Italian Invader Read online

  'Grazie, signore,' the head waiter beamed as he went with them to the door and held it open for them.

  By the time Max drew up outside her apartment, Elyn's equilibrium was fully restored. She turned in her seat, intending to thank him, nicely this time, for her dinner—then discovered that he had come round to her door and was opening it.

  Her 'thank you' was again put on ice when he went into the building with her and, exchanging greetings with Uberto as they went, escorted her over to the lift. Elyn half turned, ready again with her thanks when the lift came—and Max got in with her.

  She was feeling a good deal bemused by the time they arrived at the apartment door and he held out his hand for the key. Witlessly, she handed it over, and he un­locked the door. But then, as she crossed over the threshold, he held back.

  She turned and looked at him. 'Do I get invited in, Elyn?' he asked softly.

  Oh, heavens, she panicked, she should say no, or trot out something trite like, you were here last Wednesday, don't tell me you've forgotten what it looks like so soon. But she didn't say anything of the sort. Max wasn't some callow youth who would push his way in—he was waiting for her permission.

  'I haven't any strong Italian coffee I can offer you,' she murmured, and turned round. Max followed her in.

  'Forget the coffee,' he stated. 'I won't be staying more than a few minutes.' She should have felt relieved that all he had wanted to do was to see her safely inside before he left—but she wasn't. 'How did you get to work this morning?' he enquired casually as, flicking light switches on as they went, they halted in the centre of her sitting-room. And as Elyn blinked at the unexpectedness of that question, 'Felicita mentioned that you didn't want her to pick you up any more.'

  'I hope I was more polite than that!' Elyn murmured, dropping down her bag and undoing her coat. 'Felicita had to go out of her way to pick me up on Thursday, and although she said she didn't mind at all, I—urn— rather like to walk.'

  'Are you always this proud?' Max questioned.

  'Proud?' she repeated, and found he had come a step or two closer and that she was looking up into his warm dark gaze. She took a nervous step towards the door, as though to show him out. 'I—er—like to pay my way,' she agreed, then burst out laughing as it struck her that he had paid for her meal, and turned to look at him. 'Which reminds me. Thank you, sincerely, for my dinner.'

  She wasn't sure what she expected him to say then, but as he looked down into her green eyes, suddenly he seemed arrested. 'You really are stunningly beautiful,' he told her, just as if the words were pulled from him and wouldn't be held in. Elyn was still staring up at him dumbstruck when, 'What in hell's wrong with Englishmen?' he asked softly, and came yet another step nearer.

  'Nothing's wrong with them,' she defended, and tried to make out what he was getting at. He took the other step that brought him so that their bodies were almost touching, and she didn't back away—indeed, she felt as though she could not move an inch. 'Oh!' she exclaimed as it suddenly came to her that he must mean, what was the matter with Englishmen that at twenty-two she was still a virgin. 'I don't date all that much,' she found her voice, husky though it was, to tell him.

  'It can't be for want of offers,' Max commented, his hands coming up to take her arms in a gentle hold.

  'I've—er—been in charge, sort of—at work, I mean—for my stepfather. It's—er—' oh, heavens, just his touch was making her brainless! 'It's not a nine-to-five job—being in charge, I mean,' she added. 'There's n-no point in making a date when you don't know if you can keep it.'

  'I know what you mean,' he murmured, moving just that small fraction. Then all at once, while giving her all the time in the world to pull away, he gathered her in his arms, then slowly placed his mouth over hers.

  An 'Oh!' escaped her when he broke that so beautiful, so gentle kiss, and her lips were still forming a wel­coming 'O' when he claimed them again, his kiss more intense this time as his arms beneath her coat pulled her closer to him.

  Quite what was happening to her, Elyn didn't stop to analyse. All she knew, as her arms went up and around him, was that never had she been kissed like this before, and, as a fire started to flicker into flames of a burning need for him, she didn't want him to stop.

  Nor did he stop. Somehow she was divested of her coat and, with their bodies moulded to each other as he pressed her to him, again and again he kissed her.

