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A yacht drifted across his line of vision, the sails providing an elaborate splash of colour against the endless blue.
‘Alessio?’
Irritated at being disturbed, he turned his head and found himself staring straight into the grave, serious eyes of Lindsay Lockheart.
Hovering awkwardly in her sensible navy skirt and tailored shirt, she looked as out of place as a sparrow suddenly finding itself in the midst of a flock of exotic birds.
Controlling or not, she must really love her sister, Alessio mused as he acknowledged just how uncomfortable she was and how little she evidently wanted to be here.
‘I thought you were going to change.’
‘I did change.’ Startled, she glanced down at herself, as if checking that her clothes hadn’t suddenly disappeared. ‘This is a different outfit.’
Alessio contemplated the formal navy skirt with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. ‘Clearly you consider it prudent to always be ready for a funeral.’
Soft colour highlighted her cheekbones. ‘I’m dressed for work. I gave a television interview in London just before I flew to see you in Rome. Obviously at the time I didn’t know I was going to need clothes for a warm climate.’
On the surface she appeared brisk and businesslike, but as she pulled out the chair opposite and sat down Alessio noticed the tremor in her hands. And she wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. Instead she placed her notepad on the table in front of her and opened it, clearly relieved to have something to focus on that didn’t include him. ‘Right. Let’s get started.’
Unable to resist the opportunity to tease her, Alessio lounged back in his chair. ‘What, no foreplay?’
Her gaze flew to his and a flash of sexual awareness darkened her eyes from blue to indigo.
Watching her reaction, Alessio saw the exact moment that she rejected that response. She took several breaths and her fingers tightened on the pen.
Ignoring his comment, she wrote the date neatly and carefully at the top of the pad. ‘I thought it would be sensible to take some notes on what you want me to do.’
She just blocked it out, he mused silently. This sizzling chemistry between them was something that she just tried to ignore.
‘Efficient, Lindsay. Always in control. Tell me something—’ fascinated by the tiny pulse in her slender neck, he studied her for a long moment ‘—do you ever do anything on impulse?’
‘Coming here was an impulsive action,’ she responded instantly. ‘I hadn’t planned to spend the next week on a Caribbean island with a—’ She broke off and he raised an eyebrow.
‘You were saying? With a—?’
‘I’m here in place of my sister, so that you don’t have reason to fire her. Talking of which, have you managed to contact your brother?’
‘I haven’t tried.’ Alessio swivelled his gaze to one of the bar staff, who immediately produced two refreshing cocktails filled with crushed ice and topped with exotic fruit. ‘Have a drink. You need to relax.’
She ignored the drink. ‘Why?’
‘Because too much tension is bad for your health.’
She frowned impatiently. ‘I mean, why haven’t you tried to contact your brother? You promised that you would.’
‘I’ve already left one message.’
‘Then leave another. Keep ringing until he answers!’
‘What would be the point of that? He’ll respond when he’s ready.’ Watching her body language, Alessio reached for his drink. ‘Are you always this wound up? Your blood pressure must be sky-high.’
‘I’m not wound up.’ But even the way she was sitting shrieked of tension. She perched on the edge of her chair, her back straight and her hands on the pad in front of her, ready to take notes.
‘Do you even know how to relax? Or is it just that you’re afraid to relax with me?’ It was as if she was watching herself all the time, using iron willpower to make sure that she didn’t slip up.
‘I relax when the time is appropriate. This isn’t that time. So what’s happening with your client?’ She was brisk and businesslike, her blonde hair drawn back from her face, her shirt buttoned almost to the throat. ‘What time are we meeting him?’
‘I have no idea. He hasn’t arrived.’
