Irresistible Bachelors: The Count of Castelfino / Secretary by Day, Mistress by Night / Sweet Surrender with the Millionaire

She began measuring up and marking out, but soon felt overdressed. The first things to go were her sandals. The short, prickly grass beneath her bare feet made her laugh with the excitement of it all. She was making the closest possible contact with this grand estate, and it was fun! Curling her toes into the hot turf she carried on, hammering in pegs and laying out string to plan the new flower-beds. There was so little air movement that soon her hat and shirt began to cling uncomfortably in the heat. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was brave enough to strip off completely. Glancing around, she came to a decision. The garden wasn’t overlooked. Working in her underwear was no worse than wearing a bikini, and she had worked in one of those often enough at home. The door into her sanctuary was locked. No one would see. If she was careful to avoid getting sunburned, no one would ever know.

Impulsively, she tore off her outer clothes and went back to work. When the sun parched her skin too fiercely, she dodged back into the shade and enjoyed a drink of pool-cooled water from her bottle. She was straightening up to assess how the outline was developing when a frighteningly familiar voice almost sent her into orbit.

‘Is this how all English gardeners dress, Megan?’

Meg whirled around and her heart stood still. It was Gianni: the real one, not the exhausted version who had tried to send her away the day before. Today he looked every inch as seductive as he had done at the Chelsea Flower Show. That alarmed her as much as his anger had done.

‘What are you doing here?’ she burst out, her hands trying ineffectually to cover all the bits her scanty underwear was failing to hide.

He nodded towards the villa. ‘I live here, remember?’

Meg was caught completely off guard. ‘I’m sorry—how could I possibly forget?’ She gasped. A blush was no defence against him. He continued looking at her with undisguised interest.

‘You certainly seemed to have done.’

‘I never dreamed anyone would disturb me in here. The door was locked. I have the only key. How did you get in?’ she blustered, embarrassment mixed up with growing anger.

One hand in his pocket, Gianni strolled over to the old medlar tree where Meg had hung her hat and shirt. Plucking them from the branches like particularly desirable fruit, he made his way over to her. He took his time. It was painfully obvious to Meg that he was making her wait for her clothes. She wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with. As soon as he got close enough she snatched her things from his hands and pulled them on. He watched with something close to amusement. Then he drew a second key from his pocket with a flourish.

‘As I said—I live here. I have a copy of every key in the place.’

Barefoot but otherwise decent, Meg rallied.

‘That doesn’t explain why you felt the need to come in here.’

‘It wasn’t a need. It was a want. I wanted to see you, Megan.’

There was a haunting look in his dark eyes. It was so delicious she could hardly meet his gaze. Nervous that he might be able to read all sorts of things from her own expression, she looked down at the coarse wiry grass at her feet. All sorts of hope were beginning to stir deep within her, but there was only one she could put into words.

‘I hope you’re feeling better, Count.’

His smile widened, bright as pearl against the golden warmth of his skin. ‘Yes, I am—but call me Gianni, please.’

Meg’s heart did a little skip—until she realised he probably gave that bonus to all his staff.

‘Part of the reason I came out here was to thank you,’ he went on. ‘You were right. I was overtired when you arrived. All I’ve done since then is sleep—and enjoy an excellent late lunch.’

‘That’s good,’ Meg said with genuine relief.

‘Afterwards I went down to the kitchens, where they told me that the meal I so enjoyed was your idea. What made you challenge Cook?’

She looked up quickly to find out exactly how much trouble she was in. In response Gianni smiled, raising his eyebrows in silent approval. It was an expression that made her shiver, despite the heat.

‘You looked so distracted. I knew eating would be way down on your list of priorities. When I saw steak on today’s menu I thought it sounded far too heavy for this weather. I decided to cater for myself, and guessed you might like something light and familiar too. I’d already discovered from chatting with the other staff that you attended boarding school in England. It just so happens my aunt is now Head Chef at the same place. I rang and asked her what dishes would be most popular at your old school on a day like today.’

Meg didn’t add that everyone loved comfort food in times of trouble, but could see he knew that already. The softening around his eyes proved it to her.

