The Last Time I Saw Venice. Vivienne Wallington
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Название: The Last Time I Saw Venice
Автор: Vivienne Wallington
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Vintage Cherish
isbn: 9781472082084
isbn:
But would he want to see her?
“So…what have you all seen of Venice so far?” Leaning back in his chair, Simon deftly changed the subject, shifting the focus away from himself. As he’d been doing from the day she’d first met him, she thought wistfully, seldom opening up fully, never telling her more than he thought she needed to know. Or more than he wanted her to know.
She had a feeling there was something in his past— long before she’d met him—that was secretly tormenting him, and she suspected it might have something to do with his father, who’d walked out on his family when Simon was barely seven years old. She remembered asking him once if he’d ever tried to seek out his father, a man he hadn’t seen or heard of in all the years since, and his answer had been harsh and unequivocal. “No, and I never will. My father is dead as far as I’m concerned.”
Simon, when badly hurt by something, or somebody, could be a closed, hard, unforgiving man, she’d concluded sadly when he’d shut her out as well after Lily died.
Tom and Tessa, sensing Simon’s reluctance to talk about his changed circumstances and loath to probe any deeper, leapt at the chance to talk about Venice’s many attractions. Soon they were all talking at once, swapping notes and suggesting places the others simply must see.
The magic of Venice had come to the rescue. Just as Simon, diving into the Grand Canal like a wildly romantic, heroic Italian Romeo, had come to her rescue once, Annabel mused, a pensive smile curving her lips.
Simon saw Annabel’s smile and wondered if she was thinking back, too, remembering the day they’d first met, when she’d fallen overboard and he’d jumped into the Grand Canal to save her, sweeping her into his arms and pulling her out of the water…a flowing-haired, dripping water-nymph with the most wondrous green eyes he’d ever seen.
A touch of cynicism quirked his lip. It was more likely she was wondering why he was here now and how she could avoid seeing any more of him. She’d already tried her best to get rid of him by letting him believe she’d had another man’s child. Thank God, it hadn’t been true. If he hadn’t reacted so violently to seeing her with a strange baby, hadn’t hurled those bitter accusations at her, maybe she would have told him the truth from the start.
Now that they’d both had time to cool down a bit and at least had that complication out of the way, he’d be wise to curb his impatience and give her time to adjust to having him back in her life. Or if not in her life, at least to seeing more of him.
He had to stop her turning away from him again, running off again without even making an effort to resolve what had gone wrong between them. If it meant avoiding any rash confrontations or sore points for the time being and just enjoying each other again, the way they’d managed to do four years ago, he’d damned well do his best to curb his impatience. Gaining her trust again, her confidence, was top priority and he mustn’t rush things and risk wrecking everything.
And regaining her love? Would that be possible as well? Or was it too late for that?
He recalled the shocked concern in her eyes when he’d announced that he’d injured his hand and given up neurosurgery. It gave him a flare of hope. Maybe she still felt something for him. She’d always encouraged him in his career, as he’d supported hers. The thought that she could feel some concern for him now, after what his so-called surgical skills had done to their lives, to their precious daughter, was like a glimmer of sunlight through dark clouds.
And what about her brilliant legal career? He hoped her recent illness hadn’t jeopardized her chances of a partnership, after she’d worked so hard to reach her cherished goal, assuming she hadn’t achieved it already. She’d given away nothing about her current status at work over dinner, and he hadn’t wanted to ask in front of Tom and Tessa. He needed to be alone with her, to find out everything she’d been doing in the past two years.
When she was ready… He’d be mad to put any pressure on her. She’d already run away from him once…he didn’t want to lose her again.
At a thin cry from the baby in the capsule, Tessa pushed back her chair. “I think Gracie’s ready for a change of nappy…and maybe another feed. Would you mind if I called it a night? Tom, you stay and have coffee…”
But Tom was already on his feet. “I’ll come with you. I’ve some notes to look at before tomorrow…”
“Time I went, too,” Annabel said at once, rising swiftly to her feet as a rush of nervous tension gripped her. Despite all the questions she longed to ask Simon, particularly about his injured hand and his disrupted career, she wasn’t sure she could handle being alone with him just yet. Especially not late in the evening, in romantic, moonlit Venice…
Tomorrow, perhaps…in more calming daylight…if he wanted to see more of her.
She saw a dark eyebrow rise ever so slightly as Simon stood up, too, but other than that he showed no reaction, no trace of the disappointment she’d expected—or perhaps had hoped—to see. It threw her a bit, making her conscious of a contrary sense of pique. If he pressed her to stay, or even invited her to join him for an evening stroll along the Riva, she wasn’t sure she would have the willpower to resist.
“Have you been back to the Basilica yet?” he asked her, and she paused, her heart picking up a beat. Was he remembering the vow they’d made four years ago?
“I’ve only seen it from the outside. I was thinking of going there in the morning before the queue grows too long.” She spoke carelessly, glancing away to hide any hint of an invitation in her eyes. He’d hurt her badly in the last weeks of their marriage and she wasn’t going to easily fall back into his arms, if that was what he was hoping. Her heart couldn’t bear any more hurt.
“I had the same idea,” he said in a similar offhand tone, with no sign of a suggestive glint in his eye as she flicked her gaze back to his. At one time, there would have been a distinct roguish twinkle evident. She wondered pensively if he’d lost it forever.
“If you’ve no objection to some company,” he was quick to add. “I’ll get there well before the doors open at nine-thirty and hold a spot for you at the front of the queue. That’ll give you a chance to sleep in a bit and not rush your breakfast.”
He’d always been considerate that way, she remembered with a bittersweet pang. At least, until the tragedy of Lily’s death had changed him, turning him into a closed, distant stranger.
“Let’s just play it by ear,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Is your hotel far from here?” she asked, expecting him to head for the lobby, while she took the lift up to her room.
The firm, well-shaped lips she’d always found so irresistible—and still did, she realized with a tremor— eased into the familiar curved smile she’d thought lost forever, at least to her. Seeing it again gave her spirits a lift. “Actually, I’m staying here,” he said. “Fourth floor. We can ride up in the lift together.”
She almost missed her step. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Staying here? On the floor above hers? Maybe his room, his bed, were directly over hers. How would she ever be able to sleep, knowing he was so close to her, just a few floorboards separating them?
“After you,” he said, his voice sounding dangerously seductive all of a sudden.
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