Liz Fielding - Italian Escape

‘There were two of us in the holidays,’ Minty reminded him.

‘Si, but you were never a childlike child. Always so knowing, so old for your years. When you weren’t doing something crazy, that is.’

Minty had raised her glass ready to take a sip but at his words she set it back down on the table. ‘I wasn’t the only one. Old for my years, I mean, not crazy.’ She laughed. ‘Did you ever misbehave, Luca?’

He shook his head, smiling. ‘Only when you were with me.’

Their eyes met, blue held by gold, sudden awareness blazing between them, remembering the last time they had misbehaved together here in this room, on the very sofa Minty was curled up on. Awareness that it would be so easy for him to put down his glass and move just a few steps over to her. Awareness that it would take just one touch, that all he needed to do was run one finger down her cheek to the corner of her mouth, onto those full lips.

He swallowed, hard. It was tempting, when she looked at him like that: guileless, teasing, daring. Vulnerable.

But the price was too high to pay. It had always been too high.

None of her emotions were real. It was all a game.

He looked away, deliberately breaking the invisible line of attraction linking them. He took a sip of wine and leant back, to all appearances relaxed.

Even if he was coiled tighter than a snake in winter.

‘So, how many children would it take to fill this house?’ If Minty was affected by the sudden attraction—or by Luca’s withdrawal—she wasn’t showing it.

It was frustrating. But safer.

‘Four.’

She spluttered. ‘Four? That’s ambitious.’

Luca eyed her coolly. ‘I am ambitious. In every area of my life.’

‘Obviously. You’re, what, twenty-nine now? Better get a move on if you want to make it to number four. Unless you’re hoping for one a year?’

He shook his head, smiling. ‘Not quite that fast, but I would like them sooner rather than later.’

‘So who’s the lucky brood mare?’ When Luca didn’t reply, Minty raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not planning single fatherhood, are you?’

‘I hoped to be married with at least one child by now, but it didn’t work out. I was engaged,’ he offered, surprising himself with his openness.

‘What happened?’

He shrugged. ‘We wanted different things.’

Minty smiled, although it didn’t reach her eyes, which were dark with sympathy. ‘Welcome to the club. You’ll have to do better than one failed engagement if you want premier membership, though.’

‘Thanks; I’ll stick to the basic category.’

She sipped her wine pensively then slid him a look from under those long eyelashes. ‘So who was it? Do I know her?’

‘Francesca Di Rossi.’

Amusement flared on the mobile face. ‘So she did it. Well done, Francesca. Lucky escape, if you ask me.’

Luca wasn’t sure what reaction, if any, he’d expected. The dark amusement in Minty’s voice was not it.

‘So she did it,’ Luca repeated slowly. ‘What do you mean by that?’ Although he suspected he knew what her answer would be.

‘You must know you were considered quite the catch locally: tall, dark, not too horrid to look at. Add in your family connections and the fact you employ half the district... I’m surprised prospective replacements aren’t queuing up around the block. Although the “four children” may be putting less committed candidates off.’

‘It’s not something I advertise.’ But her words were still rankling him. ‘Why “lucky escape”?’

Minty shrugged. ‘I just wouldn’t have thought you and Francesca were very compatible, that’s all. I didn’t know her very well, but I know her type. I bet she would have remodelled the house before you got round to cutting the wedding cake.’

Luca blinked in surprise. Francesca had been full of suggestions: new bathrooms; a new kitchen. He had thought at first she was simply taking an interest in his life. The truth was she had wanted to change his life. Change Luca.

‘I thought she loved it round here, wanted to stay, settle down.’ Luca couldn’t believe he was volunteering the information. After they’d split up he had shut the door on that part of his past and had barely given Francesca a second thought.

Unlike Minty. How could one interrupted night have made more of an impression than two years with Francesca?

‘She didn’t?’ Minty’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

‘Not at all. She thought I should move the office part of the business to Florence so I could be near that side of my family.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Near the aristocratic side. Turned out Francesca was a big fan of titles. She wanted us to have a fancy apartment and spend our time in fancy restaurants with fancy people. I wanted to stay here.’

‘You couldn’t compromise? Some time here, some time there?’

Luca shook his head. The truth was he hadn’t even considered it. ‘Honestly? I don’t think either of us cared enough deep down to make it work. For me, my work is here; my life. But Francesca felt stifled here. How do you compromise on that? In the end she found someone who wanted the same things she did. They’re very happy and that’s great.’ It was. When Luca analysed his feelings around Francesca’s infidelity, he felt a little humiliation—and a much greater relief.

Minty nodded sagely. ‘She was your starter fiancée—much better than a starter marriage, in my opinion.’

‘Che?’

She settled back, stretching slightly, and despite himself his eyes were drawn to the way her top stretched up, the enticing flash of midriff. ‘I bet you thought settling down was the right thing to do. There she was, a local girl. She knew the right people, went to the right parties, said the right things, was there when you needed her. Am I right?’

How on earth did she know that? Luca’s face must have shown his amazement, as Minty laughed. ‘I told you, I know girls like her. I’ve been a girl like her. Far better to find out you’re incompatible now than in ten years’ time when you have children. If you ask me, that mother of your four offspring won’t be someone quite so obvious. Someone who doesn’t make it quite so easy at the beginning, but who is comfortable to be with at the end.’

‘What made you so wise?’ The perception surprised him. Luca had never doubted that Minty had layers; he just didn’t think she had depth.

‘Three fiancés.’ She laughed as she said it but there was a glimmer of pain in her eyes that even Minty’s best carefree expression couldn’t hide. ‘I am the starter-fiancé expert.’

‘In that case, your theory doesn’t work,’ Luca said. ‘Shouldn’t there be one starter, not an entire buffet of them?’

‘Oh, they weren’t my starter fiancés,’ Minty said. ‘I was theirs. I’m the mistake that showed them exactly what they don’t want in a future partner. It’s a gift, really. I should get some kind of humanitarian award for it.’

Luca hated it when she did this: showed a hint of her inner self and covered it up with a brave face and a few self-deprecating jokes. It made a man want to get up and walk over to where she sat, supremely graceful, head up, eyes glittering, daring the world to feel sorry for her. It made a man want to gather her into his arms, pull her close and tell her it was all right, that she didn’t have to pretend.

It made a man remember just how yielding and vulnerable she could really be. Made a man think of hard kisses, soft caresses; how a man could get lost in those lips, those eyes. In her promise. He’d come so close to getting lost.

But he’d come to his senses.

It still sickened him, how close he had come to taking advantage of her, of her youth, of her grief. The only saving grace was that he had stopped, pushed her away, before it was too late.