impress visitors. I think the poor old guy’s lonely. He valued me as much as someone to talk to as a business advisor.’

Sienna raised her eyebrows and lowered her head to study the menu. She did not want Garett to see her amazement at what he had said. A man who talked to dukes was sitting opposite her in the restaurant of her dreams! She tried to concentrate on the list of dishes before her, but that made her feel still more nervous. Il Pettirosso offered everything from asparagus to zucchini. She had no idea what to select, nor—more importantly—how much of his money Garett would be willing to spend on her.

‘Choose what you like, Signora di Imperia.’ he announced, as though reading her thoughts. ‘If a place is good value for money, I don’t bother with budgeting. Just order, and I’ll see to the rest. For myself, I’ve been living off chateaubriand and fries for days, so I think I’ll make it something vegetarian for my main course. I fancy a change today.’ He lifted one shoulder in an easy gesture.

Vegetarian—that sounded reassuringly cheap. Sienna decided to order the same thing he did, but went on pretending to study the menu. This was partly to give his friends time to arrive, but also because it was a rare luxury. Sienna had not been out to lunch for years, and certainly never to a bewitching place like this. The experience ought to be played out for as long as she could manage.

Poring over the deckle-edged, beautifully inscribed menu, she waited until, despite his obvious good manners, Garett showed signs of becoming a little restless. Eventually she looked up shyly. He smiled and summoned the waiter.

‘What have you chosen, Signora di Imperia?’

Sienna stopped smiling. ‘Oh…er…actually, it all looks so good I was hoping you could give me some suggestions…Garett…’

‘I think we need a few more moments to decide, signor.’ Garett nodded to their waiter. The moment the man stalked away, Sienna’s host leaned forward with the look of someone who was about to reveal a great secret.

‘You were right, signora, this place might have been beyond me if I had come here on my own. I thought to follow your selection! I can recognise all the general words, for things like soup and pasta, but some of these regional names are beyond me. Could we perhaps puzzle them out between us?’

Laughing, they went through the choices together, and came up with cacciucco for their starter, with pansôti al preboggion to follow. Sienna stayed with her idea of choosing the same things he did. It made ordering easier, and gave her a few extra seconds to gaze around in awe at her surroundings—and, more secretively, at her host.

The headwaiter materialised beside Garett the moment they were ready. Sienna looked up and smiled a little apprehensively as the man flourished his silver fountain pen over a small leatherbound notepad.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll do the ordering,’ Garett said smoothly, before she could open her mouth.

She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen.

His pronunciation was faultless. Before Sienna could congratulate him, a telephone call from his mobile burst in between them.

‘Darn—it seems like we’re going to be lunching on our own after all, signora. My friends can’t make it,’ he said when he had taken the call. He clicked his tongue, and then smiled at her reaction. ‘What’s the matter? Anyone would think you weren’t looking forward to eating here in your dream restaurant.’

‘It isn’t that.’ Sienna watched him switch off his phone and tuck it away. Suddenly it was as though the shrinking market girl had returned, trying to take up as little room as possible at his table. ‘I had not expected to be dining alone with you.’

He narrowed his eyes in a way that made her smile, despite her nerves. ‘That cuts both ways, you know, signora. But I suppose we’re both going to have to buckle down and endure it.’ He sighed theatrically, making Sienna giggle.

As her laughter died away, the sophisticated silence of the restaurant closed in. Garett was completely at ease. He sat back and studied his surroundings openly. Sienna could not manage to look anywhere directly, taking small swift glances around the room when she thought no one else was looking. Her mind was as active as her eyes, although it was not doing her much good. She desperately wanted to start up a witty, sparkling conversation. Only two things stopped her. Not being able to look at him without blushing was bad enough, but the second reason was still more of an obstacle.

She could not think of a single sensible thing to say. But then she was rescued by the most unlikely of sources. A butterfly flitted in through an open window of the restaurant.

‘Oh, look—an orange tip!’

‘You know about butterflies, signora?’ He quirked a brow, suitably impressed.

‘Not really, but they’ve increased at home since the place has been allowed to run wild. They like the purple flowers that have seeded themselves all the way through the old terrace walls. The name is one I like, too—easy and obvious.’

Sienna almost felt she might be about to relax, but the arrival of their wine and first course put a stop to that. Her stomach contracted to the size of a split pea again. As usual, Garett took the attentions of the staff in his stride. Even before they swept away he leaned over his dish and inhaled appreciatively.

‘Ah—so cacciucco must be fish soup, Signora di Imperia?’

‘That’s right. I don’t know how much you picked up from the menu, but it said all the restaurant’s raw materials are brought in fresh each morning. They come from a few kilometres away at the coast, or from local farms and smallholdings.’

He paused while breaking his bread, and leaned towards her with an enigmatic look on his face.

‘I saw that. It made me realise that the ordinary people around here have to make things, as you do, or wrestle produce out of their surroundings. The menu really brought it home to me.’ He paused again, considering what a strange word ‘home’ was in his circumstances. He tried to laugh again, but it came out as a harsh, dry sound. ‘I ate nothing but junk until I managed to make a better life for myself. The chance to eat fresh local food in a place like this is a luxury.’

Sipping at a spoonful of her soup, Sienna regarded him. His mouth was a grim line now, and his eyes were hard as he stared past her into space.

‘Perhaps it is all this home-grown fresh food in Liguria that keeps us so good-tempered?’ she risked, testing his mood.

That broke Garett’s trance. A puzzled frown flickered across his features, and he looked down at his clenched hand as though it belonged to someone else. Sienna noticed that it took him a conscious effort to relax his fingers. She went on watching him from beneath her lashes, and as she did so he began to lose the hunched tension that made him look like a prizefighter. He picked up his spoon, but to Sienna’s relief did not actually attack his meal. He skimmed the cacciucco with graceful, economical movements.

Relieved, she concentrated on her own lunch. Even so, he had completely finished before she dared to speak again.

‘I wish I had more of the killer instinct,’ she said, almost making it sound casual. ‘It would make an event like this less of an ordeal for me.’ She tried to laugh, but it did not work.

‘Fine dining is supposed to be a pleasurable experience.’ Tipping his bowl away from him, he finished the last of his soup. Then he laid down the spoon. His every movement seemed measured to Sienna, as though he was unable to relax for a moment.

‘Do you enjoy it, signor?’

‘In the right company, yes.’

‘Then it is a shame your friends are not here.’

‘Oh, I’m doing fine, signora.’

He smiled, and the richness of his tone made Sienna wonder if he was only talking about lunch…

CHAPTER THREE

FOR once in his life, seduction was not on Garett’s agenda. He was visiting Europe for a rest, not more of the same. He glanced across at her, the smile still teasing his lips. Seduction might be too much hassle at the moment, but fantasies…they were another thing altogether. He would find time for those instead.