Unguarded Moment (11 page)

Alix smothered a grin as she followed in their wake into the house. 'Bravo, Signor Veronese,' she applauded silently. 'First round to you!'

The hall seemed to be constructed entirely of marble in soft blues and greens and cream. It gave an illusion of coolness, and Alix thought pleasurably how nice it would be to discard shoes and tights and walk barefoot across the huge square tiles.

Bianca came to a halt. She began sharply, 'But my luggage isn't here yet. And nor is Monty. I can't possibly manage without Monty.'

Veronese was leading her towards the wide, gracious sweep of the stairs.

'But yes,
cara
, all will be well. Maria Battista will take care of you. She takes care of everything—you will see.'

He swung towards a very large woman who had just materialised beside them, and began to speak to her very quickly and loudly in Italian. Bianca winced, and put a hand to her head.

'
La poverina
.' Maria Battista's voice was as soft as the cooing of doves, and as soothing. In some curious way she seemed to enfold Bianca without even touching her. 'Come with me,
signora
. All is prepared for you.'

And Bianca without another protest went with her, up the stairs and out of Sight. Alix watched them go with a sense of disbelief. Monty's real rival could be here, she thought wryly, then realised with a start that Veronese was talking to her.

'And you,
signorina
? Are you also tired, and wish to lie down in your room with the shutters closed, or would you prefer to change and swim in the pool, with perhaps some iced tea to follow?'

Alix smiled. 'That sounds a wonderful idea, but I am a working girl,
signore
, and my—Miss Layton may need me.'

'She will not.' He shook his head very positively. 'Maria Battista will see to it that she sleeps until it is time for her to dress for dinner, and by that time both her luggage and the good dragon who guards her will be here.'

Alix eyed him levelly. 'You seem to know a great deal about Miss Layton and her domestic arrangements.'

His eyes twinkled. 'I think it is a wise general,
signorina
, who surveys the field before the battle.'

Alix raised her eyebrows. 'You're expecting a fight?'

'I never expect such unpleasant things, little one. What I expect is a victory. Now I will go and talk to my good friend, Leon, and later we will meet beside the pool.'

'Just one small snag,' said Alix as he turned to leave. 'I'm also waiting for the luggage.'

He shrugged. 'It is not necessary, Graziella will show you your room, then she will take you down to the pool. In the changing rooms you will find robes, towels and swimming costumes of all shapes and sizes.' He paused, his eyes good-humoured, swiftly all-encompassing. 'I am sure there will be a green one.' He nodded at her and went out into the sunshine.

Graziella was small and shy and she did not speak very much English, but she seemed to understand that Alix was delighted with her room, and share in her pleasure.

The floor tiles were predominantly white, with flecks of gold and turquoise, and the hangings in the room, at the windows and on the bed were pale turquoise too. The walls were white and so was the furniture. The windows opened on to a tiny balcony, weighted down with bougainvillea, and overlooking another section of the garden, this time set out in formal style with flower beds, and walks and small clipped hedges, and in the centre a sundial. It had a formal air, the air of another time, another age, as if it had lain dreaming under several centuries of hot Italian sunlight. And yet that was hardly possible, Alix thought, because surely the villa was comparatively modern. As she watched, Carlo Veronese and Leon came into view, obviously deep in conversation. Leon's head was bent, and his hands were clasped behind his back as he paced along beside his companion, who was gesticulating excitedly in order to emphasise some point he was making.

Alix was going to call to them, but they were too far away to hear her, she decided on second thoughts, and probably much too absorbed in whatever they were discussing. It had to be business because they both looked so serious, she thought, but then if they were discussing the Francesca film, it was a serious subject. It was going to be a high-budget major production, and no detail about it could be glossed over lightly.

She turned back into the room to find Graziella waiting to show her down to the swimming pool, a fact she conveyed with a few words of broken English and some vivid sign language.

Alix supposed she should really report to Bianca, and see if there was anything she wanted, but she soothed her conscience with the reflection that Bianca was obviously in safe hands with Maria Battista and would not welcome an interruption if she was resting. Besides, Monty would be arriving soon, and Bianca would be wanting to bathe and change for dinner, rather than requiring the services of her secretary.