  Passion soared between them, and Elyn was mindless to all and everything when she found she was lying in the luxury of the couch with him, his body over hers pressing her down, down, down, into its welcoming confines.

  Why alarm bells should choose to go off in her head then, when up until that moment they had chosen to remain stubbornly silent, was a mystery to her. But as the glorious touch of Max's hands doing mind-bending, mind-blowing things to the bare smooth silk of her shoulder beneath her bra strap suddenly let loose a moment of a different awareness, so as Max broke his kiss Elyn took a gulp of air—and with it, a trace of sanity.

  'Max, no!' she cried. 'Oh, Max, I…' Helplessly she struggled, but she was on fire for him, and that trace of sanity swiftly departed, and she was about to contradict her 'No' with an 'Oh, Max yes!' when the pressure of his body over hers eased, and he rolled away from her. But to have him sitting on the couch, his back towards her, his arms no longer around her, was not what she wanted at all! 'Max, I…' she began.

  'A moment, cara,' he cut in. 'Give me a minute, please.'

  I want you back, back here with me, she wanted to plead. But, aflame with need for him as she was, as he had observed, she had pride, and something extra, and the words to tell him of her need refused to come.

  Though it seemed that he was aware of her need anyway, for, having taken the moments he required to gain his own self-control, he enquired stiffly, 'You are all right, Elyn?'

  His stiff tone was just what she needed. 'Yes, thank you,' she said coolly—and was not at all surprised when, pausing only to pick up his jacket, without so much as a backward glance he got up and walked out of the apartment—to leave her staring stunned after him.

  Yes, thank you, she had said in answer to his, 'Are you all right?'. But there was no yes, thank you about it, and she was most definitely not all right. Because she, stupid, ridiculous poor idiot, had gone and done the un­thinkable-she had fallen for a most unsuitable man.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After a fitful night, Elyn was up early on Saturday morning. She had never felt less like sightseeing, and sorely wished she had never agreed to let Tino Agosta take her to Bolzano. But when the hall porter rang and speaking slowly said something about 'Signor Agosta', she was ready.

  'Grazie,' she replied and, presuming that Tino had arrived to call for her ten minutes early, she donned a jacket, picked up her shoulder bag and left the apartment.

  'Good morning, Elyn.' Tino's greeting was warm as she stepped out of the lift.

  'Hello, Tino,' she found a smile in return, and minutes later they were in his car and making for the resort in the north-eastern part of Italy.

  She'd had no idea, when she'd said she thought she would go to Bolzano today, that Bolzano lay in the Dolomites, or that it was about a two-hour drive away. Two hours was much too long to sit idle—she needed to be up and doing. She had thought for most of the night, and didn't want space to think any more.

  'You're very quiet,' Tino remarked as they sped along.

  'I'm sorry,' she apologised. 'I thought I'd leave you to concentrate on your driving.' When had lying ever come so easily? It never had, came back the answer. Love had made a liar of her.

  She did not want to be in love, though. Not with Max Zappelli, she didn't. He might have had her half swooning for him last night, but in the cold light of day it was clear that even philanderers had some standards.

  In the cold light of day it was patently obvious that, even though there was no mistaking that he had desired her, her small 'no' of protest had given him a moment to pause, an
d to recall that she was, or could be, a thief.

  That Max had more about him than to want to bed someone he thought capable of stealing from his company was of no consolation. Because when the time came, when surely if there was any justice it must, that the real taker of those designs was discovered, it still left him as a number one womaniser. And, remembering her mother's pain at the hands of one such, remembering her stepsister's heartbreak on so many occasions, Elyn had no room in her life for such a man. Reality gave a distinctive nasty laugh—as if Max Zappelli, with all he'd got going for him, not to mention the beautiful crea­tures she'd seen photographed on his arm, would have room in his life for her!

  'We may have a problem parking, but we shall see,' Tino broke through her thoughts, causing her to realise that not only had they arrived at their destination, but also that she must have exchanged a dozen or so pleasantries with him on the journey without being fully aware of it.

  At that moment she brought herself up short. Tino deserved better than that, for goodness' sake! Good manners if nothing else decreed that, since she had ac­cepted his offer, she should make some effort to enjoy it.

