Читать книгу The Tuscan Tycoon's Pregnant Housekeeper - Christina Hollis - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

MICHELLE’S heart leapt each time she saw her temporary home. It nestled in a sheltered part of the garden, and was designed so that the banks of flowers billowing on every side could be enjoyed whatever the weather. Glass made up most of the front of the building, while deep eaves shaded a swing-seat. Michelle unlocked the sliding French doors and stood aside for him to go in.

‘This is impressive.’ Alessandro Castiglione looked around the living room, with its stacks of art boxes and storage bins. Wandering into the kitchen, he nodded appreciatively at the big stainless steel sink and double drainers that took up most of the room. ‘It wouldn’t take long to remove this partition wall to make better use of the space,’ he murmured to himself.

Michelle stood silently in a corner while he roamed around, occasionally taking something from the huge collection of equipment and supplies she had to squeeze around. Once he had studied a packet of paper, a box of pencils, an easel or some brushes, he put them back carefully in their place. Michelle was glad to see that. Most employers would have put them anywhere. They pay you to be tidy for them, her mother had always said.

She found it fascinating to watch him when she could. Each time he caught her doing it, he smiled. Michelle found herself blushing madly, and had to look away. Her guest knew exactly the effect he was having.

‘I never knew Terence had so many art books!’ He ran his finger along the spines lining the shelves, but it was a volume open on the coffee table that really caught his eye. ‘Raphael. He’s one of my favourites. Do you mind if I borrow this one and take it back to the villa with me?’

He picked it up and began flicking through the pages, from the back to front of the book. Of all the ones to choose… Michelle felt as though he had reached inside her ribcage and pulled out her heart. She knew exactly what he was thinking, because she had experienced it so often herself. As he revelled in the beautiful pictures and glowing colours, it showed clearly in his face. It was only when he reached the flyleaf that he stopped smiling.

‘“Presented to Michelle Spicer as part of the Lawrence Prize for the year’s outstanding portfolio,”’ he read aloud, and then looked at her directly. His eyes were smiling, ‘So this is yours?’

Michelle nodded, too struck by the sparkle in his eyes to speak.

‘A little light bedtime reading?’

‘It’s a bit too heavy for that, signor.’

‘For one person, maybe…although two might manage, I suppose. One could read while the other looks on?’

A vision of Alessandro Castiglione in bed came to Michelle, and it didn’t involve any art books. She managed not to gasp aloud, but couldn’t help taking a step backwards, away from him.

When he put her presentation book down on the table again Michelle was puzzled.

‘Aren’t you going to take it after all, signor?’

He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t possibly. It’s yours and must mean so much to you.’

‘It does—but if you want it…’

‘Thank you. I’ll let you have it back as soon as possible.’ Taking possession of it again with relish, he patted the cover. ‘This must be an inspiring place to work for you, as an artist. How many pictures have you done while you’ve been here?’

‘None, signor. There’s always too much work to do.’

He laughed politely, and brandished her book. ‘Where’s your portfolio now? You haven’t got it here by any chance?’

Michelle clenched her teeth at the memory. The words had to struggle out.

‘It got burned, signor.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He sounded genuinely touched. ‘I would have liked to have seen it. Never mind. I won’t be a demanding guest. You’ll have plenty of time for your art while I’m in residence here.’

He was right. Over the next few days Michelle found she actually had some spare time. It was unheard of. The Bartlett family were always thinking of bits and pieces that they’d forgotten to get delivered for their stay. Without having to drive into town several times a day, Michelle could open her own art box for the first time since arriving in France.

Her efforts at sketching around the estate weren’t very successful. Each time she caught sight of Alessandro she hid her sketchbook in case he wanted to look at her work. She couldn’t bear showing her pictures to anyone. The only reason she had won the Lawrence Prize was because a tutor had entered Michelle’s portfolio without her knowledge.

She was surprised at how often she bumped into Alessandro around the estate. He always smiled at her, and they often swapped a few words of polite, meaningless conversation. Michelle was intrigued. The Bartlett family and their other guests spent all their time indoors, bent over computer screens or mobile phones. Alessandro seemed to like fresh air as much as she did.

Once the ringing of his mobile phone joined the rustle of grasshoppers and the chirrup of birds echoing through the dusty landscape. Then it fell silent. It was only when Michelle went to fetch some water for the houseplants that she found out why. A state of the art PDA was lying in the bottom of the soft water tank. Pulling it out, she dried it off as best she could and rushed to find him. The red ‘do not disturb’ light was showing on the console beside the door of his suite, so she left the soggy device there without knocking. An hour later, Alessandro sought her out as she arranged flowers for the music room.

‘I have something for the trash.’ Taking her hand, he put the PDA in her palm and carefully closed her fingers around it. ‘They say I need a break. Now I’ve had a few days’ rest, I’m inclined to agree with them.’

All the time he was pressing her hand between both of his. It brought back memories of his touch gliding over her body as he’d searched for her keys. His grip was warm and reassuringly firm. In contrast to the grating tension in his voice when he’d arrived, his speech was now softer and lilting. He was so different from the hard-bitten workaholic she had been expecting that Michelle laughed out loud.

