Challenge

by Sophie Weston

  She flexed her toes against the deck. It was warm underfoot from a whole day's sun. With a little sigh of contentment she swung her legs on to the lounger and gazed up at the hazy sky.

  `You have some sun cream?' asked Leandro idly.

  Jessica frowned; then, remembering how she had looked in the mirror, she hastily changed her expression.

  `Why?' Damn the man! She sounded like a hysterical spinster, instantly suspicious, much too guarded.

  Leandro clearly shared her own thoughts. 'Why, so I can get my hands on you, bellissima, by covering you with sticky goo,' he said drily. He gave a little chuckle. `Insect repellent would do,' he offered as an apparent afterthought.

  Jessica blushed, yet she was reassured by this mockery, even while she was embarrassed by it.

  `Yes, I suppose I did think that was what you meant,' she admitted. 'I'm sorry.'

  Leandro gave a faint shrug, a minimal movement of the tanned shoulders.

  `Don't apologise, cara. My reputation-would be on the wane if that had not been what you thought.' Suddenly he turned his head and opened his eyes, looking full at her with that direct gaze. It struck her oddly that, when he was not mocking or assuming that melting look, his eyes were very sharp.

  `But on this occasion, I was motivated entirely by concern. You are very pale and even in September this sun can be fierce. You will have an uncomfortable time if you ignore sensible precautions against it.'

  `Even at this hour?' Jessica was startled.

  `By my standards, my English rose, this is cool,' Leandro said drily, resuming his former position and addressing the sky from behind closed lids. 'In fact I am being immensely macho in staying out here without putting on a tracksuit to protect me from the breeze.'

  `Well then. .

  `I said by my standards. Your standards are different. As,' he added mischievously, 'you never cease to tell me. After a summer of English rain—which you probably spent cooped up in an office, anyway—I imagine this is high grilling temperature to your skin. You should use a sun blocker, at least to begin with. If you haven't brought any, ask Enrico. I know Giorgio keeps things like that for his guests.'

  `I will,' promised Jessica, letting her eyes drift closed under the soothing rays.

  `Now,' Leandro said gently.

  For a moment Jessica was tempted to mutiny. Then she gave a small shrug and sat up. It was for her own good, after all. Little as she relished Leandro's tone of cool command, she had to admit that his advice was sensible.

  Sighing, she swung her feet to the ground again. `Where are you going?'

  `As instructed,' Jessica said drily.

  I didn't tell you to run away.' Leandro gave her an ardent, melting look that made her want to hit him. 'It is hard enough for me to get a few minutes in your company; would I send you away?'

  'You told me to fetch some sun cream.'

  `Wrong.' He shook his head, gently rebuking her. 'I told you to use sun cream. Enrico will fetch it—that's what he's paid for.'

  He reached out a long-fingered hand and touched a bell in the wall behind him.

  Jessica snorted, torn between anger and amusement.

  `There's no reason why I shouldn't fetch my own. I'm not an honoured guest, I'm an employee. Enrico isn't here to wait on me.'

  `And you think he shouldn't wait on me, either.' Leandro did not try to disguise his amusement. 'You think. I'm an idle fellow, don't you, cara?'

  Jessica looked away, faintly uncomfortable.

  `Don't you?' he persisted.

  Seeing that he was not to be deflected, she answered carefully, 'I think you are rather more—shall we say laid back?—than I am.'

  He grunted. 'My dear child, a hang-glider in a snowstorm would be more laid back than you are. I've never seen a woman twitch so much. You're never still!'

  Stung, Jessica snapped, 'Just because you never move if you can help it!' and found herself, quite unexpectedly, looking up into laughing eyes that were altogether too near. Leandro shook his head, the sun glinting on the golden lights in his disarranged hair. He must have been swimming, she thought confusedly; the springy brown hair was not quite dry at the ends and he smelt of salt.

  `How wrong you are,' said Leandro, laughing at her. And his mouth closed, softly and warmly, over her own.

  Jessica did not struggle. For one thing she was too surprised. For another, although the embrace was of exemplary lightness and gentleness, she had a sudden and inexplicable tremor of trepidation, sensing that the beautiful body owned a leashed strength which she

  would not previously have suspected. So she stayed still as a startled mouse under his kiss.

