‘Bad news?’ asked Dante.

      Rose gave him a dazed look. ‘I flew here to meet Charlotte for a little holiday, but Fabio’s taken her on a surprise trip to New York today instead.’ She smiled valiantly to mask her crushing disappointment. ‘Never mind. I’ve always wanted to visit Florence.’

      ‘But in company with your friend, not alone.’ Sympathy gleamed in the vivid blue eyes that had haunted her dreams and given her many a disturbed night in the past. Not that she was ever short of those in the present.

      Rose shrugged philosophically. ‘I’d prefer that, of course, but I certainly won’t lack something to do in a city like Florence. I’ll explore as many museums and galleries as possible, enjoy glorious meals and gaze into shop windows as much as I like.’ And even swallow her pride and spend some of the money sent with the letter.

      ‘But all that is for tomorrow. Tonight, it is time to dine. Charlotte has made a dinner reservation for two here tonight.’ Dante reached across to touch her hand. ‘Allora, since she cannot join you, it would give me much pleasure to take her place.’

      Rose snatched her hand away. ‘Will you bring your wife along, too?’

      ‘Cosa?’ He sat back, his eyes suddenly arctic. ‘You forget. I no longer have a wife.’

      Rose winced. Had his wife died? ‘I...I apologise. I didn’t know.’

      He raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘Charlotte did not tell you that Elsa left me?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘You surprise me! In Fortino it was such a hot topic of conversation I was grateful when my travels took me to the vineyards of California for a while.’ He drained his glass. ‘But now you know I am solo again, and have been for years, may I have the honour of your company at dinner tonight, Miss Palmer?’

      She studied him in silence. Her first instinct was to refuse. But she was secretly daunted by the thought of dining alone in such opulent and formal surroundings. Even so, after refusing for years to come to Italy in case she ran into Dante Fortinari again, it would be wiser to have some food sent to her room rather than accept the company of the man who’d caused total upheaval in her life after their first and only meeting. Her brain, which was still furious with him, ordered her to refuse point-blank, but her heart, the unruly organ which had got her into trouble in the first place, was urging her to forget wisdom for once. And, idiot that she was, that was what she was going to do. She would never come here again, so what harm in making use of him?

      ‘You are taking much time to decide, Rose,’ Dante pointed out. ‘Do you wish for my company or not?’

      ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She eyed him curiously. ‘How did you get involved in acting as delivery boy for Charlotte?’

      He shrugged. ‘Fabio offered to deliver a package to a friend of mine in New York and Charlotte requested a favour in return. I was most happy to do this because it meant meeting you again, Rose.’ He signalled to a waiter for some menus.

      ‘But do you have a place here in Florence these days? I vaguely remember that you lived in the family home at the Fortinari vineyards.’

      ‘I did at one time, but now I own a house a few kilometres from our vineyards at Fortino. Now my father is retired I help run the business with my brother, Leo. He is maestro of production; I am good at the selling,’ Dante said without conceit.

      No need to tell her that. ‘You came a long way just to deliver a letter.’

      ‘A trip to Firenze is always a pleasure,’ he assured her, and held her eyes very deliberately. ‘Also, I wanted very much to see you again.’

      ‘I’m surprised you even remembered me after all this time,’ she said tartly.

      ‘I have never forgotten you, Rose,’ he assured her, and for the first time gave her the bone-melting smile that had caused all the trouble in the first place. ‘Allora, what do you like to eat?’

      ‘Practically anything I don’t have to cook myself!’

      He eyed her over the top of his menu. ‘You live alone?’

      ‘No. I share a house not far from my mother.’

      ‘I remember her well—a very lovely lady who looks much too young to be your mother.’

      ‘That she does.’ Rose returned to her menu. ‘What do you recommend?’

      ‘If you like fish the salmon will be good here. Or there is the bistecca alla Fiorentina, the famous steak of the region. You have travelled a long way today, Rose; you must be hungry.’

      ‘I am, but not enough to attempt a steak. I’ll have the salmon.’ Her stomach was in such knots that she was sure she’d only be able to manage a bite or two at the most.

      Rose listened as he gave the order to the waiter, wishing she could understand the rapid, melodious interchange. She had once fancied learning Italian to add to her schoolgirl French, but studies of a different kind had taken up all her time.

      Later, experiencing the effortless service Charlotte had described, Rose was glad of Dante’s company among the elegantly dressed diners. She would have felt uncomfortable dining alone. Instead, now she was over the first shock of meeting up with him again, she enjoyed the ravioli in sage-fragrant butter sauce Dante insisted she try for a first course, and ate her share of the exquisite little vegetables served with their main course. But she kept firmly to water instead of the wine he offered.

      ‘You drank champagne the first time we met,’ Dante reminded her. ‘You were such a delight in that charming dress.’

      ‘It was a long time ago,’ she said coolly.

      ‘You do not remember the occasion with pleasure?’

      Her eyes clashed with his. ‘Of course I do. It was Charlotte’s wedding day. She was on cloud nine and I had just left university with a respectable degree. Euphoria all round.’

      He held the look in silence for a moment then got up to escort her to the bar. ‘Will you take a little cognac with your coffee?’

      ‘Since I abstained over dinner, I will, please.’ Rose needed some kind of stimulant for once. A sip of the fiery spirit helped her to relax a little as she looked across at her companion. Now she could study him objectively without wanting to hit him, he looked a lot older and harder-edged than the effervescent charmer who’d made Charlotte’s wedding so memorable for the bridesmaid. There had been other young Italian men among Fabio’s relatives and friends at the wedding, but Dante had monopolised Rose so completely she’d had no eyes for anyone else.

      ‘You are very quiet,’ he observed.

      ‘It’s been a very eventful day.’

      ‘So tell me all about your life, Rose.’

      ‘I run a bookkeeping business from home.’

      His eyebrows rose. ‘You did not take up your career in accountancy?’

      ‘No, though the qualifications come in very handy in my line of business.’ She changed the subject. ‘Dante, I know it’s a bit late to say this, but I was very sorry about your grandmother.’

      ‘Grazie. I miss her very much.’

      ‘Do you miss your wife, too?’

      ‘No. Not at all.’ His eyes hardened. ‘The marriage was a bad mistake. When Elsa soon left me for another man my brother said I