Falling for the Sardinian Baron

by Rosanna Battigelli

  Thanks for the use of your pool.

  Massimo reread it. Feeling deflated, he put everything he had prepared in the fridge, his appetite gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ELLA RESISTED THE urge to look back at the villa as she hurried to the guesthouse. She flopped down on the couch and stared out at the turquoise waters in the cove. But what she saw was the crystalline depths of the baron’s eyes as they had joked around in the pool. The magnetic pull of them that she had found so hard to draw away from. The occasional twinkle that had caused a skip in her heartbeat.

  And she hadn’t been immune to his body, either.

  It was obvious that Massimo worked out. It had taken every ounce of her resolve not to stare at his sculpted shoulders, arms and chest. His strong, muscled legs. The sight of him approaching the pool had given her a jolt, and later, when he had been less than a few feet away from her in the water, her nerve endings had done a frenzied dance. She had bantered with him, not wanting to reveal how his proximity was affecting her, but all the while, she had been conscious of the whitecaps swirling in her chest...

  She was treading on dangerous ground.

  She had never felt this way with her previous dates. Not that Massimo was a date. And not that she had taken the time, except with Dustin, to move beyond the initial couple of encounters.

  Ella brushed away all thoughts of Dustin and refocused on the way she was reacting to Massimo DiLuca. And they hadn’t even kissed...

  Which was why the alarm signals had gone off in her brain. She had no real personal experience that she could draw upon.

  How could she encourage such feelings? This was unchartered territory, and if certain situations presented themselves that put her and Massimo in close proximity, she had no idea how she would react.

  Or maybe she did.

  And that would be unprofessional. She was here to interview Massimo DiLuca and his mother, not to allow herself to get weak-kneed over a man.

  Besides, she was leaving in a few days. Why would she want to get herself in a position where something might happen? Something she would ultimately regret?

  Which was why she had decided to leave.

  She would enter Villa Serena only to conduct the interviews from now on. And she would swim in the cove instead of the baron’s pool. She’d have plenty of time to enjoy a pool at the resort she’d be booking.

  Letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, Ella headed to the study, where she had left her laptop on the desk. She sat down and, moments later, scanned the list of resorts in and around Posada. After an hour of checking both resorts and B and Bs, Ella decided to stay at an agriturismo, a farm run by a family with a view of the Tyrrhenian Sea and private access to the beach. It was a couple of miles from Posada, but she could either rent a car or a bike if she was adventurous. The price was reasonable and she’d have a private bathroom and free Wi-Fi. Meals were optional and there was a restaurant and a pool.

  The place looked absolutely charming with its pristine white stucco exterior, rounded wooden doors and balcony planters bursting with color. It was like something out of a fairy tale, its cobbled path snaking its way to the front entrance between shamrock-green manicured lawns that resembled thick, luxurious quilts.

  Ella checked the booking calendar and was elated to see the following week was available. She promptly booked and paid the reservation fee and indicated that she’d take the meal plan of breakfast and a later dinner.

  Sighing in relief, Ella closed her laptop. She went back to the entrance, where she had left her swim bag, and proceeded to the laundry area to wash her swimsuit. She stifled a yawn as she made herself a panino with fresh mozzarella di bufala and mushroom antipasto that she found with other jars of preserves in the pantry, which she realized was climate controlled.

  The snack only made her drowsier, and realizing she was still experiencing jet lag, Ella decided to relax on the chaise lounge in the shaded section of the outdoor patio.

  She closed her eyes and listened to the soothing sounds of the surf as it unfurled on the beach and then bubbled back into the sea. The scents of roses, oleander blossoms and various potted herbs wafted over to her with the gentle sea breeze, and she couldn’t help feeling that she was in an enchanted garden.

  The screen behind her eyelids began to display scene after scene of her trip to Sardinia, from the time she encountered the baron by almost knocking him to the ground, to the bantering between them in his pool.

  He was taking too much time in her head.

  She squeezed her eyes tight. And he was infiltrating her senses. Maybe she’d better go back inside and go over her notes instead of letting her imagination wander in this direction...

  At the sound of a cough, she quickly sat up.

  He was standing there for real, in shorts and a T-shirt. And sunglasses. He looked a little different, though...and then her gaze fell on his beard. He had trimmed it.

  He nodded curtly and started to turn away but stopped to face her again.

  “Did you find a place to stay?” he said huskily.

  “I did. It looks lovely, the price was right, it was just the kind of unpretentious place I was looking for—” She froze, realizing how that must sound. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a dismissive wave. “I just came by to tell you dinner will be at eight tonight at my mother’s. Can you be ready by six? I’ll drive the boat across, and from there, it will take another half hour by car.”

  “Um, sure. Oh, what should I wear? Casual or more dressy?”

  Massimo’s lips quirked. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. Unpretentious is always good.”

  * * *

  Massimo caught the flash of uncertainty in Ella’s eyes. He probably shouldn’t have said that; it made him sound like he had taken offence at her earlier comment.

  “Seriously, it’s not a formal event, so no ball gowns.” He smiled, but she didn’t reciprocate. Didn’t she realize he had been teasing?

