The Tuscan Tycoon's Wife

Harlequin Romance® presents a brand-new trilogy from bestselling author

LUCY GORDON

The Counts of Calvani

These proud Italian aristocrats are about to propose!

The Calvani family is a prosperous, aristocratic Italian family headed by Count Francesco Calvani.

He has three nephews:

Guido—charming, easygoing and wealthy in his own right, Guido is based in Venice. He’s heir to the Calvani title, but he doesn’t want it….

Marco—aristocratic, sophisticated and very good-looking, Marco is every woman’s dream, managing the family’s banking and investments in Rome….

Leo—proud, rugged and athletic, Leo is a reluctant tycoon, running the family’s prosperous farms in Tuscany.

The pressure is mounting on all three Calvani cousins to marry and produce the next heirs in the Calvani dynasty. Each will find a wife—but will it be out of love or duty…?

Find out in this emotional, exciting and dramatic trilogy:

The Venetian Playboy’s Bride (#3744)

The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage (#3751)

The Tuscan Tycoon’s Wife (#3760)

Dear Reader,

I’ve saved my favourite Calvani until last. The Tuscan Tycoon’s Wife is the story of Leo, Guido’s half brother and Marco’s cousin. He is like nobody else in the family, a countryman who would hate to live anywhere but close to the earth, far away from the fashionable cities, in the beautiful Tuscan hills.

Where the others are sophisticated, he is uncomplicated; a gentle giant with a huge warm heart that loves but does not judge. Many women would like him as a brother. But Selena isn’t “many women.” She’s the one woman Leo can’t forget, a hard-living rodeo rider who can challenge him on any level. Tough on the surface, lonely inside, she touches his heart because he can see how much she needs him—even if she can’t see it herself.

She thinks he’s as poor as she is—and that’s fine by her. It’s when she finds that he’s not only rich but aristocratic that the trouble starts…. The only person who understands her feelings is Liza, Count Calvani’s longtime love and eventual countess. It’s Liza’s intervention that reconciles the lovers, and brings the whole family together for the happy ending that unites them all.

Enjoy!

The Tuscan Tycoon’s Wife

Lucy Gordon

This book is dedicated to Janet Stover, 2001 World Champion Barrel Racer and Olympic medalist, who told me all about barrel racing, and rodeos.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

‘SELENA, you need either a miracle or a millionaire.’

Ben eased himself out from under the battered vehicle, monkey wrench in hand. He was lean, elderly, and had spent thirty years as a garage mechanic. Now those thirty years were telling him that Selena Gates wanted him to revive a corpse.

‘This thing’s had it,’ he said gloomily surveying the van, which was actually a Mini Motor Home, with the accent on Mini.

‘But you can make it go again?’ Selena begged. ‘I know you can, Ben. You’re such a genius.’

‘You stop that,’ he said with an unconvincing attempt at severity. ‘It doesn’t work on me.’

‘Always has so far,’ she said, with perfect truth. ‘You can make it go, can’t you, Ben?’

‘For a bit.’

‘As far as Stephenville?’

‘Three hundred miles? You don’t want much! All right, it’ll probably just about make it. But what then?’

‘Then I’ll win some money in the rodeo.’

‘Riding that washed up brute?’

‘Elliot is not washed up,’ she flared. ‘He’s in his prime.’

Ben grunted. ‘Been in his prime a few years, if you ask me.’

Any mention of her beloved Elliot touched a nerve, and Selena was about to defend him fiercely when she remembered that Ben, good friend that he was, was fixing her van on the cheap, and calmed down.

‘Elliot and I will win something,’ she said stubbornly.

‘Enough for a new van?’

‘Enough to get this one fixed as good as new.’

‘Selena, there ain’t enough money in the world to get this ramshackle old bus fixed as good as new. It was falling to bits when you bought it, and that was way back. You’d do better sweet-talking a millionaire into buying you a new van.’

‘No point in me chasing a millionaire,’ Selena sighed. ‘Haven’t got the figure for it.’

‘Sez who?’ Ben demanded loyally.

‘Sez me!’

He regarded her tall, ultra-slim figure. ‘Maybe you’re a little flat-chested,’ he admitted.

