‘We will never know that for sure.’
‘Yes, we do,’ she insisted. ‘I lost the baby because there had been a problem with the placenta. It happens, caro …’
The caro brought his face round. It was the first time she’d used the endearment, and his darkened eyes held onto hers so intensely she had to ease her foot down on the brake to slow them right down or risk another accident.
‘We still get the hedge,’ he husked—and it was really a very silly conversation, because right at that moment neither of them was thinking about hedges or the size of a car or even her doomed pregnancy.
Dragging her eyes free from his, she concentrated on the road ahead again, wondering if sexual tension could be bad for you—because she was feeling decidedly light-headed right now.
Lexi negotiated the narrow bridge with care, a troubled frown creasing her smooth brow. ‘You keep talking about us as if we’re really back together, but that’s not what I agreed to,’ she reminded him, pleased with herself that she hadn’t scraped the car’s shiny red paint.
‘So I am still on trial? Is that what you’re saying?’
Was she? Lexi thought about that for a minute. ‘Our marriage is on trial,’ she revised. It had to be—at least until she knew what that ‘something’ he was still holding back from telling her was.
They reached the junction that met with the main highway. ‘Which way?’ she asked.
‘We go to Livorno.’
‘To your apartment?’
‘We are going to the Tolle docks,’ he enlightened her.
As if he’d lit the litmus on her self-control, Lexi exploded. ‘We are not going anywhere near the wreck of your bloody stupid powerboat, Francesco!’
‘When did I say that I wanted to check out the White Streak?’ he demanded in bewilderment.
That was the trouble. He didn’t tell her anything, so she had to guess what he was thinking! ‘Then why are we going to the Tolle docks?’
‘Because,’ he said, ‘the Miranda is there.’
‘You still have the Miranda?’
‘All shipshape and ready to sail.’ He nodded. ‘We are taking her out. Give me a shout when you need directions,’ he said, then stretched himself out in the seat and closed his eyes!
Lexi bit down on her tongue to stop herself from demanding to know who he thought he was, casually making that decision without any input from her. But then he’d been making decisions all over the place without bothering to request any input from her.
And he called me bossy, she thought, turning them onto the main highway. Then she tracked back, and felt a happy little fizz of excitement erupt deep down. The Miranda. She’d fallen in love with his boat from the very first day he’d taken her out on it. They’d spent the best times of their summer together on the Miranda, sailing along the French and Italian Riviera in a flotilla of sailing yachts, keeping his friends close but not so close they could intrude on what the two of them had going on.
‘I thought you would have built yourself a newer, more up-to-date yacht by now,’ she murmured.
‘I have,’ he confirmed, without opening his eyes. ‘But the Miranda is—special.’
Because the yacht held special memories for him too?
As she drove them on towards Livorno Lexi saw herself as she’d looked the first time he’d invited her to spend the day with him on the Miranda. She’d worn a little red bikini with a skimpy red sarong around her waist. Franco had had on his usual shorts and a T-shirt, and she’d smiled at him but felt so shy she hadn’t been able to look into his eyes. The thrill of being alone with him for the first time had charged up her senses, and she’d felt quivery on the inside, breathless and flushed.
‘Thanks,’ she’d mumbled, landing lightly by his side in rubber-soled flip-flops. It was the first time she’d noticed how he towered over her—big and dark and potently sexy. ‘Wh—where can I stash this?’
The brightly coloured canvas bag that swung from one of her sun-kissed shoulders had contained everything she’d considered she might need for a day’s sailing.
‘I will do it.’ Smooth as anything, he’d lifted the bag from her shoulder and carried it over to the sleek, low bulkhead that gave access to whatever was below decks. She’d tried to take a peek, but he’d blocked her view as he’d come back up on top, forcing her to take a couple of hurried steps back.
‘You’re skittish,’ he’d said, and started frowning. ‘You are not scared of me are you?’
‘Of course I’m not,’ she’d answered firmly.
He’d pointed towards the cream leather seating that hugged the shallow basin in which they stood. ‘Then sit down and relax.’
