An inconvenient attraction...

...on the picture-perfect Amalfi Coast!

Wedding photographer Olivia Gardner is thrilled to be spending the summer working at a luxurious Italian palazzo. The only problem? Her instant attraction to widowed single dad and owner Zach Merrill! Olivia can see that guarded Zach’s locked his heart away for the sake of his little girl. But watching the way he dotes on his daughter has Olivia hoping she could have a place in this ready-made family.

After ten years as a television camerawoman, ELLA HAYES started her own photography business so that she could work around the demands of her young family. As an award-winning wedding photographer she’s documented hundreds of love stories in beautiful locations, both at home and abroad. She lives in central Scotland with her husband and two grown-up sons. She loves reading, travelling with her camera, running and great coffee.

Also by Ella Hayes

Her Brooding Scottish Heir

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Italian Summer with the Single Dad

Ella Hayes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90325-1

ITALIAN SUMMER WITH THE SINGLE DAD

© 2020 Ella Hayes

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

‘TILT IT UP! No! More...more! There...no, there! Now, don’t move.’

Olivia Gardner gripped the silver reflector and gritted her teeth. She couldn’t understand why Ralph Holdsworth became so obnoxious the minute they arrived at a wedding. He was tolerable the rest of the time, albeit a little highly strung. He might be the go-to wedding photographer for those wealthy enough to afford him—his talent was undeniable—but assisting him was not the dream job she’d imagined. Most of the time she felt as if she was walking on eggshells. If she hadn’t been learning so much about wedding photography she’d have walked out months ago.

He stepped back, lowered his camera and motioned to the bride. ‘Okay, darling, let’s move over to the window. Liv! The dress...?’

Olivia parked the reflector and dropped to her haunches, fanning out the dress the way Ralph liked it. She hated the way he called all the brides ‘darling’. How hard would it be to remember their names? She made a point of memorising the names of the entire bridal party ahead of any wedding.

Today’s bride, Sophie, was a sweet-faced girl with porcelain skin, blonde hair and a slender figure. Her wedding dress was ivory silk embellished with tiny pearls and it felt soft and papery between Olivia’s fingers as she pulled it out and smoothed it down. She tried to ignore Ralph’s impatient glance as she moved onto the veil. It was a full veil, fine antique lace, a family heirloom probably. The bride’s ‘something old’.

Carefully, she draped the ornate edge over Sophie’s shoulder and the girl smiled at her, mouthed a thank you. She could sense Sophie’s nerves, gave her arm a little squeeze before she turned to pick up the reflector, but Ralph was waving an impatient hand in her direction.

‘I don’t need that now! Go pap some guests.’

She swallowed her irritation. She knew he didn’t mean to be offhand, but it was annoying when he spoke to her like that in front of clients. Without a word, she picked up her camera and slipped out of the room.

Slowly she made her way along the wide hallway towards the staircase. She wished she had the courage to strike out on her own, but she was wary. She’d been down that road before. Armed with her photography degree, she’d started freelancing for an independent arts magazine but the circulation was low, the pay dismal. She’d stuck it out for a year to build a portfolio then tried to break into other magazines, but it was impossible. Magazines had their pet photographers.

She’d been working as a part-time barista when she met Ralph Holdsworth. He’d offered her a job and she’d jumped at it. He was a top wedding photographer, well-connected! At first he hadn’t let her touch a camera. On wedding days she scurried around with reflectors, fluffed dresses and made sure that the right people were arranged into the right groups for the family photos. At the studio he set her to work editing an endless stream of wedding images which, he told her, would be an education in itself, and she handled all his paperwork too because he hated anything that wasn’t creative. Twelve months and over forty weddings later, he’d given her a camera. She was to be his second shooter, responsible for the candid shots and the little details he didn’t want to do, but he still expected her to help with the bridal portraits and to assemble the guests for the formal pictures.

Today’s wedding was taking place in the garden of Kensall Manor, the bride’s family home. The house was Tudor, all oak beams and half-panelled walls with mellow plaster above. On the galleried landing she paused to watch the comings and goings in the grand hall below: catering staff bustling about with trays, guests looking for somewhere to leave wedding gifts. And then the hall suddenly emptied. She was about to make a move when a tall, dark-haired man in a morning suit strode in carrying a shallow open box containing the men’s buttonholes. There was something powerful in the set of his shoulders, something about him that made Olivia press herself closer to the balustrade to get a better view. He was looking around, for the groomsmen she supposed, then quite unexpectedly he looked up and caught her eye. She barely had time to catch her breath, to register the tiny, indefinable reaction in his eyes before he broke into a smile.

‘Hello, up there! I don’t suppose you’ve seen the bridegroom...?’

Blue eyes, something shining through them. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest, an unwelcome flush of heat rising through her as she called up a mental list of the wedding party. This had to be Zach Merrill, the groom’s older brother and best man. As she cleared her throat to speak, she prayed that he wouldn’t notice her blushing. ‘No, I’m sorry, but if I see him I’ll tell him the best man’s looking for him.’

He looked bemused. ‘How do you know I’m the—?’

‘You’re wearing the weight of responsibility on your shoulders...’

He lifted an eyebrow then broke into a smile which stole the breath from her lungs. ‘Is it that obvious?’

She nodded.

‘Zach!’

A man’s voice rang out from somewhere off the hall and he turned to look, made a gesture of acknowledgement then lifted his eyes to hers once more.

‘You can call off the search! I’ve found him.’

Blue eyes staring into hers. Somehow, she found her voice. ‘That’s lucky! Can’t have a wedding without a groom.’

He laughed, started to walk away then stopped and looked up again. ‘Goodbye then...’

She smiled softly. ‘Bye.’

She watched him disappear then shook herself. Fraternising with the best man wasn’t going to get her anywhere; she was supposed to be working. As she trotted down the stairs she pushed him to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on the little tingle of excitement she always felt at the start of a wedding day.

She loved photographing weddings. Everything from the smallest details to the grandest gestures, but most of all she loved the ceremony. The way the bride and groom looked at each other...little nervous smiles, eyes glistening with happy tears. She found something compelling about the ritual of commitment, about the idea of two people starting out together, taking their first steps into uncharted waters. No loose ends. The thought of it always made her feel happy.