‘Ben, under these old jeans I’m flat everything.’ She grinned with rueful self-mockery. ‘It’s no use. Millionaires like their women—’ with both hands she traced the outline of a voluptuous figure. ‘And that’s something I never was. Haven’t got the hair for it either. You need long, wavy tresses not—’ she pointed to her boyish crop.

It was a startling red that blazed out like a beacon, telling the world, ‘I’m here!’ There was no way to overlook Selena. Smart, cheeky, independent, and optimistic to the point of craziness, she was her own woman. Anyone who challenged that soon learned the other lesson of that red hair. Beware!

‘Besides,’ Selena said, coming to her clincher argument, ‘I don’t like millionaires. They’re not real people.’

Ben scratched his head. ‘They aren’t?’

‘No way,’ Selena said, like someone articulating an article of faith. ‘They have too much money.’

‘Too much money is what you could do with right now. Or a miracle.’

‘A miracle would be easier,’ she said. ‘And I’ll find one. No—it’ll find me.’

‘Darn it, Selena, will you try to be a bit realistic?’

‘What for? What good did being realistic ever do me? Life’s more fun if you expect the best.’

‘And when the best don’t happen?’

‘Then think of another best and expect that. Ben, I promise you, somewhere, somehow, a genuine twenty-four-carat miracle is heading my way.’

Leo Calvani stretched his legs as far as he could, which wasn’t far. The flight from Rome to Atlanta took twelve hours, and he travelled first class because if you were six foot three, and forty-two inches of that was leg, you needed all the help you could get.

Normally he didn’t consider himself a ‘first class’ kind of man. Wealthy, yes. Afford the best, no problem. But frills and fuss made him nervous. So did cities, and fine clothes. That’s why he travelled in his oldest jeans and denim jacket, complete with scuffed shoes. It was his way of saying that ‘first class’ wasn’t going to get him.

An elegant stewardess hovered over him as solicitously as if he didn’t look like a hobo. ‘Champagne, sir?’

He took a moment to relish her large blue eyes and seductively curved figure. It was an instinctive reaction, a tribute paid to every woman under fifty, and since he was a warm-hearted man he usually found something to enjoy.

‘Sir?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Would you like some champagne?’

‘Whisky would be better.’

‘Of course, sir. We have—’ she rattled off a list of expensive brands until Leo’s eyes glazed.

‘Just whisky,’ he said, with a touch of desperation.

As he sipped the drink he yawned and wished the journey away. Eleven hours gone and the last was the worst because he’d run out of distractions. He’d watched the film, enjoyed two excellent meals and flirted with the lady sitting beside him.

She’d responded cheerfully, attracted by his handsome, blunt-featured face framed by dark-brown hair with a touch of curl, and the lusty gleam in his blue eyes. They’d enjoyed a pleasant hour or two until she fell asleep. After that he flirted with the air hostesses.

But for the moment he was alone, with only his thoughts of the coming visit to occupy him. A couple of weeks on the Four-Ten, Barton Hanworth’s ranch near Stephenville, Texas, enjoying wide-open spaces, the outdoor life, riding, attending the nearby rodeo, was his idea of heaven.

At last the great jet was descending to Atlanta. Soon he’d be able to stretch his legs, even if only for a couple of hours before squeezing his protesting frame onto the connecting flight to Dallas.

Ben pared the bill to the bone because he was fond of Selena, and he knew her next few dollars would go on Elliot’s welfare. Any cents left over would buy food for herself, and if there were none, she’d go without. He helped her hitch the horse trailer onto the back of the van, kissed her cheek for luck and watched as she eased her way carefully out of his yard. As she vanished he sent up a prayer to whichever deity watched over crazy young women who had nothing in the world but a horse, a clapped-out van, the heart of a lion and a bellyful of stubbornness.

By the time Leo boarded the connecting flight at Atlanta jet lag was catching up with him and he managed to doze until they touched down. As he unfolded his long body he vowed never to get on another aeroplane as long as he lived. He did that after every flight.

As he came out of Customs he heard a booming voice.

‘Leo, you young rascal!’

Leo’s face lit up at the sight of his friend advancing on him with open arms.

‘Barton, you old rascal!’