  Eventually he raised his head. He was smiling. `There you are,' he said.

  She looked at him warily. `Where am I?'

  Leandro laughed. 'In the wrong. Admit it.'

  `I'm in the wrong because you kiss me?' Jessica queried drily.

  `You accused me of never moving unless I could help it,' he reminded her, his eyes glinting. 'I demand a retraction.'

  She allowed a note of mockery to enter her voice. `Kissing is moving?'

  He chuckled. 'Well, it moves me. You're obviously less susceptible.'

  Jessica gave him a sweet false smile. She was fairly certain that he had made an accurate assessment of exactly how susceptible she was. The thought infuriated her, but she was not going to let him see that.

  `I retract,' she told him. 'I misjudged you.'

  `You did indeed,' he agreed tranquilly. He was still much too close, his arms on either side of her barring her escape, his expression wicked. 'Are you going to apologise?'

  `Abjectly,' Jessica assured him.

  He laughed, withdrawing. 'How very disappointing!'

  She did not answer that one. She watched from under her lashes as he disposed his long limbs on the sun-lounger next to her own, and tilted his head back towards the sun. He must, she thought dispassionately, be the most handsome man she had ever met, and the most spoilt, the most irreverent, the most annoying. . .

  Enrico's arrival interrupted her thoughts.

  `You rang, signor?'

  `Yes, indeed. Have we any sun cream for the signorina, Enrico?'

  Jessica became aware that two pairs of eyes were considering her pale skin professionally. A faint flush rose in her cheeks as they discussed her requirements.

  `The signorina is very fair,' Enrico was saying doubtfully. 'I do not think that any of the usual preparations that we keep would be advisable.'

  `What about the American girl? Didn't she leave anything behind? She was a blonde.'

  `Ah, but she did not have that delicate skin,' Enrico reminded him. 'It is the skin that goes with Titian hair, not with blonde.'

  `You're right, of course,' Leandro agreed. 'Well, Gina's a redhead. What about her stuff?'

  `The Contessa has her cosmetics made up individually,' Enrico said, clearly doubtful. 'The signorina might be allergic. .

  `Oh God, yes, they smell, don't they?' Leandro agreed cheerfully.

  `They are highly perfumed,' agreed Enrico in a neutral voice, though Jessica had the strong impression that he was laughing.

  She sat up. 'Look,' she said, `no doubt you mean to be kind, but. .

  Enrico and Leandro stopped their conversation and looked at her with kindly and mildly surprised enquiry. As if, she thought dourly, some pampered poodle had suddenly voiced a preference for back-combing.

  `It's not that hot,' she said firmly. 'I'll buy my own cream tomorrow. And for tonight, if you really think it inadvisable for me to stay out here,' she said to Leandro deferentially, 'I'll go back to my cabin.'

  `That would be a shame,' he said smoothly. 'I am sure Enrico will be able to find you something that will do for now. And I will take you into Portofino myself tomorrow to buy something more satisfactory.'

  `Thank you,' said Jessica woodenly.

  Enrico left them, trying, and failing, to hide his grin. Oh, hell, another boost to shipboard gossip, thought Jessica. She fl
ung herself back on the lounger and tried to calm her temper. Her hands were curled into tight fists. Slowly she relaxed them, stretching out each finger, one at a time, and breathing deeply. She sensed that Leandro was watching this manoeuvre with some amusement. She ignored him

  At length he said, 'Did you really not bring any lotions with you? You can't have used them all up. I haven't seen you sunbathing before.'

  `I'm here to work,' she reminded him, refraining from admitting that on every occasion when she had thought of sunbathing she had been driven from the deck by his presence.

  But not all the time,' he protested. 'Surely even in London you enjoy yourself sometimes.'

  `I enjoy my work,' Jessica said coldly. She regretted it immediately; she sounded priggish.

  `And that is all you enjoy?'

  `What do you mean?'

