LITMIR.BIZ

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that what you said? That’s not conducive to chemistry, surely?’

      ‘Oh, that.’ Liliana dismissed her earlier comments with a very Latin lift of her shoulders. ‘That is nothing. Not if the right woman comes along.’

      ‘We’re only going to dinner, Liliana.’

      ‘Sì, sì, I know. But he asked you, did he not? And you accepted.’

      Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive. Maisie gave up. ‘I’m off to bed,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s been a long day.’ And it would probably be a long night the way she was feeling, because she had never regretted anything so much in her life and probably wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      JEENY rang the house at eight o’clock the next morning and enthused for some minutes about Iola’s foal. ‘I want you to name him,’ she told Maisie. ‘Blaine said things might have been very different if it wasn’t for you and I can never thank you enough. I was sure she wouldn’t do anything for a while and that I’d be back. If anything had happened to her …’

      ‘But it didn’t,’ Maisie said quickly. ‘Iola’s fine and her baby is just beautiful, Jenny. You’ll fall in love when you see him. But I can’t name him; that’s for you to do.’

      ‘No, no, I insist. Have a think about a name; anything you like. I want you to do it.’

      They talked for some more moments before they said goodbye, and once Maisie had put down the telephone she prepared the cat and dog food and took the bowls out to the veranda where her charges were all lined up waiting. She stood gazing out over the garden and paddock as the animals ate, the bright golden sunlight, high blue sky and fresh warm air mocking her sombre mood. She had been down to see the horses first thing before breakfast and the stables had screamed Blaine. Everything screamed Blaine. At some point during the long wakeful night she had conceded she had made a terrible mistake in engineering their date tonight and would have given the world to go back in time and change things. But she couldn’t. And it would make things ten times worse to ring up and cancel it now.

      She sighed, gathering up the bowls and taking them through to the kitchen where she washed each one under the eagle eye of Liliana, who insisted on separate cloths for the animals’ dishes, and that the sink be rinsed with disinfectant once Maisie had finished.

      Once that chore was finished she went about grooming the cats and dogs, the dogs submitting to her ministrations with their normal good grace and the cats protesting every inch of the way. Later that morning she introduced Iorwerth to his son and let the three of them into the paddock, standing for some time watching the foal, who was doing splendidly on his still wobbly legs, before taking the dogs for a long walk.

      She mucked out the stables in the afternoon and then proceeded to give them an energetic floor to ceiling spring-clean. They didn’t really warrant it but she needed to keep working. It was definitely that sort of day. Once they were gleaming and pristine she filled the boxes with sweet-smelling straw, checked the horses had plenty of clean water in the paddock and went back to the house for a coffee with Liliana before taking the dogs out again.

      At six o’clock she decided on a long soak in the bath rather than a quick shower, but after only five minutes in the bubble scented water she was out again, unable to lie still and do nothing with her nerves stretched to breaking-point.

      She had a nice surprise when she pulled on the dress she had chosen for the evening. It had been a little tight in England; now it was loose in all the right places and fitted her perfectly. And it was a size twelve. All the exercise involved with taking care of the animals was paying off.

      She examined her face in the mirror. Her complexion had turned a golden brown and was as clear and smooth as silk. The sun had brought out loads of natural highlights in her hair too, which was as good as an eighty-pound salon visit, and she had definitely lost a little weight from her face because her chin was now one instead of two and she could see evidence of cheekbones for the first time for a while.

      Hugely delighted at such a massive bonus, which she’d been totally unaware of until this moment, Maisie decided to go for gold. She was going to spend the next fifty minutes making up her face and doing her hair until she was something to die for, she told herself euphorically. She might not be a black-haired, super-slim, sophisticated Italian beauty but she wouldn’t crack any mirrors tonight either after she was done.

      By the time she had put hair up and then down twice, she decided she was trying just a bit too hard. Leaving it falling in silky waves to her shoulders, she concentrated on making up her eyes until they looked at least twice as big, her foundation giving her skin a translucent gleam and her lip gloss just the right colour to set off the salmon-pink dress. In England the dress had seemed just a mite daring and she had wondered if she would ever wear it, now it fitted so perfectly she was in no doubt at all. The draped and tied bodice and seductive Empire-line to the skirt was definitely on the flirty side but that was all right, she told herself firmly. She was a girl, wasn’t she? She was supposed to have curves that she could show off once in a while.

      At five to seven she was ready. Balancing on sandals with wafer-thin heels, she picked up a short-sleeved cotton cardigans and made her way to the kitchen. When Liliana caught sight of her she stopped what she was doing and said something in Italian that—although she didn’t have a clue what it meant—made Maisie blush.

      ‘You like it?’ she asked to mask her embarrassment, twirling round and then nearly falling over, which rather spoilt the effect.

      ‘Sì, I like it.’ Liliana smiled. ‘And you say there is no chemistry, eh?’

      Maisie stared at her, suddenly acutely worried. She didn’t want Blaine to think she was throwing herself at him. Should she nip upstairs and change, and perhaps take a little makeup off too?

      She didn’t have time to even get to the foot of the stairs. She had reached the kitchen door when Blaine’s key sounded in the lock and the next moment he had opened the front door. She stood transfixed in the doorway. He had obviously called in on his way home from work because there was a dark stubble on his square chin and he looked tired, rumpled and good enough to eat. Like all her Christmases rolled into one, in fact. She wished.

      He walked across to her, a single red rose in his hand. ‘You look stunning,’ he said softly, ‘and I had every intention of doing this properly before a crisis with the air-conditioning at our flagship hotel caused a few problems. It was a case of ringing to say I was going to be horribly late or collecting you en route before I go home to change. I decided on the latter. Right decision?’

      Oh, yes. Maisie took the rose and hoped he hadn’t noticed her hand was trembling. This way she got to see where he lived and had longer with him. ‘You can show me a little more of the scenery,’ she said evenly, ‘so definitely right decision.’

      ‘Good.’ He smiled and she noticed the stubble showed he had a tiny cleft in his chin. For such a small thing it had a huge effect on her equilibrium.

      After saying their goodbyes to Liliana, Blaine walked her out to the Ferrari with a hand at her elbow, and Maisie found she was working on automatic in an effort to ignore the effect he had on her. She had spoken to Jackie earlier in the day—her friend had called her several times while she had been at the villa to see how things were going—and had mentioned they were having dinner together that evening, eliciting a worried response from Blaine’s niece.

      ‘Be careful, Maisie.’ Jackie had sounded both embarrassed and sincere. ‘Mum has told me there’s some sort of thing in his past, I don’t know what, but it’s to do with a woman and it’s had a huge effect on him. I’m not saying he’s celibate but he never gets emotionally involved, you know? And you don’t want anyone with baggage.’

      She had fobbed Jackie off with some light comment about this meal being a reward for handling the Iola thing well—she was getting pretty good at lying, which was a bit worrying—but now, as she slid into the car, she knew the baggage

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