  “That’s good, because I left all my ball gowns at home,” she said nonchalantly. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go over my notes from this morning.”

  “Of course,” he said, his smile fading. She had tried to soften her tone, but she hadn’t completely succeeded. “Arrivederci.” He waved, and moments later, before passing through Oleander Lane, or Via degli Oleandri, as he called the path leading to his villa, he turned his head to glance back, but Ella had already disappeared into the guesthouse.

  He felt a hint of disappointment...and confusion. She had seemed relaxed earlier in the pool, and comfortable joking around with him. What had happened to change her mood?

  With almost two hours wait time before they had to leave, Massimo decided to go over his work email and then check the updates on the Maddalena Island resort. There were cameras set up at different spots on the exterior and interior of the building so he could virtually view the daily progress that was being made.

  He was happy to see what had been accomplished since his last physical visit to the site. The project should be completed by the end of the month. He liked to choose a new architectural firm for each new resort, selecting not only the best in Italy but around the world. One of the firms that had caught his interest a few years earlier was a Canadian company that had won a prestigious award for its ecological initiatives. He had subsequently enlisted one of their teams to be in charge of the landscaping and rooftop gardens at the Maddalena resort.

  What Massimo hadn’t decided upon yet was the name of the resort. He had fiddled around with a few possibilities, Mare e Meraviglia being one of them, liking the way Sea and Wonder evoked a place of enchantment. He reached for the notepad and doodled some sketches with the two Ms intertwined, adding waves and a beach. He wondered if he should add the usual D for DiLuca in the design and then decided against it. Maybe the two Ms but with a c
hange of the second word. Mare e Magia. Sea and Magic.

  And then he impulsively wrote down Marinella and sketched waves around her name. He felt his stomach muscles tensing as he thought about how close they had been in the pool. And how natural it had seemed for her to be there...

  He shook his head as if doing so would brush away his thoughts about her. With a sigh of frustration, he pushed the notepad aside, shut down his laptop, and headed to his room.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ELLA SURVEYED THE two dresses she had laid out on the bed, one short, one long. The short one was a sleeveless jersey dress with a ruffle around the V-neck and a flared hem that came just above her knees. It was teal blue, one of her favorite colors. The second was a yellow floral-print wrap-around maxi, also sleeveless, with drawstring waistband.

  She decided on the shorter one. It was loose and comfortable, and she had a pair of teal blue sapphire earrings that matched perfectly. Hanging up the floral maxi dress, Ella felt a current of anticipation run through her, thinking about her meeting with baronessa Silvia DiLuca. Would she be down to earth? Arrogant? Controlling? Massimo had called her the phenomenon that is my mother. That sounded positive. Hopefully the evening would go well...

  Why wouldn’t it?

  Ella was curious to see and chat with the woman, who was obviously a powerhouse, having reached such a level of success with the resort business she had started with her late husband.

  Ella checked the time on her phone. She had several hours to go over her notes and recordings, work on her piece, and review the questions she had for the baronessa tonight, either before or after dinner. But first, she’d grab a cool drink...

  Minutes later she was in the study, notes and recorder on one side of the massive desk and her laptop open and turned on. She began replaying the first recording with the intention of pausing regularly to transcribe the text, but as Massimo’s voice came on, Ella found herself riveted by the sound of his voice. She leaned back in the burgundy leather office chair and just listened. At some point, she closed her eyes and as Massimo talked about his father, she picked up some inflections and nuances that she hadn’t been aware of when they were actually doing the interview. When the first session came to an end, she started, feeling as if she had snapped back to consciousness after being hypnotized.

  Massimo’s voice had been hypnotizing...

  It had lulled her with its deep timbre and occasional huskiness, and as she had listened, she had found herself visualizing his face: his flashing eyes, the curve of his smile, his brow furrowing, his fingers stroking his jaw as he thought about his response.

  Ella felt a heaviness in the air and took a long sip of her iced lemonade. There was definitely an increase in humidity from the morning.

  Or was it a spike in her body temperature from listening to Massimo’s voice?

  Ella shook her head in annoyance at her rogue thoughts. Thoughts she had vowed to suppress.

  For the next three hours, she concentrated on her task of transcribing the recording and then continued working on the piece she had started the day before. Finally, she shut down her laptop and after reviewing her questions for the baronessa on her notepad, she stood up and stretched, contented with what she had accomplished. She checked the time and realized she should be getting ready. She set her recorder and notepad on the credenza near the entrance. Hurrying up the spiral staircase and in the shower moments later, Ella mused over the evening ahead with the baronessa, immediately redirecting her thoughts when they veered in the direction of the baron...

  After drying her hair and styling it in loose curls, Ella slipped on the teal blue dress and surveyed herself in the mirror. She liked the way the flared hem moved with her. Smiling, she put on the drop earrings. Perfect. Not too casual nor too dressy.

  Her pulse spiked at the sound of a doorbell. She had thought it funny Massimo would have had one installed, given the fact that he was the only one on the island... But then again, maybe he had planned to rent it out one day or let a friend visit. At the second ring, Ella quickly put on a pair of low-heeled pumps and headed downstairs to answer the door.

