He frowned as he studied her thoughtfully. Maggie forced herself to meet his stare without flinching, although it wasn’t easy, she had to admit. There was something decidedly unsettling about that intent scrutiny. It made her want to do all sorts of odd things, like smile inanely or make sure that her hair was in place. Maybe that was the effect Luke always had on a woman, making her feel conscious of her own femininity.
She swiftly shut off that thought as well, refusing to let herself go any further down that route. Her brown eyes glittered with impatience as she stared back at him.
‘I’ve no idea, Dr Fabrizzi. Perhaps it’s the fact that I have this deep-seated aversion to men who think they’re God’s gift to the female half of the population.’ She shrugged dismissively. ‘It seems a reasonable explanation to me, but what do you think?’
‘I suppose it’s possible, although I confess that I’m not convinced it’s the real answer.’
He shook his head so that a black lock fell onto his forehead. It gave him the appearance of a fallen angel, Maggie thought, then sucked in her breath as she realised that she was doing it again. It worried her that she couldn’t seem to control her own thoughts. It had never happened before and she wasn’t sure why it was happening now. She didn’t like Luke Fabrizzi so why did she behave this way around him? She was so confused that it was a moment before she realised that he was still speaking.
‘It’s more personal than that. Isn’t there a saying about hell, fury and scorned women? Maybe that’s a more accurate explanation.’
He treated her to a last mocking smile before he opened the door. It took Maggie a full sixty seconds to recover from her shock and by that time he had left the office. She felt her temper soar to new heights as she recalled what he had said.
Did he really believe that she was still smarting from what he’d said to her in Milan that summer? Did he honestly think that she’d been party to her grandmother’s plans?
The answers came back loud and clear. Yes! And yes again!
Maggie groaned in sudden dismay. Why, oh, why hadn’t she smelt a rat when she’d received that letter asking her to fly to Italy to visit her supposedly ailing grandmother? She’d spent most of her adult life foiling her family’s attempts to find her a husband so she should have realised it had been a ruse. It was just that the letter had been so convincing! She had caught the first available flight and rushed to her grandmother’s house, only to find the old lady looking as fit as a flea rather than languishing on her sickbed.
The rat should have been stinking to high heaven by that point but, no, she’d simply accepted that Nonna had made a miraculous recovery. She’d been so relieved it had never crossed her mind that she’d been set up until Luke Fabrizzi had arrived the following evening…
‘Can you answer that, cara?’ Lucia Di Marco smiled guilelessly at her granddaughter as the doorbell rung. ‘I thought it would be nice if we had company for dinner tonight.’
‘Are you sure, Nonna?’ Maggie frowned as she looked at the old lady. ‘You’ve been very ill and I don’t want you tiring yourself.’
‘Nonsense! It will be good to have visitors.’ Lucia patted her hand. ‘You and Luke will have a lot to talk about, cara. He is a doctor at this big hospital in America. His grandmother and I have been friends for many years, and I have heard so much about him that I feel as though I already know him—’ She broke off when the bell pealed a second time. ‘Luke is waiting, Margherita.’
Maggie bit back a sigh as she hurried from the room. She was starting to get an uneasy feeling about this new development. Call it paranoia but she had the nasty suspicion that their visitor might have been invited for some other reason apart from welcoming him to the country!
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she crossed the hall and paused when she caught sight of her exasperated expression. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself while she took rapid stock of her reflection.
In deference to her grandmother, she had changed out of the jeans she’d been wearing that day into a pale green cotton shift dress, and the colour was the perfect foil for her dark brown hair and olive-toned complexion. With it she was wearing a pair of strappy leather sandals and she couldn’t help smiling when she glanced down at her bare feet.
It wasn’t often that she had time to pamper herself so it had been fun that night. She had passed a pleasant half-hour painting her toenails a delicate pistachio to tone with her dress. However, she couldn’t help wondering what their guest would think if he noticed.
Recalling some of the earnest young men her family had paraded before her in the past, she would hazard a guess that he wouldn’t be the type to appreciate green nail varnish, she decided as she went to the door. Good! The last thing she needed was the hassle of having to fend off the advances of some pathetic creature who needed his grandmother to find him a date…
‘Buona sera, signorina. Signora Di Marco, per favore.’
The man who stood on the step was light years away from the pitiful soul she’d been expecting. He was so fantastically good-looking, in fact, that Maggie’s mind seized up. It wouldn’t go forward or back, but stayed right where it was, enjoying what it was seeing.
Tall, dark and handsome was such a cliché yet it fitted him to a T, she decided, dizzily taking stock. However, it was when her eyes met the aloof blue ones that were studying her with far less enthusiasm that she realised he was waiting for her to say something.
‘Come in. I mean, um…’ She spoke fluent Italian normally but for the life of her Maggie couldn’t think of the words she needed at that moment.
‘Don’t worry. I speak English.’ The man gave her a smile that was on the chilly side of polite as he stepped into the hall. ‘The name’s Luke Fabrizzi, by the way.’
‘Maggie Carr,’ she responded automatically. She shut the door then took a deep breath and quickly marshalled her thoughts. She was twenty-five years of age and held down a responsible job so it shouldn’t be beyond her to manage a few polite words of greeting!
‘Which part of the States are you from?’ she asked as she led the way to the salon where her grandmother was waiting.
‘Boston. My parents moved there soon after they married and I was born there.’
He leant past her to open the door and she jumped nervously when his arm brushed hers. He was wearing perfectly cut black trousers and a white silk shirt; the silk felt so cool against her bare skin that she shivered then found her eyes winging upwards as she tried to gauge whether he’d noticed.
She looked away in embarrassment when she saw that he had. It made her feel decidedly unsettled to realise it and her voice became huskier than normal. ‘I see. Nonna told me that she has known your grandmother for some time and that they’re great friends. I got the impression that she considers you to be almost part of the family.’
She cleared her throat and hurried on, not understanding why his eyes had seemed to narrow when she’d said that. All she’d been trying to do had been to make him feel welcome. ‘I take it that you’re in Italy to visit your grandmother?’
‘That’s right. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?’ His tone was so silky that Maggie just managed not to shiver once again when she felt the vibrations from it dancing across her skin.
‘Coincidence?’ she repeated, trying to get a grip on herself.
‘That we should both be in Italy at the same time, visiting our grandmothers, of course.’ He gave the slightest shrug but his eyes were cold. ‘Although I’m not a great believer that things happen purely by chance, I’m afraid.’
He opened the salon door, leaving her no opportunity to question what