The Italian's Blushing Gardener

‘Call me Stefano.’

‘They all say that, too.’

Walking over to the glazed door at the rear of the building, she unlocked it. When open, it would give him a view into the courtyard garden beyond. The fresh air and perfume of flowers always soothed her. Kira had designed this entire quadrangle garden. Originally, it was nothing more than cracked concrete and stagnant slime. Now it was one of her triumphs. Stefano was sure to be distracted once he got out there. She was looking forward to seeing what he thought of her work. It would be good to get an unbiased opinion. She knew that would help take her mind off her troubles, more than anything else.

It had always been a struggle to free the warped woodwork of the garden door. Although the interior paintwork was smart brown gloss, Kira knew it was a different story on the other side. The Tuscan sun had roasted away the shine within months. Now sunburnt flakes speckled the steps and sills. She tugged at the door, but it was only when Stefano came to help that it could finally be dragged back over the uneven tiles.

The large rectangular courtyard was paved with local cream-coloured stone. Around its boundary ran a deep, shady colonnade. In the centre was a raised fish pool. The air beyond the hall was still and hot. It hung over the threshold like a heavy curtain. Kira stepped outside, and Stefano followed her into the stormy sunshine. His hair glittered like jet as he looked around the garden. A large ceanothus had been planted in one corner. It hummed with bees, their sound joining the quiet splash of water trickling over wet stones. Ornamental ferns grew in the shadiest areas. The ones with smooth, satiny leaves enjoyed the damp soil and mosses in deepest shadow. Those with leaflets like lace rippled in the slightest breeze, patterning the old riven flagstones with light and shade. The coping stones around the pool were wide and warm. Stefano strolled over, and sat down. Leaning on one hand, he looked into the water.

‘This is spectacular. Come and join me,’ he drawled, his voice languorous in the heat.

Kira took her time. She didn’t want to seem too eager; being close to him seemed to rob her of her usual self-composure. She walked over and perched on the opposite side of the pool.

‘I love this place already. What a beautiful oasis!’ For the first time since she’d met him, Stefano seemed to relax completely, breathing in the fragrant air and gazing around with unaffected pleasure.

‘Thank you. I wanted to give old Sir Ivan somewhere on the ground floor that he could enjoy, whatever the weather.’

‘You are responsible for this?’ His brows lifted appreciatively.

‘Yes—and all the other recent work you’ll see when you inspect the grounds. Sir Ivan saw one of my garden designs on display at the Chelsea Flower Show, several years ago. He commissioned me to create a roof garden for his town house in London. After that, I did more and more projects for him and his friends, before relocating here permanently two years ago.’

Stefano’s beautiful mouth twitched in appreciation. ‘So you’re a self-made woman? Congratulations.’

‘I’m only doing my job.’ Kira shrugged.

‘Don’t be so modest! Word of mouth may have brought you a long way in business so far, but with the death of your friend Sir Ivan, you must have lost a major client. You’ll need to find a replacement. Have you got anyone lined up?’ he asked suddenly.

Kira shook her head. She had been trying not to think about that. She really hated having to publicise her business. The more people who contacted her because they had seen and enjoyed her work through their friends, the better.

‘If I’m honest, all I enjoy is the work. Dealing with people is a nightmare I wish I could avoid for ever.’

Stefano cleared his throat. Kira wondered if he was as surprised as she was by how honest she was being with him. At least he liked her garden, which was a good sign. Standing, she brushed off her memories of working in this peaceful sanctuary. Once Stefano Albani came to live here, she might never see inside this place again. She ought to make the most of this tour.

It was a poignant moment. As Stefano stepped out of the stark sunlight and back into the shadows, Kira hesitated. The shade should have been a wonderful relief from the hot afternoon. Instead, she felt the chill of abandonment, and not for the first time. It was the story of her life. She had been given up as a lost cause by her stepparents. Then her place on the sidelines of their life became permanent when their unexpected natural child arrived. Now she was doing much the same to the garden she had cherished. In a few weeks or months, she would have to turn her back on this place and leave it in the hands of others. She shuddered.

Stefano noticed, and smiled at her in a way calculated to immediately warm her up.

‘It sounds as though you will be my perfect neighbour.’

Kira shot him a look that said she didn’t share his view.

‘I promise the experience will be an unforgettable one,’ he added quietly.

She ignored that, and told him the simple truth. ‘I’m afraid anyone who buys this house automatically gets on the wrong side of me. Sir Ivan and I used to co-exist in this valley very well. I can’t imagine anyone else being a better neighbour than he was.’

She thought it would be safer to warn Stefano what she was like, right from the beginning. Instead of sympathising, he laughed.

‘I’ll try,’ he said mischievously. ‘Let’s hope I can play the part as well as you act the role of estate agent!’