  `Well, we have established that you don't expect to sunbathe—though the weather and this countryside, to say nothing of the yacht, were created for it. And you don't like talking to my friends. You don't want to drive the speedboat. So,' he turned his head, his eyes gleaming, 'how do you get your kicks, Jessica Shelburne?'

  There was a faint prickly tremor running along her spine. She was, she realised in some annoyance, just the slightest bit afraid of Leandro Volpi and his teasing. Oh, she was not afraid that he might lay violent hands on her, or anything like that, but he was too cool, too sophisticated; she was not sure she could match him. And she was very afraid that, if she did not match him, she might at best look a fool, at worst get badly hurt.

  She therefore said with great calmness, 'I drink.'

  'What?' He jack-knifed up in one fluid movement, staring at her.

  That bounced him out of his complacent mockery! Jessica thought with satisfaction.

  `Rather a lot, actually,' she said in a deadpan voice.

  He regarded her narrowly for a moment or two. Then he smiled. 'Mineral water?' he asked, plainly undeceived.

  Her annoyance increased, but she did not allow it to appear. 'Iced coffee, actually.'

  His voice was filled with unholy amusement. 'Well, it figures.'

  'It does?'

  'It must help keep the blood in your veins at sub-zero temperature,' he explained innocently. 'A primary requirement of ice maidens, I suppose.'

  Jessica said between her teeth, 'I am not an ice maiden.'

  'No?' He crossed his legs and sat in the lotus position, regarding her prone body with his head on one side. 'Have you any empirical evidence?'

  She opened one eye and glared at him. 'Just because I haven't thrown myself at your head. .

  Carissima, it is I who have thrown myself at you,' he confessed charmingly, 'and have the frostbite to prove it.'

  She opened both eyes, turned her head and allowed herself a long admiring survey of his tanned frame. 'Believe me, it doesn't show,' she told him.

  He gave a shout of laughter then. 'How would you know? I bet you've never seen a man who hasn't got frostbite.'

  Jessica said coldly, 'You're very insulting.'

  'Yes, I suppose I am,' he agreed without noticeable remorse.

  'If I'd known that I would be subjected to these sort of personal remarks,' she said, with what she could not

  disguise from herself was horrible pomposity, 'I should have refused to stay on this boat. You have no right to talk to me in this way. And I don't see why you should want to—unless it's some nasty way of amusing yourself.'

  `It's a very effective way,' Leandro said unrepentantly.

  She glared at him. He smiled back sunnily. She considered, and rejected, the possibility of hitting him. Enrico would no doubt return at the critical moment and then the gossip would really take fire. Besides, she was by no means sure that Leandro would take a smacked face like an officer and a gentleman. She had the distinct impression that he would retaliate, swiftly and with interest.

  After a pause he continued, 'You know, for such a very untouchable lady, you have an extraordinarily thin skin.'

  There were a number of answers to that and every one of them would take her into very deep water indeed. She thought that Leandro was well aware of it.

  She ignored him deliberately and sank back in the lounger, closing her eyes.

  `Don't you have to get ready for your party?' she asked in a neutral voice.

  `It is not a party. Merely a few friends coming for drinks and even fewer staying for dinner.'

  She grimaced. `So what is a party, in your terms?'

  Leandro gave a soft laugh. 'Oh, at least a hundred people and two bands,' he told her with complete sangfroid.

  Jessica sniffed. 'I believe you.'

  `I thought you would.' He shifted and her eyes flew open suspiciously, but he was just making himself more comfortable on his own lounger. Jessica found he was looking across at her in undisguised amusement. 'You really don't think at all highly of me, do you?'

  `I have no opinion on the subject,' she said loftily.

  He ignored that. 'I've never met anyone who disapproved of me as comprehensively as you do,' he said in a meditative tone. 'I sometimes wonder why. Are you measuring me by some paragon of manly virtue at home?'

  Jessica was not sure that he required an answer; he sounded almost as if he was talking to himself. So she preserved a prudent silence.

  `What sort of man would you approve of, now?' Leandro went on thoughtfully.

  He was clearly determined to annoy her. Jessica set her teeth. She would not rise to his teasing, she promised herself.

