A Pawn in the Playboy's Game

‘What’s my choice?’ Alessandro shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Edith has returned the dinner invitation for next Saturday. What’s a polite guy like me supposed to do? She looks like she might attack me with a rolling pin if I bail.’

‘She’s spirited, that one,’ Roberto agreed.

‘And we’re getting nowhere with the decision about London.’ He had now spent more time solidly in the company of his father than he ever had in his life before, and counting. At the rate he was going, he may as well import his PA and set up camp for the long haul.

Time and big business waited for no man.

Strangely, though, he was missing the cut and thrust of city life less than he had anticipated. Despite living in the middle of nowhere, the broadband connection was fast and for the past week he had established a routine that worked.

‘London Schmondon,’ his father contributed unhelpfully. ‘More to life than pollution and smog.’

Stalemate.

But Alessandro was happy to take time out with this particular stalemate situation.

Indeed, as he returned to Scotland the following Thursday, a couple of days earlier than anticipated, he was in high spirits. He could have travelled by helicopter but had instead chosen a first-class compartment on the train and had managed to get a considerable amount of work done. Few people kicked off before eight-thirty in the morning, by which time he was on his way, and by ten, when his phone began buzzing, he had already signed off two deals and had had his conference call to his people on the other side of the world.

By mid-afternoon he was at the closest station to the town and on the spur of the moment he set the satnav in the SUV he had conveniently left in the station car park to direct him to the school where Laura worked.

She would be finishing around now. She always stayed after close of day to mark books and get the classroom ready for the following morning.

Over dinner with her grandmother and his father he had told her that it sounded like a terminally tedious routine and then had enjoyed the way her cheeks had gone pink and her eyes had flashed. Even her hair had looked annoyed. She spent a lot of her time being annoyed with him, but underneath the annoyance ran a river of desire as strong as an ocean undercurrent. He’d never spent so much time dwelling on one woman, never mind a woman he hadn’t taken to his bed. She was becoming a delicious obsession and he couldn’t wait for the day when she came to him, when her defences had finally been broken down.

The school was perched at the edge of the village. Stepping out of the taxi, he spotted her car neatly parked in one of the spots for staff. It was just mid-afternoon, but the light was already fading fast and the playground, which was in front of the brick building, was empty of children.

This was the smallest school he had ever seen in his life and there was no way in unless you buzzed and announced yourself. So he buzzed and was let in by a middle-aged woman with rimless specs and a tightly pursed mouth after he explained that he was there to see Laura Reid.

‘We all know who you are.’ The woman’s expression fell into a smile. Her pursed lips were obviously there to tackle any unwanted visitors to the school. ‘Roberto’s son. Maud at the post office bumped into the lady who does for Edith and she told us that you were here. You must be worried sick over the little turn your father had but he’ll be right as rain in no time at all! Similar thing happened to my sister, bless her soul. Had a little stroke and then fell and broke her leg. She was off work for six months! And she bounced right back after that, so don’t you go worrying unduly over your father. He’s a robust one!’

All the time they were walking through a maze of corridors with classrooms on either side. It was bigger inside than it appeared from the outside. The walls were decorated with bright paintings and there was a low bookcase that ran the length of the corridor, stuffed with books.

He saw her before she noticed he was there. Straight from London and the wine bar, city crowds, he was knocked back at just how artless she was, sitting at her desk with a pile of exercise books on one side, frowning as she leaned over, marking. Her hair was escaping its ponytail, tendrils curling along her cheek, and she was absently chewing the top of her pencil.