The Italian's Summer Seduction

‘She’s fine,’ Milly said hollowly and felt her cheeks flame with discomfiture. That Jilly should describe her as being her little sister she could just about understand. To Jilly it must have felt that way. Her twin had always been the leader, she the follower. But practical and dull with no imagination or sensitivity—was that how Jilly really saw her? It hurt.

Cesare had moved to stand behind his grandmother’s chair and the look he glued on her was definitely speculative. Which somehow made everything ten times worse.

The old lady turned her head briefly towards him then turned back again to smile at Milly. ‘We will invite your sister for a holiday. Next month? Before the weather gets too hot—May here is such a lovely month. A holiday will be good for you both and I shall enjoy having two young things to keep me company.’

Mistaking the unwitting look of horror on Milly’s face for something else entirely her mouth curved impishly. ‘I won’t expect you both to dance attendance on me all the time, of course. You will have the use of one of the cars to take her sightseeing and shopping. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall take my usual rest before dinner so why don’t you phone home and let your sister know you have arrived safely, and mention the offer of a holiday—do your best to persuade her? Then you must also rest after your journey and we’ll see each other again at dinner.’

Filomena got stiffly to her feet and Cesare handed her a walking cane. Then Milly noted sinkingly that his strong lean face was turned to her, those dark penetrating eyes burning into her apprehensive green ones as he addressed her in a torrent of Italian.

Feeling sick with nerves, Milly bit into the soft underside of her bottom lip, her brain turning dizzily as it scrambled to recall what Jilly had written on one of those postcards.

That she was picking up the language!

Was the deception to be uncovered so soon, so easily? There was a thumping silence as she failed to respond to what it was he’d been saying to her.

‘Now, Cesare.’ Unwittingly Filomena came to her rescue. ‘You know the rules. English only!’

‘Of course, Nonna. I apologise.’ Cesare dipped his dark head and Milly was sure a hard smile tugged at the corners of his handsome mouth. ‘I shall reframe my question in perfect English,’ he delivered silkily, eyes as cold as the Arctic winter holding hers. ‘Would Jilly like to give me her home number? I can dial it for her as I know the correct international code.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Milly returned thinly, and smiled for Filomena. ‘I’ll see you to your room before I phone home.’ She shot Cesare a challenging glance. ‘Milly won’t have left work yet. And I expect she’ll need to do some grocery shopping before she heads home.’

She had no intention of making that pointless call and with the feeling that she had survived somehow, had avoided quite a few pitfalls—even if the survival had relied more on luck than judgement—she accompanied the elderly lady to her ground floor suite, saw her settled and finally left with the promise that, yes, she would herself rest before dinner.

Thanks to her earlier foresight she found the room that had been Jilly’s with no trouble at all and sat on the edge of the huge, opulent bed and lowered her bright head to her hands.

Back in England, anxious to save her twin from being treated like a criminal, hauled before a judge to answer to charges she was surely innocent of, she had blithely believed that this deception was necessary if only to give her the time to try and trace her missing sister, put her in the picture and get her to clear everything up.

She hadn’t wanted the cold-hearted Cesare to find her first, refuse to listen to anything she said in her own defence and have her clapped in irons before she could draw breath.

She still didn’t. Of course she didn’t! But the deception was making her feel ill and desperately ashamed of herself. Not on Cesare’s account, that was for sure! He was the brute who had broken her sister’s heart, bedded her, led her to believe he would marry her. Then dumped her. At least everything pointed that way. Why else would Jilly have disappeared?

But deceiving a lovely, kindly old lady was despicable. It was pricking her conscience like a red-hot poker! She couldn’t do it.

She was going to have to come clean.

Cesare ended the second call and swivelled his chair away from the leather-topped desk so that he could face the bank of tall windows that overlooked the expanse of emerald-green lawns that swept uninterrupted to the stone perimeter wall.

Shadows were lengthening as the sun sank towards the horizon and beyond the wall he could see the misty amethyst of distant hills, the nearest terraced and surrounded by clusters of ochre-walled houses and farmsteads.

