Wherever she moved in the room, it was impossible to escape the force of Luca Tebaldi’s personality. She’d always thought the boardroom a large, spacious room, but now it didn’t seem nearly big enough. Where the task she’d been set was concerned, failure was not an option, and tension between them was growing She was determined to make a success of the project, so it was time to build bridges between them.
‘I’m a little blunt sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘When I said I’d been through something similar to you, I was talking about the loss my sister.’
‘I see.’
His face had softened slightly, enough for her to add, ‘Lyddie was killed in a terrible accident two years ago.’
‘And your parents?”
‘Both dead. But your loss is more recent, and I remember how it felt when Lyddie died. The shock of her death being irreversible took me out for a while, but it did get better. The grief didn’t fade, but I learned how to deal with it. I make the most of every precious day now in memory of my sister. I owe you dinner,’ she said, rather than dwell on something that went too deep to discuss with a man she’d just met. ‘Tonight, as we arranged?’
‘Eight o’ clock, your place?’ he suggested.
‘No. The casino,’ Jen countered. ‘It makes sense, as the supper you’ve paid for will be there.’
‘Your address,’ Luca argued quietly. ‘I’ve planned a dinner at a place of my choosing.’
‘I’d rather stick to the original arrangement,’ Jen insisted.
‘The club might be what I bought, but it’s not what I want. I paid a lot of money for the privilege of having dinner with you, but I want you to enjoy it too.’
His argument was persuasive, and he could steal her breath away with just a look. She couldn’t forget the charity would benefit from his money. Plus, she wanted to get to know him a little better so she could talk about Raoul.
Every reason paled in the face of sharing an evening with Luca Tebaldi, but she was still uneasy.
‘The one-way system to my address is a little complicated.’
‘I’ll find it,’ he said with a look that made her pulse race.
What had she agreed to? She wasn’t exactly big on the dating scene. She had left all that to Lyddie. Jen’s vivacious sister had been born with confidence when it came to men. When Lyddie had died, Jen had retreated even more into her shell. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone about her sister’s death, so hibernation had seemed a safer bet—until the charity had persuaded her that she needed to get back to work, and go out. She must socialise, they’d insisted. The more she talked to people, the more she would discover that they had problems too, and that would help her to be strong for them, until eventually she was strong for herself.
‘Tonight,’ Luca said, shooting her one last dark, amused look as he headed for the door.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’
‘Am I?’
She glanced at the jewel case on the table. ‘Don’t you want to take a closer look at your father’s latest purchase before you go?’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said. A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘The cursed stone.’
Jen’s body responded eagerly to the warmth in Luca’s eyes as she insisted, ‘It’s a piece of compacted carbon: inert, and, hopefully, unaffected by all the hype surrounding it.’
‘I like that.’ He laughed, and it was a real laugh that reached his eyes, and warmed her even more. ‘I’ve no interest in gemstones,’ he confessed, ‘beyond seeing this one safely installed with the rest of my father’s haul. I remain unmoved,’ he said with a grin. ‘Except for the price, of course.’
‘Which would move most people,’ Jen agreed.
It was impossible to resist his charm, even if his cold side chilled her, Jen thought. In the short time she’d known him, Luca Tebaldi had changed her thoughts on men, if only because she would compare every man she met to him in the future.
‘It’s been interesting seeing you again, Signorina Sanderson, and I look forward to our supper tonight.’
So did she, Jen realised as they shared an uncomplicated, yet unexpectedly intimate look.
‘Until tonight—’ Luca was already gone, leaving Jen with the distinct impression that there was something about this situation she wasn’t getting.
* * *
Luca would be arriving any time now. She was so excited—ridiculously so. She hadn’t been on a date for—this wasn’t a date. This was a charity lot he’d bought. She hated it when cold reality swamped her. Take her home, for instance. She wasn’t going to be ashamed, even though he was a billionaire, and she lived in a bedsit in someone else’s house. The space was small, but it was clean and it smelled good. She had been allowed to decorate and had put her own stamp on the room, with bright paint-box colours on the walls, and a rag rug she’d made herself out of scraps of material covering the worst of the bald patches on the threadbare carpet. She had added to the sparse furnishings with lucky finds from the local second-hand shops. Plastic dumpers contained the rest of her worldly possessions, along with those vital documents everyone had to keep. Framed photos of Jen’s parents, and of Lyddie, took pride of place. Jen’s eyes welled with tears as she stared at her sister’s photograph. It had been taken just before Lyddie died, around two years ago, and was a vibrant, happy reminder of a moment captured in time. Jen had taken the photograph in the park close by. Lyddie had been acting the fool, turning cartwheels and grinning at Jen, and her face was still lit up with mischief, suggesting cruelly to Jen that she could breeze through the door at any time.