The next moment the two men were pummelling each other joyfully.

Barton Hanworth was in his fifties, a large amiable man with grizzled hair and the start of a paunch that his height still disguised. His voice and his laugh were enormous. So were his car, his ranch and his heart.

Leo made sure to study the car. In the six weeks since this trip was planned he’d spoken to Barton several times on the telephone, and never once had his friend missed the chance to talk about his ‘new baby’. It was the latest, the loveliest, the fastest. He didn’t mention price, but Leo had checked it online, and it was the costliest.

So now he knew his duty, and lavished praise on the big, silver beauty, and was rewarded by Barton’s beaming smile.

Since Leo travelled light it took barely a moment to load his few bags, and they were away on the two-hour journey to the ranch near Stephenville.

‘How come you flew from Rome?’ Barton said, his eyes on the road. ‘I thought Pisa was closer for you.’

‘I was in Rome for my cousin Marco’s engagement party,’ Leo said. ‘Do you know him? I forget.’

Barton grunted. ‘He was at your farm when I came to Italy two years back, and bought those horses of yours. What’s she like?’

‘Harriet?’ A big grin broke over Leo’s handsome face. ‘I tell you, Barton, if she weren’t my cousin’s fiancée—well, she is, more’s the pity.’

‘So Marco drew the prize and he’s hog-tied at last?’

‘Yes, I think he is,’ Leo said thoughtfully. ‘But I’m not sure if he knows it yet. If you believe him, he’s making a “suitable” marriage to the granddaughter of his mother’s old friend, but there was something very odd about that party. I don’t know what happened exactly, but afterward Marco spent the night outside, sleeping on the ground. I went out for a breather at dawn, and saw him. He didn’t see me, so I vanished.’

‘No explanations?’

‘He never said a word. You know, Marco’s last engagement got broken off in a way nobody ever talks about.’

‘And you think this one’ll be the same?’

‘Could be. It depends on how soon he realises he’s crazy about Harriet.’

‘What about your brother? Isn’t he going the same way?’

‘Oh, Guido’s got enough sense to know when he’s crazy. He’s all right. Dulcie’s perfect for him.’

‘So that just leaves you on the loose?’ Barton said with a fat chuckle.

‘On the loose and happy to stay that way. They won’t catch me.’

‘That’s what they all say, but look around. Good men are going down like ninepins.’

‘Barton, have you any idea how many women there are in the world?’ Leo demanded. ‘And how few of them I’ve managed to meet so far? A man should be broad-minded, expand his horizons.’

‘You’ll find “the one”, in the end,’ Barton said.

‘But I do, time and again. Then the next day I find another one who is also “the one”. That’s how I get short-changed.’

‘You? Short-changed?’ Barton guffawed.

‘True, I swear it. Look at me, all alone. No loving wife, no kids.’ He sighed sorrowfully. ‘You don’t know what a tragedy it is for a man to realise that nature has made him fickle.’

‘Yeah, sure!’

This time they both laughed. Leo had a delightful laugh, full of sun and wine, lusty with life. He was a man of the earth, who instinctively sought the open air and the pleasures of the senses. It was all there in his eyes, and in his big, relaxed body. But above all it was there in his laugh.

On the last lap to Stephenville Barton began to yawn.

‘It’s enough to make a man cross-eyed to be staring at a horse’s ass for so long,’ he said.

Just ahead of them was an ancient, shabby horse trailer, displaying a large equine rump. It had been there for some time.

‘Plus I had to get up at some ungodly hour to be at the airport on time,’ Barton added.

‘Hey, I’m sorry. You should have told me.’

‘Well, it wasn’t just that. We were up late last night, celebrating your visit.’

‘But I wasn’t there.’

‘Don’t fret. We’ll celebrate again tonight,’ Barton said, adding, by way of explanation, ‘this is Texas.’

‘So I see,’ Leo said, grinning. ‘I’m already beginning to wonder if I can take the pace. I’d offer to drive, but after that flight I’m in a worse state than you.’

‘Well, it’s not much further,’ Barton grunted. ‘Which is lucky because whoever’s driving that horse trailer can’t be doing more than fifty. Let’s step on it.’

