by Liz Harris
For several scrummy hours, she’d totally blanked out why she was there. Not why she was in his bed – she was in his bed because she wanted to be in his bed and for no other reason at all – but why she was with him in Italy.
She’d let herself get so carried away, almost literally, by a bloke who was sex on two legs, that she’d completely forgotten that she was there on a job. The fact that she fancied Tom like mad mustn’t be allowed to get in the way.
They’d had fun in Italy, but it would come to an end back in England – he’d go back to doing his job and to dating the sort of women he usually dated, and she’d go back to her career. And if her career was going to be that of a journalist, she ought to be focusing on what she was meant to be doing, not on how luscious he was.
Yes, that was what she ought to be doing. She glanced up at him, and her heart gave a lurch. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t use what they had between them to wheedle out of him something he’d never want the world to know.
Swallowing the lump that threatened to block her throat as she realised that she was putting an end to her life’s dream, she moved closer to him, needing to feel his warmth next to her.
He inched back his head and glanced down at her. ‘Are you all right, Evie? You’re suddenly very quiet.’
She attempted a laugh. ‘You’re not the only person who’s not in a hurry to go back to work,’ she murmured into his chest. ‘I’m not looking forward to returning to the agency.’
He glanced down at her in surprise. ‘How come? I thought you were quite happy there for the time being.’
‘I am, or rather I was. The agency boss is a bit of a pig and I’m not that keen on having to start taking orders from him again.’
With a sudden movement, he raised himself on his elbow and stared intently at her, his face serious. ‘Wait a minute. Your agency boss – that’s not boss as in would-be stud, is it?’
‘God, no! He wouldn’t be able to find the necessary part for a start. No, it’s nothing like that.’
An overwhelming temptation to tell him the truth sprang up, and to say how sorry she was for lying to him. She swiftly pushed it away. He might hate her for what she’d thought about doing. She’d tell him on another occasion, when she’d had more time to think about the best way to approach it.
Snuggling closer to him, she blanked all thoughts of confession out of her mind.
‘It’s not just the idiot boss, it’s the thought of the other clients they'll send me out to. I bet no one else brings me to Umbria. After this week, everything else will seem boring, and that’s made me decide to start thinking about my future.’
He settled back down again and slid his arm around her. ‘That’s all right then. In fact, it’s better than all right if you’re serious about finding a career that’s more suited to your talents than working for an agency.’
‘What talents did you have in mind?’ she asked with a giggle, and she ran her fingers lightly across his chest.
‘Nothing like that,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You’re very good with people, Evie, and whatever you do, you should make sure that it doesn’t confine you to an office.’ He paused. ‘In fact, I’ve had an idea. I think I know someone who might be able to help you. If she can’t actually offer you anything, at the very least she’ll be able to give you some advice. I’m thinking of Zizi Westenhall.’
She started in surprise. ‘The one you just defended?’
‘That’s the one. But I didn’t defend her, as such – I acted for her against that filthy rag, Pure Dirt. We sued them for Libel after they accused her of having had an affair. It was one of their so-called exposés. As you can imagine, it was an allegation that didn’t exactly delight her husband.’
‘I saw her picture in the paper the other day. She’s beautiful.’
‘Yes, she is. And with a high profile marriage to protect, she couldn’t afford to ignore such a malicious slur on her reputation, so we took Pure Dirt to court. Happily, the paper lost and was forced to eat its grubby words. I’m glad to say that they had to pay her costs as well as theirs, and also pay a substantial sum in damages. They’re the lowest form of scum, that bunch.’
Her eyes filled up. She struggled to take control of herself. Thank goodness she hadn’t told Tom she was a Pure Dirt reporter. If they never saw each other again after her contract was up, he might never need know and he’d always think well of her.
‘I’ll get in touch with Zizi as soon as my next case is over,’ he added.
‘How would she be able to help me, though?’
‘Her husband gives a lot of his money away – not just in England, but in other countries, too. Zizi runs some of Howard’s charities. It’s just possible that they might be able to use you in one of their foundations.’
‘That would be fantastic. Did you ever get to meet Howard?’
‘When he came to court with her, but not apart from that.’
‘Was she nice, Zizi, or was it a case of beauty being only skin deep?’
‘Not at all. She’s lovely to look at and lovely as a person.’
A shard of jealousy cut into her. Had he slept with Zizi? she wondered. Curiosity joined hands with the green-eyed monster and got the better of her. ‘Then you must be a saint to have been able to resist her.’ She put her hand up to the side of his face, gently pulled his face to hers and kissed him on the lips. ‘It’s the first time I’ve kissed a saint. I just might have to revise my opinion of your suitability for a monastery.’
‘I hate to disappoint you, faithful Evie, but I’m not as saintly as you might think.’
‘Don’t tell me you and Zizi W got your act together?’ A pang of misery shot through her, and she held her breath.