As she stepped out into the warm spring sunshine she hung the camera around her neck then followed the broad path that led to the southern aspect of the property. She could see guests mingling on the long terrace next to the house. She could hear the buzz of conversation and glasses tinkling and she knew she ought to go straight over, but instead she cut across the immaculate lawn to where rows of chevalier chairs were set out for a ceremony in front of the ornamental lake. It was perfect! She gazed at the scene, lifted her camera and put her eye to the viewfinder. For a moment she pictured herself in the frame, standing with the man she loved, her fingers laced in his, their eyes locked, lips pledging love and fidelity, and then...the kiss.

She lowered the camera and watched a lone coot swimming across the glassy surface of the lake. She wished she could switch off her old teenage fantasy but it was always there in her head, playing on a loop. She didn’t understand where her silly romantic notions came from. Her own parents had never married—they were far too modern for that!

She came back to herself and glanced over her shoulder. If Ralph caught her staring down the aisle when there were guests to photograph she’d soon be out of a job. It didn’t take much to set him off when he was in the thick of a wedding shoot. She supposed he was a victim of his own success—under pressure to produce astonishing images all the time. The last thing she wanted to do was provoke him. Besides, she thought as she made her way towards the terrace, ‘papping’ guests was a step up from carrying his camera bag, even if she knew that she was capable of so much more.

From the periphery she scanned the crowd then lifted the camera with its long paparazzi lens. She snapped close-ups of smiling faces, bright hats, animated groups. She moved around, working the different angles, picking out details—champagne flutes sparkling on a tray, an elegant woman with immaculate red lipstick and long red nails. She spied a little girl with dark serious eyes peering through a sea of legs. She was a pretty little thing, so Olivia crouched down to play peek-a-boo from behind the camera. The girl buried her small fingers into the fabric of a woman’s skirt, eyes brightening. Olivia pulled a funny face and the girl returned a shy smile. She fired a burst of frames then winked at the child and stood up. She liked photographing children—no hang-ups, no vanity.

With a couple of hundred shots done, she left the terrace and walked across the lawn to take some wider views. The old house must have been extended over the years. She could see the different materials in the two wings that flanked the original Tudor construction but the meld was pleasing, the exterior softened with an ancient wisteria and a rampant, scrambling clematis. All Ralph’s clients owned properties like this. Sometimes she couldn’t believe that this was her life now: every weekend spent in some elegant home or some fancy hotel. It was a far cry from the small Sussex cottage where she’d grown up.

She checked her watch. The great hall would be set for the wedding breakfast by now, which meant she’d be able to photograph the room in its pristine state. Lifting the camera from around her neck, she set off towards the front of the house but as she stepped onto the sweeping driveway she stopped, toes pressed to the tarmac. Up ahead, the groom was chatting and laughing with his two groomsmen—and Zach! She felt her heart flip over and land in her stomach. The way Zach was standing, the way his shoulders shifted under his morning coat as he moved... It would be so easy just to stand and watch...

Get a grip.

She took a deep breath and forced her feet to move. There was no avoiding an encounter if she wanted to get back into the house, so she’d just have to play it cool. As she drew nearer, she tried to concentrate on the ushers’ names. Charlie and Will—or was it Bill? Cousins anyway. They were a little shorter than the Merrill brothers and infinitely less nervous from the look of things.

Far too soon she found herself standing in front of the little group.

‘Good morning!’ She could feel Zach looking at her, but she fixed her eyes on the groom. ‘Lucas, we haven’t met before. I’m Olivia Gardner, Ralph Holdsworth’s assistant.’

Lucas extended a hand and shook hers warmly. ‘Hi, Olivia. Pleased to meet you.’ She noticed a tiny fleck of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth, the lopsided rose on his lapel. He motioned to Zach. ‘This is my brother, Zach, and these good-for-nothing hangers-on are Charlie and Will.’

Charlie threw a playful punch at Lucas’s arm. ‘Good-for-nothing hangers-on? You’re going to pay for that!’

As a friendly skirmish broke out, Zach stepped into the space between herself and the jostling men. It was a gallant protective gesture but it meant that he was now rather close. She took a little step back, lifted her eyes hesitantly.

He rolled his eyes then smiled. ‘See what I have to put up with?’ He held out his hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you properly, Olivia. Are you here all day?’

His palm was warm and dry. It felt nice. ‘Yes. Until after the first dance...’

‘It’s a long day for you.’ His gaze shifted to the camera in her hand. ‘That looks heavy.’

His dark hair was on the long side, combed back from a lightly tanned face. She noticed fine lines etched into the skin around his eyes and, now that she was close, she could see kindness in his gaze, something else too that she couldn’t quite pin down. She suddenly realised it was her turn to speak.

‘It is... Heavy, I mean...but you get used to it.’

Lucas was straightening his jacket. ‘Will you take a picture of us, Olivia?’

‘Of course.’ She hung the camera around her neck and stepped forward. ‘Can I sort your buttonhole first?’

He glanced at the crooked rose on his lapel and pulled a face. ‘Charlie, you idiot! You’ve roughed me up.’

She smiled. ‘It wasn’t Charlie’s fault.’ She flipped over Lucas’s lapel, pulled out the long pin then fixed it back into place. ‘Roses are heavy—they can easily slip to the side if they’re not pinned properly.’

‘Is mine okay?’

Zach was looking at her. She tried to ignore the little rush of heat rising through her as she stepped towards him and turned back the lapel of his jacket. This close, she could smell his cologne—citrus top note, woody base.

He lifted his chin while she worked at the pin. ‘You have an eye for detail.’

‘It’s an occupational necessity.’ She lowered her voice as she re-pinned the flower. ‘Lucas has toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps you could mention it to him before I take the photo...?’ She stepped back and lifted her eyes to his. ‘Okay?’

There was amusement on his face as he adjusted his collar. ‘No problem.’