‘That shows real initiative, Megan,’ he said with conviction. ‘Especially in view of what happened when you suggested it to my cook. I’ve come straight from the kitchens. As soon as she has finished the larder inventory, she’ll be coming out to apologise to you for the things she said.’

Meg blinked at him. An apology was the very last thing she expected, in the circumstances.

‘Pardon?’

‘The staff said she tried to pull rank, but you stood your ground. Well done. You’re the first member of staff who’s done that to her.’

‘Are you saying you don’t mind?’ Meg said warily. People grand enough to employ gardeners never usually bothered to praise their staff.

‘I’m delighted, Megan.’ His voice lilted slowly over her name, trying it out for size.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ She asked uncertainly. ‘I mean, I hadn’t been here for more than two minutes before picking a blazing row with your cook. She’s an old family faithful; I’m the new arrival—and you’re taking my side?’

Gianni searched her face, mystified that she seemed incapable of taking in what he had said. ‘But of course. It’s the only stance to take. She was wrong, you were right. One of my first duties as the new count was going to be to go through all the menus. You got there before me, that’s all.’ He saw her face flush deeply. Instantly concerned, he reached out to her. His strong brown hands grasped her elbows to give support. ‘Megan? What’s the matter? It must be the sun. Here—I’ll help you to a seat.’

She looked down at his fingers. They slid over her skin and closed around her with exactly the same relish she had conjured up in all her fantasies. It was wonderful.

‘There’s no need…I’m fine.’ She gasped, barely able to raise her voice above a whisper. The sheer delight of feeling his touch was breathtaking. ‘I’ve just had a bit of a surprise, that’s all. I—I thought the only men who weren’t afraid of cooks were head gardeners,’ she improvised quickly.

Gianni let go of her, offended. ‘I make the rules here. All of them. And that includes whether or not we employ a female head gardener,’ he finished with slow, devastating meaning.

Meg was alert immediately. ‘What do you mean?’

She bounced the question straight at him, but could see he wasn’t fooled for a minute. Gianni wouldn’t be taking any chances with her. Anyone who could put a cook on the back foot as she had done would need to be watched carefully.

He looked down at her for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary before giving her a meaningful shrug.

‘That rather depends.’

‘Thank goodness for that, as my original title was Curator of Exotic Plants. I’m no Head Gardener—though I’m more than qualified to do it,’ she added quickly, ‘But when I saw how things were here, I knew the staff wouldn’t take kindly to a newcomer’s suggestions so I took a chance and borrowed the title for a minute. The whole kitchen staff fell for it.’ She finished with a nervous little laugh.

To her amazement Gianni’s devastating smile burst into life, but he was careful to quash it almost straight away.

‘That’s what I call insight. A girl who shows insight and initiative? You’ll go far, ragazza insolente!’

Tiny muscles quivered all around his lips. Meg could see he was trying not to laugh. What made it worse was that he knew she knew. It wasn’t the sort of position she wanted to put her new boss in. Especially when that boss was Gianni Bellini, a man guaranteed to have any girl he wanted.

Dutifully, she looked down at the grass again to hide her own smile, but wasn’t about to stifle her ambition.

‘I already have, signor,’ she said, careful to hide any hint of humour. ‘I graduated top of my intake, I saved my parents’ business from ruin, then I landed the top job here. And I haven’t finished yet.’

‘I’m beginning to realise that,’ he said quietly. ‘So, Miss Curator of Exotic Plants—what are your plans for my new garden?’

Meg sensed he was trying to lighten the tone. Despite the twinkle in his eyes, she decided to tread carefully until she was certain where she stood with him.

‘I’m here to implement the old count’s plans, not my own,’ she said carefully. ‘At the moment, his collection of tropical plants is restricted to that old lemon house at the far end of the kitchen garden. They were all going to be moved and the collection expanded into this new glasshouse range as soon as it was finished.’

She began walking off toward a long, low building set against a distant wall. Gianni did not follow her immediately. When he did, he lingered a few steps behind.

‘Am I walking too fast for you, Gianni?’

‘Not at all,’ he said airily. ‘It’s a beautiful day, and I have a beautiful view. Why hurry?’