She remembered sitting down and thinking, Claudia Clemente is going to kill me when she finds out about this. She’d known even then that Claudia wanted Franco all to herself, Lexi recalled, frowning as she steered the car onto the street leading down to the Tolle docks. Back then, though, she had not understood the kind of enemy she was making for herself. So she’d gone out for a day’s sailing with Francesco Tolle and become his lover before they’d sailed back into Cannes.
‘A fast mover,’ she murmured now.
‘Scuzi?’ the man lazing beside her responded.
‘You,’ Lexi enlightened him. ‘For our first date you took me out sailing for the day, but I don’t remember that we did much sailing. You had me below decks and spread out on your bed before I’d managed to draw in more than a couple of breaths.’
‘Two hours twenty minutes. I was counting … Pull in at the gates just ahead,’ he instructed and sat up. ‘I thought I was very patient.’
‘With a bet on the table I suppose you would think like that.’
‘Lexi, you know I did not make love to you because of some stupid bet,’ Franco sighed out irritably.
Did she know that? Yes, she knew that. Somehow the bet was losing its importance. Lexi frowned when she made that discovery.
She pulled in at the gates as instructed, and a security guard came out of his office, touching his brow to acknowledge Franco, grinning at Lexi because she was in charge of his flashy red super car. He opened the gates.
‘This place is vast,’ she said, sitting forward so she could look curiously around her. She had never been here before, and she kept twisting her neck to the left and the right in an effort to take in the huge buildings on either side of them as she drove. ‘Do you ever get lost in here?’
‘Never,’ drawled the man, with insufferable self-confidence. ‘Take the next left. It leads to my private marina.’
His ‘private marina’? It made Lexi pull a face. ‘Where are your offices?’
There was a pause before he answered, and when he did speak his voice was as dry as dust. ‘Three miles in the other direction, cara. You don’t have a clue what kind of family you married into, do you?’
‘You build big ships,’ Lexi informed him.
‘Ah, si.’ Franco mocked that simplistic response. ‘We even build little ones occasionally—and there she is …’
And there she truly was …
Staring through the windscreen at the sleek white-painted yacht glistening in the sunshine, Lexi felt a lump of helpless tears grow thick in her throat. There were other boats moored in the marina, a couple of them very impressive-looking; but Lexi only had eyes for the Miranda.
‘She still looks so pretty,’ she whispered softly. Not too big, not too small, but just—perfect.
It was like bumping in to a long lost friend when you least expected it, and she laughed as she brought the car to a stop beside the aft deck and climbed out. She didn’t think twice about stepping from the quay onto the Miranda, and then just stand looking around her.
In the process of collecting their things from the boot of the car, Franco viewed the smile that had softened her face. So she still had good memories about the Miranda, he thought—and hoped he was not about to ruin them.
‘Here,’ he said, swinging their bags one by one towards her
so she could catch them and place them on the deck before he joined her. He handed her the cool bag. ‘You stash this stuff in the galley while I see to these.’
He strode ahead with the other bags, leaving Lexi to follow him down the narrow steps that led below. Nothing had changed down here. The same wood still covered most surfaces, and the same smell of fresh varnish caught her nose. A table that doubled as a bed when needed took up most of the cramped space next to the tiny galley kitchen, and the same nautical maps still decorated the walls. As Franco strode towards the other end of the boat Lexi lifted the cool bag onto the narrow work surface in the galley, then bent to open the fridge door.
‘I’ll go and start the engine,’ Franco said as he passed by her again. ‘Join me on deck when you’ve finished down here.’
He disappeared, leaving her staring into the small fridge, surprised to find it was already chilled and that someone had stocked it with basic provisions. He must have planned this trip before they’d even left the house this morning, she realised, frowning as she added the plastic cartons of meals prepared by Zeta into the crowded fridge.
The engine fired and she rushed to finish what she was doing, then clambered back on deck. Franco was standing by the wheel, his head tilted to one side, listening with expert ears to the engine’s quiet purr.
