Estate agent Zoe Bennett meets a client, Alex Knight, to show him around a derelict Tuscan villa. The perfect vista across the valley of sun-scorched red earth and grape vines outlined against the azure sky is so breathtaking that Alex is determined to buy it and restore it to its former glory. When the viewing is followed by a flirtatious lunch at Zoe’s favourite trattoria, she hopes that the villa may not be the only thing Alex has fallen for that day…

However, she soon discovers that Alex already has a family, so regretfully tries to move on. Then Massimo, a handsome environmental lawyer, enters the scene, dazzling Zoe with gifts and declarations of undying love – yet she still cannot get Alex out of her mind. When the villa’s beautiful landscape is endangered and Alex stands to lose his dream property, Zoe begins to question Massimo’s motives. But can she save the villa for Alex in time? And will the mysterious and alluring Mr Knight turn out to be her Mr Right after all?

Also by Kate Fitzroy

Perfume of Provence

Dreams of Tuscany

Kate Fitzroy

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Kate Fitzroy 2014

Kate Fitzroy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781472096289

Version date: 2018-07-23

KATE FITZROY

has two lives. One is lived in a flinty Victorian cottage in Newmarket, where she awakes early each morning to the clip-clop of the strings of racehorses passing under the window. Kate’s other life is played out in a Napoleonic manor set in a sleepy village amongst the vineyards of the Loire Valley, France.

Her life has not always been so blissful. Widowed at the age of twenty-two, already with two children to love and protect, she fought her way up as hard and steep a path as any of her romantic heroines. Determined to turn adversity to advantage, Kate and her two children left England behind and drove off to the South of France. By teaching English and renovating ruined properties in France and then Italy, Kate more than survived.

Now happily married to a thoroughly English man and surrounded by a large, loving family, Kate enjoys every moment of every day… CARPE DIEM because TEMPUS FUGIT!

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Extract

Endpages

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

The waiter placed a perfect cappuccino in front of her with a small flourish. Zoe looked up at him with a fleeting smile of thanks and then returned to her thoughts. She slowly stirred the frothy milk into the rich darkness of the coffee, enjoying the aroma that floated up to her. Sunlight glanced across the café, lighting on the dark marble floor and reflecting on the enormous Gaggia coffee machine behind the bar. The day was perfect but Zoe felt an inexplicable reluctance to enjoy it. She sighed heavily and began to sip her coffee.

‘Ciao, bellissima!’ A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts and a chair was scraped back as Paolo Santini, her boss and good friend, joined her at the table.

‘Why you look so sad, cara? You too beautiful to be sad and the day is beautiful too…una bella giornata! Un espresso, per favore, subito!’

Zoe looked up as Paolo shouted across to the barman, waving his arms and filling the space with his energy. She knew he would be like it all day long. Paolo was irrepressibly larger than life. They worked side by side in an estate agency in the town, Zoe’s quiet, calm nature a foil to his exuberance. Paolo’s father had begun the business years ago, mainly handling the selling and buying of parcels of agricultural land in the surrounding vineyards and hills of Tuscany. After his father’s death, Paolo had inherited the agency and quickly realised the potential of selling farmhouses to the English. Zoe had first met him when she was teaching English in the town and had helped out with some translation work. Then Paolo had offered her a full-time job at a salary that doubled her teacher’s wage and she had accepted happily. They worked well together and the business soon flourished. Zoe looked across the table at him fondly and took a deep breath. Her day had begun.

Less than an hour later she was driving her jeep through the dazzling sunshine, enjoying the scenery as it rushed past. It never failed to thrill her – the famous red earth punctuated with the exclamation marks of dark cypress trees, all spread under the canopy of an azure sky. Paolo was right, it was the most beautiful day and she had a new client to meet. Zoe flicked her long, ash-blonde hair back from her shoulders. Her mother, an exquisitely elegant woman, always told Zoe it was her crowning glory. Zoe frowned and sighed. Somehow, the way her mother had said it made it sound more like Zoe’s only redeeming feature. She looked briefly at her reflection in the driving mirror as if to reassure herself. Her eyes were a very deep blue and her skin, now lightly tanned by the Italian sun, had resisted freckles and was smooth and unlined. Her mouth was surely too serious – but a full, even shape with lips that curled quite cutely at the edges. The problem was it didn’t smile quite enough to get any practice. Her teeth were perfect thanks to the persistence of her perfectionist mother. Years of wearing a brace and several thousand pounds had seen to that. Zoe looked again into the mirror and tried a wide smile. It certainly felt awkward. She concentrated her vision back on the road as she turned sharply into the shade of a long avenue of cypress trees leading to the Villa Sognidoro. Time to stop self-criticism. Nearly there. She looked at her watch and was pleased to see she was five minutes early for her appointment. As the jeep bumped over the last bend in the long, pot-holed driveway, the derelict mansion finally came in sight. She was surprised to see a car outside; the client had beaten her to it. In fact, this client had a top-of-the-range hire car, a shining pale blue Mercedes coupé SLK. It was the sort of thing that she and Paolo, working together, always remarked on. Not that a car necessarily meant everything, but it was unusual for a client with enough money to buy a large property to turn up in a tiny compact. Zoe drew quickly to a halt and jumped out of the jeep, grabbing her clipboard and handbag.

‘Sorry if I’m late, Mr. Knight!’ She called as she went towards the man waiting in the shade of a large fig tree.

‘Not at all. I have a natural habit of being early and I’ve been taking photos.’ The man waved his camera and then held out his hand.

‘Alex Knight, please call me Alex – pleased to meet you.’

They shook hands briefly.

‘Zoe Bennett, please call me Zoe.’ She smiled up at him. The smile had come quite easily, she found, and it stayed glued to her face whilst she looked into his slate-grey eyes. She looked down quickly and found herself staring at his large hand-made leather shoes. Zoe drew a deep breath. Mr. Knight was rather nice, well actually very, very nice. Tall, lean and muscular, strangely dark metallic grey hair which didn’t match his smooth, youthful face… She pulled herself together, gripped her clipboard defensively in front of her and cleared her throat.

‘As I told you on the phone, the Villa Sognidoro has been abandoned for several years. Obviously a full renovation is needed but the location is spectacular!’ She turned and waved an arm at the panorama spread out before them.

‘It was your photos of the view that brought me rushing out here.’ Alex Knight turned and looked out across the wide valley and distant hills dotted with mediaeval villages. ‘Nothing has changed in hundreds of years in that view. The house…’ He swung round, spreading his long arms wide to embrace the sight of the ruined walls and gaping roofs. ‘Anyone can bring that back to life but a vast, unspoilt view…you have to be a god to create that!’

‘Absolutely!’ Zoe nodded feebly in agreement. A Greek god was just what she had been thinking. As he moved enthusiastically about in front of her she sensed a faint aroma of his cologne…maybe aftershave or just good soap? Was it pine, mint or sea breeze? Whatever it was, her senses reeled and it was a great effort to return to business once more.

‘And nothing will change it,’ she added, hearing her own voice changed to that of a squeaky schoolboy. She cleared her throat…this was ridiculous. She looked resolutely at the villa and summoned up remnants of her usual fluent sales patter. ‘The vineyards and fields can never become building land. The Italian government are dedicated to protecting the rich heritage of the landscape of Tuscany.’ Zoe stopped talking abruptly, now she was babbling like an enthusiastic tourist guide. Alex turned back to look at her and she felt the full impact of his dark eyes looking at her directly as he picked up the conversation.

‘A good thing too. One hears of corruption amongst the governmental offices but hopefully what you say is true. It would be a terrible crime to destroy this panorama.’

Zoe smiled and quickly thought to herself how much smiling practice her mouth was getting this morning.

Her voice had nearly regained its normal timbre as she replied more easily, ‘Would you like to go around the property now – at least where it is safe to do so?’

‘Yes indeed, I’ll follow you.’

Zoe walked ahead of him up the crumbling, stone steps and onto a wide terrace. She turned back to him and found his eyes riveted to a close inspection to the back of her Armani jeans. He looked quickly up and they looked at each other, eye to eye, for a brief second. She was standing two steps above him and matched his height exactly. Zoe felt her cheeks begin to blush as she turned away, and carried on walking across the terrace to the front door.

She found the old key in her handbag and tried to push it into the keyhole. Her hands were trembling and she fumbled and nearly dropped the key. Alex placed his hand over hers and helped her fit the key into the rusty lock. Zoe felt the warmth of his large hand for a moment and then the door creaked open and they moved inside the gloom of the hall. They stood side by side, absorbing the atmosphere of the house as it enveloped them.

Alex was the first to speak and his voice was low and quiet.

‘It’s simply beautiful – the dimensions are perfect and the stone stairway so solid and yet graceful.’ He moved ahead of her and laid his hand on the turned oak banister. ‘Simply beautiful!’

Zoe smiled with pleasure. She had shown the Villa Sognidoro to an English couple a few days before but they had been appalled by the dark dereliction of the shuttered rooms. Zoe knew the villa had amazing potential but had seriously wondered if they would ever find the right buyer, someone with enough money and taste to restore the place to its former glory.

‘I’m glad you like it! It’s a huge villa but some parts are too dangerous to go through. There is also a vast, vaulted cellar underneath the central part of the building but it is too risky to view until it’s been checked out by a surveyor. This wing of the villa is in a comparatively good state of repair. Shall we begin here?’

She moved to a pair of double doors leading from the hall and pushed them open.

‘I think this room shows the style of the place. There are still some remnants of the original wall paintings in places.’ She moved into the long room and went across to the first window and pushed open the creaking shutters. Sun flooded into the room, dust motes whirling in the shafts of light.

Alex walked slowly across the room, his shoes sounding quietly on the dusty, marble floor. He turned to her, his face alight with enthusiasm.

‘I shall have to buy this house!’ he said, laughing, ‘I am not going to pretend otherwise. It is the house of my dreams. My Tuscan dream!’

‘Did you know that the house is called Villa Sognidoro?’ she asked, adding with yet another wide smile. ‘It translates as Villa of Golden Dreams…or sweet dreams, as we would say in English.’

