Page 20 of His Lost-and-Found Bride

Logan’s green eyes were twinkling as he opened the door to the Grand Canal. Bobbing on the water was a sleek black gondola edged in red and gilt with its own private canopy.

Lucia sucked in a breath. ‘What on earth have you done?’ She knew exactly how much these cost to hire. Every night the Grand Canal was full of wide-eyed tourists bobbing around in these private hired gondolas. Most of the local Venetians laughed at them being taken advantage of. She’d never guessed Logan would fall into the trap.

‘I’ve decided to start this evening the way it should continue.’ He was smiling and his voice was steady. She could swear the orange-bathed canal was almost shimmering behind him. It made the whole evening just seem a little magical.

She glanced down at her towering stilettos as the gondolier held out his hand towards her. Her footsteps were slightly tottery as she stepped over the dark water of the Grand Canal. While it could seem terribly romantic, she didn’t want to land in it and re-emerge like a creature of the black lagoon.

Logan jumped over easily, catching hold of her waist and steering her towards the red velvet love seat on the gondola. She laughed as they plonked down onto the seat under a black canopy and the gondola started gliding along the canal.

It was the first time in her life she’d felt like a tourist in Venice. Logan’s arm slid easily behind her back. The love seat was unsurprisingly small, making sure they sat snugly together, his leg touching the length of hers.

It had been years and years since she’d done anything like this.

There was something magical about Venice in the early evening. Voices were hushed, music floated through the air, and quiet had fallen over the city.

‘This is lovely,’ Lucia murmured. Logan gave her shoulder a little squeeze.

As she watched the world go by she started to relax into his hold. He’d promised her there would be no pressure, no tension tonight. A tiny part of her coiled-up stomach didn’t exactly believe him. It was hard to be around Logan and not think about Ariella Rose at all—and she was sure he must feel the same way.

But for tonight it might be nice not to focus on the hurts of the past. It hadn’t been Logan who had hurt her. She’d never felt let down by him, or felt animosity towards him.

He was just the biggest reminder of Ariella Rose, and until her head could get around that...

The gondolier moved smoothly through the traffic. She had no idea where they were going but it was obvious he was going the picturesque route, winding their way through lesser canals and under bridges. She could see tourists pointing and taking pictures. Thank goodness for the canopy as it gave some ounce of privacy without spoiling their view.

There was something nice about the sound of the water lapping gently at the side of the gondola. Logan took his arm from her shoulder and bent forward, bringing out a bottle of chilled Prosecco and two glasses. He popped the cork and filled them up, handing hers over and holding his towards her. ‘Here’s to a fabulous night in Venice.’

She clinked her glass against his and sipped, letting the bubbles explode across her tongue and tickle her nose. ‘Here’s to an unusual night in Venice,’ she said.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean you don’t travel by gondola every night?’

She shook her head. ‘I mean I haven’t travelled in a gondola ever since I got here.’

‘Really?’ He seemed surprised.

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Think of it this way. If you lived in Pisa, how many times would you actually climb the tower?’

He wrinkled his brow. ‘I get where you’re coming from but this is me—remember?’ He turned a little more to face her. She could see the faint shadow on his jawline. He’d probably only shaved a few hours ago but that didn’t quell the rapid growth of his potential beard. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch.

Logan wasn’t finished. ‘Remember when we stayed in Florence? How many times did we keep visiting the baptistery at the Duomo or stand underneath the Renaissance dome?’

She shook her head. ‘That’s because you’re an architect junkie and those things were right on our doorstep.’ She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘I do remember you found a way to charm guards at every attraction and skip the queues.’

He gave a wave of his hand and glanced at her mischievously. ‘There’s a reason Italian men were born with charm. Anyway, we were natives. The guards knew that.’

‘Only because you slipped some money in their hands.’

He gave a deep laugh. ‘I don’t know what you’re taking about.’ There were crinkles around his green eyes and her heart gave a little lurch.

Logan Cascini was really every woman’s dream guy. She’d forgotten just how much fun they used to have together. It was unusual to meet a guy who shared her passion for the arts as much as he did.

From what most of her girlfriends told her, it was unusual to feel so connected, so in tune with a guy as she had with Logan. Most of her friends went for tempestuous and volatile relationships with plates smashing and clothes being tossed out of windows.

Life with Logan had been passionate but fulfilling. Something she’d never found again.

The gondola slid up next to the service point for disembarkation. It rocked precariously as she tried to stand up and she wobbled as the gondolier leapt ashore and held his hand out towards her.

As her feet landed on steady ground she turned towards Logan again. They were right at the edge of Piazza San Marco—the busiest place in Venice. The crowds might be a little quieter because of the planned concert but it was buzzing with excitement.

‘Ready?’

He nodded towards the gondolier, tipped him and slid an arm around her waist, steering her towards the Procuraties. The sun was even lower in the sky now. The Procuraties were lit at night with tiny white lights. It was like a thousand glittering candles flickering in the night. There was no denying the beauty of the setting.

Music drifted down towards them. Some of these restaurants were known as the finest in the world, with Michelin-starred chefs and award-winning menus.

He pointed to a set of stairs heading up towards Rubins. ‘After you.’

She felt her stomach flip over. He was being so formal around her. So controlled. The tiny bit of laughter on the boat had been the one true time she’d glimpsed the real Logan. That was who she wanted to spend the evening with.

The restaurant was beautiful. White linen tablecloths, more flickering candles and a harpist playing in the corner. It was full of couples dining in the dimmed lights, capturing a moment in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Logan held out her chair as she sat at the table then ordered them some wine. The waiter gave them thick, leather-covered menus. Lucia gave a smile as the wine appeared and was poured. ‘It looks like we could have finished the wine by the time we get through this menu.’

Logan smiled at the waiter and closed his menu. ‘What do you recommend?’

In the end they ordered a mixture of duck stuffed ravioli, white truffle pasta, fish carpaccio and some veal escalopes with Dobbiaco cheese.

The food was delicious and the wine kept flowing, almost as much as the easy chatter.

‘What do you have to work on after the Tuscany project?’

Logan smiled at her. ‘I could tell you, but I might have to kill you.’ He tapped the side of his nose.

She leaned forward. ‘Oh, don’t go all James Bond on me. Is it something good?’

He leaned forward too, his voice low. ‘It’s something great. I’m just waiting for the final word. Let’s just say I’ll be working on something in Rome. Something I would absolutely love to work on and which could really put my restoration business under the spotlight.’

‘Doesn’t the chapel and palazzo restoration in Tuscany already do that? I’d have thought the roya

l wedding would mean everyone involved would benefit from the publicity.’

He gave a sigh. ‘It does. But this is different, this is real Renaissance architecture. Something special that’s needed to be restored for a number of years.’

She shook her head as she kept eating the delicious food. ‘You make it sound like my dream job of being asked to restore the Michelangelo frescoes.’

‘It’s close.’

She almost dropped her fork. ‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘They are considering a number of different companies. The work definitely needs to be done, it just depends who wins the contract.’

She frowned. She knew just how passionate Logan was about his work, just how particular. ‘There can’t be many firms that have as good a reputation as you have.’

He met her gaze. ‘Thanks for the compliment. Any chance you could be on the selection committee?’

She threw back her head and laughed. The wine was starting to kick in. The venue was exquisite and the food delicious. As for the company...

Logan put down his knife and fork. ‘Honestly, what would you do if you got asked to do some restoration work on one of Michelangelo’s frescoes?’

His face was completely serious. What on earth had he been asked to do?

‘Honestly? I would probably die of shock. And I would be too scared to even contemplate doing something like that.’

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