Dragging her gaze away with difficulty, Jen turned to test the soil in the plant pots on the window sill with her knuckles. Most of her specimens had been rescued unloved and neglected from various offices at the auction house, apart from one new addition: a small pink rose she’d bought in memory of Lyddie, and Raoul Tebaldi, the lonely man at the casino, as Jen would always think of him.
And now it was time to decide what to wear for the all-important date with Luca. She was not ashamed of her wardrobe, though she shopped in thrift stores most of the time, searching for vintage pieces that had escaped the eagle eye of collectors. She had picked up and discarded several items before coming to a decision for tonight. She could imagine the type of high-end restaurant Luca favoured. She couldn’t compete with his million-dollar wardrobe, and so she had finally settled on a pretty, fifties-style dress from the second-hand-gown rail that served as her wardrobe. The dress was royal blue lightweight cotton, covered in sprigs of white flowers. Full skirted, it was nipped in at the waist, and had three-quarter sleeves with crisp white turn-back cuffs. Darted to show off the bust, it fastened down the front with tiny pearl buttons, and there was a belt of the same fabric cinching her waist. With its high neck and white Peter Pan collar, she felt ladylike and poised. It was certainly a change from jeans, or the mouse suit she wore at the office, and was far more modest than Ms Bunny’s outfit. ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’ was all well and good, but people did judge, and it was crucial to get this right tonight.
The dress was armour of sorts, Jen concluded, her pulse picking up from frenzied to frantic when the front door bell rang, and something told her she would need her armour tonight. Luca could be warm, but he could be challenging too; either way she’d need her wits about her. Snatching up a wrap, she opened the door and stood back.
‘Wow,’ he said, looking her up and down.
Had she got it wrong? Was the fifties outfit too much? Was he having second thoughts? Was she?
About all of it, Jen concluded. Luca was gorgeous. She was average. He was rich. She was poor. But he was due his dinner, and the charity needed his money. When Lyddie died Jen had vowed to value life, and live it to the full. This was the perfect opportunity to make good on that pledge.
As Luca stared past her into the house, she could imagine what he was thinking. The house was conventional. Her room was not. The blaze of colour, together with the happy chaos of trying to
decide what to wear tonight, had left its mark. She doubted that Luca, living in his sleek, expensive world, had ever seen anything quite like it. Oh, well...
Girding her loins—aka hanging her structured fifties handbag over her arm—she picked up her house keys, and smiled at her escort.
Luca’s dark stare swept over her. ‘You look amazing.’
Relief. She’d got one thing right. He didn’t look bad, either. Casual dress suited him. But it was hardly the outfit of choice for a gourmet restaurant. Relax, Jen told herself as she led the way down the path. She halted at the side of his car, a low-slung model, sleek, black, and very expensive. She imagined the engine would purr and then roar.
‘Would you like me to help you in?’ he asked politely.
‘I’m fine, thank you.’ That mouth! Firm and faintly smiling, Luca’s was a mouth made for sin—for softening and for teasing—
It could be a hard mouth too, Jen reminded herself. But he was on his best behaviour tonight. Polite and charming, she thought as he opened the passenger door and stood back. And drop-dead gorgeous. Luca had the type of masculine glamour film stars could only dream about. And those eyes could tell a thousand stories, all of them X-rated, she had no doubt. She quickly looked away, but not before he’d caught her staring. He smiled as she mused on the subject of rampant Tatars from the plains—that was what he looked like, with his tangle of wild black hair, and the imperious line of his sweeping ebony brows. Gathering the skirt of her dress, she did her best to slide into the car with grace, as if this were something she did most days. It certainly took more of a knack than stepping onto a bus, but she could handle it—
Really?
She cursed vigorously as her heel caught in the hem of her dress.
‘Let me help you,’ Luca offered.
Before she could refuse, he was down on his knees in front of her, freeing the hem.
I will! Oh, yes, I will—flew unbidden into her mind. She shoved it straight out again. This wasn’t a game. This was deadly serious, she thought as Luca’s magnetic stare lifted to fix on her face.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE SCENT OF expensive leather and hand-polished walnut embraced Jen as she settled into a ridiculously comfortable seat. Closing her door with a satisfying clunk, Luca strode around to the driver’s side and climbed in. She was instantly acutely aware of him, so close she only had to reach out a little way and she could touch him. His masculine appeal seemed magnified tenfold in the confines of the luxurious vehicle.
‘I can still get us a table at the club, if you’d like to go there instead,’ she said on a throat that felt as tight as if someone were standing on it.
Luca’s answer was to switch on the engine, proving that his muscle car preferred to roar, rather than purr. Why wasn’t she surprised? Jen thought as he pulled smoothly into the slow-moving evening traffic. She tried to settle back and enjoy the ride, but she had already broken her cardinal rule by getting into the car of a man she hardly knew—and this was hardly a regular guy. And they were going where, exactly? She didn’t have a clue, Jen realised with a pang of alarm as soft jazz filled the air. If Luca’s choice of music was meant to relax her, it was a major fail. And now they were driving out of the city—
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘To an airfield.’