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Now his insides twisted. He’d always regretted that he hadn’t fought harder. Hadn’t found the words to persuade her to stay.
It was almost a relief to see her now. There was a stillness about her—something reserved that hadn’t been there before they’d lost their daughter. He could still see a remnant of sadness in her eyes.
But this Lucia was different. She had a different kind of confidence around her. She was a little more self-assured. She’d been through the worst and come out the other side. There was a real resilience there that bubbled underneath the surface.
Her clothes and demeanour were back to the woman he remembered. She’d always worn her stilettos with pride, as if to take someone to task for her diminutive height. And her hair was every bit as tempting as it had always been. It had always felt like silk and smelled of roses. Even now, there was a faint floral aroma drifting across the table towards him, curling its way around him and kicking his senses into gear.
The waiter appeared to clear their plates. ‘Dessert?’
‘No, thank you.’ They both answered in unison and Lucia threw her head back and laughed.
Now his fingers were definitely itching to reach across and tug that scarf from her neck and reveal the paler sensitive skin around her décolletage.
It was her tender spot. The area that when kissed sent her into a spin. It had always been guaranteed to make her go weak at the knees.
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Parts of his body were awakening that shouldn’t—not in a public restaurant. ‘Do you want to have coffee?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m tired. I still need to do some work online.’
Work. Of course. The reason they were here. He’d barely even discussed the project with her. He was normally so pedantic about every detail of his build. It seemed that even being around Lucia for a few hours was making him lose focus.
He should be worrying about delays. He should be panicking that his business could be affected by the non-completion clause in his contract.
If things weren’t ready on time for the royal wedding he might have to face the wrath of the wedding planner, Lindsay Reeves. She was already phoning him twice a day for updates and photos of the chapel.
He took a deep breath and tried to collect his thoughts. ‘Can we continue our work in the chapel?’
This was useless. Now he was looking at those deep brown eyes. Lucia’s eyes had always been able to draw him in completely. In twelve years they hadn’t lost their magic.
People said that eyes were the window to the soul. Lucia’s brown eyes were very dark, very deep and flecked with gold. He could get lost in them completely. Always had.
She blinked. ‘In truth, probably not. Give me another day. I have a few ideas. If I needed to go elsewhere to verify who painted it, would you have someone who could ensure the safety of the fresco?’
He straightened in his chair. ‘Why would that be needed? It’s been safe for the last five hundred years beneath the panels in the chapel?’
She gave an apologetic smile. ‘But now it’s been discovered. Now it’s open to the elements. And now we have a whole host of tradesmen who know that it exists.’ She shrugged. ‘What if people have thoughts like you first did? What if they think that there is a tiny possibility this could be a Michelangelo work? What if someone tells the press?’
She held out her hands. ‘In the space of a few hours this whole village could be swamped by a whole host of people—not all of them with good intentions.’ She spoke with complete sincerity. He’d always respected Lucia’s ambition, but he was now seeing a true glimpse of her professional expertise.
He nodded slowly. ‘Of course. Louisa has already expressed some concerns about publicity. She’s worried enough about the royal wedding without having to deal with something else.’ It was easy to know who to discuss this with. ‘Connor Benson is the head of security for the royal party. He’ll know exactly how to keep things safe and protect the fresco in the meantime.’
She gave him an amused smile. ‘Isn’t he more at home looking after real-life people than artefacts?’
Logan lifted his hands. ‘He has the skill and expertise we need. What’s more important is that I trust him. If he says he can keep the fresco safe, then I believe him.’
He signalled to the waiter for the bill. Lucia had told him she still had work to do. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in a hurry for this evening to end. He had to respect the job she was here to do