They spent the next hour going from room to room, Alex making notes and taking photos as he went. Zoe had to restrain him from going into areas of the house that were too dangerously derelict. They finally returned to the hall and Alex put his bundle of notes and drawings in order. Brushing the dust off his shoulders he said, ‘Thanks for taking so long to show me over… Do you have time to just explain where the land perimeters are?’

Zoe went out onto the terrace. The noonday sun blinded her with its brightness and she pulled down her sunglasses from where they had been holding her hair back from her face. Alex reached out and lightly brushed a cobweb from her hair. She had a mad desire to kiss his hand as it passed close to her lips. She swallowed hard before speaking.

‘Of course, I have plenty of time!’ she replied casually, thinking that she would happily spend the rest of her life with him. ‘If we walk to the north end of the terrace you can see a group of oak trees that mark the furthest corner of the land in that direction.’

They walked slowly to the low, stone wall that bordered the end of the terrace. The heat was intense. The sun, at the height of its strength, burnt down on the flagstones. Waves of heat rose around them, the parched air still and shimmering.

Zoe pointed to the trees in the distance.

‘There they are – across the first valley – which is called the Valle dei Sogni – Valley of Dreams – more dreams for you! That’s the end of your property and then if you follow the line of that ploughed field across…’ She swivelled in front of him, every nerve of her body hotly aware of his closeness. Once again she could smell the faint tang of his perfume as he stood close by her side. He screwed up his eyes as he peered directly into the sun and Zoe noticed the small, smiling lines that formed around his deep-set eyes. He even looked good in bright light. She gulped and continued, ‘I have a plan of the whole estate if you’d like to look at it…it’s in my jeep?’

He looked at his watch. ‘It’s getting near lunchtime – would you be able to join me for a working lunch?’

Zoe made a small attempt at thinking about it but, even so, her answer flew from her lips.

‘There’s a favourite trattoria of mine in Siena, Luigi’s – we could eat there and I could show you the plans.’

‘Sounds perfect!’ Alex smiled as he spoke and Zoe smiled back. A wide open smile that stretched her cheeks. Really this smiling thing was so easy.

Zoe was still smiling when they entered the trattoria as the owner came to meet them.

‘Buon giorno, Zoe, buon giorno, signor!’ He ushered them to a corner table in the cool of the interior. Zoe was well known in the town and had eaten in the trattoria most days when she had been teaching. Now she often brought clients to the restaurant. Although it was not on the tourist route it had a great family atmosphere and the food was always excellent.

They ordered aperitifs and went to wash their hands. Zoe looked into the mirror and saw a ridiculous smile pasted onto her face. As she dried her hands she tried a sad frown at her image in the mirror. She shook her head…it just didn’t work.

The meal passed in a leisurely way. They talked mainly about the Villa Sognidoro, but their conversation drifted easily into interests they found they had in common.

‘So you first came to Italy to teach,’ Alex said. ‘I taught for a while too – some years ago now. I enjoyed it but then I moved on.’

‘Me too. I studied history of art at uni and then took a TEFL course so that I could teach English abroad…my first choice was Italy. I came to Siena to look at a particular painting…’

‘Not Duccio’s Maestà …’ Alex interrupted her and she looked at him in amazement.

‘Yes, it’s one of my favourite early Italian paintings!’ She continued to stare at him. How could this be? It wasn’t as though it was the Mona Lisa.

‘Mine too… I went to see it yesterday as soon as I arrived. It’s fabulous – the wonderful darkness of the Madonna and the soft blue folds of her robes.’ His voice died away as though he was actually looking at the painting, whereas he was looking closely, very closely, at her lips.

Zoe carried on where he had left off. ‘And her gentle features – her smile!’

‘Her smile is like yours – it’s there and then it’s not there…or rather even when you are not smiling your mouth looks ready and waiting! Much more elusive than the Mona Lisa’s!’ Alex stopped abruptly and looked away, breaking the enchanted thread that had hung between them. He picked up his wine glass and drained it quickly.

They had shared a small carafe of the local wine between them, aware that they both had to drive away. Away from each other, Zoe thought to herself miserably, as their time together seemed to be drawing to a close.

‘Would you like a coffee?’ Alex asked.

‘No, not unless you want one,’ Zoe replied quietly. Suddenly she wanted the lunch to end. She realised she had done most of the talking and he had told her little of himself. This was supposed to be a business lunch and she had quite simply lost her head. She looked at her watch.

‘Actually I had better get back to the office – I do have another appointment this afternoon.’ Zoe thought firmly of the Partridges, the English couple that she had lined up for a converted mill on the other side of Siena. The same clients that had turned down the Villa Sognidoro. ‘Maybe we should meet again tomorrow when you have had time to think things through?’ she added, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible although every fibre of her being wanted him to make another meeting. Tomorrow, the day after or…every day and night for the rest of her life.

‘I’m afraid I have to get to Florence airport by this evening. This was a flying trip.’ Zoe’s heart sank…not only had she failed to tie up the business knots but she could feel Alex Knight disappearing out of her life as quickly as he had flown in. Faraway in her own thoughts she suddenly realised he was still talking.

‘I am seriously interested in making an offer on the Villa Sognidoro. Would you be able to check out the details for me? I should particularly like confirmation that there will be no new building permitted in that superb view.’

Zoe forced herself back to the work in hand. ‘If you are serious, then the next step would be to go to a notaio and draw up a preliminary contract. Of course, I’ll check out local planning permissions, that’s part of my job. My boss did tell me that the area was a designated site of natural beauty so there should be no possibility of new building.’

‘Your boss?’ Alex looked at her for a moment as though confused and then hastily continued. ‘Yes, of course. I’m sure he knows his locality but I mustn’t let my heart rule my head…although it usually does!’ He smiled at her ruefully.

She gave a small smile back but felt a slight and irrational touch of anger. If he was so ruled by his heart couldn’t he have attempted to take her hand across the lunch table? Made the very smallest of first moves? All that talk of her smiling lips. Hadn’t he shared her strong sense of it all being so right between them? She shook her head at her own stupidity. Usually men were accused of going too fast and being impatient.

They walked out into the sunshine and over to their cars. Zoe made a last effort to act in her usual businesslike manner

‘Why don’t you take the plans with you – they’re only copies that I made at the office. They’ll give you something to think over.’ She reached into the back seat of the jeep and pulled out the long roll of plans and gave them to him.

‘I certainly have a lot to think about!’ he said, his grey eyes holding her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. ‘I shall be back in England late tonight. I live and work in Bath – I’ll ring you tomorrow.’

‘Bath, my parents live near there!’ Zoe said in surprise as yet another coincidence linked them together.

‘Really – it’s a small world!’ he said and his voice sounded suddenly sad.

Then he got into his car and, with a wave that was almost a salute, he drove away.

CHAPTER TWO

Back once more at the office, Zoe made herself the coffee she had refused at the restaurant. She needed the caffeine to help her through the rest of the day. She sorted listlessly through some files of properties and made a selection to take with her in case the Partridge couple found the mill house not to their liking. She still had half an hour to kill before she needed to leave to meet them. She idly turned on the computer and scrolled through her in-box of emails. The list was long and she was only halfway through when the door flew open and Paolo, in his usual way, burst into the office.

‘Ciao, bellissima – come stai? How you going?’ He threw his jacket onto a chair and flung himself full-length on a leather sofa that made up the reception area of the small, front office. ‘Me, I could sleep for three hours! Tell me, why do the mad dogs of English always want the appointments in the middle of the afternoon?’

‘I suppose they try to make the most of the time they have in Italy. Mr. Knight, my client for Villa Sognidoro, is already on his way back to the airport.’

Paolo sat up abruptly. ‘Gone! Gone already! What you say to him to scare him away, carissima!’ He burst out laughing.

Zoe smiled despite herself. ‘It really was as though I scared him away, Paolo, you have hit the nail on the head!’

‘He hit his head on a nail – you mean he hurt himself in that old ruin?’ Paolo looked at her anxiously. ‘Is he hurt very bad?’

Zoe began to giggle and then to laugh until tears ran down her face.

‘Oh Paolo, don’t worry, it wasn’t like that…it’s an idiom…you see…’ But it was no good, she was laughing too much to explain the intricacies of the English language.

‘Idiot – who is idiot – me or this Mr. Knight?’ He looked at her with a pretence of hurt on his face as he clutched his heart.

‘Don’t – oh don’t!’ Zoe was trying to stop laughing as suddenly she had a strange desire to cry. She wiped her eyes and smiled at Paolo. ‘All men are idiots, you know that quite well, Paolo!’

‘My wife she say the very same thing to me at lunch…tutti gli uomini sono pazzi…imagine that…my own wife!’

‘What did you do to deserve it, Paolo? Confess!’

‘Well, we talking about you, cara!’

‘Talking about me – whatever for?’

‘I telling her how you look very, very sad this morning and she say is because you are lonely. That I am big idiot not to see that you are lonely.’

Zoe looked up sharply. ‘Lonely? Am I?’

‘Yes, you are – but you not to worry because I have solved it all. Two ways I have solved it. I am a genius!’

‘You are…you have?’ Zoe looked at him anxiously. She had worked with Paolo long enough to know that his sudden inspirations were usually disastrous.

‘My first big idea is you come to family lunch on Sunday.’

‘Well, thank you, Paolo, that would be great.’ Zoe looked at him in puzzlement. As she often spent Sundays with the Santini family this did not appear to be a big idea by Paolo’s standards. He was nodding and smiling a stagey, secret smile and tapping the side of his nose knowingly. Obviously very pleased with himself.

‘And your second big idea?’ Zoe asked.

‘Is in your jeep!’ Paolo leapt off the sofa and rushed out of the office, shouting, ‘Follow me, vieni vieni!’

Zoe obediently followed Paolo outside. He was already across the square and standing by her jeep, practically jumping up and down as he pointed to the back seat. Zoe glanced in and gasped. A very large and silky red setter looked up at her then stretched and lazily wagged his tail.

