Italian Attraction: The Italian Tycoon's Bride / An Italian Engagement / One Summer in Italy.... CATHERINE GEORGE

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СКАЧАТЬ did you feel?’ she whispered.

      ‘Like a bird released from a cage must feel.’ He shook his head. ‘As I said, I am not proud of it but it is the truth. I have not spoken of this before,’ he added, his eyes moving to the ocean.

      ‘Not to anyone?’

      ‘When Francesca was alive it would have seemed like a betrayal. Afterwards …’ He shrugged. ‘It was no longer important.’

      No longer important? It had changed him radically by his own admission, shaped him into the man he was now. A man who wanted complete and absolute autonomy, who would fight against any emotional commitment or ties single-mindedly. Of course it was important. She sucked in a breath, wondering how she could say what she was thinking. In the end, she murmured, ‘I think it was a mistake not to at least share the truth with your parents. They could have helped you. And what about the future? What about a family one day, children? Don’t you want that?’

      ‘Once, but not now.’ He turned to look at her again, his eyes glittering in the shadows. ‘I never again want to be responsible for another human being.’

      It was unequivocal. Maisie experienced a sensation akin to an elephant sitting on her heart and squeezing all the life out of it. She nodded in what she hoped was an understanding way. ‘I can appreciate that, with what you’ve been through.’

      ‘That’s why I keep my relationships pretty simple these days.’

      Hmm. Well, that was one way to put it.

      ‘Of course Liliana would love to see me arrive with someone on my arm one day but it’s not going to happen.’

      OK, she had actually already got the message. ‘So your life is a series of one-night stands?’ she asked bluntly.

      He blinked. ‘Not exactly.’

      Exactly what would he call it then? Maisie raised enquiring eyebrows. ‘No?’

      ‘I’ve told you, I date women who feel the same way as me.’

      ‘But only for one night.’

      ‘I’m not some kind of male stud, Maisie.’ He was frowning now but she found she didn’t care. ‘They’re mostly business colleagues, and of that nature, and as it happens I haven’t been out with a woman for some months. I saw the last one a few times and then she moved to Sardinia with her job.’

      ‘And that was too far for you to go and see her?’

      ‘Neither of us wanted that.’ His tone was becoming steely but considering he had laid it on the line for her she felt she had nothing to lose.

      She nodded. ‘So you see the rest of your life in terms of being independent and self-sufficient and alone basically?’

      He deliberately poured himself another cup of coffee from the pot on the table and drank some of it before he said, ‘Is there a point you are trying to make?’

      Damn right. It was a terrible waste, for one thing. ‘Just that you are going to end up a very lonely old man when you don’t have to,’ she said bravely, ignoring his expression. ‘I can see your marriage must have been a nightmare for much of the time, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t be happy with someone else.’ Like me, for instance. Fat chance.

      ‘I don’t see it that way.’

      No, well she supposed he didn’t, and who was she to try and persuade him otherwise anyway? Maybe one of these gorgeous, bright, well-sorted career women he mixed with might have a chance, but her? You’d have to be pretty special to bag a man like Blaine in the first place and hanging on to him would be even harder, even without all his hang-ups.

      Maisie finished the last of her now cold coffee. ‘I’m sorry it all went so wrong for you, Blaine,’ she said softly as she put the cup down. ‘I hope you’ll find happiness again one day.’ And she meant it, she did—as long as she wasn’t around to see him with someone else.

      ‘Thank you.’ His voice was equally low. ‘So we are still friends, sì?’

      Maisie nodded.

      ‘And as friends maybe I could show you a little of my country over the next weeks once my mother is home? She will still need some help with the animals, of course, but there will be things she will prefer to do. I know this.’ His voice was wry. ‘She cannot, how do you say, sit around and twiddle her fingers all day.’

      ‘Her thumbs.’

      ‘Sì, her thumbs.’

      It was rare that his excellent English let him down and Maisie felt a rush of something she would rather not put a name to flood her being. Dangerous, dangerous man—she had told herself this before and she ignored it at her peril. She nodded mentally to the warning.

      ‘So, we do some sightseeing, Maisie?’

      ‘If you’re sure you have the time.’ She was forewarned, wasn’t she? she told the little voice in her head which was screaming that she was mad. And forewarned is forearmed. That was what they said. She just hoped they—whoever they were—were right.

      CHAPTER NINE

      GUISEPPE came home a few days later and as soon as Maisie saw Blaine’s father she knew she was going to like him. He looked like an older version of Roberto, being plump, a little on the short side and with twinkly eyes. Blaine didn’t resemble him in the least.

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