His refusal to take her statement seriously was infuriating. ‘I’m not acting. I’m here to make sure nothing happens to the villa keys,’ she said stiffly. ‘You’re here to view the place. We’ve got nothing in common, and we’re never going to see each other again after today.’

Stefano said nothing, but smiled at her with an assessing look in his meltingly dark eyes. The dappled sunshine played on his clean, beautiful features and suddenly the thought of never seeing him again wasn’t quite as comforting as she had expected.

As they continued their tour of the house, Kira began to wonder if she had misjudged the captivating Signor Stefano Albani. They did have one thing in common. It was obvious the moment they reached the first floor. He strode straight to the nearest window and looked out. Only when he had inspected the vista with its avenue of sweetly scented lime trees did he begin his careful study of the floors, walls and furnishings. Watching him, she noticed he carried out the same ritual with each new room they entered. He paid no attention to the high ceilings and airily beautiful rooms until he had studied what was on show outside. Finally, she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

‘I see you like the view,’ she said with satisfaction.

There was a pause before he answered. It gave her strange pleasure to see that he carried on drinking in the scenery before he replied. ‘Is it so obvious?’

‘You make a beeline for the windows each time we enter a room.’

He frowned, seeming uncomfortable that she had noticed his simple enjoyment of their beautiful surroundings.

‘I’m simply checking to see where the nearest neighbours are. I value my privacy.’

Kira nodded, covering a smile. ‘I understand. This valley is perfect for that. You won’t be disturbed. Let’s hope you don’t disturb me!’

He gave her a sharp look, then paced on towards the next room. As he walked, he compared what he was seeing with the beautifully produced brochure. Kira decided to get a copy of the booklet for herself. It would be a permanent reminder of this day, and the house. She was seeing it for the first and last time, and that made her happy to wander along in Stefano’s wake. He needed no commentary, and took his time. While he judged and estimated distances and sizes, Kira simply enjoyed herself. The old house was beautiful. Its corridors and great rooms had a quiet grace, despite all the grime and dust. Sir Ivan couldn’t have visited the upper storeys of his house in years. There were worm-eaten long-case clocks on plinths, dusty carriage clocks on equally dusty coffee tables and delicate little china clocks on every mantelpiece. There wasn’t so much as a tick or a tock between them. All were silent. All were sad. Only the sound of a golden oriole warbling from the lime trees outside and swifts screaming overhead broke the thick summer silence.

‘Ah, perfetto,’ Stefano breathed, with a look of total satisfaction. Kira was entranced. As he strolled on into the final room on the top floor, she stopped. There was no point in going any further. The small, square box room was no competition for her last uninterrupted viewing of Stefano Albani. She watched as he finished inspecting the house that might become his own. He moved with the self-assured grace of a man who would be at home anywhere. His gestures were expansive as he waved the brochure in her direction, drawing her attention to some fact or another. He only became still when he returned to his favourite position, at the window. Kira felt somehow relieved to see him at rest, if only for a short while. He gave the impression of continuous movement, no matter how slight. She found that unsettling. When he was still like this, lost in thought, she could almost imagine he was at peace. Almost…but not quite. There was always a trace of tension lingering around those eyes. When he forgot to try and charm her, they held the thousand-mile stare of a troubled man.

She found herself drawn inexorably towards him. Silently, she moved across the bare floorboards, past anonymous, dust-sheeted furniture. The need to reach out and touch him again before he was lost to her forever was irresistible.

And then he moved. The moment was broken. He turned to her in surprise, but then a slow smile warmed his features, and she realised she had raised a hand as though to touch him.

‘Go ahead. Be my guest. As we’re going to be neighbours, it’s a good idea for us to get to know each other better, wouldn’t you say?’

Kira pulled her hand back as though she had been burned. ‘I—I was going to brush a cobweb from your shoulder. You know how dusty these old houses can be…’ She faltered, convincing neither of them.

Stefano was intrigued. Kira was full of contradictions. Half of her seemed to be yearning towards him, but something kept pulling her back. With another woman, he might have taken advantage of the situation straight away, but he wasn’t about to push his luck with Miss Kira Banks—not for a while, at least. She interested him.

In the short time they had been together, he recognised the pain in her. It was too close to home. He wondered how deep the similarities ran between him and this privileged young Englishwoman. Once, when he was young, he had come face to face with tragedy. He could have let it crush him to powder. He dodged that, but paid a heavy price. From that moment, he had spent his whole life on the run. He was afraid of nothing but his conscience. This woman didn’t need to draw pictures when she spoke to him. She had escaped from somewhere and ended up here. That was enough information for him—for the moment. He knew what it felt like to be goaded by guilt.

The fact we’ve both decided on this hidden valley is somehow comforting, he thought, and then cursed sharply. What did he need with comfort? All he wanted was somewhere he could withdraw from his hectic business life and enjoy some quality time. The Bella Terra estate offered everything he wanted. And it had the added advantage that at least one of the neighbours shared his love of solitude.