  When she opened it, she was slightly breathless from rushing down, and she stood blinking at the baron, too close to him to give him the once-over.

  “Hello.” They said it at the same time.

  “You look...very nice,” he said, his dark eyes focused on her face.

  “Thanks. You, too.” The words slipped out. She had not meant to say “you, too.” “I mean, you look...” Good God, why was she even trying to explain? “...fine,” she finished limply.

  Massimo chuckled. “I’ll take fine, although it seems like I’ve been downgraded from very nice.”

  Ella felt her cheeks tingle. She shifted her attention to her notepad and recorder on the credenza. “I’ll just be a minute to grab my bag.” She had forgotten it in the loft. And she had a second bag containing a gift for the baronessa, a print by the late Canadian First Nations woodland-school artist Daphne Odjig, a pioneer in developing indigenous art in Canada. Ella had traveled to Manitoulin Island, Odjig’s place of birth, and had wanted to choose a gift that represented the spirit of Canada’s First Peoples... In fact, the name Manitoulin meant spirit island in the Ojibwe language.

  As Ella turned away, the tingling in her cheeks intensified as she imagined Massimo’s gaze following her up the spiral staircase. When she returned, she saw that he hadn’t budged and was watching her intently as she descended.

  He held the door open for her, and minutes later, they were in Massimo’s speedboat, skimming across the calm sea. Ella couldn’t help glancing at Massimo’s profile, his eyes narrowed in concentration and his mouth occasionally tilting upward. She wondered what he was thinking...

  Maybe she shouldn’t have bristled earlier when he had made the comment about wearing something unpretentious. She had assumed that he was deliberately emphasizing her gaffe, and she had taken offence. Which was ridiculous, really, since if anyone should have taken offence, it should have been him.

  Well, it seemed that he didn’t have anything he wanted to say now...

  And she couldn’t bring herself to make small talk. Ella bit her lip at the awkwardness between them, feeling the tension radiate throughout her body.

  He suddenly turned to glance at her. “Tutto bene?” he said, slowing down the engine.

  “Uh, yes, sì, everything’s fine,” she blurted the white lie.

  “I hope you’re not preoccupied about meeting my mother. She’s very easy...uh...”

  “Easygoing?” Ella couldn’t help smiling inwardly.

  “Yes, that’s it. Easygoing.” He chuckled. “And very hospitable...just like her son.” He flashed Ella a grin. “But she’s the better cook.”

  Ella felt her tension dissipating and her pulse quickening simultaneously. It was the way his eyes crinkled along with his perfect smile.

  Moments later, when they reached the dock at Villa Paradiso, Massimo moored the vessel and offered Ella his hand as she stepped out of the boat. He had put his sunglasses back on.

  She took his hand, liking the feel of his strong grip.

  When he let go and started walking toward the parked vehicles, she followed, looking for the SUV that he had picked her up in. She spotted it, but as they approached it, Massimo paused suddenly and then strode past it, stopping at the passenger side of a silver-gray Lamborghini. Its smooth, streamlined shape, with its distinctive angles and curves, took her breath away. It reminded her of a stealth jet. Sleek and sexy, she couldn’t help thinking. Just like its owner...

  “Prego,” he said, opening the door for her, with another pulse-activating smile.

  * * *

  Massimo felt a surge in his chest as he let his Huracán release its potential on the Strada Statale 131, the state highway toward Cagliari. This latest vehicle purchase had been his treat to himself aft
er moving into his villa. And it wasn’t because he wanted to flaunt his wealth or be pretentious. He had simply loved the look and feel of it, unleashing its power on the long strip of highway like a predator in hot pursuit of its prey.

  Letting it rip had been like giving vent to all his primal instincts, releasing the powder keg that had been building up inside him after the death of his wife. Its engine thrumming in his ears had reverberated throughout his body, just like now, making his heart race along with it.

  Massimo sensed Ella’s excitement, and her gasp at every acceleration made his heart pound harder. She was the first woman he had taken for a ride in his Huracán. The first woman he had wanted to take for a ride...

  As he maneuvered through a curve, Ella’s hand shot out and clasped his thigh. He had already reduced his speed, but he decreased it even further, knowing there was no vehicle imminently approaching from behind.

  “Sorry,” she squeaked, her voice several octaves higher. She pulled her hand away. “I thought we were going to spin out of control.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Ella,” he said, glancing quickly at her. “But let me reassure you I had complete control. We’re approaching the city limits of Cagliari now, so I’ll behave...and my mother’s villa is another thirty-five kilometers away. We’ll be there very soon.”

  As her eyes widened, Massimo gave her a mischievous grin. “Would you like to drive?”

  Ella blinked at him as if he had lost all sanity. “Uh, no, thank you. I’ll leave the navigation to you, since I don’t have any experience in flying a jet.”

  He let out a deep laugh. “Va bene. But admit it, the flight was exciting.” He merged into the city traffic and shortly stopped at a red light.

  “It was,” she said, and for several moments, their eyes locked.

  The honking of a vehicle behind them made Massimo realize the traffic light had turned green. He turned his attention reluctantly back on the road.