Italian Attraction. Lucy GordonЧитать онлайн книгу.
place. Maisie acknowledged the waistband of her skirt was threatening to split. She had been thrilled to bits to find she could actually fit into a size twelve for the first time in years when she had gone on her shopping spree, even though it had been a bit of a near thing between that and the size fourteen. She wrinkled her small nose. ‘I’m not fashionably thin,’ she said, stating the obvious. ‘Jeff, my ex, went off with a size eight blonde who’s recently had breast enhancements.’ And then she wondered why on earth she had told him that.
He folded his arms over his chest, studying her with an air of quiet interest. ‘That must have been hard for you.’
In a nutshell, yes. She tried to inject a note of nonchalance into her voice. ‘It obviously wasn’t meant to be.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
Not into comforting words and polite platitudes, then. Although he had only agreed with her, she found herself bristling. ‘Actually, we were very well matched.’
He raised cryptic eyebrows.
‘We both love animals and long walks and good food,’ she said determinedly, ‘and going to the theatre and lazy Sundays …’ What else? She knew there was more.
‘So does most of the population,’ said Blaine, his mouth curving.
‘We would have been very happy together.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘Oh, really?’ Maisie glared at him. ‘Why is that?’
‘Because if he was fool enough to let you go in the first place he would not have had sufficient fire to match you flame for flame,’ Blaine said with lazy coolness. ‘Fire and water never mix and this is the cause of many divorces. Passion must be met by equal passion or one partner will be left feeling unfulfilled and the other believing they haven’t measured up. This Jeff sounds like a water person to me.’
‘You don’t know him,’ she snapped while secretly thrilled that he thought she was a fire person. She wasn’t at all sure she was but she was glad he thought so.
‘I don’t have to. If he had fulfilled all he should have done you wouldn’t be like you are now at his going. You would be devastated, distraught—’
‘I was. I am!’ She was furious. ‘Just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, it doesn’t mean I’m not upset, does it.’
‘He did not touch the core of you, Maisie. Face it. He didn’t have what it takes. If you had married him you would both have been miserable in time. Maybe this size eight, breast-enhanced female is what he needs.’
‘So he did the right thing in starting an affair behind my back when we were due to be married in a few weeks’ time? Is that what you’re saying?’ She couldn’t remember when she had been more mad.
‘I didn’t say that.’
His cool aplomb made her wish she had some wine in her glass so she could have flung it at him. As it was, she ground out, ‘That’s exactly what you said.’
‘No, I did not.’ He leant forward, his eyes holding hers as he said very softly but with deadly intent, ‘Listen to me and stop behaving like a child unless you want me to treat you like one and put you over my knee. I said you were well rid of the guy and you are, and perhaps this other woman will suit him. Perhaps she’s as shallow as he is; I really don’t know. What I do know is that I am glad you found out what he was really like before you went through a marriage and all that entails. I have been there and when things go wrong it can be ugly. I am glad you are not with this man but I am sorry for the hurt you have suffered. OK? But if he had fully had your heart it would have been worse, I stand by that.’
She stared at him, the anger dying. The man in front of her now was not the smooth controlled Blaine she had seen thus far; this man was quite a different individual. The chiselled cheekbones were taut, the sensual mouth grim and the eyes weren’t smiling. Whoever it was he had been speaking about, whoever the woman was that he had loved and lost, she had meant a great deal to him. Maisie didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry.’ She kept her gaze on his face and her eyes were dark and steady. ‘I didn’t mean to revive bad memories for you.’
His eyes held hers for a moment more and then, as she watched, it was as though he pulled a mask over his face. He settled back in his seat. ‘You didn’t.’ He smiled. ‘We were talking about you, remember?’
She wasn’t so sure about that but she let it pass, finishing her coffee as he strolled over to the inn-keeper and chatted for a moment or two as he paid the bill. He came back to the table, pulling out her chair for her with the courtesy she realised was an integral part of him. He was the sort of man who would open doors for the woman he was with, stand back and let her precede him into a room, throw his cloak down over a puddle so she didn’t get her feet wet. The last was going a bit far but Maisie made no apology for it because it fitted somehow. She wasn’t so sure about the being treated as a child and put over his knee, but even that might have certain advantages. She blushed to herself and was glad of the cooler evening air as they stepped out of the inn.
He took her elbow as they walked down the steps to the Ferrari, but before he opened the car door he turned her to face him. ‘Let go of what won’t be.’ He touched the edge of her mouth with his finger and she had to steel herself not to tremble. His voice was deep and smoky when, after opening the door and helping her inside, he leant with both hands on the roof and said softly, ‘Take life and embrace it, mia piccola. There will be other men, other loves. It would be a crime to waste your youth believing this is not so.’
He shut the door then and walked round the bonnet, sliding into the car and starting the engine without looking at her again.
He had spoken as though he was aeons older than her. Maisie sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap but her mind was racing. What on earth had gone on with this woman for it to have affected him so deeply? Who was she? Was she still a part of his life?
As they drove on and reached Sorrento the sun-baked buildings with faded pink and ochre walls ablaze with vivid window-boxes in the maze of streets of the town failed to hold Maisie’s attention as they would have earlier. She could see Sorrento was quaint, colourful and romantic and full of southern earthy charm, the panoramic views awe-inspiring and the pretty piazzas and shops fascinating. But not as fascinating as the man sitting beside her.
Blaine pointed out this and that as they drove on towards the Sant’Agnello district of Sorrento, where orange groves perfumed the air and where his parents’ villa was situated, but his talk was impersonal now, distant even, as though he was regretting revealing too much. Not that he’d told her anything at all really, Maisie thought regretfully, even as she reminded herself that she wasn’t here to wonder about Jackie’s young uncle but to do a job for his mother. She was an employee and that was all.
She continued to give herself a silent talking-to as they turned into what was little more than a shady lane a few minutes later, at the end of which she could see a large white building partially obscured by trees. Almost immediately they passed through wide open wrought iron gates set in a stone wall, then the view opened up to reveal a gleaming white two-storey house flanked by rows of cypress trees. It was bigger than she had expected, a wide veranda with a red-tiled roof running the length of the house.
‘All the ground is at the back of the house,’ Blaine said as he parked the car on the stretch of pebbled drive beyond the stone wall. ‘There is a large garden but most of the land is given over to a paddock and stables with orange groves behind them. I was born in this house; it’s very beautiful.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Maisie jumped in quickly before the conversation moved on. ‘Where do you live now?’ she asked with what she hoped sounded like polite interest.
‘I have a place in the hills above Positano; it is not too far away,’ he said as he exited the car. Helping her out a moment later, he added, ‘You must come and see it one day.’
‘I’d like that.’ An understatement.