‘A dog! Paolo! A dog for me?’ Zoe said in amazement.

Paolo smiled happily and rubbed his hands with satisfaction.

‘His name is Fidele, he is son of my dog. Is very good race…very aristocrat. He very sweet, molto gentile, and very how you say, fidele…’

‘Faithful! He’s very faithful. Oh Paolo he’s so beautiful. Thank you, grazie mille!’ Zoe opened the jeep door and the dog gracefully jumped out. Zoe rested her hand on the dog’s smooth forehead and stroked him gently. They walked back to the office and Fidele trotted happily between them. As soon as they were in the office, the dog jumped onto the sofa and stretched out again. He raised his big, brown eyes to look at them, then sighed happily and fell asleep.

‘That is one very spoilt dog!’ Paolo shook his head in mock despair. ‘My wife, Serena, she spoil him from the moment he is born.’

‘But won’t you miss him – he looks like a hunting dog. Don’t you need him?’ Zoe had to ask, although she had already lost her heart to the big, gentle creature.

‘Well…tell you the truth. Fidele is very scared of the gun noise. When the gun it goes bang then Fidele he goes galloping home.’ Paolo shook his head sadly. ‘He has a very good nose…wonderful nose…but is not a good gun dog. I give him to you for not to be lonely and you no like the guns. You two happy together. Perfect result! Any time you not want him or go on holiday then you bring him back to me and Serena. OK?’

‘Very OK, Paolo, thank you and Serena.’ Zoe looked at Paolo and could tell he hadn’t quite finished.

‘And another thing is…’ Paolo hesitated and examined his nails. ‘My wife she say I am big idiot for another thing too.’

‘There’s more?’ Zoe sat down on the sofa beside Fidele, stroking him as she looked anxiously up at Paolo.

‘Is not my fault, Zoe. I worry about you like I am your father and I not like you go to meet clients all alone in the old country houses. Now you take Fidele and I feel you are safe.’

Zoe looked doubtfully at the dog sound asleep on the sofa. Fidele didn’t look like a guard dog. Then she asked, ‘But why did Serena think that made you an idiot? It was very kind of you – if unnecessary.’

‘And then I kill the three birds with one stone – is English idiom, no?’ Paolo smiled nervously.

‘Yes but it’s normally two birds, Paolo. Why three birds? Anyway I am losing count of your great ideas. Just tell me the rest of your story.’

‘Well, when this Mr. Knight phoned after you left this morning – he phoned to ask if you can make earlier the appointment. I tell him you on your way and then, then – I don’t know why but I think it make you safer if – then I…’ He faltered to a stop.

‘Go on, Paolo – what did you do next?’ Zoe looked at him sternly.

‘Then…well, then I tell this Mr. Knight that you are my wife!’

That night Zoe lay awake, her window wide open, listening to the unceasing noise of the cicadas. In her head she played back her lunchtime conversation with Alex Knight. Over and over again she went through all that he had said. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. She remembered how he had reacted when she had mentioned ‘her boss’. Of course, he had thought she was talking about her husband. Zoe flung herself back on the bed in exasperation. And it was no wonder that he hadn’t made any moves…he was a decent guy who didn’t play around with other people’s wives. Zoe rolled onto her stomach and angrily pummelled her pillow, groaning in exasperation at Paolo’s kind attempt to protect her. Supposing Alex had gone away with the idea that she was the sort of wife who would play around? Looking into his eyes, blushing and behaving like a schoolgirl – Zoe squirmed at the thought. How could she let him know that she wasn’t married to Paolo or anyone else for that matter? She could hardly send an email saying ‘by the way I’m not married!’ Zoe curled up into a small ball and pulled the sheet over her head. Then she heard a soft movement in the darkness. She flung the sheet back and looked quickly around the room. Fidele had made his way softly up the stairs and was lying in the moonlight at the foot of her bed.

‘Fidele, you are the most beautiful dog in the world.’ she said aloud. She heard his tail thump the floor and then she fell into a deep sleep.

The next day Zoe was glad to be busy, too busy to think about Alex Knight, although she constantly checked her mobile for a message from him. She spent the entire morning in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Partridge, who had decided the mill house was the perfect property. They were pleasant enough company and Zoe was well-accustomed to falling in with people’s dreams. Alex Knight was not the only one with an Italian dream. As lunchtime drew near she knew the Partridges were hoping she would join them for an extended lunch. When they invited her she accepted. Why not? But she steered them away from da Luigi – that would be too much. When they suggested eating at the hotel where they were staying, Zoe agreed happily. The Hotel Bellapensieri was a wonderful hotel set in the peaceful hills to the south of Siena.

As they pulled into the entrance to the car park Zoe drew her breath in sharply. Could it be? In the far corner of the car park a shining, pale blue Mercedes coupé was just pulling out of the exit. Surely she had seen the distinctive dark, grey head of a tall man in the driver’s seat?

As she walked across the car park she asked the Partridges, ‘Do you know if that was a Mr. Knight just leaving the car park in the Mercedes?’ Zoe tried to make her voice as casual as possible.

‘Yes, it looked like it – we met him last night and had a brandy with him after dinner. Nice chap!’ Mr. Partridge said, cheerily.

‘So nice…’ agreed Mrs. Partridge, ‘and so talented. It must be wonderful to be able to write like that.’

‘Oh is he a writer?’ Zoe asked.

‘Oh yes, he writes film scripts,’ Mr. Partridge replied. ‘Must be worth a bob or two, but a very modest bloke. In the end, he gave us the names of quite a few of his film scripts and even we had heard of them, hadn’t we, Linda…although we’re not great film buffs. Real stick-at-homes we are, aren’t we, Linda?’ Mr. Partridge put his arm through his wife’s and they smiled at each other in contentment.

‘We like our own company and just a few books,’ said Mrs. Partridge, smiling at Zoe. ‘And now of course we spend a lot of time with our grandchildren. That’s why we want the mill house…for big family holidays. Our youngest daughter can’t be much older than you and she already has four children. We’re so proud of them aren’t we, John?’

The Partridges smiled at each other again in mutual satisfaction as they arrived in the cool entrance hall of the hotel and the conversation continued with Mrs. Partridge listing her grandchildren. With all the will in the world, there was no way that Zoe could reasonably turn the conversation back to Alex Knight. Why had he told her he was going to the airport last night?

Later that night the question returned to haunt her. She lay in the dark once again, turning over all the possibilities and even the most unlikely reasons for him to have lied to her. She flinched as the word resounded in her head, but he had lied. She spoke the hard word aloud, ‘Liar!’

Fidele, stretched out at the foot of the bed, sighed and seemed to give a yawn of agreement.

Well, she wasn’t going to spend another night tossing and turning and thinking about the elusive Mr. Knight. She turned on the reading light and for a moment watched the insects drawn to the outside of the mosquito netting in the window frame. Suddenly she felt an unexpected pang of something that could be homesickness. Not that she could actually miss home as such. Her parents lived in a beautiful Georgian house on the outskirts of Bath, surrounded by antique furniture and works of art. A beautiful house but she could not call it home. Maybe it was home to her parents. They lived a calm and elegant life together. A life that had never truly accepted a child. Zoe, a single child, had been sent away to school at what seemed to be the first possible opportunity. Her holidays had been spent at a number of foreign holiday resorts, skiing or by the sea. Au-pairs, ski instructors, tennis coaches and tutors played major roles in the holiday fun but her mother and father remained in the background. No, she couldn’t possibly be missing home. Maybe if her parents had been like the Partridges, exuding love and the warmth of a real family life, it would have been different? It must just be the heat that was making her long for the cool of England. She reached for her book and looked at the cover: Pride and Prejudice. She was definitely not in the mood for anything involving a romantic hero. She took another book from the bedside table. Early Italian Art. She sighed and practically threw it across the room. Did absolutely everything have to remind her of Alex Knight? Fidele shifted uneasily on the rug at the foot of the bed.

‘Sorry, Fidele, did I wake you again?’

The dog gave one of his noisy yawns that sounded just like a disapproving groan.

‘I know, it’s time to get to sleep and time to stop talking aloud, too!’ She turned on the bedside radio and soon the rapid Italian voices debating politics bored her to sleep.

CHAPTER THREE

Another day, scorching hot but at least it was Sunday. Zoe awoke late and moved lazily around her small town house, making coffee and listening to music. She knew better than to eat breakfast when she was going to lunch with Paolo and his wife. Food would take up the rest of the day.

As she turned the jeep into the steep, rough road that led up to the Santinis’ sprawling farmhouse, Fidele stood up on the back seat and began an excited whimpering. As soon as the wheels stopped turning he leapt over to the front seat, jumped across Zoe, and galloped into the house. Zoe looked down and realised she had a large, dusty paw print in the middle of her white linen skirt.

‘Grazie, Fidele!’ she called after him, laughing. At least it didn’t matter a bit when lunching at the Santini home. Paolo and Serena came out to greet her and they exchanged kisses. Zoe handed over the flowers she had bought for Serena and then the four Santini children were all around them. Zoe had spent some time teaching English to the children, Alicia, Fortunata, Grazie and little Matteo. They were just about the nicest children she had ever met, self-confident and yet very polite. She handed out four little presents and some honey lollipops that she always brought them. They all moved into the shade of an enormous parasol where aperitifs were waiting. Zoe always relaxed completely in the company of the Santini family and soon she was laughing and enjoying herself so much that she didn’t hear the arrival of another car in the driveway. Paolo jumped up and exchanged a quick glance with Serena.

She nodded and continued talking with Zoe.

A few moments later Paolo returned with his arm across the shoulders of a young man. He called out before he reached the group.

‘Serena, guardi…Massimo e qui…e arrivato! Zoe, I want you to meet my friend, Massimo Mendozzi. He is a big-time Roman lawyer and he has just come to live in our little town of Siena!’

Zoe stood up and realised that she was being introduced to one of Paolo’s inspirations. She tried not to sigh as she held out her hand and shook the strong, tanned hand that stretched to meet hers. Strong indeed, Massimo squeezed her hand in his as though he would never let it go.