She turned away and drew a steadying breath. Zach Merrill was giving her vertigo. As she put some distance between herself and the group, she felt her heart drumming against her chest and when she turned around to line up the photograph and adjust the camera settings she was all fingers and thumbs. She took another deep breath. ‘Okay, gentlemen—’ Four pairs of eyes looked her way. ‘Lucas and Zach, can you stand shoulder to shoulder, please, then Charlie and Will, can you take the wings?’

‘Wingmen!’ Will laughed. ‘I like that!’

They shuffled into position and Olivia framed the shot. It was hard to concentrate on Lucas when Zach’s face kept drawing her eye, but she simply had to—it was Lucas’s day—she had to make sure that he looked perfect. She took some shots, adjusted the zoom, took a few more and then suddenly she went cold. Ralph always photographed the groom and his attendants. She wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

‘Can we do a fun one?’ Lucas was looking at her expectantly.

She smiled. ‘What did you have in mind?’ Her stomach was churning. She couldn’t refuse. Lucas was the client after all, but Ralph was going to arrive at any moment and he wouldn’t like it.

Zach was smiling at her and there was something in his eyes that chased her fears away. ‘He wants to do a leaning shot. Look! We’ll show you.’

She glanced at the big entrance door. No sign of Ralph—hopefully, he was still busy with Sophie and the bridesmaids. She tried to push him out of her thoughts as she watched Lucas and the men arranging themselves into a line. On a count of three, they canted their bodies at a forty-five-degree angle and burst out laughing. She couldn’t help laughing too and fired off a succession of frames. This was what she loved about photographing weddings, being part of spontaneous moments like this.

‘Olivia!’

The camera skewed in her hands. She took a breath and looked over to the vast doorway where Ralph was standing, rigid as a statue. A small shiver of guilt forked through her limbs and then slowly, deliberately, she tucked it away. She’d done nothing wrong. He was just being cranky as usual. She looked over at the men, who were still laughing and jostling each other. They didn’t seem to have noticed anything and she was relieved. She pinned on a bright smile and stepped towards them.

‘Ralph’s here to take your formal pictures now.’ She could feel Zach’s eyes on her but forced herself to look at Lucas. ‘Have fun! I’ll see you later.’

As she walked towards the house she wondered if Zach was still watching her, but then she pushed the thought away because Ralph was waiting for her in the doorway, his eyes flinty, his mouth a grim straight line.

Zach Merrill couldn’t help noticing the way Olivia had reacted to Holdsworth’s voice. She’d sort of curled into herself, then quickly conjured up some fake brightness before walking away. He’d watched the pair of them talking in the doorway. He couldn’t read their lips but he could read their body language. For some reason Holdsworth had been remonstrating with her, and from the tilt of her chin he could tell she’d been fighting her corner, whatever that might be.

He couldn’t imagine what Holdsworth was upset about. Olivia Gardner struck him as polite and professional. How subtly she’d handled the issue with the lopsided rose on his brother’s lapel, the rogue spot of toothpaste. She had an eye for detail, an easy, engaging manner, a lovely smile... She was clearly an asset and he hoped that Holdsworth could see it. Zach certainly knew which one of them he preferred. He came back to the moment, focused on what Holdsworth was saying.

‘Okay, guys, walk forward now, swing your arms, talk to each other...laughing’s good, keep it natural.’

The photographer was lying on his stomach, a plastic sheet spread out beneath him. He was pointing a camera in their direction. They only had to walk towards him but he was making them do it again and again; it was getting hard to keep up the fake chatter and laughter. As they set off for the umpteenth time Lucas leaned in and whispered to him that Holdsworth was costing Sophie’s parents a small fortune so maybe doing every shot a hundred times was how he justified his fee. They both laughed out loud at that one, then laughed all over again when Holdsworth called out, ‘That’s the money shot!’

He was doing his best to be sociable, but now that the ceremony was over Zach was feeling restless. He’d caught up with his family, mingled with the guests, but he’d only been half listening to conversations, smiling in all the right places. It was his brother’s wedding: a special occasion. He knew he ought to be enjoying himself, but it felt too much like work. He’d rather have been talking to the band. He’d seen them rocking up in their van, jaunty strides as they unloaded their amps and speakers, the big black cases for drums and keyboards. Guitars!

He lifted a fresh glass from a passing tray and retreated to a quiet corner of the terrace. He watched Holdsworth directing Lucas and Sophie into romantic poses at the lakeside, waving his hands about, cameras swinging from his shoulders, full of nervous energy. An image flashed into his head—Olivia and Holdsworth in the doorway—an altercation. He scanned the edges of the crowd, looking for the girl’s nimble figure, her chestnut ponytail, the red camera strap around her neck, but she was nowhere to be seen.

She’d been there during the formal family photos, organising them all. Addressing them by name, adjusting ties and corsages, gentle hands on shoulders—turn this way a little please—flashing her warm, bright smile. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. She was lovely...and so good with people, so polished. She’d caught his eye a couple of times and then she’d smiled and blushed a little bit and he’d found himself smiling too because she was flirting with him and for some reason he liked it. In no time at all the family photo session was done. It had gone so smoothly that if he hadn’t seen them fighting he would have assumed that Olivia and Holdsworth were the best of friends.

He shifted his gaze back to the lake. Lucas was facing Sophie now, forehead to forehead. Sophie was giggling and Holdsworth was calling out instructions from behind the camera. ‘Keep it! Hold it!’

He felt a smile growing on his lips. Sophie and Lucas were besotted with each other, perfect for one another. He could see a happy future for them because they were soulmates. That was what he’d written in his speech anyway, but as a deep ache filled his heart he wondered if he’d be able to say those words at all. The climbing voices around him suddenly felt too loud. He parked his glass and slipped away into the garden.

The grounds of Kensall Manor were extensive. As he walked, the voices on the terrace dwindled to a burble then gave way to birdsong. He passed through a wrought iron gate into an orchard and wandered through gnarled apple trees laden with blossom, alive with the buzzing and humming of bees. He let his mind drift to memories of his own wedding day. He could still see Izzy walking towards him through the lemon trees, patches of sunlight dappling on her skin, splashing the silk chiffon of her dress. She’d had that look in her eye, that secret smile she kept for him alone. His heart had buckled in his chest as she’d turned towards him and threaded her fingers into his. She had been his one perfect love, his life, his everything, and now she was gone, snatched from him in a tragic instant. He swallowed hard, plucked a blossom from a low branch. Marrying your soulmate was not a passport to a happy future. The future was as delicate and destructible as the flower he held in his hand.

