"Not in the slightest." Jess pulled a face. "In fact, I was beginning to wonder if I really had a heart. Emily falls in and out of love with amazing regularity, but I prefer men who just want to be friends."

"Do you know many men like that?" he asked, astonished.

"Not many, no. But eventually, quite a long time after fiasco number two, I met a man who'd just survived a divorce, and he agreed that platonic relationships were less trouble than the other kind."

"Ah!" A smile played at the comers of Lorenzo's mouth. "But he failed to keep to this, of course?"

"Right He got in the habit of inviting me to his new flat to watch a video, order in Chinese, that kind of thing. But one night I arrived to find a table set for two, with champagne, candles, even red roses. You can guess the rest. The champagne didn't work. Nothing worked. At least not for me." Her eyes darkened. "He became quite objectionable, so this time I went off in a huff."

Lorenzo nodded slowly. "Now I understand your feelings when I brought you here tonight."

Jess smiled. Lorenzo's apartment was a far cry from the London flat she'd stormed out of in such a rage. "My disappointment tonight," she said with precision, "was for a quite different reason."

"Tell me this reason," he commanded.

"It's hard to put into words."

"Try!"

"I was really looking forward to eating in the hotel dining room with you," she admitted, flushing. "I liked the idea of everyone looking at us and knowing that you, that I-" She halted, her eyes locked with his.

"That you were mine?" he said softly.

Jess went pale, her dark, startled eyes wide as they stared into his. "Is that how you think of me?"

"Yes," he said simply. "Since the moment I first saw you I feel this. There is no way to explain it-"

"Wise men never try," she said huskily.

There was a sudden, charged silence between them.

"This is dangerous," said Lorenzo abruptly. "You were right. We should have dined in the restaurant."

"I'm glad now that we didn't," she assured him.

"Why?" he demanded.

''Because we couldn't have talked like this. Nor," she added, looking him in the eye, "could you have kissed me, touched me, just as you said you wanted."

Lorenzo tensed, like a panther about to spring, and for a moment Jess was sure he would pull her out of her chair and kiss her senseless. Instead, to her intense disappointment, he fetched a plate from the credenza and set it in front of her. "This is a torta, made of almonds and lemon and ricotta," he said, the uneven huskiness of his voice at odds with the prosaic words. "Is this to your taste?"

Jess stared at the confection blankly. "Normally, yes. But not right now. Perhaps I could take it down to Emily later. She loves this kind of thing. Do have some yourself, of course."

"No," he said explosively. "You know very well that it is not cake that I want" His eyes lit with a heat which dried her mouth. "I cannot forget that tonight, Jessamy, may be me only time we can be together like this. At the Villa Fortuna it will be difficult for me."

Jess stiffened. Was there some sinister reason why he wouldn't want to make love to her at the villa? Suddenly the reason hit her like a punch in the stomach.

"What is it?" he demanded, and at last pulled her up out of her chair. "Tell me! Why do you look like that?"

"I never thought to ask," she said in a rush. "Is the Villa Fortuna the home you shared with Renata?"

"Ah, ,carssima, it is not!" he assured her, and held her close for a moment, then led her across me room to a deep, comfortable sofa and drew her down beside him.

"I should have made this clear before, Jessamy. When Renata died I sold the house we lived in. The Villa Fortuna is my family home, where I grew up with Roberto and my sister."

"I didn't know you had a sister." Jess let out a deep sigh and relaxed against him, limp with relief. The prospect of staying in a house haunted by the ghost of Lorenzo's wife was the stuff of nightmares. "What's your sister's name?: Where does she live? Is she married?"

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Isabella is younger than Roberto. She is married to a lawyer called Andrea Moretti. They have two small sons and live in Lucca." He turned her face to his. "AKoro, you feel better?"

"Yes. Much better. Where did you live, Lorenzo?"

"Renata's parents wanted us to make our home with them, but to hide the truth of our marriage it was necessary for us to live alone. I bought a house far away from them, in Oltrano, over there." He gestured towards the balcony, his eyes sombre. "It became a prison for both of us."

"Is that why you wanted to come inside just now? Because you can't bear to look over there?"

"No!" His arm tightened. "It was solely a burning desire for privacy with you, amore."

Deeply gratified, Jess leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Poor Renata. Though in some ways I think she was very fortunate."

"Fortunate?"

"To be married to you, Lorenzo. Other men, in the same circumstances, might not have been so forbearing."

He shook his head. "Do not endow me with virtues I lack, Jessamy."

"What do you mean?"

"I was forbearing, as you say, because I had no desire to be otherwise. Something died inside me the night Renata rejected me. My youth, perhaps," he added, with a twist to his mouth. "After that night, unless we were in public and it was unavoidable, I never touched her again." Lorenzo put a finger under her chin and raised her face to his. When I met you, amore, feelings I thought were dead forever came to life, as though a dam had burst and all the suppressed longings of those empty years came rushing through." He smiled wryly into her startled eyes. "I am being very Italian and emotional, am I not? Does it embarrass you, piccola?''

"Not in the least," she assured him. To be called 'little one' in that husky, caressing voice ignited several emotions inside Jess, but not one of them was embarrassment.

"If you want the truth, I just love it when you get all Latin and passionate. It thrills me to bits-"

Lorenzo smothered the rest of her words with his mouth, and she responded with such ardour it was a long time before there was any more conversation. And when Lorenzo began to speak at last they were words Jess understood only by their intonation as he made love to her in his own tongue, the liquid flow of musical endearments as seductive as the slim, sure hands that moved over her in light, delicate caresses which, even through the clinging silk of her dress, sent fiery streaks of longing to a secret place which throbbed in unaccustomed response.

After only minutes of the delicate torture Jess longed for Lorenzo to undress her, and carry her to his bed and show her, at last, just how wonderful the act of love could be. But she knew he wasn't going to do that. At least, not tonight. Assailed by emotions and physical longings unfamiliar to her, she began to cry, and Lorenzo crushed her close in remorse.

"Do not weep, amore. Forgive me-I have frightened you."

"No, you haven't," she said thickly. "I'm not frightened, I'm frustrated. I-I long for you, Lorenzo. You're driving me crazy. I've never felt like this before."

He groaned. "Do not say such things to me, carissima." He held her face in his hands, his eyes questioning as they met the look in hers. "What is it?"

"You said that it would be difficult to be alone together at the Villa Fortuna. Is this because of Emily, and the nurse?"

Lorenzo nodded, resigned. "Also there is Caria, who cooks for me, and Mario, her husband, who takes care of the property, and the moment Isabella learns I have guests, she will come rushing to meet you."

Jess bit her lip. "Won't your sister find it odd? That you've invited me to stay at your house?"