‘Piacere, Signorina Bennett, pleased to meet you. Paolo has told me all about you!’ He dipped his dark head forward in a small bow. Zoe almost flinched at his words. What on earth had Paolo said about her? Surely he wouldn’t have said she was lonely? Zoe looked across at Serena who smiled, almost apologetically, and then raised her shoulders in mock despair. Zoe looked back at the newly-introduced Massimo. She could hardly complain about Paolo’s choice for her blind date. Massimo Mendozzi was a typical Roman, not very tall but squarely built, his shoulders and chest filling out his pale blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt. The gleam of a gold chain showed around his strong neck and caught in the dark hair that curled on his chest. A perfect Roman nose between beautiful dark, brown eyes that shone with the confidence of a handsome and successful man. Immaculately dressed, even for a casual Sunday lunch in the country. Yes, he was any girl’s Italian dream. There were so many Italian dreams, Zoe thought idly to herself as they walked over to the long table set for lunch. Massimo deftly held her chair as she sat down and for one moment Zoe had the ridiculous idea that he was going to open up her napkin for her too. She almost giggled but managed to change it to a small cough. Why did good-looking Italian men always seem one step away from being waiters or hairdressers?

The lunch stretched long into the afternoon and the conversation, mainly in Italian, flew from one subject to another. Massimo lavished his attention on Zoe, but she noticed that he also listened and talked with all the children. She liked the way he gave them each his whole attention, taking them seriously and not talking down to them. It was an appealing quality and Zoe warmed to him. There was no doubt he was an attractive man. And there was even less doubt that he was interested in her. Unlike Alex Knight, Massimo jumped on every opportunity to look into her eyes and rest his hand over hers. All the approaches had been made, so it was no surprise when he asked her out.

‘My friend is giving a party tonight…what do you think, Zoe? Would you like to come? It would be the perfect way to end this lovely day! Do you like to dance?’

Maybe she had been in the countryside too long but the question struck her as almost funny.

‘Dance?’ she said in surprise. ‘Er – yes…I love dancing…but where?’ She looked around the wide view from Paolo’s house as though expecting to see a disco spring up in the middle of the fields. In fact, she knew there were clubs around in the countryside but it had never seemed to be her scene. She certainly couldn’t imagine the elegant and sophisticated Massimo Mendozzi hip-hopping in some rustic barn.

‘Not here…but near Florence. My friend is celebrating his thirtieth birthday… I’ve known him since we were at university together in Rome. Paolo, you must remember Flavio Luccio?’ Massimo turned to Paolo, as though for support.

‘Yes, si, si, certo, he study the environmental law…as you. I not know him well…me, I was in the most boring real estate department…not playing with the big rich boys. This Flavio, I remember well, he was the richest of the rich boys, no? His family from Florence…si, si…how do you say…Fiorentini ricchissimi!’

‘Yes, that’s right, Paolo, and the party’s in Florence.’

‘Florence!’ Zoe repeated. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She had lived in Italy long enough to know that they could jump in a fast car at any time of the day or night and head off in search of a good time.

‘Only an hour away. Come on, Zoe…just say yes…it will be fun.’ Massimo looked beseechingly at her with his shining, brown eyes.

Zoe looked doubtfully at Serena and Paolo, who both seemed to be holding their breath and waiting for her answer. She really couldn’t think of a sensible reason why she should say no. Why would she want to spend another restless, lonely night with only Fidele for company? Oh, Fidele…

‘What about Fidele?’ she burst out as a reply.

‘You want to bring your dog?’ Massimo asked in surprise. Everyone laughed at her words and his reply.

‘No, I was just thinking it would be a long time to leave him alone.’ Zoe smiled in embarrassment.

‘No problem, Fidele can have a sleep-over here with the kids!’ Serena smiled, seeming to give her approval to the whole idea.

‘Will you want to go home to change?’ Massimo asked.

‘Well, yes – I can’t go like this.’ Zoe looked down at her crumpled white linen skirt complete with Fidele’s paw mark.

‘I could pick you up about eight?’ Massimo offered.

‘Yes, that would be fine.’

And somehow it just seemed settled that she was going out with Massimo Mendozzi.

The conversation continued and soon, as the afternoon sun beat through the parasol, it was agreed that it was time for a swim.

Zoe went back to her jeep to find her swimsuit. There was a red Ferrari parked in the driveway. Yes, Zoe thought to herself, Massimo Mendozzi just had to have a Ferrari and it had to be red.

Serena came to meet her as Zoe walked back into the house.

‘Come and change in our bedroom,’ she said, leading the way. Zoe sensed there was some sisterly advice on its way and she wasn’t to be disappointed.

‘Are you happy to go out with Massimo tonight? I felt we rather talked you into it! Paolo and I have known Massimo’s family for as long as I can remember. He has been extremely well brought up. Too well if anything!’ Serena’s English was much better than her husband’s as she had worked for some years in the London fashion world before marrying Paolo. The rare occasions that she and Zoe got together on their own they enjoyed chatting in English.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Zoe, throwing her swim bag on the floor and sitting on the side of the large double bed that filled the Santinis’ low-ceilinged bedroom. Serena sat beside her and laughed.

‘Do you know what “mammismo” means?’

‘No, I’ve heard of machismo.’

‘Yes well if machismo means all-male virility and domination of women then mammismo means sort of the opposite.’

‘Are you trying to tell me that Massimo is gay?’ gasped Zoe. ‘He certainly doesn’t seem it!’

‘No, no!’ Serena giggled. ‘Definitely not gay…he’s always with some beautiful girl or other but it never lasts. Mammismo is when an Italian guy just can’t leave his mother’s influence…you say in English, tied to his mother’s apron strings. Massimo has a Mamma that is all the Italian mammas wrapped up in one. I can hardly believe he has managed this move to Siena without her. She rules his life!’

‘Oh right…he’s what we call a mummy’s boy!’ Zoe laughed too. ‘Is that all! Well, it could be worse nothing wrong with a young man respecting his Mamma! I am only going dancing with him and have no intention of competing to rule his life!’

‘You have no idea how bad it can get with these mammini or mummy’s boys. There are divorce cases nowadays where the mother-in-law’s intrusion is cited as a reason for breakdown of the marriage. I count myself lucky that my Paolo’s mother is a librarian and completely absorbed in her work.’

‘Well, anyway, I am not going to marry Massimo so his mother will have no need to worry!’

‘Well, you never know!’ Serena nudged Zoe with her elbow. ‘He is very dishy! Such beautiful eyes!’

‘Mmm!’ agreed Zoe. ‘He does have lovely eyes and good hands!’

‘Oh…you noticed his hands!’ giggled Serena. ‘He has a great body too!’

‘Really, Serena – you should be ashamed of yourself. You’re a respectable married woman!’

‘I know…and I’m quite satisfied with my lot. I’ll leave Massimo to you!’

She laughed as she stood up and left the room. A moment later she popped her head back and added, ‘I’ll leave him all to you…and his Mamma!’

Zoe changed quickly and then walked around the back of the house and towards the pool. She could hear the children’s high-pitched voices shouting with excitement. As she turned the corner she saw Massimo bouncing up and down on the diving board pretending to be too scared to dive in. Serena was right about his body, she thought, as she watched his outline against the clear, blue sky. He was wearing close-fitting dark blue swimming trunks and his dark, tanned skin glowed in the sunshine. As she watched he gave a final bounce and performed a neat somersault dive, entering the turquoise water with hardly a splash. Zoe watched as he swam fast underwater and then burst up through the surface between the children. With more shrieking and wild splashing he let them duck him under again. He surfaced with little Matteo on his shoulders and saw Zoe watching.

‘Eccola, here is la bella Zoe!’ he called out across the pool. ‘The water is perfect, Zoe, and so are you! Come on!’ He splashed her lightly with a spray of water.

Zoe ran to the end of the pool, along the diving board, bounced lightly and entered the water with a racing dive. Under the cool water she had just one moment to think to herself. ‘I rather like the mummy’s boy!’ before she surfaced and swam over to the children. Matteo, delighted to be on Massimo’s shoulders, waved excitedly to her.

‘See me, Zoe, guardami!’ He flipped a quick duck dive into the water and popped up beside Zoe, his face alight with laughter and energy, a miniature version of his father. Suddenly he saw his parents approaching the pool arm in arm.

‘Mamma, Mamma! Guardami, look at me, Mamma!’ he called out loudly. Serena sat on the steps of the pool and looked across at Zoe, shrugging her shoulders in mock despair. Zoe burst out laughing and so did Serena.

‘So what is so funny?’ asked Massimo.

Serena wiped tears of laughter from her face as she replied.

‘Come here, my little mammino, my little mummy’s boy!’ She scooped Matteo out of the water and gave him a big hug and then threw him back into the pool. Matteo bobbed up again and splashed his way back to Serena.

‘Encora, more – throw me in again! Mamma, Mamma!’ Serena did as he asked and then said to Zoe, ‘Mamma mia! It seems there is no way to get rid of my little mammino mummy’s boy!’ The two women laughed again and the two men remained puzzled.

‘I think is a girl joke thing, Massimo. Or some crazy English idiom?’ Paolo looked at Zoe in amusement and then bombed into the water just beside her, causing the water in the pool to lap over the sides.

Serena threw in a beach ball and then jumped in to join the fun. They began a crazy game of water polo based on no rules at all. Massimo threw the ball to Paolo and Zoe jumped high in the air and intercepted it. She held the ball a moment, looking around her at the happy faces of the children and the handsome, strong Italian faces of the adults. She punched the ball high into the air between them all and laughed as they all lunged and splashed to try to catch it. She felt a surge of grateful happiness – thankful for her good friends and their good intentions and not lonely at all.

