The Italian Next Door

Thank heavens for this opportunity to escape to a place where no one would ever dream how for a time that little drama had changed her entire life. What a wimp she’d been for months. One minute there she’d been, swanning through her reckless life with total disregard for what was around the corner, taking pleasure in her man, her friends, her blossoming work, her growing reputation, while the next minute …

Until then she’d never known a thing about stress. It had come as a complete shock to her when, after the incident at the bank, all her mild little anxieties and cautions, the same ones everyone needed to keep themselves alive and well, had crept out of the woodwork and morphed into monstrous great phobias.

Who’d ever have guessed it could happen to a cool sassy femme like herself? Unbelievably, she’d lost her renowned chutzpah and become scared of falling, drowning, crossing the road, being poisoned by unwashed lettuce, eaten by dogs and dying young. And, of course, big strong men in ski masks.

Imagine her, Pia Renfern, up-and-coming landscape painter and portraitist, accepted as a bona fide exhibiting member of the Society, giving into fear. But to be struck by the worst tragedy of all and lose her ability to paint.

As always when she thought of it, her stomach churned into a knot. But with a determined effort she fought the nauseous feeling. She needed to be positive and see the glass as half full. The horrible time was past. She was strong again and most of her anxieties had retreated back to their lairs. Only occasionally did one still leap out and surprise her.

Now she only had her painting block to contend with, and, thanks to Lauren, Positano would give her the kick-start she needed. Once there, faced with all that beauty, she felt sure she’d be inspired to paint again.

She’d barely managed five dozy minutes of concentrating on the positive before she felt a looming presence.

She knew who it was. Even before she looked her pulse started an erratic gallop.

She opened her eyes, then had to narrow them to shut out as much of the view as possible. How could black hair, strong brows and deep, dark, glowing eyes be so dazzling?

Her wild pulse registered his mouth. Michelangelo might well have taken pride in having chiselled those meltingly stern, masculine lines. For a second her resolution to only consider slighter, more sensitive men wavered.

Until she remembered. She frowned, then sat up with graceful unconcern. ‘Oh, it’s you. The man who interferes.’

He inclined his head. ‘Valentino Silvestri.’

His eyes were serious now, cool, and though he curled his tongue around the r with devastating charm, his manner was brisk. A charged purposeful energy buzzed in the air around him.

‘I’m about to leave for Positano.’ He glanced at his watch. A telling movement, because it required him to push up the sleeve of his shirt and reveal his bronzed sinewy wrist. ‘Depending on the traffic, I expect to arrive there soon after midday.’

There were black curly hairs on the wrist, and more poking from beneath his cuff. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine there might be more on his chest.

With an effort she dragged her glance away. ‘Why are you telling me?’

‘You need the transportation. I am Italian, and it is the desire of our nation to welcome visitors and make them happy. So …?’

‘I doubt if you could make me happy.’

He relaxed and laughed, a low sexy laugh, his white teeth contrasting with his olive tan. ‘Ah, signorina. You so encourage me to try.’ He produced a set of car keys from his jeans pocket and dangled them in front of her. ‘At least allow me to make some amends for spoiling your chances to hire the car.’

Ah, now that was better. She started to feel slightly more forgiving. Still, though her body was giving her chaotic signals and her travel options were nil, her response was immediate.

‘No, thanks.’

‘No? You’re sure? Fast car, good driver, safe trip?’

She shook her head.

He was silent a moment, frowning, then a gleam shone in his eyes. ‘Did I mention that my uncle, aunt and cousin will be coming along?’ With a gesture he directed her gaze to the family group she’d seen hugging him a few minutes earlier. They stood several metres away by the escalator with a pile of luggage, looking her way with avid curiosity. Even the sullen boy seemed halfway interested.

‘Oh, them?’ Pia appraised them, doubtfully at first, then with her heart leaping up in sudden hope. ‘Really?’

A few months ago being crammed into a car with a bunch of strangers, forced to make small talk, would have been her idea of hell, but today … The family looked to be the essence of safe, solid respectability. Was this her chance to escape from the airport and break out into the world of grass, sky and fresh air?

