Unfinished Business with the Duke Page 7

  ‘Issy, I spent close to that on my last car. It’s not that much money. Not to me.’

  Her eyebrows rose. ‘I didn’t know architecture was that lucrative.’

  ‘It is when you do it right,’ he said. And had to stifle the foolish desire to say a lot more.

  He’d qualified two years early, beaten off a series of more experienced applicants to win a huge design competition, and then worked his backside off. And in the last three years it had paid off.

  The Florence practice had won kudos around the world. He’d opened another office in Paris. Won a slew of prestigious architectural awards. And best of all he didn’t have to bother entering competitions any more. The clients came to him. He was proud of how he’d managed to tame the destructiveness that had ruled his teenage years and turn his life around.

  But he resisted the urge to launch into a list of his accomplishments. He didn’t boast about his achievements. He didn’t need anyone’s approval. So why should he need Issy’s?

  ‘If it makes you feel better,’ he began, ‘I’ve been thinking of opening an office in London for a while.’ Which wasn’t exactly the truth. ‘The Florence practice donates over a million euros to worthy causes every year. It’s great PR and it keeps Luca, my tax accountant, happy.’ Which was the truth. ‘Sponsoring your theatre makes good business sense.’

  She pressed her hands to her mouth, her eyes widening to saucer size. ‘Oh. My. Lord. You’re serious!’ she shrieked, the decibel level muffled by her hands. ‘You’re actually going to give us the money.’ She grasped his hand in both of hers. ‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me. And all the people who work at the Crown and Feathers.’

  But he had a feeling he did know. And it made him feel uncomfortable. His reasons weren’t exactly altruistic. And they were getting less altruistic by the second.

  ‘I wish I knew how to thank you,’ she said.

  He almost told her it wasn’t her thanks he wanted. But stopped himself because he’d just figured out what it was he did want.

  He wanted Issy Helligan out of his system.

  The girl and now the woman had been a fire in his blood for well over ten years. Why not admit it? He didn’t fixate on women, but somehow he’d got fixated on her.

  He’d tried walking away. He’d tried denial. And neither had worked.

  Sorting out her financial troubles would finally put the guilt and responsibility from their past behind them. So why not take the next step? He had to return to Florence this afternoon, and he wanted Issy with him. So he could burn the fire out once and for all. Forget about her for good.

  ‘There’s only one snag,’ he said, the white lie tripping off his tongue without a single regret.

  No need to tell Issy about his plans yet.

  She had a tendency to overreact, she was totally unpredictable, and she had a terrible track record for complicating sex with emotion. Better to get her to Florence first, and then deal with any fall-out.

  ‘Oh, no—what?’ she said, her face crumpling comically.

  ‘You’ll have to come to Florence with me. This afternoon.’

  ‘To Florence?’ She looked even more astonished than she had by the offer of money. But when he saw the flash of interest in her eyes he had a tough time keeping the smile of triumph off his face.

  She needed this as much as he did. The only difference was she hadn’t figured it out yet.

  Issy tried to ignore the bubble of excitement under her breastbone. She had to get a grip on this thing…whatever it was. Now.

  Maybe she could justify giving in to her hormones once, in the circumstances. She’d been stressed to the max in the last few months, hadn’t dated in over a year, and Gio had always been able to short-circuit her common sense and make her yearn for things that weren’t right for her. But she was not about to do the wild thing with him again. No matter what her body might want.

  Gio was now officially the answer to the theatre’s prayers. Which would make sex with him even more indefensible than it was already.

  ‘Why?’ she asked, hoping he wasn’t about to suggest what she thought he was about to suggest.

  ‘You need the money by next week, right?’

  She nodded, still unable to believe that the theatre’s problems could be solved so easily. And so completely.

