His Lost-And-Found Bride. Scarlet Wilson
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with their trousers rolled up at their ankles and their hair flapping in the wind. Helmets didn’t seem to be a priority.
She smiled. It was gorgeous. It was quaint. It could be a setting for a film. Every character that was needed was there—the small wizened woman hanging her washing from a window, the young mother hurrying past with her child, a shopkeeper standing in a doorway and a couple of young girls whispering and watching the guys zipping past on their scooters.
The car turned onto another winding road, again lined with cypress trees. It only took a few moments for the palazzo to come into sight.
It was a sprawling, grand building with lots of little scattered buildings around. Lucia twisted in her seat, but it wasn’t until the car pulled up outside the sweeping entrance of the palazzo that she finally saw the building she was after on the other side of the courtyard.
An old traditional chapel. Dark stonework, arched windows and door. It had two stained-glass windows, which had obviously been added at a later date than the original build.
But before she had a chance to focus on the beauty of the building something else took her breath away.
Logan, emerging from the entrance of the chapel. It had been twelve years since she’d seen him and she hadn’t quite expected the jolt that was running through her body.
He ran his fingers through his dark hair, which was still a little too long. Logan had always been stylish, had always dressed as if the clothes had been made personally for him. Today he had on cream suit trousers and a pale blue shirt, open at the throat with the sleeves pushed up. Only Italian men could get away with cream suits. She imagined his cream jacket would have been discarded somewhere inside the chapel.
It wasn’t just that he’d aged well. He’d aged movie star well. He was still lean, but there was a little more muscle to his frame. His shoulders a bit wider, his shape more sculpted. He lifted his head and his footsteps faltered. He’d noticed her at the same time she’d noticed him, but she could bet his body wasn’t doing the same things that hers was.
The car halted and the driver opened her door. There was no retreat. There was nowhere to hide.
She stared down at her Italian pumps for the briefest of seconds, sucking in a breath and trying to still the erratic pitter-patter of her heart. Thank goodness she’d taken off the stilettos. She’d never have survived the cobbled streets of Monte Calanetti.
She accepted the extended hand of the driver and stepped out of the car, pulling down her dress a little and adjusting her suit jacket. The cool interior of the car had kept the heat of Tuscany out well. It was like stepping into a piping-hot bath. This situation was hot enough without the sun’s intense rays to contend with.
Logan walked over. His faltering footsteps had recovered quickly. He reached out his hand towards her. ‘Lucia, welcome.’
For the briefest of seconds she hesitated. This was business. This was business. She tried to appear calm and composed, even though the first little rivulet of sweat was snaking down her back.
She grasped his hand confidently. ‘Logan, I hope you’ve been well. I take it that is the chapel?’ She gestured to the building from which he’d emerged.
Straight to the point. It was the only way to be. She had to ignore the way his warm hand enveloped hers. She definitely had to ignore the tiny sparks in her palm and the tingling shooting up her arm. She pulled her hand back sharply.
If he was surprised at her direct response he didn’t show it. His voice was as smooth as silk. ‘Why don’t we go into the main house? I’ll show you to your room and introduce you to Louisa, the owner.’
He waved his hand, gesturing her towards the palazzo, and she could instantly feel the hackles rise at the back of her neck.
‘That won’t be necessary. I’m not staying. I’ve booked a hotel nearby.’
Logan exchanged a glance with the driver, who was already disappearing into the palazzo with her red case. ‘Why don’t you have some refreshments in the meantime? I’d still like to introduce you to Louisa and I’m sure you’d like to see around the palazzo—we’ve already renovated some parts of it, including the room Louisa has set aside for you.’
He was so confident, so assured. It grated because she wished she felt that way too. She was trying her best to mimic the effect, but it was all just a charade. Her stomach was churning so wildly she could have thrown up on the spot. It wasn’t just the intense heat that was causing little rivulets of sweat to run down her back, it was Logan. Being in his presence again after all these years and the two of them standing here, exchanging pleasantries, as if what had happened between them hadn’t changed their lives for ever, just couldn’t compute in her brain.
Business. She kept repeating the word in her head. She was probably going to have to keep doing this for the next few days. Whatever it took to get through them. She had to be professional. She had to be polite. The Italian Heritage Board would expect her to discuss her findings and proposals with the owner directly—not through a third party. Maybe this way she could take Logan out the equation?
She gave a nod and walked over the courtyard towards the palazzo. The first thing she noticed as she walked into the wide entrance hall was the instantly cool air. The palazzo may be hundreds of years old but it seemed as though the amenities had been updated. She gently pulled her jacket from her back to let some air circulate.
Logan showed her through to a wide open-plan sitting area. Glass doors gave a wide, spectacular view over the vineyards. She was instantly drawn to the greenery outside.
‘Wow. I’ve never really seen a working vineyard before. This is amazing.’
A beautiful slim blonde emerged from another doorway, her hair tied in a high ponytail, wearing capri pants and a white top. She smiled broadly and held out her hand. ‘Welcome. You must be Lucia. Logan told me to expect you. I’m Louisa.’ She nodded to the view outside. ‘And I knew nothing about vineyards either before I arrived here.’
Lucia shook her hand easily. Should she be cautious? What exactly had Logan told her?
Her eyes flitted from one to the other. Was there a relationship between Logan and Louisa? She watched for a few seconds. Logan had his hands in his pockets and was waiting in the background. He wouldn’t do that if he were in a relationship with Louisa and this was their home.
Louisa nodded towards the doorway that must lead towards the kitchen. ‘Can I get you coffee, tea, water or...’ she gave a smile ‘...some wine?’
Of course. She was in a vineyard. Would it be rude to say no? She was Italian, she loved wine. But she was here for business, not pleasure. ‘Just some water would be lovely, thank you.’
There was a few seconds of uncomfortable silence as she was left alone with Logan again. He moved over next to her, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets.
‘How is your job at the heritage board? Do you like it?’
She gave a brief nod but kept her eyes firmly on the vineyard outside. ‘It was always the kind of job that I wanted to do.’ She left everything else unsaid. If things had turned out differently there was a good chance that she would never have taken the job in Venice. It would have been too far away from the life they had planned together in Florence.
Something inside her cringed. It was almost as if she’d wanted things to turn out this way and that just wasn’t what she’d meant at all.
But Logan didn’t seem to notice. He just seemed more concerned with filling the silent space between them. ‘And how do you like living in Venice, compared to Florence?’ It was his first acknowledgement of anything between them. They’d lived together in Florence for just over a year.
Louisa came back out of the kitchen holding a glass of water. ‘You’ve lived in Florence and now Venice? How wonderful. What’s it like?’
Lucia took the water gratefully.