The pool was at the back of the house behind a tall cypress hedge, and reached by the steps of a paved terrace.

The changing rooms were housed in a low white building with a green tiled roof at one end of the pool. The area round the pool was paved in turquoise and white, and padded sun-loungers in shades of coral and turquoise with matching sun-umbrellas were set at intervals around it.

Alix was rather glad to see that none of them were currently occupied, and that she would have the pool to herself for a little while at least. Graziella took her into the changing cabin and showed her where everything was kept. As Veronese had indicated, there were plenty of swimsuits to choose from, and Alix had already reached for a plain black one-piece when Graziella took her arm, shaking her head vigorously. It was clear she wanted Alix to choose the bikini she was holding out to her with a persuasive smile. As far as Alix could see it consisted of a few brief triangles of jade green and gold, fastened with slender jade green cords, and it was far skimpier than anything she had ever worn.

At first she refused smilingly, but Graziella's disappointment was so obvious that she allowed herself to relent, and replaced the black costume on its hanger in the long cupboard. After all, there was no one to see her, she told herself.

Nevertheless, she could not help a twinge of self-consciousness when she emerged from the cubicle, and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on one of the walls.

The bikini made only the briefest concessions to decency, she thought wryly, but she could not deny that it became her. Even Graziella had vanished, so she was completely alone as she emerged from the changing room with a towel draped over her arm.

Graziella had shown her where all the sun preparations were kept too, but those she had left where they were. She would enjoy a quick swim. The sparkling turquoise water looked infinitely inviting, but she wouldn't be sunbathing afterwards until she had found something less revealing to wear.

She slid into the water, revelling in its chill on her heated skin. She swam well with an easy overarm stroke, and she managed a length without effort before turning on her back and floating for a while, staring up at the perfect blue arc of the sky through half-closed eyes.

At Bianca's house in California, she swam in the pool every day, although Bianca rarely used it, claiming that the water ruined her hair, and that too much exercise would over-develop her muscles.

Alix completed a couple of widths of the pool in a leisurely back-stroke, then turned a supple somersault and began to swim under the water. A few minutes only, she promised herself, then she would shower and dress and go back to the villa. It was a long time since she had enjoyed herself so much in the water. There had been a pool at the hotel in Rhodes; but it had always been crowded, even in the evenings. The most she had managed was the occasional dip to cool down after sunbathing. To be alone like this was a rare luxury.

She surfaced at the side of the pool, the sun glinting against her closed eyelids, her hands reaching up for the ladder to pull herself up and out. But instead of the expected smooth metal rail, her fingers closed on warm flesh and bone. Strong hands which slid along her arms, and down to her waist, to lift her bodily out of the water and deposit her on the cool tiles. Hands which sent a long shiver of awareness down her body.

She was gasping with shock, recoiling furiously as she tried to shake the water out of her eyes, and her wet feet slipped on the tiles and she might have fallen, except those unknown hands were there again, under her elbows, supporting her until she regained her balance.

She opened her eyes and stared up unbelievingly into the face of the man who held her.

She whispered, 'You? But it can't be!'

Liam said, 'Oh, but it is, secretary bird. My compliments, by the way, on the new plumage.'

Alix stood staring at him. She felt a curious sense of unreality as if she were running a fever. She had known as soon as she felt his touch who it must be, and yet it still didn't seem possible. Nor did the surge of excitement, of pleasure which was welling up within her. Those were dangerous emotions, and she had to be on her guard against them—against him.

And just then she realised what he had said, and felt herself blushing hotly as she remembered how little she was wearing.

She said hurriedly, 'How did you get in here?' as she looked round wildly to see where she had left her towel.

His brows rose and he looked faintly amused. 'In the same way as you did, I would imagine.'

She saw the towel, lying across a lounger, and dived for it, wrapping it around herself defensively.