She looked back over her shoulder and realised what he was watching.

‘Signor!’

‘I’ve told you before—my name is Gianni.’

‘Not when you’re looking at my bottom like that, it isn’t,’ Meg said, desperately reminding herself how many plants he had bought from her stand at the Chelsea Flower Show. He had done it to keep all the women in his life happy. She had no intention of becoming one among many. Even though her limbs turned to water whenever he looked at her in that deep, meaningful way…

The original lemon house had been built with an open front. Later on, its graceful stone arches had been glazed to create a greenhouse. Meg opened the door on its riot of damp, lush leaves and exotic flowers.

‘Isn’t this wonderful?’ She took in a leisurely lungful of the warm, moist air. It was rich with the fragrance of bark and tropical flowers.

‘As a twenty-first century woman, I hope you’re being ironic,’ Gianni observed drily, following her into the building. ‘Keeping these plants in luxury must cost the earth, both in money and resources. Air conditioning isn’t in vogue, Megan—especially for flowers,’ he finished severely.

‘Oh, I know it’s extravagant and old fashioned.’ Meg ran her hand lovingly over one of the crumbling stone pillars. ‘That’s why the count wanted me to build him a dedicated range of greenhouses, to give his plants ideal growing conditions. That means computer-controlled atmospheres. He wanted to include the latest equipment and ideas, so that everything will be perfect. He intended his estate to be a showcase. His idea was that this part of the Val di Castelfino should become an extra special tourist attraction, and an example of best practice.’

‘How does this steam-filled white elephant qualify?’ Gianni was haughty. ‘Had my father never heard of climate change? I’m surprised someone as well qualified as you didn’t put him right, Megan. My father always lived in the past. An educated woman like you must be well briefed in all the drawbacks.’

Meg knew it wasn’t her place to comment, but a point of honour was at stake. She tried to pin a bold stare on him, but it was difficult when he could out-stare her so easily. ‘You don’t seem impressed by my qualifications, signor.’

Though outwardly calm, she was trembling too much to say any more. His penetrating gaze made her too light headed for words. Instead she raised her eyebrows, simply inviting more comment.

‘In my experience, the more exam success someone has, the less likely they are to get their hands dirty. I’d rather someone had worked their way to the top of the tree, in the same way I’ve done.’

‘With no help from your family name, your position in life or your father?’

There was an ironic lilt in Meg’s voice. She regretted it instantly, but Gianni hardly seemed to notice.

‘Exactly!’ He dropped one hand onto the greenhouse staging with a resounding thump. ‘The Castelfino vineyard is my baby, from conception right through to international prize-winning status. I’ve earned every penny—there’s no job on the land I’m not happy to do myself, and I’ve never had a cent from my father. As you must know,’ he finished gruffly.

‘I never discussed you with the late count, Gianni. I had no idea you were related to him until a few hours ago, remember.’

His eyes narrowed into channels of suspicion. ‘You mean to say he never complained to you about the way I only wanted money spent on cost-effective projects, not his hobbies? I’ve been studying the work you did for him. All of it—and that includes the dummy sets of figures forwarded to my accountants. Do you deny that they were prepared to stop me discovering exactly how much money my father was frittering away on this…this…?’ Exasperated, he waved his hand towards the exotic display of orchids and coloured foliage.

‘It was all perfectly legal. The late count’s own financial advisors always submitted the correct figures for audit. It was thought you would object to his budget, so he had a separate set made up in case you wanted to inspect them. We didn’t want to worry you, that’s all.’ Meg threw up her head to challenge him with a glare, but something happened. Their eyes met, and for Meg it was the point of no return. She had always thought Gianni was stunning. Now, with the sun lighting a bronze shimmer in his devastating eyes, words didn’t do him justice. The breath caught in her throat, stifling all sound. He knew only too well what power lay behind his eyes. As she watched he lowered his lids a fraction, tempting an unconscious sound to escape from her all too self-conscious lips.

‘I hope my father didn’t lead you to believe that I’m mean.’ Gianni’s voice was a drawl, as lazy as the air moving through the lemon house. ‘On the contrary: I can be the most generous of men if the circumstances—and the woman—are right,’ he said, leaving the suggestion in his final words hanging in the air.