At 7.30pm, Zoe was standing in her bedroom hurriedly drying her long hair. She looked into the mirror as she flicked the hair dryer around her head. Her silky hair flew madly into the air and Zoe tried unsuccessfully to tame it with a brush. Her skin had a new layer of tan from the afternoon in the pool and Zoe switched off the dryer and began to liberally apply after-sun cream. The house seemed strangely empty without Fidele padding around. The dog had jumped into the jeep when Zoe started up the engine to leave the Santinis’ home. When Serena had called him back, he had looked at Zoe reproachfully. Zoe sighed – she missed him too. Paolo would take him to the office tomorrow so it wouldn’t be for long. She frowned at herself in the mirror. There it was again, that sad, silly face and here she was getting ready to go out for the evening. Not only that, she only had ten minutes left to get ready. She threw open her wardrobe doors and flipped through the hangers of clothes. Most of her outfits were for work. And what does that tell me, Zoe thought to herself. She knew she really had only one choice. Her silk Versace had to be it.

She had bought the dress for a friend’s wedding a few months ago, and had never worn it since. Now was definitely the time to give it a second airing. She took it carefully from the wardrobe where it hung in a dry cleaner’s plastic cover. Well, that was one useful habit she had learnt from her distant, elegant mother, she thought to herself, as she remembered her mother’s impeccable wardrobe of clothes and immaculately packed suitcases of holiday outfits. She slipped on the ice blue shift and fastened the halter neck with the distinctive diamante and blue crystal Versace Medusa head clasp. She carefully pulled up the long back zip which had a miniature Medusa head at the top and a small crystal bauble. Now for her shoes…there they were, wrapped in the original tissue, nestling side by side in the Miu Miu box. Perhaps I am a mummy’s girl too, she thought as she unwrapped the shoes. She held them in her hand a moment, so light she could hardly feel them. The high heels, widening at the end, and the delicate ankle straps were of the softest silver kid. The simple bar across the front of the foot was lightly embossed with silver snakeskin markings. She slipped them on with pleasure and looked down. No time for nail varnish and anyway she decided that her feet were so tanned that she rather approved of her pale, pearly toenails. Zoe went over to the mirror and critically examined the final effect. She wasn’t a vain girl but when the doorbell rang at precisely 8pm she turned from the mirror with an air of confident self-satisfaction.

The hour’s drive to Florence passed in an easy exchange of conversation. Zoe enjoyed the luxury of the fast car and Massimo drove well. As they approached the outskirts of the city Massimo asked her if she would mind if he just made a phone call. He pressed the number one on his pre-set car phone and Zoe had to look out the side window to hide her amusement as he began to speak.

‘Ciao, Mamma! Come stai? Sono in Firenze…si, si, va bene!’

The conversation continued for several minutes, though it was obvious that Massimo’s mother did most of the talking. Finally he pressed the ‘off’ button and the only sound was the smooth throb of the engine as they drove downhill towards the outskirts of Florence.

‘That was my mother!’ Massimo broke the silence, stating the obvious.

‘Oh, right!’ Zoe replied, unable to think of a better reply.

‘She worries if I don’t call her every evening now that I have moved away from Rome.’

‘Oh, right!’ Zoe heard herself repeat ridiculously.

‘And she told me she has sent my shirts.’

‘Your shirts?’ Zoe repeated, unable to hide her puzzlement.

‘Yes, Saturday she sends my shirts, washed and ironed.’

‘You mean she washes your shirts and irons them for you and posts them?’ Zoe began to feel she had lost the art of conversation.

‘Well, we use a courier service.’

‘Oh, of course – a courier service,’ Zoe repeated, as if that made complete sense.

‘She loves to do it! Sometimes she sends a lasagne she has made or…porchetta alla Romana. There is nothing like her cooking. Next time she sends food you must taste it!’

‘I’d love that,’ Zoe replied politely, trying not to laugh aloud at the mental picture of parcels of the mummy’s boy’s shirts and joints of pork and lasagne buzzing up and down Italy by special courier.

‘I only wear Valentino shirts and I buy them a dozen at a time.’

‘Oh, right!’ Zoe’s language skills had zeroed but fortunately, at that moment, Massimo drew into the courtyard of an elegant floodlit Florentine villa. Definitely not a rave in a barn then.

A uniformed doorman came hastily to meet them and opened Zoe’s door. Massimo tossed the car keys to the man who gave a little bow and went round to the driving seat. Zoe noticed Massimo slip a banknote neatly into the doorman’s top pocket, then he turned to Zoe and took her arm.

‘Have I already told you that you are beautiful, Zoe?’

‘Only four or five times, I think!’ Zoe rested lightly on his arm as they walked up the steps to the large doorway. Another liveried servant held the door open and said, ‘Benvenuti da Villa di Travino!’

‘Signorita Bennett e Signor Mendozzi,’ Massimo answered formally, and the man immediately ushered them through the spectacular marble hall and out onto a terrace. Zoe drew in her breath in amazement at the scene that greeted them. Lanterns twinkled against the dusky twilight sky and hundreds of guests, dazzling in glamour and sophistication, were spread out across the wide terrace and formal gardens Most amazing of all was the panorama of the city roofs of Florence, still golden from the last rays of the setting sun and outlined against the faraway blue-grey hills. Before she could say a word, a voice called out from amongst the guests.

‘Massimo…ciao, Massimo!’ A young Italian, almost a double of Massimo, came running to them and threw his arms around Massimo in a bear hug. They laughed and exchanged kisses before Massimo turned to Zoe.

‘Flavio, this is Zoe Bennett. May I introduce you to the most beautiful girl in the world…and the one I want to marry!’

Flavio turned to her in surprise and when she offered her hand he dropped his head low and kissed it.

‘Congratulations!’

‘Oh no, please, Massimo is just joking…really, we only met today! Pleased to meet you.’ Zoe tried to recover her equilibrium but Massimo was still talking.

‘It’s true – we only met today but my mind is made up! Marry me she must!’

‘Massimo, stop this nonsense!’ Zoe turned to Flavio for help. ‘Does he always introduce his new girlfriends like this?’ She laughed, anxious to make light of the whole thing.

Flavio shook his dark head. ‘I can honestly say that in all the time I have known Massimo, I have never heard him utter the word marriage before!’

‘You can be my witness, Flavio, and use the evidence against me. I concede that I hadn’t actually had time to mention the matter to my prospective fiancée…but that is beside the point!’ Massimo laughed, his eyes shining.

‘Beside the point?’ Zoe repeated in mock amazement. ‘You could ruin my good name and I may have to sue you!’

‘Now that would probably be a mistake!’ smiled Flavio. ‘Our learned friend here, Dottore Massimo Mendozzi, has a formidable reputation for never having lost a case yet.’

‘Now, don’t embarrass me, Flavio. I have just been very lucky so far,’ Massimo replied.

‘I doubt luck comes into it all!’ Flavio turned to Zoe, his hand on Massimo’s shoulder. ‘This man is the new young star in environmental law.’

‘Environmental law – that must be an interesting and rewarding field to work in,’ Zoe replied seriously.

‘Believe me, Massimo is very well rewarded indeed!’ Flavio laughed.

‘Oh, I meant that saving the environment must have its own reward – not the money,’ Zoe said, slightly flustered. She looked down at her feet and wriggled her toes inside the silvery Miu Miu sandals.

‘Oh indeed, indeed. Massimo is just the man to save the world!’ Flavio slapped Massimo on the back, seeming to find the way the conversation had turned to be extremely amusing. Then he spoke more seriously and in a lower voice. ‘And, Massimo, we must get together early this week as the Valle dei Sogni project is roaring ahead.’

Zoe looked up quickly at the pair of them now talking together in rapid Italian, their dark heads close together. Had she really heard Flavio mention the Valle dei Sogni? She could hardly interrupt them to ask, and now Massimo was laughing again and raising his arms in mock resignation.

‘Enough, basta, Flavio! It’s your birthday and I refuse to think about work. Happy Birthday, buon compleanno!’

‘Grazie, grazie mille! You’re right – no more talk of work tonight but we must get together early in the week to meet with ENEL.’

‘I could manage a meeting Tuesday morning – let me know.’ Massimo turned to Zoe and added, ‘You see, my learned friend is a workaholic. If I give him half a chance he will never stop and the next thing I know we will be in a meeting over his birthday cake!’

‘You’re absolutely right – I rest my case but, by the way, Tuesday in my office at ten would be just fine!’

They all laughed and began to walk across the terrace towards the view. A waiter came over with a tray of champagne glasses glinting in the reflected light of the candles.

They each took a glass and raised them to each other but it was Massimo who made the toast.

‘To the beautiful girl of my dreams!’ he said, his large, brown eyes looking soulfully at Zoe. She sighed impatiently and for one moment felt a ridiculous desire to pour her champagne over his sleek head. Really, he’s looking at me just like Fidele, she thought to herself. She sipped the yeasty champagne and her thoughts fled for a moment to Fidele. Strange to think that the last two nights she had been alone with just a dog for company and now…she looked around…it was a wonderful night. The sun had now completely dropped behind the distant hills and the stars shone down out of a velvet, blue sky. It was a night to enjoy.

Massimo took Zoe’s hand and led her towards a noisy group of people, laughing and talking between the glowing lanterns. He introduced her to so many friends that she had soon lost count of their names. Everyone she met seemed to be fond of him and interested to meet her. They were mostly friends from his days at university and nearly all in the legal profession or politics. An influential, powerful band of intelligent young people who seemed to know how to work hard and obviously knew how to party. The food and wine, as was only to be expected at any event in Italy, were of the finest quality. The music came from a live band brought in from Rome. They seemed familiar with most of the guests and knew exactly what they wanted to dance to. Massimo was a great dancer and good company. He seemed to have forgotten his mad determination to marry her. Zoe soon forgot too and then she forgot work, loneliness, the derelict Villa Sognidoro and her fascination with Alex Knight. In her silvery Miu Miu shoes, she danced the night away.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Yes, it was a great evening!’ Zoe yawned and sipped her coffee, idly stroking Fidele’s large head as he sat at her feet. Paolo looked across the desk at her and raised his eyebrows.

‘If you not want to talk, Zoe, I understand. You not have to say a thing – not a thing!’

This was the third or fourth time that Paolo had interrupted their work and tried to find out exactly how her evening with Massimo had gone.