  ‘There’s a ton of paperwork to sign, plus you may have to give a presentation to the board before I can release the money. It makes sense for you to come over. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of days. The snag is, I’m leaving this afternoon. The helicopter’s due here at two to take me to London City Airport, and then I’m taking the company jet back to Florence.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ she murmured, disconcerted by the way the bubble had deflated at his businesslike tone. ‘I’ll ring my assistant Maxi. She can pack me a bag and meet us at City Airport. Don’t worry. It’s not a problem.’

  This was good news. Fantastic news, in fact. Gio had committed to sorting out the theatre’s financial situation. And she could think of worse things than spending a few days in Florence—especially after the hideous stress of the last few months. She had earned a break. And they could spare some of the theatre’s money on a guesthouse now they were going to have plenty. She might even find time for some sightseeing.

  ‘Arranging leave will be fine,’ she said, managing to be businesslike and efficient at last. ‘The sooner we can make it official the better.’

  She and Gio probably wouldn’t see that much of each other, she thought, dismissing the prickle of disappointment. ‘Is it okay if I have a shower?’ she asked, keeping her tone polite and impersonal.

  ‘Go ahead and use the en suite,’ he said, just as impersonally. ‘I’ll take the bathroom down the hall.’

  But as she stepped into the bathroom she caught a glimpse of Gio’s naked behind as he walked to his dresser, and realised her pheromones weren’t being nearly as businesslike and efficient as the rest of her.

  Gio grinned as the door to the en suite bathroom clicked closed. The offer to scrub her back had been close to irresistible. But he wasn’t twenty-one any more—and he didn’t plan to rush into anything he couldn’t control. He would have to make sure Issy understood exactly what their little trip to Florence meant, and what it didn’t, before he made his next move.

  And once they’d got that settled he planned to indulge himself.

  He pulled jeans and a T-shirt out of the dresser, listened to the gush of water from the shower and imagined Issy’s lush, naked body slick with soapsuds.

  After ten years, and two bouts of mind-blowing sex, he was finally going to get the chance to seduce Issy Helligan without anything between them. No guilt, no responsibility, no hurt feelings and preferably no clothes.

  And he intended to savour every single second.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘THAT guy’s your Duke?’ Maxi whispered loudly, as she passed Issy her battered wheel-around suitcase. Her eyes remained glued to Gio’s retreating back as he disappeared into the sea of passengers at the airport’s security checkpoint. ‘How could you have kept him a secret all this time? I mean, look at that backside.’

  ‘Max, close your mouth. You look like a guppy,’ Issy said testily. After the strain of the last few hours she was feeling more than a little out of sorts—and she didn’t want to deal with Maxi’s regression into a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl.

  Frankly, she was having enough trouble dealing with her own vivid fantasies about Gio. They’d done the wild thing. Once. And that had been quite enough. For both of them. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about doing it again? Especially given that Gio had made it crystal-clear he wasn’t in the market for a repeat performance.

  After a twenty-minute shower she’d arrived downstairs, to find Gio in a meeting with the landscape architects and Jack Bradshaw assigned as her chaperon.

  Jack had graciously invited her to share a buffet of delicious antipasti dishes with the group
of young architects and engineers working on the Hall project. But her stomach had tied itself in tight little knots as she’d fielded a barrage of questions from Gio’s team about their shared childhood at the Hall. Did they all know about her private appointment in his bedroom earlier? If only he could put in an appearance so she didn’t have to deal with their avid curiosity all on her own.

  But Gio hadn’t appeared. Thankfully Jack had whisked her off on a tour of the Hall after lunch, so she hadn’t had too much time to examine why she felt so disappointed.

  It hadn’t stopped the strange and inexplicable feelings that had sprung to the surface as she and Jack had strolled through her childhood home and he’d pointed out all Gio’s improvements. She hadn’t needed Jack’s running commentary. She’d seen for herself the remarkable changes he’d made. And the tight little knots of disappointment and embarrassment had quickly turned to giant knots of confusion as she marvelled at the brilliance and artistry of Gio’s redesign.