‘Better not,’ Leo advised quickly. ‘If you’re tired—’

‘The sooner we’re there the better. Here we go.’

He pulled out behind the horse trailer and speeded up to pass it. Glancing out of his window Leo saw the trailer slide back past them, then the van in front. He had a glimpse of the driver, a young woman with short, bristly red hair. She glanced up briefly and saw him looking at her.

What happened next became a bone of contention between them. She always said he winked at her. He swore she’d winked at him first. She said no way! It was a trick of the light and he had windmills in his head. They never did settle it.

Then Barton put his foot down, and they left her behind.

‘Did you see that?’ Leo asked. ‘She winked at me. Barton? Barton!’

‘OK, OK, I was just resting my eyes for a moment. But maybe you’d better talk to me—you know, just—sort of—’

‘Just sort of keep you awake. Well, I’m not sure that overtaking has left us any better off.’ Leo said, observing the pick-up truck that was now just ahead of them, and which was being driven erratically, swerving from lane to lane. Barton swung right, meaning to overtake again, but the truck swung at the same moment, blocking him so that he had to fall back. He tried once more and the truck swung out a second time, and then slowed abruptly.

‘Barton!’ Leo said urgently, for his friend hadn’t reacted.

At last Barton’s reflexes seemed to kick in. It was too late to slow down. Only a halt would avoid a collision now and he slammed on the brakes, stopping just in time.

The van behind them wasn’t so lucky. From out of sight came a squeal of brakes, then a thump, a shudder that went right through the car, and finally a howl of rage and anguish.

The truck that had caused the trouble sped on its way, the driver oblivious. The two men leapt out and ran behind to inspect the damage. The sight that met their eyes appalled them.

There was an ugly dent in the back of Barton’s pride and joy, which exactly mirrored one in the front of the van. At the rear of the van things were even worse. The sudden braking had caused the horse trailer to slew sideways and crash against the vehicle with a force that had dented them both. The trailer had half overturned and was leaning drunkenly against the van, while inside, the terrified animal was lashing out, completing the demolition. Leo could see flying hooves appearing through the widening holes, then retreating for more kicks.

The young woman with red hair was struggling to get the trailer upright, an impossible task, but she went at it with frantic strength.

‘Don’t do that,’ Leo yelled. ‘You’ll get hurt.’

She turned on him. ‘Stay out of it!’ Her forehead was bleeding.

‘You’re hurt,’ he said. ‘Let me help—’

‘I said stay out of it. Haven’t you done enough?’

‘Hey, I wasn’t driving, and anyway it wasn’t our—’

‘What do I care which of you was driving? You’re all the same. You rush around in your flash cars as though you owned the road, and you could have killed Elliot.’

‘Elliot?’

Another crash from inside the trailer answered his question. The next moment the door had given way and the horse, hooves flailing, leapt out and into the road. Leo and the young woman raced for his head, but he evaded them both and galloped away, straight across the highway. Without a second’s hesitation she tore after him, dodging the oncoming traffic.

‘Crazy woman!’ Leo said violently, and took off after her.

More squeals, braking, curses, frustrated drivers bawling graphic descriptions of how they would like to alter Leo’s personal attributes. He ignored them and sprinted madly after her.

Barton scratched his head, muttered, ‘Crazy as each other,’ and got out his mobile phone.

Luckily for his two pursuers Elliot was slightly hurt and unable to go fast. Unluckily for them he was determined not to be caught. What he couldn’t manage in speed he made up for in cunning, turning this way and that until he vanished into a clump of trees.

‘You go that way,’ Leo roared, ‘I’ll go this way, and between us we’ll head him off.’

But their best efforts were unable to persuade the horse. Selena nearly succeeded, calling his name so that he paused and looked back. But then he was off again, managing to dart between them and heading back the way he’d come.

‘Oh, no!’ Leo breathed. ‘Not the highway.’

In a frighteningly short space of time the traffic was in sight again. Appalled at what he could imagine happening, Leo put on a burst of speed, commanding his long legs to do their stuff. They obliged and he just made it, seizing the bridle with two yards to spare.