She eyed Valentino, awaiting her response with apparent patience. What was his motive? Remorse? Something else? ‘I don’t know … Though I guess … Are you sure—it wouldn’t be an intrusion?’

He made an amused grimace. ‘It would be a relief.’

‘They won’t mind?’

‘They’ll be fascinated.’

‘I wouldn’t want to impede your conversation with your family, or … or your—your privacy in any way.’

‘You couldn’t if you tried.’

‘Oh, well, then. Thanks.’ She stood up, smoothed down her clothes, picked up her bag. ‘Thanks very much. Though you—you do know this is just a lift, er—Valentino. Nothing more than that.’

His brows lifted. ‘Scusi, signorina? What else would it be?’ He tilted his head with an expression of polite inquiry, and she felt a pang. Had she been crass to spell it out?

‘I was just—ensuring that you—understand …’

His expression grew grave and quite dignified, as if she was insulting his honour, his reputation, his very heart and soul. She nearly had to pinch herself. Wasn’t this the same bold devil who’d been flirting with her only half an hour since?

‘Look, I—I just need to be clear you know that … this is not a pick-up.’

Looking totally mystified, he drew his black brows together. ‘A pick-up. What is this pick-up? Is it an Australian thing?’

She flushed and shook her head. ‘No, no. It’s. Look, it’s when …’

It homed in on her at last that despite his beautiful accent up until now he had really quite excellent English. She stared suspiciously at his solemn, intent face, noting the sly glint in his brilliant dark eyes. ‘You know exactly what I mean, don’t you?’

He grinned in acknowledgement, then broke into a laugh, his eyes lighting with amusement at her chagrin.

‘I might know, signorina.’

‘Fine.’ She let out an exasperated breath. ‘Well. So long as you understand I’m accepting this lift purely as a—a—an emergency and I have no intention of being taken for a ride. And it’s Pia.’

He shot her a keen glance, then his luxuriant black lashes swept smilingly down.

‘Pia,’ he echoed. ‘Bella. I am charmed.’

He was charmed. Well, she might have been a little that way herself, although at the same time she was churned up, confused and irritated. Did he think a woman’s concern for her personal safety was a joke?

She took the hand he offered her, but briefly. As soon as his hard palm brushed hers her over-reactive skin cells leaped like flying fish on ecstasy. And her hand continued to tingle as she trundled her baggage beside him to where the family waited by the escalator.

He said, ‘So long as you understand that I will be doing the driving.’ His eyes gleamed, but there was a definiteness in his tone that brooked no argument.

‘What a surprise.’ She rolled her eyes, while inside her giddy pulse was rushing like storm water.

CHAPTER TWO

VALENTINO SILVESTRI drove fast, switching from lane to lane and cutting a path into tiny impossible crevices amongst the traffic with blithe disregard for the nerves of his passengers. Pia clung to her seat belt, enduring the aunt’s penetrating voice and trying not to dwell on the possibilities of dying young.

The aunt had directed the seating arrangement, guarding her menfolk by steering her husband into the front passenger seat and planting her solid self in the back between Pia and the sulky boy. Pia envied the boy his earphones, but resisted retreating to her own for fear of causing offence.

During a rare lull in the conversation Valentino’s deep dark eyes sought Pia’s briefly in the rear vision mirror and he said in his ravishingly accented voice, ‘So, Pia, why have you abandoned Australia for Italy?’

‘I’m here to house-sit for my cousin.’ Pia had to raise her voice a little to be heard. ‘Lauren’s a photographer. She’s gone to Nepal with a film crew to shoot a snow leopard. Maybe you know her. Lauren Renfern?’

Valentino shook his head. ‘Is she a recent arrival? I haven’t been in Positano for some time.’

‘She’s lived there just over a year.’

‘There are so many newcomers now we don’t know our own town,’ the aunt chimed in. ‘But you will be very happy. Of course, you will go to Pompeii. Herculaneum is another very fine site. And you must join the climb to Vesuvius, shouldn’t she, amore? Vesuvius is a marvellous experience.’

‘And Capri,’ her husband added, turning to encourage Pia. ‘All the turisti go to Capri. You will love it.’

