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‘He doesn’t know!’ she said, wishing to God she’d never told her mother about her baby. ‘And he won’t know. There’s no point in him knowing. It’s...history.’
‘But surely it’s his history too.’
‘It’s too late for that,’ she said, running her hands through her hair and pulling her ponytail tight, pulling her fraying thoughts tight with it and plastering a smile on her face that touched nowhere near her heart. ‘Now, where do we start today?’
* * *
‘You didn’t have to blackmail me to get my mother out of the palazzo, you know.’
Luca and Tina had made love long into the night and now they lay spooned together in that dreamy place between sex and sleep while their bodies hummed down from the heights of passion.
He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her shoulder. ‘What do you mean?’
‘All you had to do was wave that gallery owner, Antonio Brunelli in front of her nose and she would have done anything you wanted in a heartbeat.’
He stilled alongside her. ‘Lily and Antonio Brunelli? Is that so?’
‘I suspect she already believes herself in love with him. So you see, you could have saved yourself all this trouble if you’d just introduced her to Antonio in the first place.’
He breathed out on a sigh, warm air fanning her skin. ‘I never realised it would be that easy or maybe I would have.’
It irked her that she felt deflated. She shouldn’t feel deflated. She hadn’t wanted to be here after all. ‘So maybe you should have.’
‘Ah,’ he said softly, cupping one breast so tenderly in his warm hand, ‘but then I wouldn’t have you.’
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to sort out the tangle of her thoughts. He meant he wouldn’t have her for sex, he meant. Nothing more.
It was ridiculous to imagine he meant any more than that when his intentions had always been so clear from the start.
All the same, she wished she hadn’t pushed him. She wished she’d left him saying maybe he wouldn’t have bothered. She wished she didn’t secretly yearn for things to be different.
And she wished to hell she understood why she wanted them to be so.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TINA checked her watch and pulled her new computer onto her lap. As much as she’d protested when Luca had given it to her, she loved what it could do. Talking face to face with her father for one. It would be around eight p.m. at home now and Mitch would be finished work and hanging around the study waiting for her call. It was good to hear how everything was going on the farm. It grounded her, and made her realise how much a fantasy her life in Venice was.
They talked of the now completed shearing, which had gone better than anticipated and Tina was already calculating what the bales of wool would bring in when she heard it in the background—a female voice.
‘Who’s there with you, Dad? I didn’t know you had company or I wouldn’t have called.’
‘Oh, it’s just Deidre, love. By the way, when are you coming home?’
‘Deidre? Deidre Turner, you mean? But surely the shearing’s finished. Why’s she still there?’
‘She’s...er...she’s helping out with the cooking, just while you’re away. Now, when are you coming home?’
‘Oh Dad,’ she said, distracted by thoughts of Deidre Turner and what might really be going on at home while she was away. Deidre was a widow, she knew, her childhood sweetheart husband of twenty years killed in a tractor accident a few years back. She’d never so much as looked at another man. Or so Tina had thought. But maybe she was looking now.
She smiled as she framed her next question. ‘Are you sure you really want me home?’ adding before he could answer, ‘Don’t worry, Dad. There’s ages yet. I’ll let you know when I’ve booked.’
‘Tina, you’ve already been away three weeks. If you don’t book a flight soon, you won’t get one.’
Shock sizzled down her spine.
Three weeks?
That couldn’t be right, could it? No. Surely it was more like two?
But when she looked at the calendar she saw he was right. Eight days she had left.
Eight nights.
And then she would be free to leave, her end of the bargain satisfied.
‘Tina? You okay?’
She blinked and turned back to her father. ‘Sorry, Dad,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Of course you’re right. I’ll book. I’ll let you know.’
