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'My pleasure, children, my pleasure. Don't be long in going to your rooms. This is not the Cipriani but my home.' The last was said as Maria ascended the stairs.
Katy flushed fiery red. 'My God, Jake, she knows'.'
Jake burst out laughing. 'I'm sure she does. That woman knows everything that goes on in Venice. I swear she has a better spy system than the CIA.'
Katy's laughter joined his—she couldn't help herself; the euphoria of the evening was still with her; and, arm in arm, they walked upstairs.
At the door of her bedroom she went willingly into Jake's arms, and the kiss they shared was like none other. It was tender and passionate, speaking, without words, of happiness shared, friendship, and need. Was it love?
'I told you it would be all right, Katy,' Jake murmured, breaking the kiss. His dark eyes gleamed down into hers. 'Trust me. I know what I'm doing.' And Katy, at that moment, believed him.
'Two more nights before we leave,' Jake groaned, the invitation in her sea-green eyes testing his control to the limit. 'I can't bear the frustration.'
Katy's lips parted in a sensuous, purely feminine smile. 'Poor Jake,' she teased.
'Get going, witch.' And with one more brief kiss Jake opened the door to her room, his large hand on her back guiding her in.
Katy heard the door close and the sound of Jake's footsteps retreating along the hall. She hugged herself with pleasure, and in a dreamy state undressed, washed and fell into bed.
Later she was to wonder if Venice had bewitched her. There was no other explanation for her behaviour.
On Saturday Jake set out to show her Venice. It was a whirlwind tour. They travelled along the Grand Canal and Jake pointed out the Campanile, and the Basilica di San Marco, plus the Palace of the Doges from the lagoon. Then they landed and set off walking. Katy marvelled at the beauty of the buildings, and the Bridge of Sighs brought a lump to her throat as Jake explained it originally linked the Palace of the Doge
s with the prisons and was named apparently from the sighs of the prisoners as they saw the San Marco basin for the last time through the enclosed bridge's small windows.
Hand in hand, they wandered along small alleys and broader walkways. Katy stood in front of the Basilica di San Marco, the very symbol of Venice, and was struck dumb by the sheer beauty of it, the Byzantine facade covered in precious marble, the intricate and exquisite carving of the saints looking as if they would take flight any second.
Jake, completely in tune with her mood, stood silently by her side. Later they had dinner at a small restaurant just off St Mark's Square. They talked and laughed and drank a rich red wine with their huge plates of pasta, and finally they cruised the Grand Canal in a gondola.
Katy had never experienced anything so romantic in her life, and when they finally returned home in the early hours of the morning she told Jake so.
Once more they parted at her bedroom door, and Katy carried the memory of his kiss and the most perfect day of her life on into her dreams.
On Sunday they left Venice. On arrival at London City Airport Jake dashed off to hand in his flight papers, and Katy returned to reality with a jolt...
It had been a wonderful weekend, but a dream. Jake's parting comment echoed in her head.
'God, I can't wait to get you home and out of that suit. Wait here.'
Slowly she removed the diamond and emerald ring from her finger and dropped it in her handbag. The reason for wearing it no longer applied. She was Jake's mistress, nothing more, and for her own peace of mind she would do well to remember that fact. He had dashed them back a day earlier simply to get her into bed. She straightened her shoulders, and when Jake approached she responded to his wide grin with a brief, cool smile.
She was silent on the ride across London. Jake stopped the car outside the apartment, and shot her a quizzical glance.
'Something wrong, Katy?'
'No, of course not. I've had a wonderful trip to Venice, a whole load of new clothes, and I've lied to a nice old lady. What could possibly be wrong?' she queried sarcastically, and reached for the door-handle. Suddenly Jake leant over her and grabbed her wrist.
'Why aren't you wearing your ring?' he demanded icily.
'It's no longer necessary—there are no old ladies to fool here.'
'What about old men—your father, for instance?'
Katy forced a laugh. 'Really, Jake, given my dad's track record with women, I doubt if he could give a damn.'
Jake let go of her wrist. 'Go on up, I'll park the car.'
Katy cast a sidelong glance at his harsh face as she slid out of the car. He caught her gaze and for a second she could have sworn it was a kind of weary defeat she saw reflected in his dark eyes.