‘I really enjoyed that,’ Kira said as they reached the front doors again after the grand tour.

‘You sound surprised?’ He raised his eyebrows.

‘I am! I only agreed to stand in for that estate agent because I was sure you wouldn’t turn up this afternoon. I tend to try and avoid people, when I can.’

‘You couldn’t avoid me,’ Stefano reminded her, stepping out of the house and striding off across the terrace. He was intent on seeing the grounds. That made Kira nervous. The bulky clouds rising up over the far ridge of hills were backlit by a blood-red sun. Despite that warning, he kept heading away from his helicopter, and towards the storm. Kira didn’t share his confidence.

‘Shouldn’t you be going, Stefano?’ she called, needing to draw his attention to the threatening sky.

He turned. ‘Anyone would think you were trying to get rid of me! I like this place, Kira. I want to see the rest of it.’

‘But it’s going to rain!’

He was unimpressed. ‘Get wet, get dry again. That’s my motto. I’m going to be living in this beautiful villa, so I should start thinking like a country person. Maybe I can learn to look on the trees as nature’s umbrella.’

Kira wasn’t sure if he was joking. She hated uncertainty, and followed him to find out. A growl of thunder prowled into the valley, which was something else she didn’t like. She stopped dead.

‘You’re going to walk around the grounds in this weather? You might get struck by lightning! Are you mad?’

He paused. ‘I’ve been called many things in my time, but never that!’ After another second’s thought, he started towards her as rapidly as the storm. As he reached her side, he narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you scared? Is that it?’

‘Of course not,’ Kira said, raising her chin defiantly and determined to shadow him whatever the weather might throw at them. ‘Nothing scares me.’

He didn’t look convinced, but swung away across the terrace again.

‘Come on, then. I’ve seen enough of your landscape work from the upper floors to know that I want you to work for me,’ he announced, leaving her to run and catch him up. ‘After hearing about what you did for Sir Ivan, I’ve decided my town house in Florence needs a new designer. I want more greenery, and a roof garden. When you’re not busy with that, you can act as consultant to some inner-city work I’m funding. Currently, it lacks focus. Community projects have been successful elsewhere. Your input may be exactly what I need. I’ll want you to design something to appeal to everyone, and then organise working parties to—’

‘Wait!’ Kira tried to halt the imperious flow of instructions. ‘That all sounds good and important, but I can’t simply drop everything on your say-so!’

He stopped, as the sun went behind a cloud.

‘Why not?’ He stared at her, uncomprehending.

‘Because…I’ll have to consult my schedule,’ Kira replied with dignity. She decided that Stefano was clearly far too used to getting everything his own way. Still, a chance to design the roof garden for a no doubt exceptionally beautiful town house in Florence…

‘With the loss of the Bella Terra’s owner, you’re one client down. You’ve already said as much. I can fill that gap for you,’ Stefano announced affably. ‘You’ve already told me you hate canvassing for jobs and courting publicity. I’ve seen what you can do, and I’m offering you a valuable, long-term contract working for me. Where’s the problem?’

The problem, Kira thought desperately, is you.

‘I’m not sure I want to work for you, Signor Albani,’ she said a little stiffly. ‘We’re so different. We might not get on.’

He trapped her gaze for a long time. ‘What you mean is, you’re afraid we might get on too well. And remember—my name is Stefano…’ he added with a tempting smile.

Kira stared at him. His self-confidence was astonishing, and yet somehow she could not bring herself to resent it. He could read her mind—how could she criticise him for that?

‘I appreciate your concerns, but you don’t have to worry,’ he went on. ‘I have so many properties and projects, my contractors are dealt with mainly by email and text. I wouldn’t be there in person to tempt you.’ With that, his smile came dangerously close to laughter.

Kira had to look away. His body wasn’t the only thing tempting her. She tried not to think of the begging letter, waiting for her on the table at home. There were so many calls on her slender finances. She needed money. The fabric of her house was so old there was always something that required repair. The security of a long-term contract appealed to her cautious nature. Her problem was, whenever she earned more than she actually needed she always felt bound to send any extra money back to England.

Her natural generosity might feel right, but she knew in her heart it was wrong. She would soon live to regret it, as she had done every single time in the past. What she earned ought to be hers to keep. She tried to harden her heart. It was difficult, and that was why she was such an easy target. Emotional blackmail was an ugly thing. Kira knew a steady contract to work for a billionaire like Stefano Albani would be a perfect new start. With that security behind her, maybe she could manage to make a stand. It would give her some badly needed confidence, and she could make sure that anything she did for Stefano would be strictly on her own terms. Yes, of that she was certain.

Well…almost certain…

‘Your projects sound pretty interesting,’ she told him carefully. ‘When I get back home I’ll check my diary, and see if I can fit you in somewhere.’

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