  'We're lucky with the weather,' she remarked blithely, as they stepped out into brilliant sunshine.

  Tino smiled, gave her a look as though to say he thought himself lucky, and suggested, 'Shall we have coffee?'

  'Can we have it outside?' she asked.

  'Of course,' he said at once, and shortly afterwards they were seated in the Piazza Walther Platz, drinking coffee and being warmed by the sun, which was sur­prisingly strong for February.

  'Is the square named after anyone in particular?' Elyn asked, determined, now she'd been prodded by good manners, to show an interest.

  'Walther von der Vogelweid,' Tino told her, and pointing to a marble statue across the square to the right of them, 'He was a poet of the Middle Ages, and held in very great esteem.'

  If Tino had been mugging up on Bolzano before he had called for her, then in Elyn's view he had done bril­liantly, for as they moved from the cafe and wandered around, he seemed able to answer every one of her questions.

  The novelist and dramatist Goethe had found the outdoor fruit market most impressive, he told her as they strolled over cobbled streets and past the bronze Neptune Fountain, and through the colourful fruit market.

  'You must be hungry, Elyn!' Tino exclaimed suddenly after they had been walking around for quite some while.

  She wasn't, but because she had an idea that Tino was, she said, 'I could do with a little something,' and went with him to a small restaurant, ate a plate of tagliatelle with ham and tomatoes, and tried desperately hard not to think how last night she had shared a meal with Max.

  Lunch over, Tino confessed to an interest in visiting the museum. 'What are we waiting for?' she teased, and went with him with an outward show of not having a thing on her mind but the prehistoric archaeological finds they would see when they got there.

  Time was getting on by the time they came out. 'Now, what shall we see?' Tino asked.

  'Er—do you think we should think about getting back to Verona now?' she suggested.

  'Of course. But only if you will have the dinner with me which you had to cancel last night.'

  It was the earnestness of his smile that touched her. 'I'd be delighted,' she accepted, when what she more particularly wanted was that this day would end so that she could go and lock herself in the apartment and bury herself in solitude.

  As matters evolved, she was eventually able to plead that it had been a long, though very enjoyable day, and Tino, like the very nice person he was, took her home at around ten o'clock.

  'I hope you have enjoyed your time with me?' he questioned, as they stood by his car prior to her going in.

  'Very much,' she answered him warmly, then saw his kiss coming and took an evasive step back to hold out her hand. 'Thank you so much, Tino,' she said, and liked him a lot when he didn't force the issue, but shook hands.

  'Are you free tomorrow?' he asked hopefully.

  'I'm afraid not,' she said regretfully.

  'Until Monday, then,' he smiled.

  'Until Monday,' she said, and went indoors.

  Sunday had to be got through first, and at one stage Elyn got so churned up inside, her thoughts, all centred on Max Zappelli, chasing one after the other, that in desperation, needing to speak to someone and so get him out of her head, she phoned her mother.

  'I've been wondering how you've been getting on!' Ann Pillinger exclaimed, sounding very pleased to hear her.

  'Heavens, did I have a lot to learn!' And how! Firstly how to get something else on her brain other than Max. 'How is everybody?' she asked cheerfully.

  'Sam's the same as ever, Loraine—well, you know Loraine, sighing about the place doing her Dying Swan act, and Guy,' Ann ended crossly, 'is being particularly difficult.'

  'Oh, dear,' Elyn sympathised. 'He has had a nasty shock,' she attempted to excuse him.

  'We've all had a nasty shock!' her mother refused to excuse him.

  'I expect he's getting a little bit bored,' Elyn tried again.

  'Well, I wish he'd go and be bored somewhere else. That young man is becoming exceedingly tiresome!'

  'Well, how are you?' Elyn asked, determined to be bright.

  'With my overdraft at the bank going up and up, you need to ask?'

  'What do you need an overdraft for?' Elyn panicked, her deep-rooted hatred of debt rocketing.

  'If you think I'm going to go to Sam every time I need a new pair of tights, you can think again!' her mother replied stoutly.

