Lucy Gordon - Italian Tycoon, Secret Son

‘Oh, heavens!’ Mandy said cynically. ‘One of them .’

‘Them?’

‘All easy charm and full of himself.’

As soon as they went inside she saw what Joan had meant. A female crowd was converging around a man she couldn’t see clearly. Then he turned and her blood froze.

‘It can’t be,’ she whispered.

But there was no mistaking that smile, that air of being on top of life and ready for anything. She breathed hard.

‘Hello, everyone,’ he said. ‘I’m Renzo Ruffini. I’m taking charge of this trip, but I’m still missing someone.’ His voice faded as Mandy appeared before him.

She had the pleasure of seeing him disconcerted, which she guessed didn’t happen very often.

‘You,’ he whispered.

‘Yes, me. I’m glad you remember me among the crowd.’

‘But of course I do. You saved my life.’

‘I think the least said about that the better, don’t you?’

‘Definitely.’ He pulled himself together. ‘How do you come to be here?’

‘I’m Mandy Jenkins.’

‘You?’ he queried. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, I’ve been Mandy Jenkins for twenty-seven years. If there was a mistake, I’m sure I’d have noticed by now.’

‘I only meant-you’re not quite what I expected.’ He surveyed her five foot two inches. ‘It’s a very demanding climb. I wonder if you’re strong enough.’

‘I’ve filled in the forms, answered all the health questions. I meet your requirements, otherwise I wouldn’t have been accepted by Pierre Foule.’

‘That’s true, but if Pierre had realized you were quite so delicate-’

‘Oi!’ she said. ‘Delicate, my left foot! I’m as tough as old boots.’

To prove it, she adopted a boxing stance, which he immediately copied, declaring, ‘Put ’em up.’ Then he ruined the effect by asking, ‘That is what they say, isn’t it?’

‘That’s what they say when they’re going to thump someone. I’ll thump you.’

‘No, no, ti prego, ti prego ,’ he said in a comically placating tone. ‘You may not be delicate but I am.’

‘Will you please stop your nonsense?’

‘Anything you say,’ he vowed, giving her a delightful smile.

It was so obvious that this came from the manual of ‘how to deal with awkward customers’ that she nearly did thump him.

‘Look,’ she said in a low voice, ‘I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re stuck with each other. I joined to go up the Alps, and that’s what I’m going to do.’ She glowered in what she hoped was a threatening manner, not easy as he was ten inches taller. ‘Do you understand?’

‘Signorina,’ he said solemnly, ‘I vow to you that if I was an Alp I’d be shaking in my shoes.’

‘Perhaps you should be,’ she warned him.

Then he murmured something in Italian, clearly not expecting her to understand. But she did. He’d said, ‘Why does this kind of thing always happen to me?’

She answered him in Italian. ‘Some people act like a magnet for trouble.’

She had the reward of seeing him embarrassed.

‘I shall have to beware of you, shan’t I?’ he said wryly.

‘Definitely. You have been warned.’

‘If you’ll excuse me, I must speak to the others.’

Renzo moved away hastily.

‘Cheeky devil,’ she murmured. ‘So certain that he’s got everything sussed. And I bet they all fall for it. Well, not me.’

Mandy had to admit that the charge of ‘delicate’ had some truth. She was daintily built and graceful of movement, which fooled many people into thinking her fragile. They were wrong.

Joan returned to her side, saying, ‘They say he’s in great demand.’

‘Because of his mountaineering skills, you mean?’ Mandy asked ironically.

‘I think it has more to with the Wow! factor,’ Joan mused, studying Renzo’s tall, athletic figure.

‘I can’t say I noticed it.’

Joan chuckled. ‘You would have done if you weren’t miffed with him.’

Mandy laughed and conceded the point. While she might not have taken to Renzo, honesty forced her to admit that he had the Wow! factor in spades.

If asked to describe his attractions, she would have shrugged and said, Par for the course, which would have been true without doing him complete justice.

He looked like a vibrant, healthy animal who’d spent his life in the open. Without being muscle-bound, he was powerful enough for the demands he obviously made on his lithe body. Even his dark hair and eyes fitted her picture of the conventional Italian male.

‘A professional Lothario,’ she said cynically, remembering the night before.

‘So who’s complaining?’ Joan asked. ‘I’m not.’

‘He’s all yours.’

At last the formalities were finished and Renzo called for their attention so that he could outline the plan for the next few days.

‘We’ll spend the nights in the huts we’ll find up there,’ he said. ‘Some are like good hotels, some are more basic, but I take it you’re all ready to rough it.’

There was a murmur of agreement and Mandy couldn’t resist calling, ‘Even those of us who are delicate.’

Renzo grinned. ‘I guess I’m not going to be allowed to forget that. Right, let’s go.’

As the others made their way out of the door, he drew her aside, murmuring, ‘I really am grateful. You’re not mad at me, are you?’

‘I can’t think what you’re talking about. I remember nothing.’

‘You’re probably right. Let’s be off.’

The first day was relatively easy, moving slowly up the lower slopes, linked by ropes.

Mandy had done just enough climbing to be able to cope fairly easily. The hardest moment was when Joan, roped to her, missed her footing. Briefly Mandy found herself supporting the young woman’s weight, and hung on grimly, but Joan recovered quickly and the moment passed. Looking up, she found Renzo watching her and had the satisfaction of seeing him nod in a way that suggested she’d done well.

There was also the ironic pleasure of discovering that she was far from being the worst of the party of twelve. That honour was reserved for Henry, a hulking, loutish young man. Though superficially good-natured, he wanted to do everything his own way and didn’t take kindly to instructions. Several times Renzo had to be very firm with him, and Mandy had to admit that he managed it without trouble.

As the light faded they came to the hut where they would spend the first night. It was small and when they had all crowded in the place was bursting at the seams, but the food was filling, the beds narrow but adequate and there was an air of jollity that carried them through the evening.

It amused her to see that as soon as they arrived Renzo became the target of attention again. The women gazed at him with pleasure, the men with jealousy. He accepted it all as his due, and Mandy had to admit that he had plenty of what the Italians called bella figura . More than mere good looks, it implied confidence, style, charisma, panache.

He was never at a loss. When someone produced a battered guitar he led the singalong with all the aplomb of a natural showman.

Now and then Henry butted in, making a noise-as someone observed-like a terrified monkey. But he was shouted down and vanished, scowling. After that nobody thought of him until bed time, when the sound of a slap followed by a yell showed that he’d had no luck there, either.

The next day they climbed up nearly three thousand metres and ended in a larger hut, perched on the edge of a ridge, staring down into the valley where the lights of Chamonix were just visible, like winking signals from another planet.

Mandy slipped outside to catch the last of the light, which had an unearthly quality here, in the heart of the snowy peaks. In the distant sky she could see a blaze of glorious scarlet, such as she’d never expected in February, and held her breath, longing for it to last.