Lessons in Rule-Breaking. Christy McKellen

and jotted down the address of the villa on the banks of Lake Garda, which he was borrowing from a friend for a few weeks while he worked on his exhibition in peace and isolation. A complete change of scene was exactly what he needed right now in order to get his head straight. He felt stifled here in London. He needed space and sunshine and fresh air.

      Coming back out, he handed her the slip of paper and she took it with a shaking hand. Was she nervous? The idea of it surprised him. She seemed so put-together with her straight clothes and strident manner.

      ‘Maybe we should formally introduce ourselves,’ he said, flipping her a cheeky grin and smiling as a pink hue tipped her cheekbones. ‘Xander Heaton.’ He extended a hand and she put her own small, cold one into it. Her grip was firm, though, which surprised him. Usually women did that limp-handed press that left him feeling as if he were an overzealous brute when he shook hands with them.

      ‘Jessica LaFayette. My friends call me Jess,’ she said, giving him a tight smile.

      He grinned. ‘So which should I use? Clearly I haven’t made it into the friends bracket yet.’

      ‘Jess is fine,’ she said. ‘But I might withdraw the privilege if you do something else to annoy me.’ She flashed him a more relaxed smile this time, a hint of playfulness flashing in her eyes.

      He laughed at that. ‘You have cold hands, Jess,’ he said, enclosing hers in both of his.

      ‘But a warm heart,’ she said, giving him a solicitous smile before pulling her hands firmly out of his grip.

      She was going to be a fascinating subject to get to the heart of. The mere thought of it excited him. She was exactly the breath of fresh air he needed.

      He was finally on his way back to the big time, baby.

      TWO

      Twenty-four hours later Jess stared out of the windscreen of her hire car in wonder as the incredible scenery around Lake Garda flew by.

      Pamela had been bemused at first by Jess’s assertions that she would get a great exclusive out of Xander if she followed him all the way to Italy for the interview, but in the end she’d agreed to let Jess go if she stumped up for the flight and accommodation herself. She was also to visit some of the towns that bordered the lake and write some short ‘Best Places to Holiday in Northern Italy’ pieces for the travel section while she was there. The magazine didn’t have the resources to send their staffers off to ‘just swan around the Italian Lakes,’ or so Pamela claimed.

      Jess had taken it on the chin and booked herself onto the cheapest flight she could find the next day and found a room in a rather dubious-looking two-star hotel, which was the only place available on Lake Garda at short notice that didn’t cost more per day than the rent on her flat for the entire month.

      The memory of Xander’s challenging look when he’d asked her to come to Italy made her insides twist and swoop. In that moment before responding, she’d thought about what Pamela had said about how she needed to live a little to become a better writer, and how much she wanted to keep her hard-fought-for job at the magazine, and despite hating the idea of sitting for a picture for him—frankly it was her idea of hell to be scrutinised from all angles by a man who made her feel so unsettled—she found herself agreeing to it if it meant he’d give her what she wanted. Strike that, what she needed.

      No way was she going to let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slip away from her.

      Before she’d left, Pam had pulled her to one side and reminded her that Xander was notoriously difficult to interview and that she should try and stay objective. She didn’t say the words, ‘Don’t let him twist you round his finger and into his bed’, but they were very much implied.

      Jess had smiled to herself; as if that were ever likely to happen. Flings were not her thing and definitely not with men like Xander.

      She had more sense than that.

      As the villa where Xander was staying swung into view she took a deep breath to quell a disorientating surge of jittery excitement as she took in the sight of immaculately landscaped gardens and the imposing seventeenth-century building that resided like a noble queen over spectacular views of Lake Garda.

      She’d never seen anything so perfectly picturesque in her life.

      She could barely believe she was here to spend a couple of days hanging out with Xander Heaton, disgustingly talented artist, womaniser and undisputable contender for sexiest man alive.

      Glancing down at the neat, but unfussy, trouser suit she’d put on for travelling, she acknowledged with a sinking feeling that she was not going to feel comfortable in his world.

      Still, she was determined to make the most of the time she had with him. She just needed to hold her nerve and not let him intimidate her.

      Ah, hell, who was she kidding? She was going to be a wreck from beginning to end. The trick was not to let him see it.

      She drove up to the front of a long sweep of sandy-coloured stone steps and parked up. Swinging the door open, she got out and stretched her back, which ached like hell after being cramped up for hours, first on the plane, then in the car as she’d swung it through the Italian countryside.

      Looking up at the magnificence of the building, she felt another sting of insignificance.

      Get it together, Jess, you have nothing to feel humbled about.

      The door to the villa opened and a handsome middle-aged woman in a beautifully cut shift dress appeared. Her long swathe of dark hair swung across her back as she walked down the steps towards where Jess was standing.

      ‘Ms LaFayette?’ she asked, holding out a welcoming hand.

      Jess shook it. ‘Call me Jess,’ she said, giving the woman a friendly smile back.

      ‘I’m Rosa. I’m the housekeeper here. If you need anything during your stay please let me know.’

      Jess stared at her, confused. ‘Oh, I’m not staying here. I’ve booked a room in a hotel down the road. The Royal, I think it’s called.’

      Rosa frowned, looking flustered. ‘Oh, my mistake. Well, I hope they give you a good room there.’ The uncertainty in Rosa’s voice made something pinch in Jess’s chest. Did The Royal have a bad reputation?

      Ah, whatever. She was only going to be staying for two nights, so it wouldn’t matter, and it was all she could afford anyway. This wasn’t a holiday, she reminded herself, it was an assignment. The first of many more, she hoped—once she’d blown Pamela away with her fun, but insightful, piece on Xander.

      Another thought struck her. Had Xander given the impression she was here for more than just business? Or had Rosa just assumed she was because of his track record?

      Shaking off the unnerving tingle deep in her pelvis at the thought of getting up close and personal with Xander, she smoothed down a wrinkle in the sleeve of her jacket with shaking fingers. She should really take the thing off, it was already making her hot in the intense heat of the afternoon, but she wanted to stay formal and professional to remind him she was here as a serious journalist and not someone to be toyed with. There would be no flirting and manipulating the situation by Xander.

      Control, Jess, cool, calm control.

      ‘Is Xander around?’ Jess asked, determined to get this interview under way as soon as possible. Pamela had only given her a week to get the article written. They were going with a Great Artists of the Twenty-First Century theme and Xander’s interview was going to be the showcase piece, so it had to be good. If she didn’t manage to produce something whiz-bang enough Pam had suggested she’d have to pass on Jess’s notes to Maggie and have her write the article instead.

      No way was Jess going to let that happen. This was her big opportunity to prove to Pamela she was the right fit for Spark.

      She just needed to get Xander to trust her enough to open up and talk.

      Rosa