She said between her teeth, 'I doubt that. I'd advise you to get out of here before Bianca finds out.'

He was smiling openly now. 'You mean she wouldn't be pleased to see me? How very unfortunate!'

Alix said warmly, 'She isn't the only one who won't be pleased. This is a private house, and Carlo Veronese clearly values his privacy. You'd better leave before he has you thrown out.'

'You have a very violent imagination, secretary bird.'

'It has nothing to do with imagination. He has strict security precautions and he won't be pleased to find they've been flouted.'

Liam's mouth twisted slightly. 'Thanks for the warnings, but they're not necessary. You seem to be under a misapprehension. Didn't Carlo mention that he had other guests?'

She felt her jaw drop. Struggling for her composure, she said, 'You mean—you're staying here too? But you can't be!'

'Can't I?' he said pleasantly. 'Not everyone finds me as unacceptable as you do, Miss Coulter. Although for a moment back there, I actually thought you might be softening a little.'

She felt her breathing quicken. What had she let him see? she wondered. 'Well, think again, Mr Brant,' she returned with all the calmness she could muster. 'Do you really expect me to believe that you just happen to have been invited here at this particular time?'

'No,' he said. 'That would be stretching coincidence too far. But Carlo is an old friend, and he owes me one, so when I suggested it would be useful for the book if I sat in on the preliminary discussions for this film, he was happy to agree.'

'And do you imagine for one moment that Bianca will be—happy to agree?'

'On the contrary,' he said, 'if the way she studiously avoided all mention of the trip is anything to go by. But as I think I already hinted to you, while I'd prefer her co-operation, it isn't essential.'

'Well, I think you're being most unfair,' she said hotly. 'This film is an important one, and Bianca doesn't need your kind of hassle.'

'I think we can leave fairness out of the discussion. If it comes to it, she hasn't been altogether fair to me. She tried to pull the wool over my eyes in London, only it didn't work. I was ahead of her all the way.' His voice was cold suddenly, and in spite of the sun's heat, she shivered, wrapping the towel which had slipped slightly more closely round her slender body.

Liam noticed the gesture, and smiled mockingly. 'Don't be coy,' he advised lazily. 'If you don't want to be looked at, you shouldn't put the goods in the window.'

'I wasn't aware I had done so.'

'No? Then obviously you also don't know how provocative your current cover-up tactics are.'

Before she could stir or make a move to prevent him he reached out and pulled the towel away from her, tossing it behind him.

'How dare you!' Alix choked.

'Oh, don't be such a fool,' he said impatiently. 'You don't need the towel. You can't be cold in this heat, and if you're damp, the sun will soon dry you. The only other arguments are that you're ashamed of your body, which can't be true, or that you're super-modest, which doesn't fit with your choice of swim-wear.'

'It doesn't happen to be my choice,' she said. 'I borrowed it because my own luggage hadn't arrived.'

'And of course, this was the only one available,' he said silkily. 'I think you've made another Freudian slip, secretary bird. Or did you think your borrowed plumes would turn you into a bird of paradise for a while?'

She wanted to protest, to say that she had assumed she would be alone at the swimming pool, but the words wouldn't come suddenly, and if they had, she doubted whether her dry mouth could have uttered them.

With total awareness, she was watching him watching her, and she knew she was afraid. Knew also that beneath the fear was growing and unquenchable excitement. Found she couldn't explain either the fear or the excitement, and as he took one long irrevocable step towards her, knew that she didn't even want to.

His hands closed on her waist, but lightly so that she could have pulled free, but she didn't His hands moved on her gently, silk against velvet, travelling downwards until they rested on the smooth curve of her hips, and when she did move, it was towards him. His gaze touched hers, held it, then dropped slowly to her lips, and down to her breasts, barely concealed by the tiny silken jade triangles, with all the potency of a caress.

A voice inside her head was whispering feverishly, '
Kiss me. Oh God, please kiss me
!'

But as her lips parted, the only sound she uttered was a long quivering sigh, and her lashes fluttered down on to her cheeks, helplessly, submissively as the dark head bent towards her.