Lynne Graham - Modern Romance April 2015 Books 1-8

Dredging her thoughts from the weird sticking point they had reached, she went to the door of the lounge. A businessman, she reminded herself doggedly. Successful businessmen—and he looked very successful—were cold-blooded, calculating individuals, ready to do anything for profit and divorced from sentiment. He certainly emanated that arrogant vibe with his polished image that was so totally inappropriate for a male visiting a working farm. ‘Dad? We have a visitor. Do you want tea?’

‘A visitor?’ Brian Whitaker rose with a frown from his chair and came with shuffling, poorly balanced steps into the kitchen.

Lizzie removed mugs from the cupboard while the two men introduced themselves.

‘I’m here about the island that Lizzie and her sister inherited from your late wife,’ Cesare explained calmly.

The silence of astonishment engulfed his companions. Lizzie studied him wide-eyed while her father turned his head towards him in a frowning attitude of incredulity.

‘It’s a rubbish inheritance...nothing but a bad joke!’ Lizzie’s father contended in a burst of unrestrained bitterness. ‘It stands to reason that an inheritance you can’t use or sell is worthless... What use is that to anyone? So, that’s why you’re here? Another fool chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?’

‘Dad!’ Lizzie exclaimed in consternation at the older man’s blatant scorn.

She wished she had guessed why the Italian had come to visit and scolded herself for not immediately making the association between his nationality and the legacy left to her and Chrissie by their mother. Over the years the island that couldn’t be sold had been a source of much bitterness in her family, particularly when money was in such short supply. She lifted the kettle off the range and hastily made the drinks while she wondered what on earth Cesare hoped to achieve by visiting them.

‘I’ll put your tea in the lounge, Dad,’ she said, keen to remove her father from the dialogue, afraid of what he might say in his blunt and challenging way.

Brian Whitaker stole a glance at the Italian’s shuttered dark face, not displeased by the effect of having had his say. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. After all, the only reason he could be here is that he’s coming a-courting!’ he completed with a derisive laugh that sent a hot tide of colour flaring below Lizzie’s pale skin. ‘Good luck to you! Lizzie was ditched by the neighbour a couple of years ago and she hasn’t been out on a date since then!’

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