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Sitting on the table next to her was a glass of red wine. He smiled. ‘Merlot or Chianti?’
Her head lifted in surprise. ‘What do you think?’
He glanced out at the busy traffic on the Grand Canal. ‘A warm summer evening? An aperitif before dinner?’ He put his finger on his chin. ‘I’m trying to think what you’ve planned for dinner—will it be meat or pasta?’
She used to be so fussy. He could imagine there were only certain local restaurants that she’d visit.
She held up her glass towards him. ‘Maybe it will be both?’
She was teasing. He shook his head and pointed to the glass. ‘It must be Merlot. It’s too warm an evening for steak. You’re planning for pasta.’
Something flickered across her face. She didn’t like it that after twelve years he could still read her. She gestured towards the dining table where the bottle of wine and another glass sat. ‘Find out for yourself.’
Logan walked over and filled his glass, resisting the temptation to smile. ‘Where do you think we’re eating tonight?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘What makes you think we’ll be eating anywhere? Haven’t you heard—it’s the busiest night of the year in Venice?’
He sat down on the chaise longue next to her chair. ‘But I might know an out-of-the-way place that the tourist hordes don’t know about—like Erona’s in Florence.’
There was a flash of something behind her eyes and she stood up quickly. He’d upset her.
She didn’t want direct reminders of their time in Florence. ‘You’re not from here. How would you know where to eat?’
‘Let’s just say that your boss, Alessio, gave me a few hints.’
She slid her feet into a pair of red-soled black patent stilettos with impossibly high heels.
‘Wherever we’re going, I hope they have flat surfaces,’ he muttered. Alessio had told him to get to the restaurant—just not what the streets around it were like.
‘Let’s go, Logan. Our viewing is early tomorrow morning. I want to get an early night.’
The words sent a flurry of sparks across his brain. An early night. With Lucia Moretti. It was enough to send his whole body into overdrive.
His eyes focused on her behind as she crossed the room ahead of him in her impossibly high heels. Her dress clung to every curve.
He swallowed. This was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.
* * *
Venice was virtually silent at this time in the morning. The private motor boat glided through the water towards the Venetian island of Giudecca.
Logan was curious. ‘I thought all the artefacts of historical value would have been commandeered by the Italian Heritage Board?’
Lucia gave a sigh. ‘In theory, they can. But part of this island is private—has been since before Renaissance times. It’s owned by the Brunelli family. They built the church here and commissioned the artist, Burano, to paint the fresco. Technically, we’re just their guests. We’re allowed access to the fresco on request. You’ll understand why when you see it—it’s a little unusual.’
The boat came to a halt at the dock and they disembarked onto the wooden structure. A white stone path led them directly to the church, where a dark-suited man was waiting for them. Logan recognised him immediately—Dario Brunelli was frequently nicknamed Italian’s most eligible bachelor. He knew Lucia?
‘Lucia,’ he said swiftly, bending to kiss her on both cheeks, ‘it’s good to see you again. How have you been?’
His familiarity with Lucia grated instantly. Her reaction was even worse—she seemed relaxed in his company. ‘I’m good, thank you.’ She turned towards Logan. ‘Dario, this is Logan Cascini, a specialist restoration architect from Florence. He’s working with me on the project in Tuscany.’
It was completely true. But it made it sound as if they’d only just met. As if there was no shared history between them at all.
For a second he held his breath, wondering if Dario was having the same thoughts that he’d had this morning when he’d first seen Lucia. Her cream fitted business suit and pale pink shirt hugged her curves. The knee-length skirt exposed her slim legs. And her dark hair and eyes complemented the package perfectly. Lucia looked good enough to eat.
Dario nodded towards Logan but it was clear his focus was on Lucia. ‘So, do you think you’ve found another of Burano’s frescoes?’
Lucia’s smile was broad. ‘I think there is a distinct possibility. With your permission, I’m going to take some high-resolution digital shots to compare the brushstrokes.’