  The forbidding, cramped and suffocating rooms had been turned into light, airy spaces by knocking down partition walls and reinstating windows that had been boarded up. Old carpets had been ripped out to reveal beautiful inlaid mosaic flooring, a new staircase had been constructed using traditional carpentry to open up the second floor, and the grimly unappealing below stairs kitchen had been turned into a state-of-the art catering space any master chef would have been proud of by digging out the basement and adding yet more light with a domed atrium.

  Gio had brought the Hall back from the dead. But, more than that, he’d given it a new lease of life. And she couldn’t help wondering why he would have gone to all this trouble.

  He’d left the Hall all those years ago, and to her knowledge had never come back. Not once bothering to contact his father or even attend the Duke’s funeral. She’d always thought he hated this place, so why had he restored it so sensitively? Had he wanted to prove something?

  And why couldn’t she shake the odd feeling of pride in his achievements? What Gio had done to his father’s house had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

  The helicopter ride to London had gone smoothly enough; the noise in the cabin making it impossible for them to speak without shouting. Gio had worked on his laptop and she hadn’t disturbed him, even though a million and one questions about the Hall and what he’d done to it had kept popping into her head.

  This was a business trip. And she had to keep it that way. Asking Gio questions about his motivations for restoring the Hall felt too personal.

  Unfortunately, every time his thigh had brushed against the silk of her dress, or his elbow had bumped hers on the armrest, business was the last thing on her mind. And by the time they’d arrived at City Airport and been whisked into the terminal building, Issy’s hormones had been cartwheeling like Olympic gymnasts.

  She’d only had a moment to introduce Gio to Maxi, and watch her friend gush all over him, before he’d excused himself again, explaining that he had a few calls to make and would meet her on the plane.

  The ludicrous thing was, she was starting to get a bit of a complex about how eager he seemed to ignore her. Which was totally idiotic. She didn’t need his attention. Or want it. It would only encourage her cartwheeling hormones.

  Maxi’s excited chatter wasn’t helping. Reminding her of all the giggly conversations she’d once had about Gio in her teens.

  ‘How do you know him?’ Maxi asked, still gushing like his number one fan. ‘It’s obvious there’s a connection between you. Is that why he offered to fund the theatre?’ Maxi turned wide eyes on her. ‘You’re having a fling, aren’t you?’

  Colour flushed into Issy’s cheeks. ‘We are not,’ she said, pretty sure one bout of wild monkey sex didn’t count. ‘We grew up together. He’s an old friend.’

  Maxi’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then why are you going to Florence with him? And why are you blushing?’

  ‘I’m not blushing,’ she lied, cursing her pale skin. ‘And I have to go to Florence to sign the sponsorship papers. It’s just a formality. I told you that.’

  ‘Iss, don’t get me wrong,’ Maxi said, putting on her sincere face and grating on Issy’s nerves even more. ‘I think it’s fab that he’s taking you to Florence. You absolutely deserve a break. Especially with someone as tasty as that. You don’t have to pretend with me. We’re mates.’ She nudged Issy’s shoulder. ‘And I’ll give Dave and the troops the official story, I promise.’ She smiled. ‘So, how long have you two been an item?’

  Good grief.

  Issy yanked up the handle on her suitcase. ‘It’s not an official story. It’s the truth.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Maxi scoffed. ‘Let’s examine the evidence here,’ she said in her no-nonsense voice. The one Issy usually appreciated. ‘First off: no one needs to travel anywhere to sign a few papers these days, because it can all be done by e-mail.’ She began to count off points on her fingers. ‘Second: it’s obvious you’ve had a shower in the last few hours, because your hair has started to frizz at the ends.’

  Issy touched her hair self-consciously, remembering how observant Maxi was.

  ‘And then there’s the rip in the back of your dress to account for.’

  Far too observant.

  ‘And, last but by no means least,’ Maxi continued, ‘there’s the way he looked at you just now.’

  ‘What way?’

  ‘Like he wanted to devour you in one quick bite.’

  Okay, that was an observation too far. Gio had gone out of his way to avoid her for the last two hours. She ought to know. She had the inferiority complex to prove it.