‘I know. When you were in London I supplied you with all those flowers for your girlfriends, remember?’ Meg breathed, trying to keep her voice steady. She was getting dizzy, but it wasn’t only the lack of oxygen. The nearness of Gianni in this small, sun-soaked space sent her senses reeling. The light citrus fragrance of his aftershave was so clean and fresh in an atmosphere charged with the heavy hints of bark and mosses. It sent a charge of electricity fizzing down her spine. Without realising it she moved slightly towards him, hungry for contact.

‘Then you’ll know what I’m going to say next?’

Meg’s lips moved, but no sound came out. She knew what she wanted to hear, but moved her head slowly from side to side.

‘I’ve decided this new range of greenhouses would be a great memorial to my father, after all. You were right to suggest it—very clever, and very provocative. There aren’t many women who would think of pampering mere greenery like this.’ His voice was as low and inviting as a cool river in the enveloping heat of the tropical house. Meg sighed as his expression softened. The greenhouse she already thought of as hers was working its magic. It was beautiful, and she could make it even better. He could sense that, and she was spellbound.

He was gazing at the wonderful display of brightly coloured flowers and trailing foliage around them, but at any second he might turn that wonderful look on her…at least, that was her dream.

‘You’re going to cost me a fortune,’ he murmured, when she could hardly breathe for suspense.

‘That depends on what you want. This is Tuscany. Everything’s ripe for enchantment.’ Her voice was husky.

‘And it all has its price.’ He watched her carefully, gauging the effect of his words.

Meg suppressed another sigh. ‘Do you agonise like this over your women?’ she asked, giving him a knowing look.

‘I’m not agonising. It’s merely an observation. The price of this new construction is a minor consideration to me. Women are a far more serious matter. There’s a lot more than mere money at stake when it comes to the future of my family. The Bellinis haven’t lasted this long without being able to pick winners. That’s why my father never remarried after my mother died, thank goodness.’

Meg said nothing. The way she fidgeted uncomfortably within her clothes said it all. She was becoming unbearably hot, but her rising temperature had nothing to do with the tropical house.

‘It may sound a harsh judgement to you, Megan, but I know what I’m talking about. When it came to matters of the heart, my father knew his judgement couldn’t be trusted.’ Gianni continued to gaze at the soft sea of butterfly-bright foliage surrounding them. A playful breeze blew in through the open greenhouse door. It ruffled his dark curls over his brow, giving him a dangerously piratical look. Meg laughed, a little nervously.

‘Your father certainly got one thing right,’ she said quietly. ‘He would be proud of you, Gianni.’

He turned to face her slowly. When Meg got the full benefit of his dark, restless eyes she felt her heart respond. From that moment on she knew that if he ever made a move on her she would be powerless to resist. It was a perfect dream, but something she couldn’t dare risk in reality. This job meant a lot to her, and her family. She wasn’t about to throw it away for a boss’s whim. Even if that boss was gorgeous Gianni…

‘I hope he would be proud of me. That’s exactly what I intend. I gave him a lot of grief when he was alive, Megan. The least I can do is respect his wishes now. Let’s hope I never have to make a choice between my heart and my heritage.’ His brow creased as though with the effort of fighting some inner demon.

‘Why should you?’ Meg asked innocently, not knowing what she was letting herself in for.

‘Any number of local “princesses” are desperate to become my wife,’ he sighed. ‘The Bellini family blueprint says I should choose one of them. She should be installed in one of my town houses as my official partner and mother of my heir. There she’ll enjoy a life of pleasure. But that way of life went out with the Middle Ages! Life has moved on. It’s all so different now. Marriage isn’t simply a matter of duty and honour. It’s all pre-nups and making watertight arrangements to secure every stick and stone of my assets for the inevitable divorce.’

To hear him talk about marriage as nothing more than another agreement to be crossed off his list of ‘things to do’ disappointed Meg.

