The Valtieri Marriage Deal

HE SAW HER through the glass.

He didn’t know her—he’d never seen her before in his life—but as their eyes connected, Luca’s heart began to pound.

She was beautiful. Utterly gorgeous. Her wide lavender eyes had caught his attention first, and below them a generous mouth, slightly parted, was just begging to be kissed. Her sweater clung lovingly to soft, rounded breasts with just a hint of cleavage to taunt him, but it was something else, something he couldn’t define, something fierce and elemental and soul-deep that drew him to her, and he wanted her so much he could taste it.

If he had any sense, he’d keep on walking, because a woman like that just wasn’t his style. He liked control—and there was something very uncontrolled about his reaction to her.

But he was in desperate need of a shot of caffeine, this was the best café in the area and the only free seat was at her table. So he went in and walked over to her. He’d just get a coffee and go. How hard could it be?

‘Signorina?’

She looked up, and her breath jammed in her lungs. It was the man, standing beside her, a crooked smile on those sexy, unbelievable lips, the dark, intense eyes that had locked with hers through the window glittering with something that if she’d had a shred of sense left would have sent her running, but she couldn’t move. Even her lungs had stopped working.

‘Are you expecting anyone to join you, or may I take this seat?’ His voice was soft, gravelly, warmed by a rich Italian accent, and it trailed over her like the hand of a lover, bringing everything screaming back to life.

She sucked in a breath. ‘No—no, I—Please, do.’

She gathered up the books she’d scattered all over the table—a guide to Florence, a phrase book that didn’t seem to have any of the questions that she wanted to ask, a couple of tourist information leaflets she’d picked up—and made room for him, and as he sat down, his knee brushed against hers and a hint of spicy citrus cologne drifted over her and made her shiver.

He moved his knee, shocked by the bolt of lightning that had shot through him at the fleeting contact. Hell, this was going to be harder than he’d imagined. He dredged about for something sane and innocuous to say, then his eyes lit on the books. ‘Sightseeing?’ he asked, disgusted at his corny line, and she gave a little chuckle, but an endearing sweep of colour touched her cheeks.

‘Wow. Sherlock Holmes,’ she said drily, but there was a teasing little smile playing at the edges of her mouth and he wanted to taste it.

He dragged his gaze back to her eyes. Although her voice was cool and controlled, something in those gorgeous lavender depths told him that the accidental brush of his leg against hers had affected her as much as him, and he felt a kick of something raw and elemental in his gut. His eyes returned to her mouth, and he felt his mouth curve in response to her smile.

‘Well, the English-Italian dictionary and the guide book were a bit of a giveaway,’ he said, and decided it was time to introduce himself. He extended his hand. ‘I’m Luca, by the way.’

‘I’m Isabelle.’ After a second’s pause, she took his hand—only fleetingly, but it was enough. Their gazes locked, heat flared in her eyes and she sucked in a breath and pulled back her hand, to his regret.

Isabella, he thought, saying it in his head in Italian, tasting the word, feeling it surge straight to his groin.

‘Signore?’ the waitress said. ‘What can I get you?’

A room…

He hauled himself back in line. ‘Isabelle? May I buy you another coffee?’

‘Oh—well, I wasn’t—but actually, that would be lovely, thank you. Could I have a latte?’

‘Sure.’ He added a double espresso and a selection of pastries to the order, and turned back to her. ‘So—what brings you to Florence, Isabelle? It’s not the best time of year for sightseeing, in January.’

She gave a little shrug. ‘I just wanted a break. It’s so dreary in London in the winter, and I worked all over Christmas and New Year, so I thought I deserved a treat.’

‘I should think so. Weren’t you with your family?’

‘No—my mother lives in Canada with her husband.’

‘And your father? Brothers? Sisters?’

She looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘I’m an only child, and I don’t have a father.’

He frowned. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why should you be?’

Luca shrugged. ‘Because my father is a very important person in my life, as are my mother and my brothers and sisters, and I can’t imagine Christmas without them. So—why Firenze?’

It was her turn to shrug. ‘I’ve always wanted to come here, so I thought, Why not? A couple of days—just time to take in a bit of culture, a bit of shopping, some lovely food…’ She shrugged again and smiled. ‘So here I am.’

‘Alone?’

Was it so obvious? ‘My friends wouldn’t come,’ she told him ruefully. ‘They didn’t mind the shopping, but they weren’t interested in traipsing round in the cold looking at mouldy old paintings and statues covered in pigeon poo!’

Luca chuckled, sending shivers down her spine. ‘And have you seen much yet?’

She shook her head, trying to drag her eyes off his mouth long enough to concentrate on what he was saying. He really had the most gorgeous mouth.

‘Not enough. I only got here early yesterday, and I’ve done the Ponte Vecchio and the Pitti Palace and a couple of markets, but there’s so much more to do today I don’t know where to start.’ And she was sick of sightseeing alone.

‘Would you like a guide?’

She frowned, and for a moment he thought he’d pushed it too far, but then she smiled. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

Because I want to spend time with you and I don’t care if I have to trudge round every last damned artefact to do it?

He shrugged. ‘I know the city inside out, and I can tell you what to see and what not to bother with. And my interview finished early, so I’m free for the rest of the day,’ he added.

‘Oh—didn’t it go well?’ she asked, thinking that it explained the rather beautiful suit and wondering what the interview had been for.

‘No, it went very well—they offered me the job.’

‘But not as a tour guide, I take it?’ she suggested, fishing for more information about him, and he gave a deep, sexy chuckle.

‘Me? No,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’m a doctor.’

‘Oh!’ she said, oddly relieved because doctors she understood. ‘So—are you working in the hospital already?’

‘No. I had the first interview there yesterday, and I had to go back today for another look round.’

‘Interesting job?’

He shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Wherever women are having babies the job’s essentially the same, though, and I’ve worked there before, so it’s perhaps a bit familiar—not enough of a challenge.’

She tipped her head on one side, fascinated by the coincidence. ‘So—you’re an obstetrician?’

‘Yes—why? Don’t tell me—you’re pregnant.’

She chuckled. ‘No, no chance of that, but I’m a midwife.’