The Italian's Blushing Gardener. Christina Hollis

words were quite definite, but the essence of a smile still hovered around his lips. When he looked like that, it was impossible for Kira to look away. There was plenty to see. With the air cleared between them, his eyes were now the untroubled blue of a perfect Italian sky. His dark hair was a riot of soft curls, short enough to be neat but long enough to move slightly in the warm air rising from the parched earth at their feet. He was undoubtedly powerful, but it was the strength of steel hawsers rather than unsophisticated animal bulk. Unlike the millionaires Kira had worked for in the past, this man looked as though he used his body as hard as his brain. She could never imagine him parked behind a computer console. She wished she had paid more attention when Amanda Barrett had been rabbiting on about the wonderful Signor Albani. At the time, Kira had shut her ears. Thank goodness the estate agent wasn’t here now. She would have fallen for this man like a lead weight.

      It’s all too easy to see how women must do that, Kira thought darkly. With bewildered fascination, she wondered why they didn’t see him for what he must really be—a rich pleasure seeker with no thought for anyone but himself. She could tell exactly the sort of man he was, simply by the way he brimmed with self-assurance. Kira watched him looking up at the grand old building as though he already owned it. She tried to ignore a shiver of apprehension, and told herself looks meant nothing. He hadn’t stepped over the villa’s threshold yet. How could he be so sure this was the place for him?

      ‘We’ll see—if you move in,’ she replied grimly, wondering if she held any influence over his purchase. Maybe it’s time to forget what I think about Stefano Albani, and start wondering what he might be thinking about me, Kira told herself. Stefano seemed like the kind of man who might actually thrive on opposition rather than avoid it. She decided to try and muffle her objections, for as long as it took this man to make up his mind about the villa and estate. She told herself sharply that this had nothing to do with not wanting to appear like an angry shrew in front of such a gorgeous man.

      ‘The fact is, signore, I was only waiting here with the estate details and keys, because I was confident you would never turn up,’ she told him. ‘I had my whole evening planned until you dropped out of the sky—’

      ‘And wrecked all your plans?’

      Kira’s scowl returned. ‘I was going to say you gave me the fright of my life and apologise for the way I reacted,’ she replied frostily.

      Stefano said nothing. Instead, he reached out his hand. Kira stared woodenly at his smooth, pale palm until she realised what he was after. She pushed the property details at him. They had been turned around in her nervous hands for too long, and he had to smooth out some creases before he could begin to read.

      ‘What did I stop you doing this evening?’ he asked after a few moments’ study. His eyes never left the printed page, so the question caught Kira off guard.

      ‘Nothing, as usual,’ she replied instantly, before remembering what she had said to him in the heat of her anger.

      He looked up from the brochure with a smile that glittered like pearl against his golden skin.

      ‘In that case, why don’t you show me around this old place?’

      The offer was so unexpected, Kira replied without thinking. ‘Oh, I’d love to!’

      She regretted the words in an instant. This wasn’t her job. She had no business here. She had simply offered to hand over the details and keys, before disappearing. That was the deal—nothing more. She tried to backtrack. ‘Yes, I’d love to, Signor Albani, although I’m only a neighbour.’ She looked up at the lovely old house and heaved a long, heartfelt sigh. ‘I don’t really know anything about the place. I’ve only seen inside one or two rooms before—’

      ‘“It has been owned by an Englishman for many years,”’ Stefano read aloud from the notes. ‘Do you know him?’

      ‘Sir Ivan was my client. I was his landscape consultant. That’s all,’ she added hurriedly.

      ‘I suppose you two English people both “kept yourselves to yourselves,” in that well-worn phrase?’ Stefano’s wry smile made Kira feel defensive. However right he may be, she didn’t like that he assumed so much about her. Piqued, she ignored her impulse to refuse him.

      ‘I’ll gladly show you around outside, signore. There’s no one who knows more than I do about the estate and the gardens here, but you’ll be better off with the brochure when it comes to viewing the house.’

      ‘You’re a landscape consultant, you say?’ His smile dimmed as he looked her over with a different intensity. Kira reddened as he studied her working clothes of dusty jeans and simple white shirt. Seeing her reaction, his generous mouth lifted in a grin.

      ‘But why are we wasting time out here talking, when we could be looking around this beautiful house? If I know English women—which I do,’ he said in a way that needed absolutely no explanation, ‘I’m sure you are as keen as I am to get inside the villa and have a good look around. So come with me now. What do you say?’

      There was nothing Kira could say. He was talking about a tour of the house she had spent two years dreaming and wondering about. She had been trying to pluck up the nerve to have a peek inside before he arrived, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Now he was inviting her in…

      Without waiting for her answer, he started forward. Holding the Bella Terra brochure in one hand, he touched her waist lightly with the other. Kira found herself drawn gently towards the big old building. His pat of encouragement was enjoyable in a way she did not want it to be. Putting on a little more speed, she moved fractionally ahead of his hand. She reached the steps of the house just in front of him. Then there was a pause as Stefano used the great iron key to unlock the door. Standing aside, he let Kira enter first. Still she hesitated. She was desperate to poke around the villa, but on her own. Quite apart from him possibly becoming the villa’s next owner, exploring such a beautiful place with Stefano Albani felt somehow much too intimate.

      Stefano had none of her misgivings. His hand connected with her waist again, gently urging her to enter. A little sigh left Kira’s lips. It felt dangerously like the sound of her scorn softening around the edges. He stayed where he was, but inclined his head politely. ‘After you. I need to see everything, so I’m afraid this may take some time.’

      He spoke softly, but with absolute authority. He was acting as though the house already belonged to him. Kira coloured guiltily. She had enjoyed the run of this valley for so long she considered it to be her own private haven. Now she finally had a chance to look around the villa at its heart, but the company of such a man added an extra frisson of excitement. If she was honest, it was the surprising intensity of this feeling which was making her hesitate.

      What if she couldn’t think of enough to say? She had got out of the habit of small talk. Flustered, she looked around wildly for help. Why, she had no idea. There was no one for miles. She had never felt so alone. This man scrambled her brains. He had totally blown away all her common sense. She looked into his eyes and saw things she recognised from the reflection in her bathroom mirror each morning. His blue eyes spoke words that never reached his lips, and she knew that look. Aside from his dangerously smooth assurance, there might be a deeper, darker reason to beware. He might have secrets like hers hiding beneath that sophisticated surface. Unaccountably, she felt the need to peel away his seductive veneer and find out the truth beneath the image.

      The weight of Stefano’s hand began to rest against her a little more noticeably. At first it had been the merest brush of his fingertips. Now his palm settled gently in the hollow of her back, like falling snow.

      With terrifying clarity, Kira imagined it sliding around to encircle her waist again. It felt so good, it had to be wrong. Swallowing hard, she suppressed every wild, unfamiliar instinct and announced quietly, ‘Please don’t touch me, Signor Albani.’

      His hand fell away. He stepped back, surprised.

      ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘I’m positive.’

      He stared at her, trying to