‘What can I say – Massimo is really nice, the party was fabulous – we had a great time!’ Zoe repeated, trying to put more emphasis into her words. Fortunately the phone rang before Paolo could ask for more details. Paolo held up his hand.

‘I take the call, Zoe…you finish your coffee!’

Zoe sighed with gratitude and leant back in her chair. It was all so true – it had been a magical night. The dancing had finally ended at three in the morning and Massimo had driven her back to Siena, music playing in the car as they were both too tired to talk. When he stopped the car outside her house there was silence for a moment and then he had taken her hand in his and kissed it lightly. The silence surrounded them and she knew he was waiting for her to ask him in for a coffee. She had lightly brushed his cheek with a goodnight kiss and told him she was very tired. He had agreed hurriedly and jumped out of the car to open her door for her. He stood close by her side as she unlocked her front door. Once more he had taken her hand in his and kissed it, raising his soulful brown eyes to her. She had again wished him goodnight and thanked him for a wonderful evening. He had stood obediently on the doorstep until she gently closed the door on him. Inside her house she had leant back against the door and listened to the noise of the throbbing Ferrari fade into the dawn. Zoe smiled to herself as she kicked off her shoes. Massimo was every centimetre the wellbrought-up perfect gentleman. His Mamma would have been proud of him.

Zoe smiled now to herself as she finished her coffee. It was probably not the passionately torrid end to the evening that Paolo was waiting to hear about. Suddenly she realised that Paolo was still talking on the phone and not only that – he was talking to Alex Knight. She sat bolt upright in her chair and listened attentively.

‘Yes, I understand Mr. Knight, of course I’ll look into it straight away. I’m very glad you like the Villa Sognidoro… Yes, an enormous project but well worth the effort. A beautiful residence. Yes, I’ll get back to you later today or early tomorrow morning. Goodbye!’

Paolo replaced the phone on the hook and found Zoe looking at him with round eyes.

‘What is it, Zoe? You are surprised your Mr. Knight is going to buy the Villa Sognidoro?’

‘Yes…well, no…well… I don’t know!’ A hundred questions flew through her mind but at that moment a large grey security van drew up outside the office, darkening the room. The office door opened and the uniformed and armed driver came in with a large parcel.

‘Signorina Zoe Bennett?’ He held out the parcel and a clipboard. Zoe signed for the parcel and the man left as quickly as he had come.

Paolo came across and looked at the parcel and said, ‘Is very big parcel, Zoe!’ He obviously couldn’t wait for her to open it. Zoe began to tussle with the wrapping and Paolo came to her aid with a paper knife. Between them they opened the box and revealed a huge bouquet of roses. Paolo looked at Zoe in puzzlement.

‘I never see before the flowers coming by Securicor? Why not the florist? Is there a note?’

‘I can’t see one but I am sure they are from Massimo – he has a special arrangement with Securicor.’

Zoe began to giggle as she lifted the huge bouquet out of the box. The roses were the darkest red she had ever seen – almost black. They were tied with a wide, black velvet ribbon and there was a small envelope attached. Zoe opened it and read the card: ‘To the most beautiful girl in the world and the one I want to marry – with all my love, Massimo.’ Zoe giggled again and passed the card to Paolo. His eyes opened wide as he read it.

‘Zoe – this is madness! Is true you are a beautiful girl but how can he talk of marriage – he met you only yesterday!’

‘I know, I know…’ Zoe shook her head in disbelief. Her life had definitely gone into a spin. She gently fingered the dark velvety roses and studied the imitation drops of water on the petals. The flowers were beautiful in every way – almost too beautiful. She slowly untied the ribbon and then almost dropped the roses as she found she was holding a bracelet that had fallen from the ribbon. She looked at it resting in her hand, heavy and brightly glinting. She held it out to Paolo and he took it from her.

‘Zoe, I think is diamonds! I think this is why he use the Securicor!’

‘I think so too! Oh dear, what shall I do?’

‘What happened last night, Zoe…did you…?

Zoe turned to Paolo, her eyes flashing angrily.

‘Nothing happened – we danced at this wild party until about three and then Massimo drove me home – he gave me a kiss on the cheek, the merest peck, and he left!’

‘Peck…what is this peck?’ Massimo looked at her in alarm.

Zoe burst out laughing.

‘Sorry, Paolo, just another ridiculous idiom. A peck is the smallest of kisses…a nothing of a kiss, I assure you!’

Paolo relaxed and shrugged his shoulders.

‘OK, I understand…but why he talk of marriage and send this bracelet?’

‘He’s mad! It seems just like he’s not grown up and yet…according to all his friends, he is obviously a first-class lawyer.’

‘Certainly that – he has come to Siena to head up some sort of environmental council.’

‘That reminds me…last night I overheard him mention the Valle dei Sogni when he was talking with his friend Flavio.’

‘Valle dei Sogni? You sure?’

‘Well, I think so…yes, I’m sure I did. The Villa Sognidoro had been on my mind all day so I suppose I may have imagined it.’

The phone rang and interrupted their conversation and the day caught up with them. There wasn’t another moment to think about anything but work and more work. The heat was relentless and the office air-conditioning inadequate. By lunchtime they were both hungry, hot and tired. Paolo stood up from his desk and stretched.

‘Basta, enough, enough! If the phone rings again just don’t answer it. Why don’t you come back to the farm – have a swim and stay for lunch?’

Zoe looked at him gratefully.

‘Are you sure? Should you ring Serena first?’

‘Of course not – she’s always asking me to bring you up for lunch and maybe you ask her about what to do with the mad Massimo?’

‘That’s such a good idea, Paolo. Thanks so much.’

Zoe snatched up the diamond bracelet and bunch of flowers and, with Fidele trotting happily behind, followed Paolo out of the office.

Zoe floated on her back in the cool water of the Santinis’ pool and looked up at the deep blue sky. Why couldn’t life be simple? Why couldn’t she just fall in love at first sight with Massimo Mendozzi?

Later over lunch it seemed that Serena had the same thought.

‘He really is a nice boy, you know! Good-looking, wellbrought-up, hard-working and so clever… He’s certainly heading for the top of the legal world. He sends you flowers and diamonds and proposes marriage… I’m not sure I see the problem. It’s like a dream!’

‘Exactly!’ said Zoe, ‘adream or a silly romantic love story. It’s just not real. He can have no idea that he truly wants to marry me. It’s just some crazy idea. Anyway – it’s just ridiculous. I have no intention of even going out with him again and certainly will never marry him!’

‘Then that is that!’ Paolo said with satisfaction. ‘Leave it to me, Zoe. I will take him the bracelet and tell him to give up before it begins.’

‘Would you? Oh, Paolo, would you really do that?’

‘No problem! Also I ask him about the Valle dei Sogni – I must begin official searches for Mr. Knight anyway. No worry – leave everything to me!’ Paolo slapped his hand enthusiastically on his own chest.

Serena looked across the table at Zoe and smiled, raising her shoulders in mock despair as she said, ‘Don’t overcook it, Paolo. Keep to the simple truth. Didn’t you tell that client, Mr. Knight, that Zoe was your wife last time you tried to help? You always complicate things with the best of intentions.’

Zoe took a deep breath. Should she tell her good friends how she felt about Alex Knight? How could she confess that she had fallen head over heels at first sight – especially as she had just scoffed at Massimo falling in love the same way with her. How could she manage to let Alex know that she definitely wasn’t Paolo’s wife or anyone else’s? Her head was spinning with unanswerable questions and the conversation was continuing without her.

‘…so Mr. Knight is coming back at the end of the week,’ Paolo was saying. ‘Zoe scared him, you know. He only wants to meet with me!’

‘Did he say that?’ Zoe asked in surprise. ‘Really, he only wants to deal with you? I thought we got on very well!’

‘I joking, Zoe!’ laughed Paolo. ‘We arranged to meet at the Villa on Friday. You can come along too…it may be a good help as I think he bringing his baby.’

‘Baby?’ Zoe’s eyes stretched in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’ Sometimes Paolo’s power of the English language left much to be desired. Had he suddenly lapsed into American film talk?

‘What I say – he bring his little girl, sua filia.’ Paolo pronounced the words with care. ‘He not say his wife but maybe she comes too. I not know…but is dangerous at the villa – such a ruin! Maybe you can help keep eyes on his daughter?’

‘His daughter?’ Zoe repeated the word and looked so dismayed that Serena leaned across the table towards her and said,‘Zoe, you are very interested in this Mr. Knight? Do I detect further romance in the air?’

‘No, no of course not. I’m just surprised that Alex…Mr. Knight didn’t mention his family. We had lunch at Luigi’s and…’ Zoe faltered to a stop and then continued on another tack. ‘And then he said he had to get back that night to England…but the next day, by chance, I saw him at the hotel where the Partridges are staying. I suppose I thought he had lied about that and…well, I don’t know…that he wasn’t a genuine buyer and that he was just wasting everyone’s time – roaming around Tuscany chasing some romantic dream.’

She looked up and found Serena and Paolo both looking at her with expressions she found hard to read. Zoe decided it was time to change the subject.

‘By the way, the Partridges have fallen in love with the mill house. They’ve asked me to find a notaio and to get going as fast as possible with the conveyancing.’

‘You tell me already, Zoe,’ said Paolo, frowning. ‘I think you changing of the subject!’

Sometimes Paolo was just too clever, thought Zoe to herself as she began to clear the dishes from the table. Serena stood up and together they carried the remains of the lunch into the kitchen. Paolo watched them, leaning back in his chair, and said, ‘Is a wonderful sight – two beautiful women going into the kitchen to work!’

Serena turned back to him and deftly tipped the water carafe over his head.

‘Now, go and have a swim and then make us some coffee!’ she said calmly as he leapt up, shaking himself like a dog.

The two women were still laughing as they stacked the dishwasher and put the remaining food in the refrigerator.

‘So – poor Massimo!’ Serena couldn’t resist returning to the subject. ‘He’s going to be disappointed. I’m not sure it won’t be the very first time that he won’t get what he wants!’