‘Shh,’ the aunt hissed, poking her husband and nodding towards Valentino with a frown. In a murmur she added, ‘Have you no respect?’

Pia glanced at Valentino in surprise. Why shouldn’t Capri be mentioned, or was it the fact of her being a tourist that was the trouble? She saw his sensuous mouth tighten a little in the mirror, but that was the only sign he gave of having heard the aunt’s murmur. A moment later Pia’s gaze accidentally collided with his, and his dark eyes were so compelling, so sensual she forgot everything except the sudden mad rushing in her veins.

That was why it was such a shock when, just as the first glimpses of the Bay of Napoli hoved into view, the aunt received a call on her cell phone and startled everyone with the announcement that her beloved Maria had started in labour. It was an emergency, the agitated woman declared. She was sorry, but there was no help for it. The journey must be halted and they must speed to her daughter’s side at once.

There was no option but to alter the itinerary, so at the first available exit they diverted from the autostrada and drove into Napoli, where Valentino deposited the family with all their baggage in the entrance to Maria’s apartment building.

With their departure a blissful silence descended over the car. While Valentino said his farewells, Pia stayed in her seat, staring out at the busy, ancient, narrow street, craning up at the tall buildings, a sudden tension in her nerves. An anticipation.

What now? Now she would be alone with him?

She saw his tall frame turn to stroll back and a shiver thrilled down her spine.

Valentino paused with his hand on the door handle. A curious sensation charged his blood. His passenger hadn’t moved from her corner. Was she so wary of him?

With measured calm he got in, reached for the ignition, then turned to examine her.

Her blue eyes met his frankly, a little defiantly. He felt his blood quicken. He had no wish to make her feel vulnerable, but she was so pretty. He’d hardly be human not to feel excited by the situation.

Pia sensed the air tauten. Suddenly she felt as if she were hanging over the edge of a cliff.

He lifted his brows. ‘So … are you staying over there?’ His eyes were coolly amused, questioning, then he pointed at the seat next to his.

On a surge of adrenaline, Pia overruled the sudden tension in her limbs. She reasoned that men were probably like horses and dogs. The last thing a woman should do was to give out some crazy vibe of being nervous. As soon as she acknowledged the threat, the threat would become real.

What was there to be nervous about, anyway? Just because he’d looked at her once or twice as if she were a strawberry tartlet didn’t mean he was planning to speed her to the nearest lonely bush track to have his ruthless way with her. He’d hardly engineered the current situation. It was fate who had gone to such great trouble to arrange it, bringing on babies and all.

So long as fate didn’t get carried away. So long as he didn’t.

As she slid into the seat next to his and he reached across to assist her in finding the seat buckle her heightened senses caught the faintest tang of clean, spicy masculinity. She secured the seat belt, taking care not to brush his fingers. Smoothly, casually.

‘Bene.’

Valentino’s eyes were drawn to a tiny flickering pulse disturbing the smooth skin of her temple. His fingers twitched with a sudden urge to reach out and stroke her, but he restrained the impulse.

He realised it was only natural she should feel some concern. What woman wouldn’t? He was a man, after all. Practically a wild animal. There would be no use in telling her he was the safest guy on the planet and upholder of the laws of one hundred and eighty-eight nations.

He considered various things he might say to reassure her, and discarded them all as being likely to be counterproductive.

Accelerating into the traffic stream, he worked at keeping the conversation at an easy flow. ‘Sorry about the change in plans. Bambini make their own rules, apparently.’ He indicated the dash clock. ‘Not much more than an hour to go now. Just enough time for us to introduce ourselves properly.’

Pia read reassurance in the smile he flashed her. He was making an effort, she realised. Either to ensure she felt comfortable, or to lull her into a false sense of security.

‘So tell me,’ he said in his velvet voice, ‘what do you plan to do in Positano?’

Stay calm and pleasant, Pia thought, eyeing his handsome jaw with its hint of shadow, his hands, casual on the wheel. No matter how smooth and polished, remember he’s one of the wolvish tribe. Keep him on an even keel. Don’t antagonise him.

Her hands clasped themselves in her lap. ‘See the sights. Soak up the beauty.’

‘Ah. You are on vacation?’