He rolled over so that he was half lying on top of her. ‘No, we didn’t.’ He started to run his fingers slowly through her hair. ‘We got on really well, went out for dinner a few times, but it ended there. In other circumstances – had she not been married, for example, and had I not just argued her case claiming that she’d done nothing to diminish her reputation – then maybe it would have ended differently. I think it’s fair to say that we liked each other. But when it came to it, neither of us wanted more than that, and we’ve come out of it as friends.’
She let her breath out.
‘So you do deserve your saintly status.’ She smiled broadly up at him. ‘Admittedly, you’ve done some things I don’t exactly associate with a monk or a saint – quite recently, in fact – and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I’d second you for sainthood.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know about that. I reckon we’ve all done something wrong at some point in our lives, and I’m no exception.’
‘But you didn’t sleep with Zizi.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of her. I was thinking of something that happened some years ago. It involved a fax.’
‘A fax! What on earth could you do that you shouldn’t with a fax? No, don’t tell me,’ she laughed. ‘I think I’d rather not know.’
‘Right, I won’t.’ He rolled back and stared at the ceiling. She glanced across at him and saw amusement flickering on his lips.
‘OK, I give in. You’ve got me curious now. So what did you do with the fax, then?’
He turned towards her, his face suddenly serious. She felt a throb of alarm. ‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’
‘I do want to. I’ve never told anyone before and it’ll actually be a relief to tell someone.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Call it my confession, if you like.’
Biting her lip, she nodded.
‘As you can imagine, a person can mistakenly be faxed information meant for someone else. If that happens to a barrister, he must instantly send it back without reading it. Information like that’s called privileged information, and it’s a great offence to read privileged information. If you were caught, you’d be hauled up before a disciplinary committee and you’d certainly be punished. As it happens, I wasn’t caught, and I’ve felt guilty about it eve
r since. But I’ve done my best to make amends – I do a lot of pro bono cases for people who can’t afford to pay.’
‘But reading what you shouldn’t read happens all the time in offices. It’s no big deal.’
‘Maybe so in offices, but not at the Bar. I knew I’d be breaking the barristers’ code of conduct if I went ahead and read the fax – it was something that the prosecuting barrister had sent to me by mistake – nevertheless, read it I did.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t have read it, but as you said just now, we’ve all done things we shouldn’t have done at some time or another.’
‘The Bar Standards Board might not agree. They’re hot on the rules governing privileged information. I’d been mistakenly sent a list of the strengths and weaknesses of the prosecution’s case. I was the defence lawyer, on my first solo libel case, and because of what I’d read, I knew the weak points of the prosecution’s argument even before I went into court. Not surprisingly, I made a huge success of the case, and that gave me a terrific start to my career. But in my heart, knowing what I’d done took the gloss off my win.’
‘I imagine you’ve helped a lot of people through your work, Tom. Doesn’t that go some way towards making you feel better about what happened?’
‘You’ve a good heart, Evie, and you want to think well of people. In my defence, I was very young at the time. When the document fell into my lap, I couldn’t resist the chance it gave me. Also, I might add, the correct person won – my client’s reputation had been maliciously damaged and he deserved to win. But I still wish I’d won the case more honestly.’
‘As you say, though, it was ever so many years ago, and you were very young.’
‘Hey, I’m not that old!’ he laughed. ‘But it’s nice of you to want to defend me.’
She buried her face in his chest and nestled closer. ‘So maybe you don’t qualify for sainthood. I’m not sure that being in bed with a saint would be high on my wish list, anyway.’
He looked down at her and gave her a lazy smile. ‘Thanks, Evie,’ he said quietly.
She stared out of her bedroom window in Il Poggio, watching the early morning sun inch its way above distant Todi. Trailing in its wake were long streaks of white-gold light, which slowly drifted across the sky, widening into each other, merging into giant sheets of pale light which swept away the dark of night.
Had she still been on her mission, it would have been accomplished, she told herself. There was nothing incriminating about the Zizi affair – or rather the non-affair – but the fax story, along with the photograph her editor already had, would be enough for him to publish the salacious article he was after.
The paper could say whatever it liked about Tom and Zizi. Since he’d been shown to have done something dishonest in the past, people could easily be persuaded to think he’d crossed the line with his married client whilst at the same time telling the court that she hadn’t done anything to damage her reputation.
She could hand in the story. Her editor would be pleased with her and her job would be secure. But as she’d realised in a flash as she lay beside Tom, that wasn’t going to happen, not now, not ever.
How ironic, she thought drily, getting something she’d so badly wanted when she no longer wanted it.
She turned away from the cold glass and looked slowly around the room. Her gaze fell on the bedroom door and lingered there. She remembered the look on Tom’s face when he’d burst into her bedroom on hearing her scream that first night. She smiled at the spot where he’d stood.
That was the moment when she’d fallen in love with him – she just hadn’t allowed herself to recognise it. Not until last night.
Her eyes now wide open, she realised what Eduardo had seen in them when he’d watched her gaze at Tom. It was amazing that she’d managed to fool herself for one whole week that while Tom was fun to be with, he was no more to her than a boss who happened to be a brilliant companion. She’d been so blind.
And not just about Tom. She could see herself clearly for the first time in ages.