‘Someone’s been in and stocked the fridge,’ she relayed. ‘How long have you been planning this trip?’
‘Come and take the wheel while I cast off.’
Once again he walked away without answering her question. Irritation snapping at her, Lexi took hold of the cool aluminium wheel and watched him pull in the ropes, using a foot to shove them off from the quay. She felt the Miranda’s smooth gliding movement and tightened her grip on the wheel.
‘OK, ease out the throttle,’ Franco instructed.
‘No,’ she refused. ‘You come back here and do it. I haven’t been near a boat since the last time I was on this one. I’ve forgotten what to do!’
‘No, you have not.’ He came to stand right behind her. ‘Just look straight ahead and go easy on the throttle … Your “dos and don’ts” rulebook says I am not allowed to do it, Lexi,’ he informed her coolly.
‘Oh …’ Crestfallen by the unwelcome reminder, she asked, ‘Does the same rule count on the sea?’
‘No idea.’ He didn’t sound as if he cared, either. ‘However, since you brought up the rule thing you now have to deal with it. So take us out of here so we can catch some breeze and put up the sail.’
There was no arguing with that kind of logic. Lexi felt hoist by her own petard. Crushing her bottom lip between her teeth, she clutched at the wheel with one hand and reached out to clasp the throttle stick with the other. A tiny fizz of alarm churned her insides as the engine took hold and the yacht powered forward.
Tossing back her hair to send it streaming over her shoulders, Lexi concentrated so hard on steering them towards the gap between the two breakwaters that her eyes began to sting; but she didn’t care. She’d forgotten how long the Miranda was, how sensitive she was to the smallest movement of the wheel.
‘Don’t you dare move away from me,’ she warned tensely.
‘I’m right here.’ He rested his hand on her waist in reassurance. ‘Take us out onto the open sea, cara. Enjoy yourself,’ he encouraged softly.
Franco was glad she could not see the bleakness on his face right now. For this was it. He had kept his silence for long enough, and as soon as he found a place they could safely anchor, where she couldn’t jump ship, he was going to tell her everything he had been holding back. He’d held true to the Italian belief that you did not speak ill of the dead before they had been laid to rest. He’d done it in respect for his long friendship with Marco, and because he’d needed the extra time with Lexi to bring her to the point where she was beginning to believe in them again.
‘We’re coming up to the breakwaters,’ she whispered, as if this was the beginning of a fabulous adventure.
Detecting her small tremor of excitement, Franco eased closer to the warmth of her body. ‘Steady as she goes, cara,’ he intoned gently. ‘Be ready to feel the difference between the calm water inside the marina and the first tug of the ocean swell.’
‘Which way when we get there?’
‘I don’t have a clue.’
He sounded as if he didn’t care. ‘So we’re just sailing off into the sunset? Running away like we ran away from Marco’s funeral?’
‘Concentrate on what you are doing,’ was all he said.
‘Why are you constantly stonewalling me when I ask you something?’ Lexi snapped out in frustration. ‘You never used to be like this. You used to be a really open guy I could talk to!’
‘I am still quite desperately in love with you. Is that open enough for you?’
Lexi almost swerved them into the solid mass of the break-water, forcing Franco to place his hands over hers on the wheel to guide the Miranda back onto a safe course, while she just stood with his smooth declaration playing in her head and rolling her emotions up in a ball that stuck hard in her throat.
Franco sensed the clamour inside her. He felt the tremor of her hands beneath the steadying grip of his on the wheel. The swell hit them portside. He took control of the throttle with Lexi trapped between him and the wheel, a useless player, while his sailing head took over and he guided them onto a smoother course. The wind caught her hair and blew it back across his shoulders. He glanced down and caught a glimpse of her face turned pearlescent pale.
‘No comment?’ he drawled in wry observation. ‘The lady has finally stopped talking.’
‘Your timing is useless.’ Lexi burst into shrill trembling speech. ‘I could have killed us just then!’