‘You can’t throw this away! It must have cost a fortune!’

‘Michelle, it will not work now it has got wet. It’s been nothing but a curse to me.’

Looking into the turbulence of his eyes, she could believe it. In that moment her heart went out to him. ‘Don’t worry, signor. I’ll take care of it.’ She smiled.

When he smiled back, it illuminated his face in a way that stopped Michelle’s heart. Alessandro Castiglione was gorgeous, and he was smiling at her…

Alessandro wasn’t someone to be tiptoed around, like her usual boss. He was much more approachable, but his reputation still haunted her, so she kept out of his way. All the same, every tiny sound made her glance up in case it was him. She found herself looking out for him all the time. When they passed in a corridor he’d smile at her. That simple gesture made up for the hours of worry she had endured before he arrived.

Michelle kept herself busy around the villa, which helped stop her daydreaming. But after work, when she got back to her silent apartment, her mind always went into overdrive. She’d relive every single moment of his arrival. The touch of his hands on her as he searched for her pocket. His firm grasp when he supported her as he opened the door… And, more than anything else, his beautiful dark eyes with their long, dense lashes. She tried to distract herself by getting out paper and pencils and sketching. But although she sat outside, intending to draw the garden, her pencil kept trying to catch Alessandro’s likeness instead.

One evening, strangely dissatisfied, she decided on an early night. Sleep was impossible. The memory of him filled her off-duty hours as easily as he touched every moment of her working day.

It was long after midnight before she gave up trying to get to sleep. Staggering blearily into the studio house’s kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea. Comfort eating was the only way to distract herself from thoughts of her delicious employer—or at least push him to the back of her mind—so, grabbing a packet of biscuits, she headed back to her bedroom. One look at the tangled bedclothes was enough to put her off. She decided to take her guilty pleasure out onto the veranda.

Unlocking the studio’s French doors, she opened them wide. The night air was still, and fragrant with flowers. Stepping out into the dusky garden was like the first welcome of a deliciously cool swimming pool. She shivered at the thrill. It was a perfect night with no moon; every star was visible above the darkness of the estate.

‘Buona sera, Michelle.’ Alessandro’s voice came to her, soft and low through the dusk.

She whirled around. He was leaning back lazily on the swing-seat outside her apartment, a glass in his hand. Immediately she tried to cover herself with her hands, conscious that the sliver of satin and lace she was wearing was hardly decent enough to wear in front of a guest—especially this guest!

‘Would you like to join me for a drink, Michelle?’ He picked up a bottle of wine from the table beside him and filled his glass. Holding it out to her, he watched her hesitant approach with a smile.

‘Me?’ she breathed.

‘I don’t see anyone else around.’

‘But—but I can’t! I’m not dressed…’

‘You look fine to me.’ His smile flashed very white in the soft glow filtering through the studio’s curtains. ‘I couldn’t sleep, and came out looking for some fresh air. Was there ever a country estate with fewer places to sit? Don’t the Bartletts use this place?’

Michelle shook her head. ‘They prefer their computers. Guests are sometimes shown around before dinner, but apart from that I’ve usually got the gardens to myself.’

He chuckled. It was a soft, intimate sound, perfectly in tune with the warm dusk. ‘I never expected you to venture out here after dark. You seem so quiet and reserved.’

‘I love it out here, and it’s perfectly safe.’

‘That’s not surprising. The security lights around the villa are triggered by every step. When I was walking on the terrace I felt as though I was in a Broadway production. I wanted somewhere relaxing.’

He was wearing an open-necked shirt, as perfectly white as the one he had arrived in. It shone like nicotiana flowers against the gloom, but the fragrance of him was altogether more sexy. It combined male musk with an elusive cologne that was expensively discreet. Michelle’s fingers clenched on the condensation-frosted glass in her hand. It wasn’t enough to cool her thoughts.

She took a sip of her drink and coughed, not accustomed to the champagne bubbles.

‘Champagne is my secret vice.’ He chuckled, and as they sat back the atmosphere relaxed. ‘I met the gardener this afternoon. He’s very proud of the estate’s strawberries. When they didn’t appear on the menu this evening, I engaged in a little private enterprise and picked some for myself. Can you think of any better way to make the best of a sleepless night?’

Michelle shook her head. Her eyes were becoming more accustomed to the dark. Now she could see there was a dish on the table, too. He took a few berries from it and dropped them into her glass of champagne. Each one made a loud plop and an indulgent fizz in the stillness.

‘The perfect finishing touch,’ he murmured, watching her.

As she raised the slender glass to her lips she wrinkled her nose with pleasure at the rich aroma of ripe fruit and vintage wine. He smiled. Women were one of his greatest pleasures, but Miss Michelle Spicer was unlike any girl he had met before. She was as refreshing as a glass of ice-cold Vernaccia. He watched her, and knew that drinking champagne must be a rarity for her, from the way that half-smile danced across her face each time she took a sip.

