The Italians: Alessandro, Luca & Dizo. Rebecca Winters

she boarded with families in both countries during her studies, learning from the professionals during class, while valuing age-old culinary tips and tricks from the women who shared recipes handed down from generation to generation. How a drop of this, a splash of that, the addition of a certain herb, could turn a simple sauce into an exquisite accompaniment.

      A redolent aroma that begged a sample taste as it teased the nose with the promise of ambrosia.

      ‘Yet you returned to Australia,’ a fellow guest noted, and Lily returned her attention to the present.

      ‘My family was there,’ she relayed simply. ‘Friends. It was where I wanted to be.’

      And Parisi, the upmarket Italian-style restaurant her parents had worked so hard to achieve the stellar success it rightly deserved.

      Hers now, with subtle additions to the menu, extra touches to the table settings, and slight changes to the decor.

      There was pride in maintaining the high standard of quality food, excellent service, while ensuring a relaxed and happy atmosphere, where regular guests were welcomed by name with every effort made to secure their preferred table.

      She’d imagined her life was mapped out … a brilliant business in a field for which she had a genuine love; a man she believed loved her; a wedding to plan.

      Only for James to prove himself unfaithful, untrustworthy, and not the man she’d thought him to be.

      There had been times over the past weeks when she’d shuddered at how close she’d come to committing to a marriage that held the portent of heartbreak and disaster.

      A lucky escape, yet while it still hurt to think her trust had been betrayed, most of her anger was directed against herself for failing to recognize the real James beneath his practiced façade.

      ‘And now you are here,’ a light feminine voice concluded, bringing Lily back to the present. ‘Sophia will adore having you join her on shopping excursions and ensure you enjoy the history that is Milan.’

      ‘I’m looking forward to it.’ She offered a smile that encompassed the guests seated opposite, and felt a start of surprise as she met Alessandro’s steady gaze.

      It was crazy, but she had the distinct feeling he’d discerned the passage of her thoughts and it rankled, stirring something deep inside she refused to acknowledge.

      To be so conscious of him was unsettling, for it made her feel uncomfortable, almost vulnerable, and she dismissed it, him, as she conversed with the guests.

      Following the debacle with James, she wanted peace in her life, and a man of Alessandro del Marco’s calibre was the antithesis of calm.

      Sophia regarded Alessandro with immense affection, the son she and Giuseppe had made their own in all but name.

      It was likely any invitation Alessandro extended to Sophia would include Lily while she remained a guest in Sophia’s home.

      So how difficult could it be?

      The answer presented itself as the evening drew to a close, the guests departed, with Alessandro the last to leave.

      ‘Grazie, Sophia,’ he bade gently as he lowered his head and brushed his lips to each of her cheeks in turn before shifting to accord Lily a similar salutation.

      Except in a bid for formality, she moved fractionally and to her utter embarrassment his lips touched her own … briefly, but it was enough to quicken her pulse.

      Worse, she felt the insane desire to linger, to experience more.

      For a moment her skin heated, and she took a hasty step backwards, misjudged the angle of her killer heels and clutched at his arm in an effort to maintain her balance.

      Oh, hell. ‘I’m sorry.’ Had she said the words out loud? Hopefully not.

      ‘My dear,’ Sophia voiced with concern. ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘I’m fine,’ Lily reassured, and knew it to be a lie.

      Fine didn’t cover it, when her pulse raced to a quickened beat, and sensation quivered deep within.

       What was with that?

      She didn’t want to react emotionally to any man.

      Especially not Alessandro del Marco.

      Why, she didn’t even like him.

      Wrong, a silent voice accorded with impish intent. You’re afraid of how he might make you feel.

      Only a fool would travel that road.

      Isn’t going to happen, she assured with conviction.

      Not in this lifetime.

      So why this uncanny feeling nothing about her visit to Milan would follow any preconceived plan?

CHAPTER TWO

      THE day Sophia had tickets for fashion week dawned cold, with drizzly rain, and Lily chose black leggings, soft leather calf-high black boots, an elegant knit thigh-length black dress, and added a long deep red cashmere scarf for contrast and extra warmth.

      After a few days in Lake Como, she was still experiencing the transition from a southern Australian autumn to the close of a chilly northern Italian winter.

      ‘Layers,’ Sophia had advised. ‘And pack an overnight bag with evening wear, for we will be attending one of the after-parties. Alessandro has insisted we stay overnight at his apartment to accommodate our shopping expedition tomorrow.’

      Whoa. For a brief moment Lily vied between pleasure and mild apprehension.

      The shopping expedition would prove delightful. But she had reservations about being a guest in Alessandro’s apartment.

      Reservations she determinedly dismissed on the grounds Sophia would be a fellow guest, and the only time they’d come face to face with their host would be breakfast … if then, for inevitably he’d leave early to begin the business day in his city office.

      It was a matter of convenience, the combination of what would inevitably become a late night, and Alessandro was practically family.

       So get over it.

      Consequently an overnight bag became something more as she chose elegant red evening trousers and matching blouson top, black designer stilettos and a black evening bag. Together with sleep trousers, a cotton sleep vest, toiletries, make-up, and she was good to go.

      In Carlo’s capable hands the large Mercedes purred south from Sophia’s Lake Como villa to Milan, entering the age-old city where traffic was intense, and it appeared every driver vied for position … often with a combination of high risk and dubious skill.

      ‘Ah, we are almost there,’ Sophia enthused as the car slowed before turning into an entrance bay decked with carpet leading into the chosen venue.

      Lily was unsure what to expect, but the sight of the paparazzi crowding in on each car as it arrived, the inevitable crush to determine who were the occupants, the brilliant flash bulbs popping, was incredible, and over the top.

      ‘Your bags will be waiting for you at Alessandro’s apartment,’ Carlo relayed as Sophia and Lily exited the car.

      ‘Grazie, Carlo,’ Sophia offered in thanks. ‘I’ll be in touch with a time for our return.’

      To say the day was an experience to remember didn’t quite cut it, Lily mused as she became caught up with the sheer glamour, the personage of world-famous designers, the models and the Spring Collection fashions.

      From avant-garde to almost bizarre, there were designs that were delightful, appealing and in a brilliant mesh of colours. Worn with professional