His strongly angled brows drew down darkly as he dragged in a huff of breath and swooped back from the view that always calmed him and faced his desk again, one lean tanned hand reaching for an address book.

The enigma he was tussling with was his grandmother’s wretched thieving companion. Lots of things about Jilly Lee didn’t sit right.

Her demeanour was quiet, almost subdued. Instead of in-your-face bright and bubbly. Short, unvarnished fingernails, the lack of beauty-salon-glossy make-up.

All of which could be put down to the fact that the bounce had been knocked out of her when he’d caught up with her and forced her to come back and work without remuneration until the amount she had stolen had been repaid. Plus, she would be on a low following the death of her mother. No puzzle there. Her grief had been genuine, the emotion real and raw.

Yet he had always been an astute judge of character and early on he had decided that Jilly Lee was completely shallow, incapable of an emotion that wasn’t entirely self-centred.

And then again—he had instant recall of her look of mystification when he’d addressed her in Italian. Jilly Lee was pretty near fluent.

True, English only was Nonna’s strict rule and it had paid off because she was now conversing with ease and the challenge to brush up on the language had been good for her, had given her a real interest.

But her companion had always used Italian when speaking with the staff and when she was alone with him—a situation she had contrived with tedious regularity.

So why the seeming lack of comprehension when he’d simply asked for a phone number?

Something didn’t sit right.

His mouth compressed, he leafed through the address book until he found the number he wanted. There were ways to get to the bottom of the enigma. Already he had put two investigators on the case. The one in England who had initially found Jilly Lee’s family’s home address, the other here to follow a possible Italian trail.

There was something he could do himself to get to the bottom of what was needling him. But he couldn’t do it here.

He drew the phone towards him, lifted the receiver and punched in numbers.

‘Contessa—’

The dining room was magnificent but Milly couldn’t exclaim over the wonders of the painted ceiling, decorated with garlands of flowers, fruits and impish putti, or the two fantastic Venetian chandeliers above the long, highly polished table because as Jilly she would know the interior of the villa inside out.

And she was in no real state to properly appreciate any of it, the room, the food served on delicate porcelain plates, the heavy silver flatware, the wine—a different one for each course—in exquisite crystal glasses.

Because.

She was riven with guilt over the deception. Had made up her mind to confess all to Filomena. But not while that handsome, cynical devil was around. His wrath at having been fooled would be shattering and his willingness to listen to her defence of her twin non existent.

But she was sure Filomena would listen. The old lady, trigged out in violet silk with diamonds at her throat was chattering nineteen to the dozen. Cesare remarked laconically, ‘You’re in good form this evening, Nonna.’ The old lady lifted her glass and replied, ‘That is because my dear Jilly is with me again, to keep me entertained and stop me from expiring from tedium.’

‘Which role I am obviously unable to fill,’ Cesare returned with wry fondness.

‘Of course!’ The faded eyes twinkled. ‘Girl-talk is a stranger to you! Besides—’ she dipped her spoon into her zabaglione with obvious relish ‘—you are so often away. Although I have noticed—’ again the twinkle this time accompanied by a tiny knowing smile ‘—that since Jilly joined us you have rarely left the villa.’

The interchange made Milly wonder if Filomena had guessed that the two had become lovers and had silently condoned it, hoping perhaps—as Jilly must have done—that marriage was on the cards.

Which reinforced her opinion that Filomena would listen to her, side with her in defence of her missing twin; she was genuinely very fond of her. Jilly had obviously done what she did best, had used her charm until the recipient was eating out of her pretty hands. A knack, Milly ruefully reminded herself, that she singularly lacked.

Yes, Filomena would roundly deny that Jilly had forged those cheques, would explain that she had signed them herself when she hadn’t been feeling on top form, which would be why the signatures had raised suspicions.

Emboldened by that possible explanation, she raised her eyes and found Cesare’s eyes on her, focused with an intensity that made her blood run cold and then hot. Very hot. The smile that played around the edges of his mouth was wilfully sinful and it did awful things to her.