He drew a steadying breath and checked his watch. He wondered if Alessia had woken from her nap yet. So many new faces, and this big strange house in the English countryside—it was bound to be tiring for a three-year-old. He hadn’t been sure about bringing her at all, but of course his mother was always keen to see her granddaughter, and Lucas had insisted that his little niece should come to the wedding.

He crushed the flower between his fingers and let it fall to the ground. In half an hour the guests were going to be seated for the wedding breakfast and the more he thought about his speech, the more anxious he felt. He checked his inside pocket, touched the paper folded up inside. He wasn’t nervous about speaking in public—as a hotelier, talking to people was an integral part of his life—but the speech he’d written about soulmates and everlasting love would unravel him, he just knew it. Perhaps if he altered some lines here and there, skimmed over the emotional stuff, he’d manage to hold it together. He just needed a pen and a quiet place to do it.

‘Oh, I’m sorry—’ He stopped mid-stride, the breath catching in his throat. Olivia Gardner was sitting in front of a laptop surrounded by camera equipment. ‘I was told this room was empty.’

‘It’s almost empty.’ She smiled hesitantly. ‘There’s only me here.’

He noticed a faint colour in her cheeks as she held his gaze. He noticed his own pulse. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Of course.’

He stepped into the room and closed the door. ‘I need to look at my speech.’

She plugged a device into the side of her laptop. ‘Don’t mind me—if you want to practise, I mean.’

‘It’s not speaking I’m worried about.’ He reached into his pocket for the thin wad of paper. ‘I need to revise what I’m saying.’

‘Ah.’ She pressed a key and looked up. ‘I get it! You’re having second thoughts about giving your brother a roasting...?’

‘Something like that.’ He couldn’t tell her that he was trying to avoid embarrassing himself. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a pen?’

‘I have.’ She rooted through the pockets of the jacket hanging over the back of her chair. ‘Somewhere...’

He stepped closer, noticed thumbnail images filling the computer screen.

‘Here!’ She was holding out a silver pen, warm brown eyes fixed on his.

‘Thanks.’ He took the pen, motioned to the laptop. ‘Editing already?’

‘No. Just downloading and backing up. We bank images as we go along, just in case.’

‘Can I see some?’

She glanced at the door and it wasn’t hard to read her thoughts.

‘You don’t have to worry—Holdsworth’s at the lake with Lucas and Sophie.’ He smiled. ‘It can be our little secret.’

She hesitated then met his gaze squarely. ‘It’s not—Ralph’s a very talented photographer—’

‘Who’s difficult to work with, I imagine...?’

Her lips were quirking into a half-smile. ‘He can be challenging...’

‘Extremely challenging, from what I’ve seen.’

She was pressing her lips together hard, trying to suppress a smile but her eyes were giving her away. ‘Ralph’s...okay.’

She might have issues with her boss but she was keeping them to herself. Zach admired her loyalty though he wondered if Holdsworth deserved it.

‘I’d really like to see your pictures. What about the photo you took of us leaning? Will you show me that one at least?’

She scrunched her face up. ‘Well, I do have to flag some photos for a slideshow... I suppose if you happened to be sitting close by, you might accidentally see some images...’

The mischievous gleam in her eye was irresistible. He knew he ought to be looking at his speech, but his curiosity about her was getting the better of him. She struck him as talented and he wanted to know if he was right. He sat beside her then opened up his speech and smoothed it out on the table. There was something joyful about the little conspiracy they were sharing and when he spoke he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. ‘I’ll just work on my speech...’

She turned to face him, eyebrows arching. ‘And I’ll go through the pictures I took this morning...’

For a long moment he held her gaze. He noticed the curve of her cheek, the wisp of hair falling against her neck, the sweet shape of her mouth and he noticed the way her expression was changing, how the light in her eyes felt like a soft pocket of warmth—felt like home. Confused suddenly, he forced himself to look away and concentrate on the screen.

Her pictures were good! Sharp, clear, well-composed. The leaning shot made him laugh—Lucas was going to love it. She’d caught some great candid moments on the terrace too. When he saw a familiar little face with thick dark lashes the breath caught in his throat.

‘Stop!’

‘You want to see this one?’

He nodded.

With a click, she enlarged the image so that his daughter’s face filled the screen. He stared at the photograph. Alessia was wearing her mother’s secret smile. She was a happy little girl but he’d never seen that smile on her face before. Suddenly he felt disorientated, stranded between the past and the present.

Olivia leaned back in her chair. ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she? Is she a relative?’

‘Yes.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Alessia is my daughter.’

‘Oh!’ She looked shocked then a little embarrassed. ‘I didn’t know she was yours...’

Two spots of colour were blooming on her cheeks and instantly he felt guilty. She hadn’t seen him with Alessia. His mother had been babysitting all day, and Alessia had been taking a nap while the family photos were being taken. Olivia knew nothing about his situation. All she knew was that he’d been catching her eye all day, smiling at her, receptive to her flirting. Maybe he’d even encouraged it. He’d have to think about that later, but right now he owed her an explanation.

‘Her name is Alessia.’ He swallowed. ‘The way you’ve caught her—her smile. She looks just like her mother.’

He noticed Olivia glancing at the gold band on his left hand, noticed a new flush of colour creeping upwards from the base of her throat.

‘Is your wife—?’

‘No! She isn’t here.’ With difficulty, he held her gaze. ‘She passed away two years ago.’

Olivia’s face crumpled. ‘Oh, no. No! I’m so sorry.’ Her words escaped in a gasp and she lifted her hand as if she was going to touch him, but she didn’t, just held his gaze with glistening eyes. ‘Alessia must have been a baby.’

He nodded slowly. ‘We’d just celebrated her first birthday...’ In his mind he could see Izzy holding the lemon birthday cake she’d made, icing sugar in her hair and on her nose, and that scary moment when Alessia had reached out to touch the single burning candle. He’d blown it out just in time.