She nodded. ‘And you, Valentino—do you live in Positano or are you just visiting?’

Valentino hesitated. Too much information would inevitably lead to him divulging his job to her. As soon as he did that she’d make all sorts of false assumptions about him and close up. It had happened too many times before with potential playmates. Mention Interpol and they vanished over the horizon like smoke. Tracking and pursuing high-class criminals was a grim business, more painstaking than romantic, but it was time his organisation received a sexier press.

He lifted his hands in acknowledgement of her question. ‘My family home is there but I work—elsewhere.’

‘Oh?’

‘Sì.’ He engineered a quick diversion. ‘I think you will enjoy Positano. It’s very small, but you shouldn’t have any trouble finding entertainment. Are you adventurous, Pia?’

Pia looked quickly at him. His glance was searching, smiling with just the hint of a sexy challenge, and her heart lurched into a higher gear. Of course he’d have used the word deliberately. He was a man, wasn’t he?

‘No, I’m not,’ she said, pouring iced water on any attempt to flirt. ‘Not at all.’

‘No?’ He lifted his thick black brows. ‘That’s not what I would have thought.’ A smile flickered at the corners of his sexy mouth. A meditative, sophisticated smile.

What did that mean? Pia wondered. Had he somehow divined the old courageous, indestructible Pia she used to be? Were elements of her former carefree self peeping out like a tart’s petticoat, or was this merely a seduction technique?

‘You have travelled across the world all by yourself. I would think that took some courage.’ His dark eyes were all at once surprisingly kind and sincere, and Pia realised she’d misinterpreted his intention. ‘No?’

She allowed him a cautious smile and his eyes lit with a warmth that made her breath catch.

‘Oh, well … I guess.’

She gave a breezy shrug as though her journey had been nothing much, though the truth was she’d been a nervous wreck for the first three thousand miles. Lucky they’d flown into darkness and the plane’s blinds had been drawn.

‘It’s as well to be fit in Positano,’ he went on, ‘but you don’t need to be too adventurous to enjoy hiking the mountain trails or exploring the grottoes. You must find yourself a guide. If you go to the tourist office they will help you.’

Pia felt ashamed of her low suspicions.

It just went to show she should get over herself. She was far too jumpy and ready to think the worst of every man she met. Clearly, it was time to let go of her angst and start to take people as she found them. Men, as she found them. They couldn’t all be thinking of sex and violence all the time.

She sat back and allowed some of her tension to slacken a little. Here was a guy who’d been kind enough to come to her rescue, and all she could do was search for signs he was keen to jump her bones.

And not just any old plain guy, as it happened. The more she saw of him, the more convinced she was of his drop-dead gorgeousness. She stole another glance. He looked so relaxed, his long limbs comfortably disposed in the sleek auto. He’d rolled his shirt sleeves back a little and his arms were as lean and tanned as she’d imagined. Sinewy. His collar opening revealed more of his olive-toned skin, the strong bronzed column of his neck.

From an artistic viewpoint, the composition was fine. In fact, it was hard to take her eyes off him. The chiselled lines of his profile ravished her more with every slight movement of his head. Not, she reminded herself, that she was especially looking for chiselled. Or even looking.

Valentino felt her gaze flicker over him and his blood hummed with a buoyant little charge. The chemistry was fizzing. And Grazie a Dio for that smile. A smile on a mouth so luscious was almost as good as a kiss, though a kiss would be highly desirable. Suddenly he felt glad to be alive and free and a mere mortal man.

For the first time in ages his office at the bureau, the meetings with his team, the constant policing demands from forces around the world seemed a million miles away.

Added to that, the sun was shining, the car handling well, he was flying down the autostrada with a blonde and the thaw was under way.

If he could tempt her into that smile again, in no time at all the conversation would segue into some light and flirty repartee and Miss Pia Renfern would be ready for some real adventure.

‘Have your family always lived in Positano, Valentino?’ Pia said politely to break the silence.

‘For centuries, as far as we can count. My parents are no longer alive but my grandfather’s still there.’ He bathed her in a dark gleaming glance that seeped into her veins like old cognac. ‘Have yours always lived in Sydney?’