  Elyn ultimately came off the phone having soothed her mother's ruffled feathers, but knowing that it was wanting more than a mere new pair of tights to wear that was causing her mother's overdraft to rise.

  She half wished she hadn't telephoned—it hadn't oc­curred to her that her mother would be getting credit from the bank, but she supposed it should have done. Oh, lord, it didn't look as if her car money would last much longer!

  By Monday morning, when Elyn left her apartment to walk to Zappelli Internazionale, however, there was no room in her head for her family's financial affairs. Would she see Max? How on earth was she supposed to act?

  She returned home that night in glum spirits. She was so confused by then that she didn't know if she was glad or sorry she had not so much as clapped eyes on the man who, sneakily, while she wasn't looking—when she would have said all the odds were against it—had crept in and stolen her heart.

  By Tuesday she was experiencing some desperate kind of feelings, and knew a most urgent need to see him. But, as on the previous evening, she returned to her apartment that night without having caught so much as a glimpse of him.

  I don't care, I don't care, she tried to tell herself on Wednesday. She was in one of the corridors on her way back to her office after lunch, however, when she sud­denly caught sight of him coming her way, and as her heart went into overdrive, she knew how completely rid­iculous that was—she did care, oh, so much! Her heart was drumming nineteen to the dozen before he was any­where near. When he drew level and actually halted, she could barely breathe.

  'You're enjoying your work, Miss Talbot?' he paused to enquire. The 'Miss Talbot', even without his cool tone, was sufficient to tell her that, still believing her to be a crook, he was not only regretting having fed her on Friday night but was positively loathing the fact that he had ever taken her in his arms and begun to make love to her.

  'Loving it!' she answered coldly, and somehow even managed to stare up into his lofty dark gaze before— she with a tilt of her chin and he with a curt nod—they walked on in opposite directions.

  Damn him, she fumed. Him with his dismissive nods— who the hell did he think he was!

  'I don't suppose you would like to come out for a meal tonight?' asked Tino, having asked her on Monday and Tuesday without success but chancing it again while the others were not back from lunch and there was no one with a smattering of
English to hear.

  The way Elyn was feeling just then, she'd have gone out with the devil himself rather than spend that night stuck in the apartment with that disbelieving monster again the sole occupant of her thoughts. 'Only if you let me pay,' she told Tino.

  At once a smile lit his face, though it seemed he wasn't too thrilled at the idea of her paying for the meal. 'This is an English custom?' he enquired.

  This is my way of saying that I want to be friends with you—platonic friends, she wanted to tell him, but settled for, 'In these days of equality, I don't see why you should pay for my dinner tonight as well as last Saturday.'

  Elyn dined with Tino that night and found him as uncomplicated as ever, but when she returned to her apartment he was not the man who dominated her thoughts.

  She did not see Max again that week, and, having de­clined Tino's offer to take her sightseeing anywhere she would like to go that weekend, she spent Saturday sight­seeing alone, around Verona. But even the mighty and majestic amphitheatre could not dispel Max from her thoughts for very long.

  As she had on the previous Sunday, it was with a de­spairing feeling of wanting to be the person she had been before she had fallen in love with Max that she again put through a call to her mother.

  The call followed the same pattern as her previous one. 'Everyone all right?' Elyn asked.

  'It's snowing, but Sam's starting to think about money,' her mother reported. Elyn took that as a good sign. 'Loraine has brought home yet another unsuitable type—lord only knows where she finds them, and, give three cheers, Guy is looking round for a job.'

  'Oh, that's great!' Elyn exclaimed, and rang off feeling much more cheered than she had the last time. Bless them, they'd all had a nasty shock, as her mother had said last week, but—and although it had taken time—it now looked as if they might be getting over it.

  The next morning Elyn went to Zappelli Internazionale to start another week, and to wonder how much longer she would be working in Italy—and how she would feel when the possibility of accidentally bumping into Max in some corridor became even more remote. A sinking feeling smote her at that thought, but it had to be faced. Tino was thorough in his training, and because of that, her progress wasn't so fast as perhaps it might have been. They were now working as well as training, but possibly around the Easter Max had spoken of it would all be ended, and she would return to England.