Olivia turned to look at the screen. ‘If Alessia looks like her mother, your wife must have been beautiful.’

‘She was...’ He watched her, staring at the screen, chewing her lip. He supposed she was taking it all in, feeling foolish perhaps... He couldn’t tell her he was feeling foolish too. He’d never expected to feel attracted to his brother’s wedding photographer, never expected to be sitting beside her, breathing in the scent of her perfume, telling her about his wife and daughter.

The mounting noise of footsteps and voices in the hall outside seemed to draw a line under the moment and it was a relief. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’d better go... Everyone’s coming in...’ He folded up his untouched speech. ‘Looks like I’m going with the speech as it is.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be great!’ She smiled. ‘Actually, it better be great because I’ll be taking pictures during the speeches—you need to give me some good moments!’

There was something reassuring in her gaze, something that bolstered his spirits. He got to his feet, slipped the pen into his pocket. ‘I’ll do my best.’

Olivia adjusted her ponytail and fanned her face with her hands. The great hall was warm in the aftermath of dinner, but it wasn’t the only reason her cheeks felt hot. She was still reeling from everything Zach had told her, felt so stupid for thinking...for imagining... How had she managed not to notice his wedding ring? So much for supposedly having an eye for detail!

She looked across to the top table. He was scribbling furiously on a piece of paper—revising his speech after all. His mother was sitting in the next seat with Alessia on her knee. Alessia was clasping a crayon, bent over a colouring book, concentrating hard, except for the moments when she stopped to look at Zach. Alessia was copying him and he had no idea. Fathers and daughters... She pushed the thought away, lifted the camera and snapped a lady in a pink hat blowing bubbles from a tiny bottle.

Zach had let her down gently she supposed, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that he’d been at it too with his lingering looks and little smiles during the family photos—it definitely wasn’t her imagination.

She scanned the room for more photo opportunities, snapped a man putting on his wife’s hat, acting the fool. She looked at Zach again. His lips were moving, rehearsing the new words he’d written, her silver pen glinting in his hand.

Maybe the truth was that they were attracted to each other, but a random wedding day crush wasn’t going to lead to anything, especially since a widower with a daughter was the last thing she was looking for.

Too complicated!

She didn’t like loose ends. She liked things cut and dried, wanted someone she could build a life with, not someone who had a life she’d have to fit into. She glanced at Alessia. She knew nothing about small children, didn’t see herself as a stepmother. She was only twenty-four; she was still carving out a career. Emotional entanglements would only take her eye off the ball. She had to push forward, seize opportunities...

She scanned the room, saw Ralph talking to a young couple then discreetly handing them a business card. Networking was easy for him—he had a good reputation, a solid client base. If she started up on her own she’d have to break in and that was difficult, especially since she wanted high-end clients.

Yet again she found her gaze drifting back to the top table. Zach had really liked her photographs. He might recommend her to people he knew. The Merrill family owned a hotel chain after all... Suddenly he looked up, straight into her eyes and there it was again, that feeling that there was something between them. She smiled back quickly and looked away. No! She wouldn’t be able to ask Zach for any favours. He only had to look at her and her head started to spin.

When she saw the Master of Ceremonies approaching the top table to announce the speeches, she lifted her camera. Photographing the speeches was another concession Ralph had made to her. She needed to focus on getting great pictures because, until she found the courage to break out on her own, she needed this job.

CHAPTER TWO
Six weeks later...

OLIVIA MADE HER way down the aisle of the bus and sank into a seat. She hefted her camera bag onto the vacant seat beside her and rummaged in her other bag for her sunglasses. In spite of the tinted windows, it seemed too bright. Bright and sunny and warm. Deliciously warm!

As she watched the other passengers piling aboard with belongings of all shapes and sizes, she had the urge to pinch herself yet again, just in case she was dreaming. Was she really here in Italy, on the final leg of her journey to start a new job in Ravello?

The bus belched, lurched then pulled away from the airport bus stop, cruising slowly to the exit before joining a busy road. The sun glinted off the chrome of unfamiliar cars, dappled through the leaves of unfamiliar trees and she felt her lips curving into a smile. It was real, and it was all because of what had happened after the Merrill wedding...

They’d been driving back to London when Ralph had suddenly announced that he was letting her go.

She couldn’t believe her ears. ‘You’re letting me go! Why? Because I took a few photographs of the groomsmen? For goodness’ sake, Ralph.’

‘It’s not that.’

‘What then?’

He threw her a sheepish look. ‘Because you’re after my job!’

‘I’m not!’

He pulled up at a set of traffic lights and turned to face her. ‘Okay, I’m not saying you want my exact job, but you want more than I can give you. I’m not looking for a partner, Liv. I want an assistant. At the very most I want someone who’s happy shooting the flowers and the frilly bits—a few guests now and again. You, my darling, want to be the photographer with a capital F.’

‘It’s P! And yes, I won’t deny that I want to be a wedding photographer...one day...but I’m not ready.’

‘You’re more than ready.’ The traffic light changed and Ralph drove on. ‘I watched you working with those boys today and you were great. You get on with people, your technical skills are top-notch. It’s time for you to fly the nest.’

She felt as if the air was rearranging itself around her. Ralph had been getting on her nerves for ever, but this wasn’t what she’d planned—she didn’t have a plan. Maybe that was the problem. She’d spent most of her time with Ralph just simmering with frustration, but she’d never done anything about it. She hadn’t imagined that he would be the one to push her off the plank.

‘Don’t look so glum, darling. You can have some of my old gear as a leaving present.’ He tipped her a wink. ‘You’re going to be a big success. Just make sure you’re not a big success on my patch!’

After the initial shock, she realised that he was right. Letting her go was a backhanded compliment. Although the thought of launching herself as a wedding photographer was scary, she knew she had the skills, and handling Ralph’s admin had given her a good insight into the business side of things. Her biggest challenge was going to be finding the right clients, but then...

On her very last afternoon Ralph muttered something about having left some kit for her as promised, then he’d shot off to some ‘important’ meeting which didn’t seem to be marked in the diary. When she went into his office and saw what he’d put out for her she was overwhelmed. Some of the gear had hardly been used, just mothballed in favour of something newer or fancier. She was looking at everything he’d given her, feeling a bit emotional about it, when the telephone had rung.