Her stomach tightened then flipped, just as it had done earlier when he’d come to her room.

He’d entered after a perfunctory knock and she’d been standing there in her plain un-Jilly-like undies. Her face flaming, she’d grabbed her sister’s black silk sheath from where she’d laid it ready on the bed and held it in front of her. Feeling sick with embarrassment, she spilled out, ‘What do you want?’

Leaning with casual grace against the door frame he looked magnificent. All dark and brooding and unnervingly sexy in his cream dinner jacket and narrow black trousers. No wonder Jilly had fallen hook line and sinker for the heartless brute, was her near hysterical thought as she clasped the black dress infront of her as if it were body armour.

‘To remind you that we dine early, at seven-thirty, for my grandmother’s sake—in case you’d forgotten. You are already late.’ Delivered with extreme dryness.

‘Of course I hadn’t forgotten,’ she denied. How could she forget something she hadn’t known? ‘I fell asleep,’ she excused untruthfully, unable to tell him that she’d spent ages going over the room here and in the luxurious en suite bathroom, opening cupboards and drawers to see if Jilly had left anything behind that would tell her that her sister had meant to return when she’d recovered from the worst effects of a broken heart and shattered dreams.

She had found nothing, not even a hairpin. Disconsolately she’d run a bath and had soaked for an hour, then selected the black dress from amongst the things one of the staff must have unpacked, and had been getting ready to dress and go down to Filomena’s room and tell her everything.

‘I’ll be even later if you don’t leave so I can get dressed,’ Milly said tightly, willing him to take his desperately unnerving presence away.

‘I’ll wait.’ Posting his intention, Cesare sauntered further into the room and Milly, her chin set at a stubborn angle, her eyes glittering with loathing, backed out and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

Who the hell did he think he was? she raged internally. Bang went her intention to explain everything to his unsuspecting grandmother before they all had to sit through dinner together.

Struggling into the dress, she did her best to calm down. In her role as Filomena’s companion she would get loads of time alone with her tomorrow. She had wanted to get everything off her chest right now, but it would just have to wait.

And at least he hadn’t figured out that she wasn’t the real Jilly. If he had she would have been thrown out of the villa at the speed of light, the doors locked and barred behind her and her intentions to confess to Filomena and get her on side vanishing like a puff of smoke in a hurricane.

Facing one of the mirrored walls Milly noted that her face had gone scarlet from the combined effects of temper, frustration and her inability to pull the back zip all the way up.

And then, to her huge annoyance, Cesare’s reflection appeared behind her. ‘Allow me.’ In one concise movement he had the zip in place, the backs of his fingers brushing against skin that suddenly felt unbearably sensitised. ‘I thought you might have died in here.’ His mouth curved in sardonic humour and, Milly translated huffily, he thought she might have jumped out of the window with the family silver concealed in her underwear!

His reflected eyes, partially veiled by his thick dark lashes, swept slowly down her body and Milly’s insides squirmed, her face reddening again. The dress fitted like a second skin. Jilly had always worn her clothes on the tight side. ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it!’ Whereas she had always preferred not to draw attention to her curvy hips, tiny waist and the generous breasts that were even now humiliating her by peaking, thrusting unashamedly against the fine silk barrier of the dress.

She didn’t know what had come over her to make her body respond this way. The stress of the situation, she guessed, frustrated because she seemed to have no control over her own body.

Moving briskly to one side, she turned and marched back into the bedroom, pushed her feet into a pair of Jilly’s heels and followed him out into the corridor and now here they were, the ongoing stress of having to pretend to eat and respond to Filomena’s chatter thankfully coming to an end and he was leaning back in his chair, cradling his wineglass in one lean, tanned hand, the picture of smooth sophistication.

Cesare had made little contribution to the conversation, just watched her from the depths of those clever eyes, making her wish the floor would open like a trapdoor and swallow her up, but when a stout black-clad woman entered with a dark-haired slip of a girl in close attendance, Filomena stood. ‘No coffee for me, Rosa. I think I will retire early after today’s excitement.’ Cesare stood too and settled his grandmother back in her chair.

