In the Italian's Sights Read Free

perhaps?’
    Before she had considered her words, she replied, ‘I’m not here with anyone.’ Then wished she’d bitten her tongue.
    The beautiful eyes narrowed. ‘No?’ He was clearly shocked. ‘You are a trifle young to be abroad on your own.’
    Same old syndrome. He clearly thought she was just out of gymslips. ‘I am twenty-five,’ she said crisply. ‘More than old enough to go where I want, when I want.’ She could see she had surprised him. But then to be fair, she reasoned, today—with her hair loose and tousled, anddressed in old cotton trousers and a baggy T-shirt—she looked even younger than usual.
    He recovered almost immediately. ‘You clearly have good genes,’ he said smoothly. ‘My grandmother is the same.’
    Cherry found she didn’t like being compared with his grandmother, although she couldn’t have said why.
    ‘You have the number of the hire company?’ he said practically.
    She nodded. It was in her bag, with her passport and other papers. It took her a minute or two to dig it out. She found she was all fingers and thumbs with those grey eyes trained on her. Eventually she had it. The number was engaged.
    ‘No matter.’ It was impatient. ‘You can try again from the house. What do you need to bring with you?’
    ‘The house?’ She was doing the parrot thing again.
    ‘ Si , my house. You cannot stay here.’
    She wasn’t going anywhere with him. ‘Look, I’m sorry I’m blocking your road,’ she said quickly, ‘but once I get through to the hire company they can send someone to collect the car and give me a different one. Is—is there another way for you to get out?’ she finished hopefully.
    He didn’t answer this. What he did say—and with an air of insulting patience—was, ‘It could be hours before you are in a position to leave, Cherry. They may not have another vehicle available or be in a position to collect this one. It might be tomorrow before this can be arranged. Do you intend to spend the night in the car?’
    That was infinitely preferable to spending it in his house. ‘I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m sure I can find a small hotel or guest house somewhere close.’
    The grey gaze took in her bulging suitcase and the equally bulging shoulder bag. ‘It could be a long hot walk,’ he said silkily, ‘with nothing at the end of it. I would not recommend putting yourself in such an unnecessarily vulnerable position when there is no need.’
    No need was relative. The way he’d said her name, in that delicious accent, and the fact that he was easily the most attractive man she’d seen since she couldn’t remember when, as well as being the most arrogant, was acutely disturbing. It was ridiculous, but the sooner she was well clear of Vittorio Carella the better she’d feel.
    On the other hand the suitcase weighed a ton, the sun was beating down, and once she was clear of the Carella estate she’d be at the mercy of any Tom, Dick or Harry she happened to meet. Or the Italian equivalent. ‘I’ll try the number again,’ she prevaricated. It was still engaged.
    Vittorio was leaning against the car’s little bonnet, his arms folded and the sunglasses in place once more. She wondered how such an outwardly relaxed stance could express so much irritation. He clearly relished this situation as little as she did. Forcing herself to speak calmly, she said, ‘Perhaps if I could take advantage of your hospitality for an hour or two while I sort things out?’
    ‘Of course.’ Within moments he had transferred the luggage to the Ferrari, locking the Fiat and then opening the passenger door of his car for her to slide in.
    Conscious that she was riding in a Ferrari for the first—and probably the last—time in her life, Cherry sank down in the cream leather seat. The car was sleek and magnificent—much like its owner, Cherry thought with a touch of hysteria. When he joined her in the car her senses went into overdrive. The