‘Good afternoon. Holdsworth Photography.’

‘Hello. Is that Olivia Gardner?’

The man’s voice was familiar. Probably one of Ralph’s bridegrooms. ‘Yes. Can I help—?’

‘I have something of yours...’ Little pause. ‘It’s got your name engraved on it.’

‘Something of mine?’ A rapid clicking sound filled her ears and suddenly she knew why she’d recognised his voice. ‘Zach Merrill! You’ve got my pen!’

‘I forgot to give it back... I’m so sorry.’

She could hear the smile in his voice, momentarily lost herself in a memory of intent blue eyes. ‘There’s no need to apologise. You were stressing about your speech, if I remember rightly. In such circumstances, petty theft is excusable.’ She couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t help feeling a little glow at the thought of him, even if he was absolutely not her dream man. ‘It was very good, by the way—your speech, and I’ve heard lots of speeches—’

‘Thanks! I’m not so sure, but I’ll take your word for it.’

His voice in her ear sounded warm, intimate somehow. She was blushing, glad that he couldn’t see her face. She cleared her throat, tried to sound blasé. ‘So—about the pen. It was a twenty-first birthday present—can I have it back?’

‘Of course. You might even want to collect it in person...’

His voice was playful. She felt her forehead creasing, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. ‘Okay, you’ve got my attention.’

‘Actually, this isn’t just about the pen—’ His tone downshifted, became serious. ‘I need to talk to you about something. Calling you at work was the only way I could reach you, but it’s not a conversation we can have if Holdsworth’s about.’

‘He’s not here—but it wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s my last day today.’

‘Your last day! You’ve got a new job?’ He sounded disappointed.

She chewed her bottom lip. She was growing more confused by the second. ‘No.’ Deep breath. ‘Actually, I’m going out on my own.’

‘Ahh.’ He was smiling again, she could tell. ‘Well, in that case I’ll get straight to the point. You may remember that my family owns a chain of hotels.’

She could feel her heart thumping. ‘Yes.’

‘In addition, I own an exclusive wedding venue. High-end. We look after everything: accommodation, catering, ceremony and...photography.’ His voice tightened. ‘I’ve just come off the phone with my photographer, Michele. Some idiot knocked him off his moped, fractured his leg. Poor guy’s going to be out of action for at least six weeks.’ He sighed. ‘So, here’s the thing... I’m booked solid and I need a wedding photographer to fill in—someone I can trust.’

Olivia’s head began to spin so fast that it took a moment for everything to sink in. Was Zach Merrill offering her a succession of high-end wedding clients on a plate? She felt her spine tingle. This was her moment, her chance to prove herself. She tried to calm her galloping heart with a slow, measured breath. ‘You’re asking me to step into your photographer’s shoes?’

‘Yes. I’ve seen the quality of your work, the way you interact with people. You’d be perfect, I know you would. Is there any way you could help me out?’

Ah—let me see...

‘Yes! That is, I want to say yes, but I have so many questions! I mean—I don’t even know where your venue is—although I’ve worked in a lot of places with Ralph so I might know it.’

He’d laughed then. ‘I doubt it. Casa Isabella is in Ravello.’

‘As in—Italy?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Wow!’

After his call, she’d looked at Casa Isabella online, scrolled through the website pages with wide, excited eyes. It was a grand old palazzo, slightly faded but elegant. Its secluded hillside setting above Ravello offered spectacular views of the Tyrrhenian Sea from its terrace and balconies, but it was the garden that had taken her breath away. Ancient cypress trees on terraced lawns, a stone pond with a sparkling fountain, arches leading to secret garden rooms with weathered statues. Achingly romantic, it was a wedding photographer’s dream venue...

And now she was here, all set to photograph six weddings in a prestige venue—in Italy! Portfolio couples! She felt sick with nerves, a little dizzy, high on adrenaline, still incredulous but happy and excited too. No wonder she kept wanting to pinch herself.

She pulled a bottle of water from her bag and took a steadying sip as the poor dwellings on the outskirts of Naples gave way to hillsides covered in olive trees. The bus trundled through small towns with narrow streets, screeched to a halt more than once to avoid scooters weaving through the traffic. She gazed at the sun-baked terracotta roofs, so different to roofs in England. She got her phone out, took pictures through the window—ancient churches, walls covered in brightly scrambling bougainvillea. She watched people going about their day-to-day business, saw people sitting at roadside cafés reading the papers or chatting with friends. Between the towns, she glimpsed lemon groves behind crumbling walls and then, on the skyline, she saw the mighty Vesuvius, its peak rising into a smear of hazy cloud.

She sipped her water again and thought about Zach. Now that he was going to be her boss, it was inappropriate to think about him in anything other than a platonic way, yet when she pictured his eyes, recalled how handsome he’d looked at Lucas and Sophie’s wedding, she felt a little glow of anticipation that made her lips curve upwards into a secret little smile.

Zach Merrill leaned against the wing of his convertible, pushed his sunglasses onto his head and looked along the valley, searching the twisting road for signs of Olivia’s bus. He couldn’t believe how things had worked out. After Michele had called him from the hospital, he’d contacted some photographers he knew, but none of them were free. Calling Olivia had been a long shot, but he’d seen that she was tired of working for Holdsworth, had hoped that she would consider his offer. How lucky that she’d been free to come.

His fingers closed around the pen in his pocket. He remembered the look in her eyes when she’d handed it to him, warm light pouring into him, making him dizzy. He’d had to look away, force himself to concentrate on the pictures filling her computer screen, but it was lucky too that he’d seen those photographs, seen the quality of her work. If he hadn’t—Alessia’s face captured so perfectly—he might not have thought of her as a replacement for Michele at all.

He pulled the pen from his pocket, ran his finger over the inscription. He hadn’t meant to steal her twenty-first birthday pen. He hadn’t been himself that day...noticing Olivia with her bright brown hair and warm smile, liking the way she was looking at him, the way she was flirting, and then he’d been remembering Izzy and worrying about his speech. Emotions piling up, layers of confusion, his feelings all over the place...and then seeing Alessia’s face in the photograph...so like her mother’s.