Elliot eyed him warily, but with Leo’s first soothing words something seemed to come over him. He’d never heard the words before, for they were Italian, but Leo had the voice of a man who loved horses, speaking a universal language of affection. Elliot’s shivering abated and he stood still, nervous and confused, but willing to trust.

Selena noticed all this subconsciously while she covered the last few yards, and the easy conquering of her beloved Elliot did nothing to improve her temper. Nor did the expert way this man was examining the animal’s fetlocks, running gentle hands over them and finally saying, ‘I don’t think it’s more serious than a slight strain, but a vet will confirm it.’

A vet’s bill, when she was already scraping the bottom of her financial barrel. Lest he suspect that she was verging on despair she turned away, brushing a hand fiercely across her eyes. When she turned back anger and accusation were in place like a visor.

‘More than a slight strain,’ she echoed bitterly. ‘There needn’t have been any strain if you hadn’t braked so suddenly.’

‘Excuse me, I didn’t do anything because I wasn’t driving,’ Leo said, breathing hard after his exertions. ‘That was my friend, and it wasn’t his fault either. Try blaming the guy who slowed in front of us. Not that you can do that because he’s long gone, but if there’s any fairness in the world—hell, what would you know about fairness?’

‘I know about my injured horse and my damaged van. I know they got that way because I had to slam on my brakes at the last minute—’

‘Ah, yes, your brakes. I’d be very interested to see your brakes. I’ll bet they’d really prove interesting.’

‘So now you’re trying to put the blame on me!’

‘I’m just—’

‘That’s the oldest scam in the book and you should be ashamed to try it.’

‘I—’

‘I know your sort. You think “woman alone”, must be helpless. Let’s try it on, see if she scares easy.’

‘It never crossed my mind that you scared easy,’ Leo retorted with perfect truth. ‘As for helpless, I’ve seen man-eating tigers who were more helpless.’

Barton had crossed the road and caught up with them.

‘Hold on a minute, Leo—’

Leo was normally the most easygoing of men, but he had a Latin temper that could flare impressively when it got going. It was going now.

‘We’re here aren’t we? So blame us. We’re just convenient scapegoats and—and—’ As always when his English failed him he fell back on his native language and for the next minute words poured out of him in an unstoppable stream.

‘Darn it, Leo!’ Barton roared at last. ‘Will you stop being so excitable and—and Italian?’

‘I just wanted to say what I feel,’ Leo said.

‘Well, you did that. So why don’t we all calm down and get acquainted?’

He turned to the young woman and introduced himself in his easygoing way.

‘Barton Hanworth, Four-Ten Ranch, just outside Stephenville, about five miles ahead.’

‘Selena Gates. On my way to Stephenville.’

‘Fine. We can get your—er—vehicle seen to when we’re there, and a vet for your horse.’

Selena tore her hair. ‘But how are we going to get there? Fly?’

‘Nope. I just made a call and help is on its way now. While we’re waiting for things to get sorted out you’ll stay with us a day or so.’

‘I will?’

‘Where else?’ he asked genially. ‘If I landed you in this fix, it’s for me to get you out.’

Selena shot a suspicious look at Leo. ‘But he says it wasn’t your fault.’

‘Well, I may have reacted just a little too late,’ Barton conceded, unable to meet Leo’s eye. ‘Fact is, if I’d slowed sooner—well anyway, you don’t want to take any notice of what my friend here says.’ He leaned towards her conspiratorially. ‘He’s a foreigner—talks funny.’

‘Thanks Barton,’ Leo grinned.

He was still giving most of his attention to Elliot, stroking the horse’s nose and murmuring in a way that the animal seemed to find calming. Selena watched him, saying nothing, seeing everything.

Whatever orders Barton had given must have been to the point, because in a short time things started happening. A truck appeared, drawing a slant-load gooseneck trailer, bearing the logo of the Four-Ten Ranch, and large enough for three horses.

Gently Selena led Elliot up the ramp. He was clearly limping now.

‘There’ll be a vet and a doctor waiting when we get home,’ Barton said. ‘Now, you get in the car with us, and we’ll be off.’

‘Thanks but I’ll stay with Elliot,’ she said.

Barton frowned. ‘It’s against the law for you to do that. Oh, what the hell?’ he retreated, seeing her stubborn expression. ‘It’s only five miles.’