The explicit gleam in Lorenzo's eyes sent shivers down her spine.

"After that, diletta mia, we enjoy the custom of the country. We take a siesta!"

Although they spent the major part of it in bed their time alone together passed far too quickly for Jess. She woke later that afternoon to meet Lorenzo's dark, caressing gaze, and exclaimed in dismay at wasting their time together in sleep.

"Even I," said Lorenzo modestly, "cannot make love continually, carissima-" He let out a howl as she gave him a very unlover-like dig in the ribs.

"I meant we could have been talking," Jess retorted, then pressed her lips and tongue on the place she'd hurt, which resulted in a very long delay before they finally went downstairs to eat the supper she was just as famished for as Lorenzo.

"This time tomorrow," said Jess, sighing, "I'll be back in London."

"Not for long," Lorenzo reminded her. "When shall I come to see your parents?"

"I'll go down next weekend. Perhaps you could come the weekend after?" Jess looked so downcast Lorenzo took her in his arms.

"You do not want me to come so soon?" he teased.

"Of course I do. But that's two whole weeks before I see you again!"

Lorenzo held her close, muttering a great many gratifying things to her, both in English and Italian. And before long they gave up any pretence of wanting to spend the evening in the Moretti salone, and went back upstairs to lie in each other's arms for the remainder of their time together.

By the time Isabella and Andrea arrived with their sons next morning Jess was packed and ready, dressed in the linen trousers and yellow halter top she'd worn at her first encounter with Lorenzo at the Chesterton in Pennington. There was much hugging and kissing from everyone, followed by delighted squeals of laughter as Lorenzo picked up each dark-haired little boy and spun him round, then introduced both his nephews to Jess, who was allowed a kiss from each of them.

"Thank you so much for inviting us here," said Jess later, smiling at her hosts. Tante grazie, Isabella. I am in your debt," added Lorenzo, grinning at his sister.

"Our pleasure," she assured him.

Andrea chuckled. "Once my wife ordered me to visit my parents I was most happy to oblige you, Lorenzo."

He smiled at a hectically flushed Jess. "You like our house, cara?'

"It's delightful," she said fervently. "It was so land of you to give us time together like this before I go back." She pulled a face. "Something I'm not looking forward to very much."

"Nor I," said Lorenzo broodingly, then smiled as he warded off the two clamouring little boys. "Basta-enough! They want me to play football in the garden, Jessamy. Support me, Andrea, per favore. A few moments only; it grows late."

When they were alone Isabella smiled sympathetically at Jess. "You look tired, cam. Was the bed in my guest room not comfortable?'' She clapped a hand to her mouth in distress when Jess blushed to the roots of her hair. "Forgive me-I did not mean to embarrass you. I speak before I think."

Jess laughed wryly. "The bed was very comfortable and my room is so charming we spent most of our time there."

Isabella put an arm round Jess's waist and kissed her affectionately. "I have never seen my brother look so happy and relaxed. It is so wonderful to see him like this. He looks tired," she added, eyes sparkling, "but years younger."

Jess looked out of the window to watch Lorenzo dribbling the football down the garden like a Juventas striker, his nephews in hot pursuit. "Isabella," she said at last, "could I ask you something?"

"Anything, cara. What do you wish to know?"

"Would you mind telling me how Lorenzo's wife died? I don't like to ask. But I need to know just to avoid hurting him in any way."

Isabella sighed heavily, her face sombre. "I agree it is best you know, cara. Lorenzo never speaks of it because it is so painful to him. Poor Renata. After all those years without babies she died in childbirth."

Chapter Twelve.

The arrival of the men put an abrupt end to the conversation, for which Jess, feeling as though she'd been dealt a mortal blow, was passionately grateful. In shocked silence she shrugged into her jacket and handed her luggage over to Lorenzo to take to the car, and hoped that if anyone noticed her lack of conversation they would put it down to her sadness at the coming parting. She hugged both Andrea and Isabella wordlessly by way of thanks, received more kisses from their small sons, and soon she was on her way from Lucca on the first leg of her journey home.

"You are very quiet, carissima," said Lorenzo, glancing at her fleetingly as he touched her hand in sympathy.

Jess nodded mutely, somehow controlling the urge to snatch her hand away.

To her relief Lorenzo took it for granted that thoughts of leaving him had rendered her silent with misery, and because the traffic was heavy and they ran into another storm there was not only little opportunity for conversation, they were late arriving at the airport, for which Jess was fiercely grateful. Lorenzo gave her a stream of urgent instruction which needed little more than a nod of acknowledgement, then her flight was called and he seized her in his arms and held her so close she thought her ribs would break.

"Ring me at the hotel the moment you arrive at your flat," he ordered. He kissed her cold lips, then held her away a little, his eyes questioning. "What is wrong? You feel ill, amore?"

She nodded. "Travel nerves," she choked, desperate to get away. "I've got to go. Goodbye, Lorenzo."