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, he did.’ Maxi’s quick grin had Issy blinking. ‘I saw him. Those dreamy brown eyes went all sexy and intense, and he stared at you so long even I started to get excited. And I’m just an innocent bystander. If you aren’t already having a hot, passionate fling with that guy, you should be.’

  ‘But that’s…’ She sputtered to a stop, embarrassingly excited herself now. ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because…’ Her mind went totally blank as her hormones cartwheeled off a cliff.

  ‘Miss Helligan? Mr Hamilton has asked me to escort you through Security.’

  Issy turned to find a man in a flight attendant’s uniform hovering at her elbow.

  ‘Right. Fine.’

  Please, God, don’t let him have heard any of that.

  She gave Maxi a quick hug. ‘I’ve got my mobile if you need to call. But I’ll check in tonight when I know where I’m staying. Give Dave and the troops the good news. And see if you can’t locate the—’

  ‘Issy, stop organising and go. Everything’s under control.’ Maxi squeezed her extra hard. ‘Be sure to give His Grace my extra special thanks,’ she whispered wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. ‘And please feel free to do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  Issy shot her a hard stare, but couldn’t think of a thing to say that would sound remotely convincing. It seemed she had some serious thinking to do—because her trip to Florence had just got a great deal more dangerous.

  ‘This way, Miss Helligan. Mr Hamilton is waiting for you on the plane.’

  Issy tried to take stock of the situation as the flight attendant led her past the endless queue snaking towards the security checkpoint.

  ‘But what about passport control and security?’ she asked, trailing behind him.

  Did none of the usual headaches of air travel apply to a man with Gio’s lifestyle?

  But as she followed her battered suitcase through the door the attendant held open, and watched it being whisked through an X-ray machine by her own personal security official, it occurred to her that Gio’s wealth and success were the least of her worries.

  Mounting the metal steps of a sleek silver jet with the GH Partnership logo emblazoned on its tail, she tried to think rationally.

  She’d planned to be in complete control here. But she wasn’t. This was supposed to
be a business trip. Plain and simple. Nothing more. Nothing less. But what if it wasn’t?

  Gio stepped out of the pilot’s cabin as she boarded the plane—and she felt a traitorous thrill shoot through her. He looked relaxed and in control as he leaned against the metal portal, folded his arms over his chest and let his eyes wander over her figure. His casual attire of jeans and a faded T-shirt were at odds with the jet’s luxury leather seats and thick pile carpeting, but they reminded her of the reckless, rebellious boy.

  But he wasn’t that boy any more. He was a man. A wildly successful, dangerously sexy man she’d agreed to go to Florence with. His gaze drifted back to her face. Make that a wildly successful, dangerously sexy man with a very predatory gleam in his eye.

  How could she not have spotted that earlier?

  ‘Hello, Isadora,’ he said, his voice a husky murmur. ‘Ready for lift-off?’

  Her nipples puckered into bullet points, her toes curled in her pumps—and she wondered if he was talking in euphemisms just to annoy her.

  Ignoring the flush working its way up her neck, she decided to wrestle back some control. He’d bulldozed her into this. It was about time she found out exactly what was going on.

  ‘Is there really any paperwork to sign in Florence?’

  He rubbed his jaw. ‘Now, why would you ask that?’ he said as the predatory gleam went laser-sharp. And she knew she’d been had.

  ‘This has all been a set-up, hasn’t it? But why…?’ Her indignation cut off as the blood drained out of her face. ‘The sponsorship? That wasn’t a joke too, was it?’

  ‘You can cut the drama queen act.’ He chuckled, stepped towards her. ‘I’ve already spoken to Luca and the money will be transferred tomorrow, once you give him your bank details.’

  Her relief was short-lived as indignation surged back. ‘So why am I going to Florence?’

  He placed his hands on her hips, his eyes darker than the devil’s. ‘Why don’t you take a wild guess?’