His Lost-and-Found Bride

He was fascinated by the building’s history and traditional architecture. He respected the heritage just as much as she did.

She poured the coffee into two mugs and set them on the table, watching the steam rising while she frothed some milk and added it to the mugs.

She gestured with her hand. ‘Come and I’ll show you where your room is.’

She hadn’t even had time to prepare anything and she had to hope that nothing was out of place in her barely used guest suite. She led him down the corridor off the kitchen. It was the only place in her apartment that didn’t have natural light.

He grabbed her elbow as they walked down the corridor. ‘Are you sure this is okay?’

She turned to face him. He was much closer than she’d expected, his warm breath hitting her cheek. For a second she was frozen. This was as up close and personal as she’d been to Logan in years. The closeness took her breath away.

Even in the dim light of the corridor his green eyes made her struggle to think clearly. He was worried. He was worried about her. And glances like that brought back painful memories.

A tiny little part of her wished that Logan was looking at her in a different way. The way he used to, with passion and laughter in his eyes. She wanted to reach up and touch him. Touch the skin on his cheek, the shadowed outline of his jaw, and run her fingers through his dark hair. She wanted him to step forward just a few inches to see if their bodies still fitted together after all this time.

Her heart was racing and Logan blinked. He was staring at a spot on her neck where she was sure he could see the rapid beating of her pulse.

She took a deep breath and turned away, trying to blink back threatening tears. This was why everything about this was a bad idea.

She swung open a dark wooden door, flooding the corridor with light and stepping into a white and blue room. It was still traditional. A double bedroom with a window overlooking the canal, pale blue walls and fresh white bed linen. It wasn’t quite as sumptuous as the other rooms in the house as it was rarely used.

She nodded her head. ‘The bathroom is next door. Don’t worry, we won’t have to share. The box room was converted to an en suite. Would you like some time to settle in?’

He shook his head. ‘Your coffee smells too good to let it go to waste. Let’s finish the paperwork then we can decide where I’m taking you to dinner.’ There was a glimmer in his eye. ‘I don’t expect you to cook for me—not if I want to live to tell the tale.’

He’d caught her unawares and she threw back her head and laughed. ‘I offer you a room for the night and this is the thanks I get?’

He gave her a steady smile. ‘Let’s just wait until dinner.’ She could almost hear his brain ticking over and her stomach gave a little leap.

What on earth did he have planned?

* * *

Logan washed up and changed his wrinkled shirt. Thank goodness he always had a spare in his bag.

He looked around the room. It was comfortable but sparse—it was clear this room didn’t get much use. Didn’t Lucia have friends to stay? She’d had a few girlfriends at university but he had no idea if they’d kept in touch.

He sighed and looked out of the window. It was ridiculous but he was having a hard time with this.

Lucia had a job she loved and a fabulous apartment in one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. He should be overjoyed for her. In his head, all he’d ever wanted was for her to be happy. In a twisted kind of way this was his ideal situation.

She was happy. She was settled. But there was no husband and kids on the scene to let the tiny leaves of jealousy unfurl. To let him know that she’d taken the final steps.

He couldn’t quite work out why he was feeling so unsettled. All he knew was that there was something in her eyes. A guarded part. A hidden part. A little piece of her that didn’t look quite...alive.

That was what bothered him. Lucia had a fabulous life. But was she really living?

He glanced around. While this room was sparsely furnished, the rest of the apartment was sumptuous. The reds and golds complemented the grandeur of the ancient palace. There were lots of similar buildings scattered across Venice. It seemed everyone who’d ever been slightly royal had built a palace in Venice. It was no wonder the heritage board wanted to keep someone in here.

He walked through to the main room. Lucia was sitting in a chair next to the open doors, the sights and sounds of the Grand Canal drifting up towards them. She’d changed into a purple jersey wrap-around dress, her dark chocolate-brown hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Her legs were curled up underneath her and she was reading a book.