Even if she hadn’t fallen in love with Tom, she would never have been able to do what Pure Dirt had asked her to do; not in any circumstances – she just wasn’t wired like that. Yes, she desperately wanted to be a journalist, but not so badly that she’d bring herself to do something absolutely vile to someone else in order to achieve her goal. No way!
She cringed as she remembered telling Rachel and Jess that she was going to focus on the Pure, not on the Dirt. How naïve of her. The minute you pried into someone’s private life and made it public, you were up to your neck in crap. There was nothing pure about printing something about someone that they’d rather other people didn’t know, whatever that something was.
God, she’d been so stupid. If only she’d faced the truth about herself and the job earlier in the week, she could have mentally ditched Pure Dirt and concentrated on having a bloody good time in Italy. Instead she’d wasted precious time worrying about how to get a story.
No matter how much she dreaded the thought of him knowing why she’d gone to Italy with him, and no matter how much she wanted to think that he might never need to know, she owed it to him to tell him the truth. The way she’d met him was a lie, but there weren’t going to be any more lies between them and she wasn’t going to live in fear of him learning the truth at some point in the future. She was going to tell him up front about Pure Dirt.
But she had to be super cool about the way in which she did it. Blurting it out on their first date in London would be a sure fire way of killing their relationship before it had hardly got off the ground. No, she’d have to do it carefully and at the right time. Which meant she’d have to keep her job at Pure Dirt, and therefore the agency, a little while longer.
Once they’d re-established their relationship, she could tell him about Pure Dirt and how she’d turned her back on what had been one ginormous mistake from the start.
She loved Tom and she was convinced that he loved her. With luck, her past wouldn’t come between them.
One thing was for certain, though – whatever happened or didn’t happen between her and Tom in the future, no one would ever know what he’d told her that night.
Chapter Fourteen
When is a proposal not a proposal?
Tom threw back his cover, walked across the hotel bedroom to the window and pushed open the shutters. Leaning forward against the wooden window sill, he watched as the night began to break up into wide swathes of pale grey and blue that reached out across the sky, each of them outlined by the white sun that rose up behind them, heralding the dawn of the new day.
Their last day together in Italy.
It was true that Evie would be working for him for two more weeks, so in a way they would still be together when they were in England, but it might not be the same. And anyway, his work schedule meant that they wouldn’t be physically together, and that’s what he wanted. She’d brought a breath of fresh air into his life and he wasn’t ready to return to life as it had been before he’d met her.
And he might not have to. Who knew how things would turn out in the future?
But that was for the future.
Their time together in Italy had been a dream. Holding Evie in his arms the night before, having her in his bed, that had been a dream come true – it had been something that was very, very special. For him, anyway. And for Evie, too, he was sure. She wasn’t the sort of girl to pretend to feel something that she didn’t feel. It was why he always felt so comfortable with her. Or one of the reasons. She was lovely to look at, and she was great fun. There were so many reasons why he enjoyed being with her.
And he fervently hoped that she felt the same about him.
One of the sprinklers came on in front of his window. The scent of damp grass reached him. He leaned further forward and inhaled the morning air. He’d miss that aroma when he was back in London. His small paved garden was lovely, but not as lovely as the Umbrian garden that was waiting for him w
henever he drove through the wrought-iron gates and on to his drive.
And Evie liked the house and garden, too.
He could tell that she genuinely did. The longer the week had gone, the more she’d glowed with happiness and relaxation. There wasn’t any place that they’d been to, any sight that they’d seen, that she hadn’t responded to in a positive, lively sort of way. She had a natural charm, a lovely way with her. And while he’d always appreciated the skill and professionalism of his regular interpreter, he was absolutely delighted that the man had been unable to come with him. Otherwise, he would never have met Evie. And that would be a loss.
He straightened up. He’d have a shower, make a start on packing, and then go for his last breakfast with Evie on the terrace. As he turned away from the window, he suddenly felt very forlorn.
Evie stood beside her packed bags on the terrace and glanced at her watch. In just over four hours they’d be on the plane going home, and that was a depressing thought. It had been a brilliant week and she didn’t want it to end.
But come to an end, it had. They were about to go back to the real world, a world full of tests they’d both have to face, and there was no way of knowing what the future would bring. The end of their week in Italy might just herald the end of her relationship with Tom.
‘Ah, Evie!’ The husky tones of Gabriela sounded from behind her. She spun round and saw Gabriela coming quickly across the terrace towards her. ‘I’m very glad that I’m not too late to see you. I was so worried that you would already have left.’
‘Gabriela!’ She smothered her dismay. Gabriela, cool in a body-hugging, scoop-necked grey silk dress, was the very last person she wanted to see. ‘Tom’s on the phone. I didn’t expect to see you here – I thought you would have had more than enough of us after yesterday. It was a lovely day, by the way. Thank you again.’
‘Eduardo and I couldn’t let our friends go back to England without saying goodbye, could we?’
For fuck’s sake, why not? And surely they weren’t going to get Eduardo, too! She could just imagine his leave-taking rituals before they flew off to England, if his goodbyes earlier in the week were anything to go by. Her heart sank.