The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni. Kate Hardy

      KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history, she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!

      Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com.

      I dedicate my fiftieth romance to Gerard—

      who always believed in me—with all my love

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘UM, MI scusi?’ Ella dredged up the little Italian she’d learned from the phrasebook as she stood at the hotel’s reception desk. ‘I think I have a sightseeing tour booked this morning?’

      ‘Sì, Signora Chandler. With me.’

      Ella’s jaw almost dropped as she turned around to see who’d spoken. This couldn’t be her tour guide, surely? The man looked more like a model for a perfume ad. He was tall, with slightly dishevelled dark hair held back from his eyes by a pair of sunglasses, dark eyes with unfairly long lashes, and the most sinful mouth she’d ever seen.

      He spoke perfect English, with the slightest, sexiest hint of an accent. And she was going to have to keep her libido on an extremely tight leash. No doubt the man was used to English tourists who were too full of hormones melting at his feet and he knew how to deal with them kindly; all the same, Ella didn’t want to make a fool of herself. She’d already done that quite enough, this past year.

      ‘I, um, buongiorno’ She held out her hand.

      When he took it, it felt as if her temperature had just gone up five degrees.

      This was crazy. How could she possibly react like this to a complete stranger—a man she’d only just met and knew nothing about, other than that he was an employee of the hotel where she was staying?

      Not that he was wearing a uniform like the other staff. Instead, he wore a crisp white shirt, the neck unbuttoned far enough to show that there was a light sprinkling of hair on his chest and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, teamed with stone-coloured chinos and boat shoes that would be comfortable for a long day’s walking tour of the city. Casual, and yet utterly, utterly stylish, as only the Italians could be.

      Ella’s best friend Julia would immediately dub him ‘sex on legs’. And she’d be right on the money. He was gorgeous.

      ‘Are you ready, Signora Chandler?’ he asked politely.

      No, not in a million years. ‘Of course,’ she fibbed, forcing herself to sound as professional as she would to one of her clients.

      ‘I’m Rico,’ he said.

      Why did her tongue feel as if someone had glued it to the roof of her mouth? ‘Uh—Ella,’ she responded, hating the fact that she sounded so pathetic and gauche.

      ‘Ella.’ Her name sounded like a caress, the way he said it.

      Help. She really needed to remind herself that she was twenty-eight, not seventeen. And she knew only too well that charm like his was all surface and no substance. Been there, done that and worn the T-shirt to shreds.

      ‘Shall we go?’

      ‘Sure.’ She gave him her best attempt at a sensible smile.

      ‘So this is your first time in Rome, and you want a tour of the major sights, sì?’

      ‘Ancient Rome, the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain,’ she confirmed.

      ‘Bene. Then we’ll start with the Colosseum. Apart from the fact that it’s the nearest site to the hotel, the queues are relatively short at this time of day.’

      She followed him out of the hotel and resisted the urge to pinch herself. She, Ella Chandler, was actually in Rome—The Eternal City. The place she’d wanted to visit for years, though they’d never been able to afford a holiday when she was small; by the time she was earning enough to pay her way, her friends had talked her into going somewhere else with them. This time, she was pleasing herself. Visiting the place that had captured her imagination as a child, far more than tales of princesses and castles.

      ‘I’ve always wanted to come to Rome, ever since I saw a picture of the Colosseum in a book as a little girl,’ she said to Rico. ‘I mean, I know it’s not one of the official Seven Wonders of the World, but to me it was.’

      ‘It’s the largest surviving ancient Roman building,’ he said. ‘It’s not quite as well preserved as somewhere else I’ll take you to see today, but it’s still pretty spectacular.’

      He told her about the history of the place as they walked down the street, and Ella found herself relaxing with him. Then, as they reached the bottom of the street, she stopped dead and just stared.

      ‘Wow. I can’t believe we were just walking down a modern street with cool shops and houses—and here it is. Right in the middle of things.’ The ruin was huge and just … awesome. There was no other word for it. Up close, the Colosseum was exactly what she’d always thought it would be like, really living up to her dream.

      ‘That’s one of the things about Rome,’ he said with a shrug. ‘A building might look modern, but beneath it there’s likely to be the foundations of something like this.’

      Clearly he was used to it; didn’t they say that familiarity bred contempt? He didn’t seem anywhere near as impressed by it as Ella was. But she was entranced by the sheer majesty of the ruin; and she was glad that Rico was sensitive enough to let her absorb the atmosphere rather than breaking it up with chatter.

      She was gorgeous, Rico thought as he looked at Ella. Very much an English rose with that pale skin, golden-brown hair tied back at the nape of her neck, and blue-grey eyes. An old quote floated into Rico’s head: non Angli, sed angeli. Not English, but angels.

      Ella Chandler was as beautiful as any Botticelli angel. Particularly as she didn’t seem to be the slightest bit aware of how lovely she was. And she had a natural beauty—not like half the guests in his hotels, who were manicured and spray-tanned and coiffured to within an inch of their lives.

      Why was she on her own in Rome? He knew that she was booked into the honeymoon suite, but he also knew that she’d signed in as Ms Chandler rather than Mrs. So had this trip to Rome originally been planned as a honeymoon? Maybe her fiancé had let her down at the last minute, and she’d decided not to waste the booking and had come to Rome on her own. Or was there some other reason?

      Rico reminded himself that it was nothing to do with him. He was her tour guide today simply as part of his ongoing review of the Rossi hotel chain, checking that they were meeting their customers’ needs with every single service they offered. Right now, that meant taking Ella Chandler through the fast-track queue to a place she’d wanted to visit for years and years and years, and making her dreams come alive.

      ‘I never expected to see gladiators and emperors everywhere,’ she said, smiling as she saw the characters wandering round.

      ‘It’s fun and adds to the atmosphere,’ he agreed. ‘But I’d say just enjoy the view, unless you want to pay through the nose for having your photograph taken with them.’

      ‘Oh.