‘Not quite always. Some of us may have managed one or two centuries. I’m sorry about your parents.’

Mesmerised by the amber highlights in his brilliant dark eyes, she felt her instincts plunge into warring turmoil. Somehow, while her internal security centre had been all for raising the alarm barriers high and keeping him at a very safe distance, another part of her was at risk of gaining the upper hand. An alarmingly female part that was softening and being drawn to him like a fridge magnet.

She still felt perched on a precarious edge, but the quality of the edge had changed.

He said casually, ‘Isn’t there some Aussie guy back there missing his bella ragazza?’

‘Not especially.’ There were some things a woman wasn’t about to confess. It wasn’t much to boast that the Aussie guy she’d once called the love of her life had bumped her for a trainee accountant with lank hair.

‘Amazing.’ His dark eyes scanned her face. ‘No wonder they can’t play the beautiful game.’

‘What game is that?’

He stared incredulously at her, then his gaze grew pitying. ‘Per carita. This is a tragedy.’

‘Is it some Italian thing?’ she said innocently.

‘Mio Dio.’ He threw up his hands, though luckily they connected with the wheel again before the car veered off course. ‘Football. Have any of you Aussies heard of football?’

She grinned to herself, then at him. As if every woman in Australia hadn’t been battered into insensibility with every sporting contest ever devised by man.

His eyes narrowed as he realised she’d been kidding him, then his lean face broke into a laugh. Like the sun breaking out. His eyes were alight and she was devastated, her veins once again melting. His laugh was infectious and her tension eased down another twenty levels. Nothing like a moment of shared humour with a gorgeous Neapolitan to help a girl relax.

He gazed at her with friendly mockery. ‘Lucky you have come to a civilised country where you can start to learn how to live. How long do you stay?’

‘However long it takes.’

‘To do what?’

‘Oh. Well …’ She gestured. ‘I mean, however long Lauren’s away, or … or whatever happens.’ Such as how long it took to get her painting back.

‘Let’s hope Lauren stays away a long time.’ The words hung in the air, unsettling, provocative.

She made no reply and Valentino wondered ruefully if he’d blundered. He didn’t want to rush things. It wasn’t any quick on-road seduction he had in mind. Not that he couldn’t be tempted.

Involuntarily his heart quickened at the maverick thought. Sacramento. Where had that come from? He deserved to be shot. He was a disciplined man. A professional warrior against crime, a defender of the innocent.

Regardless of how soft and curvy and feminine she was, how achingly close and accessible, there were standards of behaviour an honourable man never contravened.

He cast her a sidelong glance.

Her brow was slightly wrinkled. He saw her bite her lower lip and a pang went through him. He forced his eyes back to the road. Dio, her lips were so plump and rosy.

Pia had the feeling his antennae were up and paying close attention to everything she said. She just hoped he didn’t ask too many prickly questions about her work. She so hated to lie. Lies always caught you out in the end, and who was to say she mightn’t run into him again after today, since they were both heading for the same town?

If there was one thing she didn’t want to have to admit to anyone, it was how her meltdown had almost wiped her out.

Losing Euan had been bad enough, but it was her career that had been the worst casualty. In a way, losing her ability to paint had been like losing her identity.

The block had been terrifying, even worse than losing her desire, though it was that loss that had most concerned Euan. He’d thought he was the one suffering from deprivation. For her, failing to paint was like failing to breathe.

Thank God the nightmare was in the past and her emotions had whooshed back in full force. It gave her hope that her creative flow was on the verge of recovery. She’d had glimmers lately, though so far none had carried through into any successful work. As for her desire …

Irresistibly her gaze was drawn to linger on Valentino’s long, smooth fingers tightening around the gear lever, the powerful thigh muscles stretching the fabric of his jeans.

That burning little question was now wide open.

He turned his dark gaze on her. ‘Where does she live, your cousin?’

‘In the Via del Mare. She scored a fantastic contract with a television company, so she bought an apartment. Do you know the street?’

His brows lifted. ‘Must have been a fantastic contract. I know it well. You and I could be neighbours. Convenient, wouldn’t you say?’ He cast her a gleaming glance that seeped into her tissues like absinthe. ‘Do you like to travel?’