She had completely forgotten the low cut of her nightdress, and the way its bias-cut satin clung to the rise of her breasts. Only a woman who spent too much time studying the form of other things could be so unaware of her own beauty. Alessandro knew a lot of women. They all played on the effect they could have on a man. By contrast, Michelle seemed totally innocent.

‘You eat the strawberries when they’ve had time to marinate in the champagne.’

Michelle smiled and popped one of the ripe berries into her mouth. The strawberries were like no others she had ever tasted. There were as soft and sweet as an angel’s kiss. The thought made a connection in her mind.

As they sat together in the warm night, she looked across at Alessandro shyly. His profile was stunning as he looked up at the wide sky full of stars. In her mind, his lips promised beautiful words, spoken just for her. More than that, she fantasised about the touch of them against her skin. Sitting next to him like this was a fragile bubble of happiness. The gentle chorus of insects, the cool breeze on her skin, and the perfume of ripening fruit and flowers all added to the magic. Not even a bat, arriving to flicker around the heliotropes, could destroy this moment.

Alessandro looked to see if she was affected by it, and chuckled. ‘Strawberries, champagne and a stranger after midnight—you’re taking it all in your stride, Michelle,’ he teased her gently.

There was a bitter-chocolate quality about his voice that sent a tremor right through Michelle’s body. He noticed.

‘You’re cold—dannazione! If I’d brought my jacket I’d offer it to you. Why don’t you go inside and fetch something?’

‘I don’t have anything,’ she replied, hoping he would believe her. This was all too precious to spoil.

‘Then sit closer to me. I can shield you from any chill.’

‘I’m not cold.’ Not any more, she thought, taking in a long, slow breath.

She wondered what to do if he insisted she moved nearer to him. Torn between doing the right thing and imagining how wonderful the wrong thing would be, she was tense with indecision. Then the fragrance of night stole over her. Sultry top notes of lavender and jasmine were lightened by the sweet, more elusive scent of roses. For Michelle, this was a dream come true. With nothing to do but enjoy her surroundings, she began to lose herself in fantasy.

‘This is what I imagine a real English country garden would be like,’ she said eventually.

‘Then you are homesick, Michelle?’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, signor! I didn’t mean to say that out loud.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ His voice was a low, seductive sound, steady against the background crackle of insects. ‘And, as I shall be calling you Michelle, you should call me Alessandro.’

When he said that, she tensed, concentrating on the strawberries clustered at the bottom of her glass. He handed her a solid silver teaspoon. One by one she spooned them out, savouring every mouthful and every moment.

‘You didn’t answer my question, Michelle. Are you homesick?’

‘No, not at all—unless you count being sick of home.’ She stopped, remembered that part of her life was over, and smiled. ‘Although I’ve put all that behind me now. I’m a free agent.’

She saw him raise his eyebrows and rushed to explain.

‘That is—I mean—I don’t have a home in England any more. And I never did manage to get my wish of a lovely little house like this, with roses around the door.’

‘This isn’t a house, it’s a studio—and one I was hoping to use,’ he said softly.

Michelle was quick to pick up on the tinge of regret in his voice. ‘You can work from the house, signor—’

He shot her a warning look and she corrected herself, ‘I mean, Alessandro. You should have let me show you around. The whole house is set up as a satellite office. It’s got everything—’

He silenced her with a raised hand. ‘This is all I need at the moment—some peace and quiet. Tonight I want to drink in this atmosphere and the starlight.’

He gestured towards the sky. Michelle lifted her eyes, following his finger as it pointed upwards. With the coast behind them, they were looking out over the velvety blackness of the villa’s estate. Beyond its boundary walls lay miles of lavender fields and patches of undeveloped maquis. There were no disco lights to outshine the stars as they twinkled like pinpricks across the deep indigo of the night.

‘Have you ever seen anything so beautiful, Michelle?’ he asked.

She shook her head, although she thought he was more wonderful than anything else on show that night. Her emotions were in meltdown. Part of her wanted him to say more. Seduction would have been extra-sweet in this heavenly setting under the stars. Yet a spider’s web of warnings tugged at her, holding her back.

Her mother had always told her how untrustworthy men could be. None had stuck around for long after they’d met the fearsome Mrs Spicer, that was for sure. The result was that Michelle couldn’t fully enjoy the experience of being alone with such a wonderful man in this tempting situation. She was too busy watching for warning signs.

But if Alessandro realised how tense she was, he made no allowance for it.

‘I think this has been the most miraculous evening I’ve ever experienced.’ He took the champagne glass and spoon from her hands. Smiling, he saluted her with it. ‘Thank you for sharing it with me.’

Michelle was stunned. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. ‘If there’s ever anything you want, Alessandro, you only have to ask,’ she whispered.

He put the glass down on the table behind him.

‘That’s dangerous talk, Michelle.’ There was a provocative look in his eyes that almost stopped her heart. ‘But…if you’re sure you don’t mind…perhaps you could do me a favour?’

‘What is it?’ she asked—much too quickly.

His expression moved slowly but surely into a wide, tempting smile.

‘How would you feel about moving into the villa while I’m staying here?’