Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire

She could handle it, Cass determined. She was hardly a stranger to awkward situations. She would simply stay out of his way.

Her heart beat wildly as the helicopter descended slowly like a sinister black bird, flattening the grass and driving the songbirds from the trees in a panic-stricken flock. She hadn’t met anyone who travelled by helicopter since she’d been a little girl in her parents’ exotic world. Thrusting her spade into the ground, she realised her hands were shaking.

Wiping her hands on her shorts, she stood rooted to the spot as the rotors slowed to a petulant whine. The passenger door opened and a tall, commanding figure, dressed immaculately for the city, sprang to the ground. Marco di Fivizzano was infinitely better looking than the press suggested, and for a moment she stood trapped in his stare.

What had got into her? She’d done nothing wrong.

Who the hell...? Marco’s frown deepened. Then he remembered vaguely that his PA had mentioned something about temporary staff for the summer. He was in no mood for dealing with that now. Surely Giovanni and Maria would have laid out the ground rules—that no one approached him when he was here on his Tuscan estate.

Swearing softly under his breath, he remembered that today was Maria and Giuseppe’s day off. He had been in such a hurry to leave the city for the country that his only thought had been how fast he could get here. Now he had some scruffy youth to deal with. He would have expected a new member of his gardening team to be an older and more experienced man, not some beardless boy. Coming closer, he stopped dead in his tracks as she turned to face him.

A grubby urchin? No make-up? Ragged clothes? Hair hidden beneath a faded baseball cap?

Legs like a colt...body like a ripe fruit, bra-free nipples pressing imperatively against her fine cotton top, her young face work-flushed and appealing...

His body responded violently and with approval. Beneath the mud, sweat, and rosy cheeks stood a very attractive young woman. The cap was crammed down hard on her head, with the brim pulled low to shade her eyes from the sun, as if she cared nothing for vanity—and that in itself was a novelty. Her clothes consisted of a ripped and mud-daubed singlet that clung lovingly to her full, pert breasts, while the frayed shorts emphasised the length of her slender legs. Striding up to her, he saw that she wasn’t as young as he’d first thought, and neither was she intimidated by him—far from it. This girl wasn’t afraid of anything, he sensed as she held his stare.

‘And you are?’ he prompted shortly.

In contrast to his irritable mood, she appeared to be relaxed and slightly bemused.

‘Cassandra Rich. Your new gardener?’

Something about the surname chimed in his head, but he pushed that aside for now. Evaluating staff was his strength. The success of his business had been founded on that skill.

He stared deep into a frank, cornflower-blue gaze and ran a quick assessment. She was fresh, bright and intelligent. Inner strength, combined with the summing up she was giving him, was so novel and unexpected that he almost broke into a smile—something he did so rarely that his body took the cue and responded more insistently.

‘I’m here for the summer,’ she volunteered, glancing around.

Good. That gave him time to work with, he reasoned dryly.

Was he in lust with this woman?

Possibly. She was so unlike the sophisticated types he was used to she required further study—and a category all her own.

‘Where’s the rest of the gardening team?’ he demanded, frowning.

‘They’re taking staggered holidays,’ she explained with a shrug, drawing his attention to her bright blue eyes as she pushed a lock of her honey-gold hair away from them. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ she added, ‘to plug the gap.’

He had moved on from assessing her unusually forward manner to wondering about the rest of her hair, hidden beneath the ugly cap. He could so easily imagine freeing it and seeing it cascade down her back, just before he fisted a hank of it to pull her head back to kiss her throat.

‘You can handle this entire estate on your own?’ he demanded sceptically, bringing himself back with difficulty to the business side of this encounter.

‘I’ll have to, won’t I?’ she said. ‘At least until the others return.’

‘Yes, you will,’ he confirmed sharply, still trying to work out whether her manner was impudent or overly straightforward. Meanwhile, she was staring at him inquisitively, as she might study an unusual exhibit in a gallery. They were polar opposites, curious about each other—the billionaire, hard and driven, and the mystery girl who gave casual a new edge.