  `A worker, of course. A hard worker. Perhaps even a workaholic?' He cocked an enquiring eyebrow at her. `One of these dynamos that live on aeroplanes and touch down for some private life three times a year. Yes, I can imagine that suiting you very well.'

  Before she could stop herself she snapped, 'I can't imagine that would suit any woman!'

  Too late she realised she had fallen into his trap. He gave her his most brilliant smile. 'Quite.'

  She said wryly, 'Are you trying to tell me I'm unfeminine?'

  Leandro grinned. 'You are all too feminine, cara. Much too feminine for my peace of mind. But so very unsusceptible.' And he shook his head mournfully.

  About to deny the accusation hotly, Jessica paused. Maybe it was true. And even if it was not, it was no bad thing that Leandro Volpi thought she was unsusceptible.

  He said curiously, 'Have you ever been in love, Jessica?'

  She gave him a startled look. In spite of the teasing, the question sounded almost serious.

  `Why?' she demanded suspiciously.

  He shrugged. 'Because I find you a puzzle. I cannot account for it.'

  `Account for what? That I didn't fall flat at your feet?' she asked ironically.

  He chuckled. 'That was, of course, unique.' Then, growing serious again, 'But no. I mean rather this feeling you seem to have that it is wrong to enjoy yourself. And that people who enjoy themselves are some sort of delinquents.'

  She moved sharply, raising her hand in silent protest.

  `Well, no, maybe that is unjust. Let us say lightweight. That is better. You think people who enjoy themselves are by definition profoundly unserious people. Not your sort of people. You despise them.'

  Jessica said, 'I don't think that's quite fair.'

  But the quiet voice went on inexorably. 'You divide the world into two: those who work all the time, and those who play a little sometimes. And the latter are butterflies not worth your consideration.' Was there a touch of bitterness in the smooth voice now?

  `I don't think my judgments are quite as sweeping as that,' said Jessica, shaken.

  `I assure you they are.' He shifted on to his side and, propping himself on one elbow, turned to look at her. `Take myself, for example.'

  Jessica was suspicious. 'Why?'

  `A butterfly, right? A drone, not a worker. An unserious person. You took one look at me and made your assessment.'

  She said incredulously, 'Are you trying to tell me you're one of the workers of the
world?'

  A wry smile curled the beautiful mouth. 'There you are! That is exactly my point. Because I play a little. .

  'A little?' echoed Jessica, strongly moved. 'All day in the sun? That damned great car? Champagne on tap?'

  The smile grew. 'And because of these trappings,' Leandro said softly, 'you have made up your mind about me once and for all. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Subject tried and condemned.' His eyes glinted. But what if I were to tell you I am a hardworking engineer?'

  `I wouldn't believe you,' Jessica said calmly. 'No hardworking engineer ever had that sort of tan.'

  There was a short silence.

  `No, of course not. How perceptive of you.' He sank back again, his hands behind his head, and surveyed the cloudless sky. 'I am encouraged that you noticed, though,' he added wickedly.

  Jessica felt herself blush and cast him a look of dislike. `It's not easy to miss, especially when you're on the boat all the time.'

  He asked softly, 'Do I disturb you, Jessica?'

  She hesitated. 'It's your boat.'

  `My uncle's,' Leandro corrected. 'And that was not what I asked.'

  Well, of course, she wasn't going to answer that. She allowed the silence to lengthen, hoping that he was drifting off to sleep in the late sun. She herself felt oddly tense, in spite of the warmth and the peace. She had very little trouble in ascribing her tension to Leandro's presence, which, of course, answered his question, although she was not going to g re him the satisfaction of telling him so.

  Maybe it was because there were so few men in her life; so few people, if she were honest. Apart from her mother, now comfortably settled in her rural retreat, the only people Jessica saw regularly were colleagues.

  She caught herself; perhaps a few business acquaintances, other architects, commissioning managers of major building firms, all of them people she saw from a sense of commercial obligation and put out of her mind the moment she left their company. Other than that, hers

  was a lonely life, she realised. It was what she sought, living alone, holidaying alone, keeping her occasional escorts at arm's length so that in the end they all moved on to more accommodating ladies.