Jess hurried off without looking back, knowing that a last look at Lorenzo Forii would shatter her iron control into pieces. On the plane she huddled in her window seat as the plane filled, so numb with misery she hardly noticed when the plane took off to begin its steep ascent. The couple beside her were too engrossed in each other to pay any attention to her, and Jess, grateful for it, spent the entire journey in silence, staring blankly at the blue sky above the carpet of clouds.

When she arrived at Heathrow it was almost as hot in London as Italy, and, unable to bear the idea of a train, Jess waited in line for a taxi. When she reached the flat she dumped her luggage down, switched on the water heater for a bath, then picked up the telephone and got through to the hotel beside the Amo to ask for Signer Forli.

Lorenzo answered at once, his relief evident in his tone as Jess told him she was home.

"How are you feeling, Jessamy?" he asked urgently. "I have been mad with worry. You looked so ill when you left me-"

"You know I hate flying," she cut in. "And I still feel horribly sick. I really can't talk now, Lorenzo."

"Paverina! I will ring you later."

"Tomorrow, pleased' Jess implored, suddenly at the end of her tether. "I'm going straight to bed now."

When she put the phone down she realised she was still wearing Lorenzo's ring. With an exclamation of disgust she wrenched it off her shaking hand and threw it across the room, then put the kettle on and made herself a cup of black coffee to drink while she rang Friars Wood to announce her arrival. Her mother answered, and, always alert to nuances of expression when it came to her young, demanded to know what was wrong. Jess pleaded travel sickness and-fatigue, reported that Emily was on the mend, and promised to ring next day after her return from the agency.

"Should you be going to work tomorrow if you feel ill, darling?"

It was preferable to staring at the walls in the flat. "I'll be fine, Mother," said Jess firmly. "I really can't take any more time off." She asked after her siblings, sent her love to her father, then put the phone down before she could weaken and sob out her sorry tale to her perceptive parent.

Once she'd showered Jess slid into bed and stared at the ceiling of the small, functional bedroom which was so different from the room she'd slept in-or not slept in-the night before. And at last the numbing fog fell away, and a great wave of anguish and disillusion swept over her.

When the storm of weeping was over Jess mopped herself up and faced facts. Just like the other men in her life, in the end Lorenzo Forii had used all the means he possessed to seduce her into his bed. Admittedly his approach had been very different from the others. Not only fairy stories about love at first sight, but shameless lies about his relationship with Renata. A novel spin on the old my wife doesn't understand me' gambit, thought Jess, and ground her teeth in furious distaste. She had been so gullible, so full of compassion for him as Lorenzo had told her about his arid, loveless marriage. She'd listened with such sympathy, aching for him when he said he had never touched Renata again after their wedding night. Yet the inescapable truth remained. To die in childbirth Renata had to have been pregnant first. Which meant that at a late stage in the relationship either Lorenzo had resorted to force or Renata had experienced some kind of epiphany and welcomed him into her bed at last.

The thought acted on Jess like an emetic, and she bolted to the bathroom, her fiction about nausea suddenly the truth. Later she lay awake for hours in shivering misery, bitter as she remembered the way Roberto and Isabella had pleaded with her not to hurt Lorenzo. Jess buried her face in the pillow. In the end she was the one who'd been hurt, not their beloved brother. And the worst of it was she still loved Lorenzo passionately, and wanted him here right now, in this bed beside her. She groaned in despair, mortified by her own weakness. In the past she'd been so scornful about sensible friends who changed overnight into mooning idiots over men. She had sworn it would never happen to Jess Dysart. Yet here she was, for the first time in her life helplessly, hopelessly in love. So much so she'd surrendered unconditionally to the man who'd taught her just how breathtakingly wonderful love could be. Only to discover that the object of her passion was not nearly as perfect as she-and everyone else who knew him-believed. Lorenzo Forii was as capable of lying to gain his ends as any lesser mortal.

At some time in the night Jess fell into a troubled sleep, but woke early to crawl out of bed and search the floor on hands and knees until she found the ring. She sat down at once to write a cool, dignified letter to Lorenzo, telling him that their brief, passionate relationship had been a mistake. Too hot not to cool down and all that. Not that this was true. She hadn't cooled down. The merest thought of Lorenzo's lips and hands... Jess groaned in anguish and went to stand under the shower again.

Her first day back at the agency was an unwelcome revelation to Jess. She had counted on using work as an opiate for the injury to her damaged heart. But to her consternation she found she no longer had any enthusiasm for her job. The work she had once found so interesting now seemed trivial and boring. And without Emily to come home to in the evening the small basement flat felt like a stuffy prison after the space and charm of Villa Fortuna.

Jess worked late that first, endless day, and returned home eventually to listen to several messages from Lorenzo demanding that she ring him back. Refusing to add expensive phone calls to the bill she shared with Emily, Jess took a shower, made a sandwich with the groceries she'd bought on the way home, then sat down with it to wait.

Before she was even half way through her sandwich Lorenzo rang again.

"You are there!" he said with relief when she answered. "I was so worried, amore. Where have you been?"