And now Olivia was on her way to Ravello, as if some invisible ink was drawing them together.

He slipped the pen back into his pocket. His mother-in-law, Lucia, had questioned why he was bringing an untested photographer all the way from England—‘Couldn’t you get someone from Naples?’

He’d told her that the decent people were already booked for the summer. He’d pointed out that Olivia was a native English speaker, which was perfect because their clients were mostly English-speaking. Besides, he’d added, wasn’t it the decent thing to do, to give a talented person a break? She’d agreed but she’d had a knowing look in her eye which bothered him. Maybe she thought that having Olivia to stay at Casa Isabella was going to change things. He could understand that in a way.

Turning the faded palazzo into an exclusive wedding venue had been Izzy’s idea—their dream project. They’d started on the interior renovations and then Izzy had found the original landscape plans in the attic. After that, she’d worked closely with the gardeners to restore the old pathways and formal beds, breathing life back into the neglected garden. She’d get so excited about the smallest thing: new shoots on old wood, some jaded creeper bursting into flower... He’d loved Izzy with all his heart. He missed her every day. But he didn’t appreciate his mother-in-law dissecting his motives for bringing Olivia here. It was a business decision. He needed a wedding photographer and Olivia was talented, professional and discreet. Plus, she was available. That was all there was to it.

When the bus finally came into view he rocked forward off the car and lowered his sunglasses, trying to ignore the little knot of excitement tightening in his stomach. After she’d agreed to come he’d phoned her a few times to discuss practical matters like getting her a computer. He’d enjoyed their conversations. He’d liked her enthusiasm, but talking to her, hearing the vitality in her voice, had made him realise how jaded he felt. He was married to the business, worked like a dog, but he didn’t feel fulfilled. He felt restless.

When the bus pulled in and Olivia bumped down the steps with her camera bag he almost didn’t recognise her—she looked so different to the way she’d looked at the wedding. She was wearing blue sneakers, faded jeans and a white top which was slipping off her shoulder. Her hair was twisted into a loose knot and most of her face was hidden by a very large pair of sunglasses. The sight of her made him ridiculously happy. He had to fight the urge to pick her up and swing her around. Instead he held out his hand. ‘Olivia! Welcome to Ravello.’

She pushed her sunglasses up and stretched her hand to his. ‘Zach! It’s so nice to see you, and please—call me Liv. Everyone else does!’

‘Okay, Liv.’ He smiled. The sunlight catching her eyes made them look lighter than he remembered, like amber, and for the first time he noticed the darker ring around the edge of her irises. When he realised he was still holding her hand he let it go quickly and reached for her camera bag. ‘How was your journey?’

‘It was great, although I can see how Michele got hurt. The roads here are challenging, and as for the way people drive—’

The bus driver set down a modest suitcase and another big camera bag. Zach handed him a tip then picked up her other bags. ‘You see a lot of dented cars around here, that’s for sure! Is this the only luggage you’ve got?’

‘I travel light.’ She widened her eyes. ‘Except for the camera gear!’

‘I suppose it’s just as well...’ He motioned to his car.

‘Nice!’ She walked over, ran her fingers over the silver paintwork. ‘It’s not even dented!’

She was teasing him, laughing, and he couldn’t help laughing too. ‘I don’t get out much.’ He put her bags in the back and opened the door for her. ‘Ready?’

‘Absolutely!’ She slipped her sunglasses over her eyes and beamed.

She felt the sun warming her face as Zach drove them up into the hills. It felt so good to see him again. As the bus had pulled in, the sight of him waiting for her had set her heart going—she’d been glad of her dark glasses. He’d looked handsome at the wedding, but today, casually dressed in a pale blue shirt and navy chinos, he looked even better. More relaxed. From behind her sunglasses she took in the golden skin at the base of his throat, the nice shape of his mouth, the straight nose. His dark hair had been combed back at the wedding, but now it was blowing every which way in the breeze, dishevelled, touchable.

He glanced at her and smiled. ‘What do you think so far?’

Gorgeous.

She blushed, wondered if he’d noticed her checking him out. She turned to look at the view. ‘It’s lovely, greener than I imagined and so warm.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up in Naples. I had a meeting sprung on me at the last minute.’

‘That’s okay—the bus ride was an education.’

His shirt sleeves were rolled back. It was hard not to notice his forearms. Tanned, muscular. She forced herself to concentrate on the view: slopes thick with sturdy shrubs and olive trees, a pair of donkeys in a paddock, tails flicking. She adjusted her sunglasses, glanced at him again. How old was he? Early thirties perhaps—at least six years older than she was—and married.

Widowed.

She wondered about his wife. He’d had so much to cope with: grief, a young baby and a business too. ‘I don’t get out much.’ Did he ever get lonely?

On a tight bend thick with trees he steered the car into a concealed entrance and stopped in front of tall iron gates set into a stone wall. Engraved on a simple plaque fixed to the wall were the words Casa Isabella.

He pushed his sunglasses up, turned to face her. ‘Isabella was my wife’s name—Izzy.’ She noticed the way he drew in a breath. ‘When we get to the house you’ll meet my mother-in-law, Lucia. She helps me with Alessia.’

Olivia sensed that she didn’t need to reply.

‘Lucia’s a strong woman, an incredible person, and I couldn’t have coped without her these past two years.’ A shadow crossed his face. ‘She’s grateful to you for coming at such short notice but...she’s a little unsettled...maybe because this was Izzy’s home.’ He turned to press a button on the dash and the gates started to move. ‘I wanted to tell you, just in case you pick up a vibe...’ He met her eye again and suddenly he smiled. ‘I’m probably worrying too much. You’re really good with people—it won’t be a problem.’

As he slid the car through the gates she tried not to think about Lucia, the admirable but possibly hostile mother-in-law. Instead, she looked back at the gates closing behind them. ‘Do you need such tight security here?’

‘Not really, but we had a celebrity wedding last year—they insisted on gates.’

She wanted to know more, but she didn’t want to seem star-struck so she nodded and tried to look blasé as he drove them through a terraced vineyard and onwards through an ancient olive grove. Under the shade of the olive trees the light was blue-green, thick as gauze. She made a mental note to go back with her camera some time, try to capture it.

