The Italian's One-Night Love-Child. Cathy Williams

      ‘Yes, yes, I expect it would be. You must thank her for the…um…plant…’

      ‘What was your role in the fund-raiser?’

      ‘Ah…well…actually, I prefer not to hark back to things that have happened in the past. I’m a live for today kind of person…’

      ‘My kind of woman. I’m not scheduled to return to London until tomorrow. Have dinner with me tonight.’

      ‘What? No! No, no, no…!’ Bethany was alternately appalled at the thought of being caught out and stunned by the realisation that she wanted to accept his invitation. She didn’t know whether it was because she was in Italy and removed from her familiar comfort zone, but everything she was feeling and doing was horrendously out of character. ‘You have to go,’ she said in an agony of urgency.

      ‘Why? Are you expecting someone? A man? Are you involved with anyone?’

      ‘No.’ She began walking towards the front door. Lying did not come naturally to her and she knew that it would be just a matter of time before she tripped herself up.

      ‘So let’s get this straight. You’re not involved with anyone. You’re not waiting for anyone. Why the reluctance to have dinner with me?’

      ‘I…I…um…I think it’s a bit rude for you to come here on an errand and then ask me out to dinner…’

      ‘You mean you’re not flattered?’

      ‘I mean I don’t know you…’

      ‘So dinner would be the perfect opportunity to rectify that situation!’ He noticed that he had somehow been manoeuvred towards the front door and her small, pale hand was very firmly round the door handle. He watched in disbelief as she began turning the knob. He had, literally, been shown the door!

      ‘I don’t think so, but thanks for the invitation anyway. And…for the plant as well. I’ll make sure that I look after it, although I’ve never been very good with plants.’

      ‘Funny. Nor have I.’ He leaned indolently against the door, making it impossible for her to open it. ‘Already we have one thing in common.’

      ‘Do you do this a lot?’ Bethany asked, heart beating like a hammer inside her because something about him was sending her nervous system into overdrive. ‘Pop in to random strangers’ houses and ask them out to dinner? Okay, so it’s not rude as such, but you have to admit that it’s a bit strange. I mean…’ she tested the water ‘…you don’t know me from Adam. Goodness, I could be anyone!’

      ‘Yes,’ Cristiano said thoughtfully, ‘you could be anyone. Axe-murderer, psychopath…’ He shot her a curling smile that made her catch her breath. ‘Worse than that, scheming gold-digger after my money…However, you do have certain credentials, namely your connection with my mother and…’ he looked briefly around him, then back to her ‘…the fact that you own a place like this. Axe-murderers, psychopaths and gold-diggers probably wouldn’t be into charity fundraising or have holiday apartments in one of the best postcodes in Rome. So my fears are put to rest.’

      Bethany was beginning to feel giddy from the torrent of misconceptions swimming around her. Credentials? Knowing his mother? Owning the apartment?

      ‘And, admit it, you have to eat.’

      ‘I…I actually don’t like eating out. I prefer eating in. Cooking. So many wonderful fresh ingredients over here. It’s fun to experiment.’

      ‘Fine. I’ll come here.’

      ‘But you can’t.’ She stared up at the dangerously good-looking face gazing right back down at her and was overcome with the unusual sensation of walking on the very edge of a precipice. The view was tremendous, but falling was a real possibility.

      ‘Of course I can.’ Cristiano shrugged. Blessed with a lethal combination of looks, brains and wealth, he had yet to come across a member of the opposite sex who could resist him, and he refused to credit that the woman standing in front of him would prove to be the exception. ‘I can either come here or I can pick you up at eight.’

      ‘Why? Why do you want to take me out to dinner? Did your mother ask you to?’

      ‘Why should she do that?’ Cristiano’s brows knitted into a perplexed frown. ‘My mother has no involvement in my personal life and, in fact, she’ll be very firmly ensconced in the country by the time I come over here later.’ He pushed himself away from the door, not taking his eyes off her face. She really had the most marvellous skin. Translucent. Even without make-up. Not at all like the sultry brunettes he normally favoured. His mother had said very little about her but, then again, why should she have? It would seem that the woman was merely a friend of a friend of a friend who had been sequestered to help out for the charity bash, hence the orchid, which was an expensive but fairly impersonal way of demonstrating appreciation. Anyway, it was a good thing that nothing had been said because it would have been a surefire way of turning him off.

      ‘All mothers have involvement in their children’s lives,’ Bethany was distracted enough to point out, thinking of her own mother who clucked and fussed and still sent food parcels in the post from Ireland just to make sure that she wasn’t on the brink of starvation.

      ‘When it comes to women, I keep things strictly to myself.’ He opened the door, not allowing her the chance to become embroiled in a debate on a non-subject which would give her the opportunity to remember that she was busily trying to turn him down. He’d never been turned down. Furthermore, he had highly sensitised antennae and they were picking up her interest in him. He couldn’t understand why she would try and fight something as innocent as a dinner date but, whatever her reasons, that wide-eyed way she kept backing away intrigued him. Of course, she could just be playing hard to get, but he seriously doubted that. She had a face that spoke volumes. In fact, he hadn’t seen such an openly expressive face since…frankly, he couldn’t remember. ‘I should warn you that I usually get what I want,’ he inserted without vanity.

      ‘And you want dinner with me. Before you leave tomorrow.’

      ‘Finally!’ He gave her another of those amazing, toe-curling smiles. ‘We have lift-off.’ He took her hand, catching her by surprise, and turned it palm up so that he could press a brief kiss against her soft skin in a gesture that seemed purely, wickedly Italian and thrilled her to the bone.

      ‘I suppose so. But…but it’ll have to be an early night…’ she said anxiously.

      ‘You mean back home before the stroke of midnight when you revert to being a pumpkin?’

      Bethany went bright red. She honestly couldn’t say what had propelled her to accept the dinner invitation, but there was a trail of treacherous excitement curling inside her, starting at the tips of her toes, going right through her body to her dazed green eyes, which were locked onto his face with nervous fascination. Not even his quip about the pumpkin and midnight could wrench her from her foolhardy fascination and she was still feeling shell-shocked after he had gone.

      It was only when she caught sight of herself in the floor to ceiling mirror in the bedroom that reality assaulted her with merciless clarity and she dialled Amy on her mobile phone.

      She had to contain an impatient moan of pure frustration as Amy’s excitable voice greeted her on the other end of the line with an enthusiastic rundown of her latest conquest and the fabulous Florentine sights, which they had yet to see because the bed was proving too alluring.

      Bethany waited until she had run out of steam and then said hesitantly, ‘Little problem on this end.’ The floaty dress was still in evidence, witness to her moment of madness.

      ‘Oh, God! Tell me the apartment hasn’t burnt down!’

      ‘Still in one piece. But there’s been a visitor…and here’s the thing…’ The dress, which had seemed so temptingly beautiful, now stared balefully back at her from the mirror as she proceeded to tell her friend