‘He certainly has the air of being rather a spoilt young man. Can you believe he actually sends his dirty shirts to his mother in Rome every week – she sends them back hand-laundered and accompanied with samples of home-cooking…by Securicor!’

‘No! It’s not true?’ Serena burst out laughing and collapsed onto a kitchen chair. ‘Well, I warned you he was un mammino, but I never could believe he was so much of a mummy’s boy.’

‘Oh – it’s mean to laugh at him, I suppose. We had a wonderful evening in Florence. His friends all love him…it’s just…’ Words failed her and she too sat at the kitchen table. Serena looked up at her, mopping the tears of laughter from her face with a tea towel.

‘Poor Massimo…well, at least he will have his friends to console him over losing you!’

‘And he always has his Mamma!’ added Zoe, laughing too.

Serena began to laugh all over again and could hardly get the words out,‘I’ve…oh dear…I’ve just thought of something…his Mamma chose his name well…oh dear….just change two letters…Massimo-mammissimo…oh dear…mamma mia!’ The two women were rocking with laughter as Paolo came into the kitchen, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. He looked at them fondly.

‘Coffee then?’

Refreshed from her lunch with such good friends, Zoe returned to her afternoon appointment with renewed energy and determined not to let herself dwell on the news that Alex Knight was a married man with a daughter. She was meeting the Partridges at 3pm, once more at their hotel. As she drove into the car park she thought back to her last visit – when she had seen Alex Knight just pulling away. Away and out of her life forever. Zoe sighed and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the feelings he evoked in her. Why did life always have to be so difficult? Why did all the most interesting men have to be married? She blinked away a tear of self-pity and suddenly Fidele jumped through from the back seat and rested his big head on her shoulder. She stroked him for a moment then pulled herself together. She locked the car and, with Fidele close at her heels, she went into the cool foyer of the hotel. Why couldn’t Alex Knight suddenly appear on the terrace, unmarried and free to love her? Reality struck home as Mr. Partridge, very married, large and friendly, appeared in front of her. Zoe sighed wistfully, wondering for a moment why she was doomed to play the wrong part in a romantic novel, before giving all her attention to the Partridges and their purchase of the old mill house.

‘There you are, my dear! Always perfectly on time and as pretty as a picture, isn’t she, Geoffrey?’

‘She certainly is… Now, can we offer you a coffee or a cold drink?’ Mr. Partridge pulled out a chair for her and she joined them at their table set in the shade of a dark blue awning.

‘A cold juice would be very good, thank you.’ Zoe smiled at the Partridges as they beamed at her, feeling comforted by the homely good will they exuded. What must it be like to have parents like this, she wondered? As though reading her thoughts, Mrs. Partridge said, ‘It must be hard working away from home – all on your own at your age.’

‘Oh no, not at all…it’s the way of life I chose. I feel independent and perfectly happy,’ Zoe replied, her voice not ringing with as much conviction as she had hoped. ‘Anyway, my parents have always led their own lives and I have never been around them very much.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Mrs. Partridge said in a voice that sounded as though she wasn’t convinced, then she continued, ‘Do you mean you were away at school?’

‘Yes, I first boarded when I was only nine.’

‘Just fancy, nine years old! Well, I suppose it was what they thought best.’

‘I suppose so, they travelled a lot together – I don’t think I really fitted into their lifestyle. My father is an architect and he worked all over the world – India, Saudi, Hong Kong…bridges mostly.’

‘Well, that would explain it… I expect they went to some difficult places – not where a little girl would get a good education and they thought you’d be better off in a good solid school.’

‘Yes I suppose so,’ Zoe agreed reluctantly and then added in a voice stifled with anger, ‘More because they were everything to each other and I was just in the way!’

‘You may be right, Zoe…but it’s all in the past now and at least you had parents that did love each other. Not everyone can say that nowadays, with so many marriages ending in divorce.’

‘That’s true actually – when I was with them I certainly never heard a cross word between them and of course they loved me in their own vague way.’

‘I’m sure they did, Zoe or you wouldn’t be such a sweet girl now.’ Mrs. Partridge smiled fondly at Zoe and patted her on the arm. Zoe looked at her gratefully and a small part of a knot that she carried tied inside her began to dissolve. Maybe she would phone home this evening. As though, once again, she read her thoughts, Mrs. Partridge added, ‘If ever I have the chance to meet your mother I shall tell her that her daughter is a treasure. We’d have given up long ago on finding our Tuscan dream house without Zoe’s help, wouldn’t we, Geoffrey?’

‘Oh yes, you’ve been a wonder. Patient and kind – not like any estate agent I’ve ever met before! Now, here come those drinks and we can all do with wetting our whistles after all that philosophising. That’s what I call it when my Linda gets going.’ Mr. Partridge leant forward and planted a kiss on Mrs. Partridge’s cheek. ‘She sorts me out too, don’t you, my love?’

Mrs. Partridge giggled and gave him an affectionate slap. Zoe looked at them both and wondered if her parents’ marriage was anything at all like this. If she closed her eyes she could drag up a dim picture of her parents sitting in their study, one each side of a big desk, perfectly at one, passing each other books and nodding quietly. It was a long way from kissing and friendly slaps but it was a good marriage. A good example? Zoe didn’t have time to ponder her own question as Mr. Partridge was raising his glass.

‘Here’s to life in Italy and everybody’s dreams coming true!’

They all raised their glasses and then sipped the cold drinks. Zoe stood up and led Fidele over to the back of the villa to find him a bowl of water. When she returned to the table she spoke first.

‘I think I’m very lucky to be in Italy…especially when the clients are as kind as you are! But you’re right, Mrs. Partridge, only the other day I did feel some sort of homesickness for good old England and its grey skies and I think I’ll phone my parents tonight.’

‘Please call me Linda, my dear, and my husband is Geoffrey. I hope when we get the mill house all sorted out you’ll be a frequent visitor. We expect to spend several months of the year here.’

‘That would be very nice – thank you!’ replied Zoe, slightly surprised herself to find that she really meant it. She had sold many houses to English clients but had normally spent her time dodging them afterwards.

Linda Partridge smiled at her. ‘We said the same to that nice Mr. Knight, didn’t we, Geoffrey? We thought he was such a nice chap but very lonely.’

Zoe’s heart thumped as the mention of his name and she sipped her drink before answering as casually as she could.

‘But won’t he be out here with his wife…and I hear he has a little daughter, too?’

‘Didn’t you know? His wife was killed in a car accident just over a year ago. Of course, we didn’t mention it but as soon as I heard his name I remembered the incident. It was in all the papers – absolutely tragic, wasn’t it, Geoffrey?’

‘Tragic!’ agreed Mr. Partridge. ‘Young man like that left with a two-month-old baby and they’d hadn’t long been married…absolutely tragic!’

‘I couldn’t help thinking that’s why his hair was that dark grey – the shock you know!’ Mrs. Partridge shook her head sadly, then added, ‘Didn’t you know, Zoe?’

‘No, no I know nothing about him. He was just a client appearing out of the blue. I didn’t even know he was a film writer.’

‘Well, I believe he’s had difficulty getting back to work and, of course, that’s understandable. Still, with all the Agatha Christie film scripts he’s already done he certainly can’t need to work for a while.’ Mr. Partridge added, ‘Must have earned a packet already!’

‘He was so upset that night, wasn’t he, Geoffrey? When his flight was cancelled. He had wanted to get back to England to be with his little daughter for Saturday. That’s what he said, didn’t he, Geoffrey? Always took her out Saturday mornings – I thought that was so sweet, you know. Anyway he tried to get a flight from Pisa and then Rome but finally he gave up and settled for the flight from Florence the next day. Very aggravated he was – that’s why we asked him to join us for a drink. It was as though he needed to talk to someone, wasn’t it, Geoffrey?’

‘You calmed him down, my dear, in your own special way. Then he took up your idea, too. He phoned the nanny from his mobile and arranged to have her come in a taxi with the little girl to meet him at the London zoo for a day out. We could hear it all sorted out and Alex calmed down and began to relax. He told us then about the villa he wanted to buy…that dark old ruin you showed us, Zoe. My goodness he’ll need some vision and a lot of his film money to put that to rights!’

‘Oh, it’ll all sort out, you’ll see,’ said Mrs. Partridge comfortably.

Zoe’s mind reeled as she tried to absorb all the new information. So Alex Knight was a widower with a little daughter. He had really intended to fly back to England that night. She had been wrong to think he had lied about that. In fact, she had been wrong about practically everything concerning Alex Knight – except that she found him irresistible.

CHAPTER FIVE

Back in her little house, in the cool of the evening, Zoe sat on the sofa and looked at the telephone. To ring or not to ring? She closed her eyes and leant her head back against the cushions. Why was it so difficult to pick up the phone and ring home? She conjured up a mental picture of her parents sitting in the conservatory, sipping cocktails in elegant companionship. The phone would ring, a jarring noise interrupting their intimacy. Her mother would sigh and rise slowly to go over to answer the phone in the kitchen. Zoe’s eyes flashed open and she let out an exasperated, ‘Oh, for goodness sake! Mamma mia!’ Fidele opened one eye and regarded her with obvious impatience, before turning his back on her. ‘You’re quite right, Fidele! This is ridiculous. Mamma mia indeed – as if it can be so hard to phone my very own mamma mia. I’ll just ring and that’s that!’

She snatched up the receiver and impatiently punched the numbers into the phone. There was a long silence before the familiar English ringing tone began to sound. Zoe tensed, feeling her stomach turn over as she waited for one of her parents to answer. The ringing tone droned on and on until finally her mother’s recorded voice answered.

‘Sorry to miss your call, please leave your name and number and we’ll call back as soon as possible.’ The recording bleep sounded twice and Zoe began a hesitant message.

‘Hi, Ma, just me – er, phoning to see how you both are…er, I’ll call again soon. Bye now!’

Zoe slammed down the phone and blinked away unexpected tears from her eyes. Fidele rose from his rug and stretched, then ambled over to Zoe and rested his head in her lap. Zoe smiled down at the dog and stroked him for several minutes. Hadn’t she read somewhere that stroking pets was good for relieving stress? She allowed herself a wobbly smile before standing up and going over to the mirror above the stone fireplace. She looked at her reflection.

