Page 40 of His Lost-and-Found Bride

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 royal 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.’

He tilted his head. ‘But you work for the Italian Heritage Board. Isn’t that exactly the place that should be asked to do these things?’

She shook her head. ‘We’re just one organisation. I would be terrified. The pressure would be overwhelming and the criticism—before I even started—would be even more so.’ She sat back in her chair. ‘When it comes to things like that, I prefer just to admire along with the rest of the general public.’

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