‘Stay a moment. I have a surprise for you.’

‘A nice one?’ Her smile was teasing.

‘I believe you’ll think so,’ he replied fondly. ‘Amalia is coming to see you tomorrow. She plans on staying for at least two weeks. Apparently, she’s spent the last six months in virtual hiding recovering from her latest facelift and various nips and tucks.’

‘Amalia! How splendid!’ Pleasure shone from the old lady’s eyes. She smiled for Milly. ‘The Contessa di Moroschini is my oldest friend and so outrageous! I know you will enjoy her!’

‘That’s something I’d like to talk to you about, Nonna.’ He turned to Milly, the gentle warmth that always transformed his harsh features when talking to his grandmother disappearing like water down a plughole. ‘As Amalia will be here to keep you company and amused with her latest and possibly near-scandalous doings, I thought I’d steal your companion for a week—take her to the island and allow her to rest and recover from her recent bereavement.’ He turned back to Filomena and Milly, too shocked to speak, felt a peculiar shudder race down her spine.

‘That’s if you approve, Nonna?’

‘A splendid idea!’ Satisfaction wreathed Filomena’s features as she again got to her feet and Milly decided that her guess had been right. Signora Saracino knew about her grandson’s affair with Jilly and hoped it would have a happy ending. She would have to be disabused at some time, told that her so-perfect grandson had cruelly given Jilly the elbow, had made her fly from the villa with a broken heart. But now? When she was so happy at the prospect of a visit from an old friend?

Assaulted by violently conflicting emotions, torn between coming clean and spoiling the old lady’s time with a much loved friend and carrying on the deception for a while longer and trying, somehow, to trace her sister, Milly also rose to her feet.

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘Certainly not!’ Filomena was already heading towards the door as the coffee things were laid out and the young maid cleared the table. ‘I manage perfectly well. Enjoy your coffee and discuss your plans for the island.’

Her retreat blocked, Milly subsided back in her seat and wearily accepted the coffee Cesare had poured for her and bit back the instinctive words that would tell him she had no intention of going anywhere with him.

The real Jilly surely would have jumped at what would appear to be a chance of reconciliation. The opportunity to convince him that she hadn’t forged those cheques.

Not having a clue as to how to play it, she sat back and left the initiative to him, merely swallowing sickly when he drained his cup, setting it back on its saucer as he got elegantly to his feet and told her, ‘Be ready to leave at six-thirty,’ and strode from the room.

Milly shuddered. She felt sick. Stuck on an island with him. No chance to try to trace her sister. No time now to get Filomena on side, either. Alone with him, he’d no doubt speak Italian to her and the cat would be out of the bag with a vengeance.

He’d know she wasn’t Jilly.

And what he’d do then didn’t bear thinking about!

Chapter Five

ENIGMA SOLVED!

Everything neatly explained, from her look of total incomprehension when he’d addressed her in Italian to her flustered attempts to cover herself when he’d walked into her room and found her in her underwear. The Jilly he knew would have displayed no such modesty.

Inwardly on a high of triumph, Cesare landed the helicopter on the specially constructed pad on the west side of the privately owned island, the rocky side that looked out over the azure sea to the lushly forested hills of Elba on the horizon.

Waiting for the rotors to come to a standstill, he angled himself into his seat and studied his passenger through narrowed, luxuriantly veiled eyes.

Lying, cheating, devious minx! He wondered idly how she thought she would get away with it and what her motive had been in the first place, then dismissed the consideration as unimportant.

Two could play that game and he’d make a better fist of it than she had.

She was staring ahead, her shoulders rigid beneath the silky blue top she was wearing above cropped, narrow fitting white jeans. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left the villa, not even to ask where he was taking her, her lush mouth downturned like a sulky teenager, the only indication that anything was seriously amiss being the stark apprehension in those deep emerald eyes.

He could understand the apprehension. She was afraid of being found out. As well she might be; she was on decidedly shaky ground and must know it.