‘What a mess!’ she said aloud. Her eyes were pink-rimmed and her mouth looked a blur of misery and self-pity.

‘This won’t do at all – come on, Fidele, let’s go for a walk before we find something for dinner!’

Fidele leapt into activity, circling Zoe excitedly as she grabbed his lead and her door key.

She flung open the front door and the evening sun shone directly into her eyes, so it was a moment before she realised that she was standing face to face with Massimo. In fact, as he was on the lower step of the entrance she was almost staring straight over the top of his dark glistening hair. Not only that, he was practically hidden behind a vast bunch of dark red roses. In her surprise she said abruptly, ‘What are you doing?’

Massimo lowered the bouquet and hastily stepped up to her level. Now they really were eye to eye as he answered soulfully, ‘I had to see you, carissima!’ His dark brown eyes looked wistful as he offered her the flowers.

Zoe took them from him automatically and then hastily gave them back.

‘I’m sorry, Massimo, I can’t take your flowers…thank you, I am very flattered but…’ She faltered to a stop, words failing her as she tried to come up with an excuse. There he stood, the ridiculously perfect example of any girl’s dream. Not tall but muscled and handsome as a film star – an Italian film star. Impeccably dressed, Ferrari keys in hand and ready to love her. Why, why couldn’t she just fall in love with him and be done with it? At that moment Fidele pushed between them and Massimo bent down and impatiently brushed his trouser leg and inspected it for dog hairs. Now why should that annoy her so much?

‘I was just going to take Fidele for a walk – would you like to join us?’ Zoe asked politely enough, although she was fairly confident of his giving a negative answer.

‘I didn’t come here to walk a dog, Zoe. I came to tell you that I love you and want to marry you. Aren’t you going to ask me in?’

‘Sorry, Massimo, but I have promised Fidele a walk and a promise to a dog just can’t be broken!’ Zoe gave a wide smile and pushed past the flowers, down the steps and into the street. Fidele gave an enthusiastic bound past Massimo and stood by her side, gently chewing on his lead and anxious to be off.

‘But, Zoe…’

‘Sorry, Massimo…I really am…about everything…but you know it just wouldn’t work between us.’ Zoe looked back up at Massimo as he looked down at her, his eyes now screwed up against the setting sunlight. For one awful moment she thought he was going to cry. Then he jumped down the steps and stood beside her again.

‘OK, I’ll walk with you. You will see that I don’t give up easily. When I really want something, I have to have it.’

Zoe walked off at a brisk pace, heading towards the rampart walls of the town. It didn’t seem to occur to Massimo that sometimes life didn’t work out quite like that. Zoe marched on, trying to quell the annoyance she felt at Massimo’s intrusion into her life. Fidele trotted between them and the pace quickened as though they had entered in some ridiculous walking race. Massimo tossed the huge bouquet of roses onto the bonnet of a parked car as they strode on, shoulder to shoulder. Zoe was now walking as fast as she could without breaking into an undignified run. Massimo was slowly pulling ahead and Zoe watched his athletic shoulders and strong legs with grudging admiration. Massimo might be a mother’s boy but he was no wimp. When he was several metres ahead of her he suddenly turned and laughed, throwing his head back and stretching his arms wide.

‘It’s no good, Zoe! I love you and that’s that. I love you even more when you are angry!’

Zoe stopped in her tracks and bent over, holding her sides as she regained her breath. She laughed reluctantly and looked up at him.

‘Massimo, I do so wish I could fall in love with you but…’

Massimo interrupted her.

‘Don’t say another word – especially “but”. It’s the worst word in any language. I have enough love for both of us for now and I can be very, very patient. Let’s be friends, amici!’

He held out his hand and she took it. They walked on again, slower now and side by side. When Zoe gently removed her hand from his grasp, he made no comment but sighed quietly. Zoe smiled and admitted to herself that Massimo was very persuasive. No wonder he was a top lawyer at such a young age. They reached the outskirts of the town and Zoe took the path that circled the ancient town walls. The last rays of the hot sun shone on them as they walked. Massimo talked fluently in English and was an amusing companion. It was undeniably good to have someone to be with. Zoe began to enjoy herself just as she had at the party in Florence. Massimo was relaxed too and played with Fidele, running along the dusty path and throwing bits of wood for the dog to retrieve. He now didn’t seem at all worried about his impeccable clothes. Maybe she had reacted too quickly before. As dusk fell across the town roofs they were wending their way through the narrow alleys back towards Zoe’s house.

‘Dare I ask you to join me for dinner, Zoe?’ Massimo asked, his dark eyebrows raised in amused query.

‘I don’t know…’ Zoe hesitated.

At that moment they arrived in the little piazza where she had lunched with Alex Knight at da Luigi. Before she could say anything, Massimo was half way across the piazza heading for the restaurant. He stopped outside and looked at the menu displayed in the window. He turned back to Zoe who was following him reluctantly.

'Zoe, do you know this little old place? It looks interesting – the menu reads well.’

She was surprised that he would be interested in eating anywhere so ordinary and said, ‘Actually, I eat here quite often – it is very good…well, I think so anyway.’

‘Excellent, then shall we go in and see if they have a table?’

Massimo moved ahead of her and Zoe followed, only briefly thinking that she didn’t remember agreeing to eat with Massimo at all. Then, Luigi was greeting her enthusiastically and showing them to a table for two. The very same table she had shared with Alex. Massimo held her chair as she sat down and Fidele curled himself into a ball at her feet. Massimo excused himself and disappeared. Zoe looked at the familiar menu and tried to dispel the memories of the meal she had shared with Alex. Why did she keep going over and over the short time she had spent with him? Why was she so fascinated, even obsessed with the idea of seeing him again? Massimo returned to the table, freshly washed and brushed and leading Luigi who carried a tray with glasses and an ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne.

‘This place is amazing!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘There’s a great wine list and a choice of several excellent French champagnes. Luigi was born in the hills near Rome – not far from my mother’s home town of Frascati. Amazing!’

Zoe smiled and accepted the tall, chilled glass of golden champagne. Oh yes, the mother. She had quite forgotten Massimo’s Mamma, but she was sure she would hear plenty more about her now.

Massimo raised his glass to her and said, ‘Cin cin! Let’s drink to friendship and a beautiful walk in the sunset.’ They clinked glasses and Zoe was relieved that Massimo seemed to have given up on romance. She in her turn went to wash the dust from her hands before the food arrived. She looked in the dark old mirror hanging above the wash basin and caught a smile playing around her lips. Maybe friendship with Massimo was not such a bad idea. Better than looking in a mirror that reflected a tear-stained face. She ran her damp fingers through her long hair in an attempt to smooth it down. Her cheeks were flushed from the energetic walk in the evening sun and she returned to the table ready to enjoy the rest of the evening in Massimo’s company. Massimo stood up as she reached the table and held her chair again. Zoe thanked him and sat down. There was a lot to be said for a young man well brought up by his mother. She reached for her napkin and found a dark red rose lying across it. She looked at Massimo in surprise.

‘How on earth did you retrieve one of the roses from that bouquet? It is one of them, isn’t it? They are so distinctive – so very dark and velvety and so perfumed.’ She raised the flower to her nose and breathed in the heavy scent.

‘Yes, one from the bouquet.’ Massimo smiled mysteriously. ‘I can make anything happen – haven’t you realised it yet? Black Baccara – they are the only roses beautiful enough for you. I would like to plant you a rose garden of them…’ At that point, Luigi arrived at the table and lit the candle. The dinner was becoming impossibly romantic. Massimo reached across the table and enclosed her hand in his as she held the rose.

‘I can’t help telling you that I love you, cara Zoe.’ He leaned across the table, his head close to hers. ‘I won’t give up, you know.’

Zoe moved her head slightly aside and at that very moment the door to the restaurant opened and Alex Knight walked in. Larger than life – larger and more alive than she remembered him. Their eyes met in recognition and for one moment she saw his face register shock, and then he smiled sadly and turned to hold the door for his companion. Into the restaurant walked one of the most beautiful women that Zoe had ever seen. Not pretty but truly beautiful. She moved gracefully into the small restaurant, ahead of Alex, confident and serene. She simply radiated loveliness. Zoe’s head reeled with shock and she felt a sharp pain as a rose thorn pierced her finger. She realised she was clutching the flower tight in her hand. The pain brought her back to reality, the reality of dodging a kiss from Massimo. He had noticed her sharp movement and was studiously studying the tiny pinprick of blood that had formed on her finger. He was talking but Zoe was deaf to his words. All she could think was how well Alex and his beautiful companion looked together. They were now seated at a table near the window and talking animatedly. Alex’s slate-grey hair was close to the sleek black hair of the woman. As close as her own head had been to Massimo’s when Alex had seen them. Zoe closed her eyes momentarily and felt a pain so sharp that the rose could have pierced her heart. She opened her eyes again, determined not to look in the direction of Alex. She smiled across at Massimo and caught the end of what he had been saying.

‘… and we could meet up with Flavio there, if you’d like to?’

‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Zoe replied.

‘Are you all right, cara? You have suddenly gone quite pale.’ Massimo looked at her anxiously.

Zoe grabbed at the opportunity to excuse her odd behaviour.

‘Actually, it’s so hot in here – I do feel a bit faint.’

‘Drink some water. That’s the trouble with these small trattorie – no air-conditioning. Would you like to go somewhere else?’

‘Oh no, Luigi will bring the pasta soon. I expect I’m hungry too!’ Zoe tried to smile at Massimo but it was an enormous effort. In one way she wanted to run from the restaurant and in another she couldn’t leave. She was irresistibly drawn to watching the couple in the window. Now they were looking at the menu together, joking and laughing as though they knew each other well, very well indeed. Then, Luigi arrived with the pasta and Zoe forced herself to begin to eat. The first few mouthfuls stuck in her throat but then it became easier. She couldn’t believe how rude she was being to Massimo. She must make an effort – none of this was his fault.

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