‘There shouldn’t be anything inevitable about divorce! No one should marry for anything less than love,’ she said firmly, stroking her fingers down the long, leathery leaf of a miltonia. Meg was the last person to contradict an employer, but some things ought to be set in stone. ‘Women usually have their own careers nowadays. Marriage isn’t seen as the only life for them. And they aren’t all grasping parasites.’

‘I love women. Don’t get me wrong,’ Gianni said quickly. ‘It’s just that the Italian thoroughbred model holds no interest for me.’

‘Then you’ll have to find someone else.’

‘There is no one else. All the women I meet are out for everything they can get—believe me.’

Meg was busy adjusting the ties securing a budding flower stem and replied without thinking. ‘I’m not.’

Gianni sighed. ‘That’s what you say now. But I wonder…’

His voice was heavy with regret. It was such a heartfelt comment that she looked up sharply. In that instant all trace of a smile vanished from his face. He was deadly serious—and all Meg’s wildest, most wanton fantasies were reflected in his eyes.

She caught her breath. She could not look away—and didn’t want to.

And then suddenly she was in his arms.

Chapter Three

THEY kissed with a passion that was totally consuming. His hands held her close to his body. Her fingers tangled in his hair, desperate for him. It was everything she had ever dreamed about, all she wanted and would ever need, and more than was right. But…this was wrong in so many ways. Pitched through passion on a tidal surge of excitement, Meg took precious seconds to catch her breath and call a halt.

‘No! Gianni, stop!’

Alarmed, he let her go. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing…not now…’

‘That’s all right, then!’ His hold on her tightened and he chuckled with a sound as irresistible as chocolate.

‘No!’ she yelled, all her conviction boiling up again. ‘Don’t you have any morals?’

‘Not when it comes to a girl as beautiful as you…’ He dropped his face to her hair and began nuzzling it playfully.

Meg had to act fast, and totally against instinct. Her fantasies had primed her to find him irresistible. Now she was actually feeling his touch for herself, she was almost at the point of no return. Fighting against the urge to melt into his coiling embrace, she braced her hands against his shoulders and levered herself out of his grasp.

‘Oh, no, how could I forget? Of course you don’t have any morals!’ she retorted, trying to shock him into retreat. ‘After all, you’re Gianni Bellini, international ladies’ man, aren’t you?’

Gianni wasn’t shocked by anything, especially a girl barely half his size. He was flushed and breathing fast but did not release her straight away. Despite that, Meg sensed she was out of danger. The smile returned to his face. His irresistible charm should have made him more dangerous, not less, but in a strange way she realised he was no longer a threat to her—for the moment at least. She already knew Gianni Bellini had a highly developed sense of family loyalty. He wasn’t the sort of man to risk a scandal by forcing himself on an unwilling member of staff—especially a new member of the team. They were likely to run straight to the press.

‘I came here to work at the Villa Castelfino, not to become a source of entertainment for you,’ she said firmly, in case he was still in any doubt.

Gianni said nothing, but let his hands slide reluctantly away from her body. She looked down to see him bury them deeply in his pockets.

‘I’ll take that as your agreement, Gianni.’

He paused before replying. ‘Think of it more as a qualified acceptance, binding on neither side,’ he said with a flash of roguish humour.

The nerve of the man took her breath away.

‘There really is no arguing with you, is there?’

‘No. As you will soon discover from the rest of my staff, Megan, when it comes to work, it’s my way or the highway. I wanted to find out exactly how keen you are to keep this job.’

Despite the lightness of his tone, Meg detected a sinister meaning behind his words. From feeling flushed and excited, she went hot and cold with dread.

‘Does that mean…you’re going to sack me after what’s just happened?’

Gianni looked genuinely shocked. ‘Of course not! That would be illegal. But, far more importantly as far as I’m concerned, it would be immoral. This is the twenty-first century. I may be your employer, but that doesn’t mean I can force myself on you, against your will. What do you think I am?’

Meg’s eyes opened wider than she thought physically possible. Gianni looked as innocent as a priest as he stood in front of her, his hands now outstretched in a gesture of disbelief. Yet only a moment ago he had treated her to a ten-second burst of absolute temptation.

When she didn’t answer, he clicked his tongue in exasperation. Then he reached out and touched a wayward lock of her hair gently back from her forehead.