She forced herself to pour the coffee as the waitress returned with a basket of warm scones. “Luca, then.”
“You’re not going to tell me your first name.”
She raised an eyebrow, cautiously determined not to let him ride roughshod over her. “You own this hotel. Don’t you know it already?”
He laughed, the sound devoid of any pretence. A genuine laugh that nearly warmed her from the inside out. “Remind me, then.”
A smile crept up her lips; she couldn’t help it. She’d expected him to be practiced but the truth was everything about him was natural. From the way he wore his clothes to his manners to his easy chuckle. There was nothing fake about Luca Fiori. His charm was innate and genuine.
And therein lay the danger, she realized. In her books, charm equalled trouble. She didn’t need trouble. In any form.
“Mari. My first name is Mari.”
“Oh, Mari, I believe you’ve shortchanged me.”
She picked up a spoon and stirred sugar—a heaping teaspoon of it—into her coffee. “Shortchanged you? How?”
“Because I know your name is really Mariella.”
Her fingers gripped the spoon. She much preferred Mari now. She’d been Mari ever since moving to Banff three years ago. No more Mariella. Mariella had been scared and obedient and faceless. She hadn’t been a person at all.
“I go by Mari. Or you may continue calling me Ms. Ross.” She didn’t even attempt to keep the cool out of her voice.
Luca split a scone and buttered it. “Mariella is a lovely Italian name. It means beloved.”
“I know what it means.”
Undaunted, he continued. “It was also my grandmother’s name.”
Mari swallowed a mouthful of coffee too quickly and it burned all the way down her throat. His grandmother’s name wasn’t what was important right now; it didn’t even register on her radar. She was Mari, manager of a four-star resort and she’d had to leave a lot of pain behind to get here. Mariella reminded her of things she kept trying to forget. How many times had her mother told her about her father’s so-called family? The family she’d never known?
A family she never would know. Not now. It was just one of the missing gaps in her childhood.
“Mr. Fiori…” At his raised eyebrow she reluctantly corrected herself. “Luca, I don’t mean to sound impolite, but you are here as a representative of Fiori Resorts, here to evaluate your latest acquisition. My first name should be of little importance. Perhaps we should begin the tour now.”
Luca took another bite of scone and considered how to answer. The General Manager was a prickly sort, but pretty. And he did enjoy a challenge. “And miss out on this superior blend? I think not. We’ll get to the rest. In time.”
He sipped his coffee thoughtfully, letting his eyes roam over her. Her dark hair was pulled back into a simple, elegant twist, not a hair out of place. She had great legs, but she hid them beneath a conservative navy skirt and completed the look with an equally plain blazer. She gave new meaning to the words “power suit”. Even her shoes…dio mio. His sister would have had a conniption at the sight. Her shoes were plain, unadorned navy pumps. Hardly inspired. All in all, she was a package that screamed “stay away.”
Until she finally looked into his eyes.
Hers were stunning, nothing at all like the cold, efficient package she presented. They were gray-blue and smoky, soft and sexy, holding a lifetime of secrets.
“Mariella…” He let his voice soften and was gratified to see her turn those eyes on him again. This was more than a challenge. This was unvarnished curiosity, something unusual for him. He was generally happy to skim the surface. On his arm was just about close enough for any woman to get. But there was something in Mari’s eyes that drew him in. A mystery begging to be solved.
“Mari,” she corrected coolly.
He frowned. Usually that soft tone worked on women. There was more to her than frosty order and sensible shoes, he could sense it. But as her eyes blazed at him, refusing to let him use her full name, he knew that this was one time his charm was going to fail him. With it came the unholy urge to laugh, along with grudging respect.
Who would have thought a trip to Canada would turn out to be so intriguing?
He had the most incredible desire to reach out and rest his fingers on her belligerent cheek. What would she do if he tried such a thing? Blush? He didn’t think so. Some of the women he knew would slap his face in a bout of indignant passion, but he didn’t think Mari was the type for that, either.
No, an icy diatribe was more her style, and he almost did it just to see what would happen. To see the sparks ignite and flare.
Something held him back.
That wasn’t why he was here. He was away from Italy, away from the constant demands and in a place where he alone could call the shots. He’d let himself be distracted before and it hadn’t been pretty. It had cost him. Not quite so much as it had cost his father when his mother had walked out on them, but it had been adequately messy. He’d let Ellie make a fool of him. He’d risked his heart and had lost. No, his initial instinct was right. He would enjoy himself, but not take it any further than that.