‘I am good at driving people to kill.’
That flat comment hit her like a punch in the stomach. Lexi groaned and spun around to look up at him. ‘You didn’t kill Marco,’ she told him painfully.
‘You think not?’ Still in control of the Miranda, he flicked her a brief cynical glance. ‘You were not there. You don’t know what happened.’
‘It was an accident,’ Lexi insisted. ‘You hit turbulence and …’
‘Time to put up the sails.’
‘Stop doing that!’ Sheer frustration made her hit out at him, her clenched fist making contact with his rock-solid chest. He winced. She quivered in remorse when she realised where she’d hit him. ‘Sorry.’ She smoothed the flat of her hand over the area she’d just punched. ‘But you have just got to stop shutting me out!’
‘I know,’ he sighed after a minute. ‘I just want you to know where I’m coming from before I stop shutting you out.’
Standing taut within the circle of his arms, she asked, ‘What is it that you’re finding so hard to tell me, Franco, that can be worse than what we’ve already said to each other?’
He looked down, his eyes narrowed against the glint of the sun on the water. She felt his chest heave up and down beneath her resting palms. He parted his lips to let the air out, then looked back at the shimmering horizon ahead of them with the stunning Italian coastline sliding by them on one side.
‘I think Marco meant to kill himself,’ he said, then swallowed thickly and brought his teeth together in a tense clench.
Too shocked to respond, Lexi froze for a few seconds, then, ‘No,’ she said thickly. ‘Please don’t say things like that.’
‘Or maybe he meant to kill me and made a damn mess of it—’ This time a tense laugh raked the back of his throat.
‘For goodness’ sake, Franco—why would you suspect something like that?’ she demanded painfully. ‘He was your friend!’
‘No, he wasn’t. Look …’ he sighed again. ‘Can we finish this later? I need to find a place we can anchor or risk sending us the same way that Marco went …’
This time he wasn’t trying to block her out, Lexi realised; she could hear the difference in his voice. And his face wasn’t wearing that awful grey cast, nor his eyes that black
blank look. He was genuinely struggling to concentrate.
‘Do you want me to put the sail up?’ she offered, earning herself a tense twitch of a smile.
‘What I want is for you to be gloriously impulsive like you used to be and grab me and kiss me then tell me how much you love me. But I don’t suppose—’
‘All right. I love you, OK?’ Lexi complied swiftly. ‘Just stop th—thinking such horrible thoughts.’
‘You’re going to take that back later,’ he predicted.
‘No, I won’t—not unless I’m the crazy one around here,’ she responded candidly. ‘Because I can’t think of one other reason for letting you put me through this last week. I must still love you.’
‘Gagged by the doctor, chained to my bed, beautifully manipulated by my father to make you stay with me.’ Franco listed the measures he had taken to keep her with him. ‘Now I have trapped you on the Miranda in the middle of the ocean so you can’t run away.’
‘Thanks for the excuses,’ Lexi murmured tautly. ‘Shall I do the sail now?’
Franco shook his head. ‘We don’t need it. I’ve spotted somewhere to anchor.’
As he turned the boat towards land Lexi spun in the circle of his arms and saw the heat misted cliffs soaring up in front of them: a spectacular sight. The colour of the ocean darkened to deep green as they sailed into a tiny cove cut out from the rockface. Franco cut the engine, then instructed her to take the wheel while he headed aft to let down the anchor.
Silence suddenly engulfed everything. The Miranda swayed gently beneath her feet. She watched Franco walk towards her, then come to a stop, and even with the sun beating hotly down on her Lexi felt a chill cover her flesh when she looked into his face.
‘OK, here it is.’ He was not going to hang around with this now. ‘Marco stopped being my friend in San Remo, when he told me he’d slept with you the night I had to leave you alone to deal with some business for my father in Milan.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FRANCO watched Lexi’s face and saw exactly what he had expected to see. First came the confused frown, then the dawning shock of utter disbelief. Then came the question—he was waiting for the question.
The Man Who Risked It All Page 16