When he’d taken that call from the English agent back there on the mainland airstrip, he’d been icily furious but not riven by surprise. He’d been puzzled ever since he’d escorted Nonna’s absconding companion back to the villa and the flare of triumph over running the devious little thief to earth had died down sufficiently to let him see clearly.

The agent had made short work of discovering that there were two of them.

Jilly Lee and Milly Lee.

Identical twins.

His overriding imperative had been to wash his hands of the imposter, give her a well-deserved tongue lashing then walk away, leaving her standing on the airstrip, head back to the villa letting her find her own way back to England as best she could.

But in the space of time it took him to draw breath common sense had overcome his icy fury that she had believed she could make a fool of him—and, even worse, deceive his beloved grandmother.

To return to the villa now and explain everything to Nonna would be to deal her a severe blow. He couldn’t do it. Not yet. It would ruin the happiness she was currently enjoying. The company of her old friend—who hadn’t needed much in the way of pressure to agree to the last minute invitation to visit—and secure in the knowledge that her vibrant young companion was back in harness, her matchmaking tendencies surfacing again in her delight at his suggestion that he whisk her companion away to the island.

Nonna was old, she was frail and he loved her. Let her be happy for a little while longer.

His original intention to use the time on the island to solve the puzzle himself was now redundant. But he could amuse himself at her expense—she owed him a little light entertainment—and when she least expected it he would hit her with the fact that he knew the truth and hope to shock her sister’s whereabouts from her, assuming the Italian and English agents had drawn a blank.

‘You can get out now.’ Softly spoken, his condemning eyes on her delightful profile as he tried to read what went on inside that devious head.

The sisters were identical in face and body but this one—Milly—had an air of softness, almost vulnerability, about her that the other patently lacked. With her short blonde hair trailing soft tendrils against her tender nape and those startlingly green eyes she looked almost childlike. But there was nothing childlike about the full, pert breasts, tiny waist and luscious hips.

Gorgeous on the outside but inside they were, both of them, bent as corkscrews—she had to be just as devious and self serving as her much more in-your-face twin.

She gave no response, just the merest dip of her head to acknowledge she had heard him, her hands eventually straying with slow reluctance to the heavy-duty clasp of her seat belt.

Scared witless? As she had every right to be. Expecting him to bombard her with Italian, force her to confess she didn’t understand a word of the language and reveal her true identity. She would be quaking in her shoes, waiting for the axe to fall.

His smile was self-admittedly victorious as his feet touched the ground. He would gently erase the fear, lull her into a false sense of security. And then hit her with his knowledge. Not exactly ethical, he conceded, but Dio! Nobody treated Nonna like a cash cow or a dupe and got away with it—not while he had breath in his body!

It felt as though all the ants in the world were charging up and down her spine wearing spiked boots, Milly decided feverishly. In sickening mental turmoil, she watched as Cesare lifted down her old suitcase and shouldered his own rucksack. Reaching down for her case, he set off up the stony track at speed, leaving Milly with no option but to follow.

She had no idea why he had brought her here. Whatever his reason, it didn’t augur well for her, she acknowledged edgily. It certainly wasn’t for the good of her health!

He thought she was a thief, a common con-woman, and she, in her role as Jilly, hadn’t denied it and sought to clear her name as her maligned sister most surely would have done. She had just gone along with his dictates, seeing it as the only way to keep her sister out of his vindictive clutches and the cold hands of the law.

But she had the terrifying feeling that the deception would soon be discovered, laid bare before his contemptuous gaze. And then the hunt for the real Jilly Lee would be back on with a vengeance.

It wouldn’t take long. All he had to do was start conversing in Italian. Without his grandmother’s rules there was no reason why he shouldn’t use his native language and expect her to understand most, if not all, of it.

Knowing she had failed miserably and done her sister’s cause no good at all she was unable to concentrate on where she was going when her foot hit a rock and, emitting a sharp cry of alarm, she fell flat on her face and lay spreadeagled in the growing heat of the sun. Winded, humiliated, short moments later she felt herself lifted to her feet by two strong hands and her eyes sparkled like fine jewels with unshed tears of chagrin.