Emerging into the sunshine, the road continued through an area of rough pasture, then turned sharply to the right. As Casa Isabella came into view, framed by an avenue of tall cypress trees, she gasped softly. Whitewashed in pale ochre, roofed with weathered pantiles, the ground floor windows were tall and shuttered, arranged at identical intervals along the length of the house. In the centre, an imposing double stairway led to a vast oak door. She knew from the website that on the other side of the property, facing the sea, was a long, arched veranda opening out to the wide terrace where the wedding ceremonies took place. Beyond the terrace, over the stone balcony, and all around the property lay the enchanting garden.

‘Papà! Papà!’

Olivia watched Alessia run into Zach’s arms, watched him swing her up, cuddle her in. He rattled off something in Italian then lowered his voice, adopted a coaxing tone until Alessia turned dark eyes towards her. He cautioned gently. ‘In English, remember...’

Alessia licked her lips. ‘Hello, Olivia. Welcome to Casa Isabella.’ She smiled quickly then buried her face into Zach’s shirt, giggling.

Olivia stepped forward hesitantly. Photographing kids at weddings was one thing; conversing with them was quite another. ‘Hello, Alessia. I’m very pleased to meet you.’

Alessia jerked her head away from Zach’s shoulder and eyed her again, frowning a little.

Zach tickled her under the chin. ‘Do you remember Olivia from Uncle Lucas’s wedding? She took your photograph.’

Alessia began to writhe and giggle. Olivia took a few steps back. Watching Zach with his daughter, hearing the unfamiliar words pouring from his mouth so easily, was bringing her down to earth with a bump. She’d never thought about it before but of course he could speak Italian. He lived here. His wife had been Italian. Conscious suddenly of being the outsider, she turned away, hitched up the neckline of her top to cover her bare shoulder. Flirting, imagining—it had to stop here. He was embedded in a life that had nothing to do with her—a life she could never see herself being part of.

‘Nonna!’

Alessia’s cry broke into her thoughts and she turned to see an elegant woman walking down the grand hallway towards them.

‘Lucia!’ Zach shifted Alessia to one hip and held out his arm. ‘Come meet Olivia.’

As she drew closer, Olivia could see strands of silver in the older woman’s hair, sense the reticence in her slow smile. She was glad that Zach had warned her.

‘Welcome, Olivia.’ Lucia leaned in to air-kiss her cheek. ‘Thank you for coming.’ Another kiss. ‘We are very grateful.’ She stepped back, eyes searching Olivia’s.

Olivia smiled. ‘No, I’m the one who’s grateful!’ She couldn’t read Lucia’s expression and it was unnerving, so she tried to visualise the older woman as a reluctant wedding guest facing the camera. She’d found the trick to getting people on board was to be bubbly, to distract them in some way, so she stepped into the middle of the wide hall and looked up at the glittering chandelier suspended from the ceiling. ‘This is astonishing!’

She’d been so mesmerised by Zach and Alessia that she hadn’t properly looked at her surroundings, but now she took it all in. The patina of the wooden floor beneath their feet, the chalky yellow walls, the twin gilt-edged mirrors hanging over the console tables positioned on either side of the grand door. Beyond the vestibule where they were standing the floor of the wide inner hallway was laid with pale polished stone. The walls were hung with paintings and below the paintings there were more console tables, and occasional chairs.

When she finally looked round to smile at Lucia she wasn’t faking her delight. ‘It’s so beautiful... Italy... Ravello! This house...everything! I’m over the moon!’

Lucia was looking at her with wide eyes and at the edge of her vision she could sense Zach stifling a laugh. Perhaps she’d overdone the enthusiasm, but then Alessia suddenly wriggled out of Zach’s arms and came to stand by her side. She looked up, took a deep breath and said, ‘This is as-ton-ish-ing!’

As Lucia and Zach burst out laughing, she breathed a sigh of relief. Never had she been so grateful to a child in all her life. She looked down at Alessia and grinned. ‘I’m so glad you agree!’

Casa Isabella really was astonishing. As Zach showed her around, Olivia could feel herself falling in love with it. The rooms were large and airy, high-ceilinged, flooded with light. The décor was a mixture of antique and contemporary. What she liked most was that Casa Isabella felt like a home—a big home certainly, but every space was inviting.

Outside on the terrace, the view over the grounds to the sparkling sea took her breath away. She wanted to explore the garden straight away, but Zach said they weren’t finished inside yet. He led her back inside and along another wide hall on the ground floor.

‘Your rooms are along here.’

‘Rooms?’

‘Of course! It’s a small suite, a bit rustic—we haven’t got as far as renovating this part of the house yet—but I think you’ll be comfortable.’ He opened a door off the hall. ‘The kitchen’s here.’

She stepped into a small, high-ceilinged room. It might have been a laundry room once, but now it was equipped with a fridge, a kettle, a two-ring hob and a microwave.

He smiled. ‘It goes without saying that you can eat with us whenever you like...’

She tried to imagine eating dinner under Lucia’s watchful eye. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, but I’m sure your family time is precious.’

His eyes narrowed and he looked as if he was about to say something but then he stepped back into the hallway and opened a set of double doors on the opposite side. ‘The rest of the suite is in here.’

She stepped through a small lobby and into a large comfortable sitting room. In one corner there was a desk with a computer and hard drives, but the rest of the room was set out for relaxing. A sofa and chairs were loosely arranged in front of a marble fireplace, lamp tables and other occasional tables scattered in between. The French windows overlooking the garden were open, white muslin curtains lifting in the breeze. She gazed at the view, all smiles. ‘This is lovely.’

‘It’s a doer-upper, but I’m glad you like it. The bedroom’s through there, and there’s an en suite bathroom—it’s old-fashioned but it works.’

She pushed open another set of doors and smiled again. The bedroom was spacious. The walls were whitewashed, yellowing in places, but the effect was charming. A huge antique bed was made up with white bedlinen, a blanket folded over the mahogany footboard. She noticed that her suitcase had already been brought in and left on a rack between a large wardrobe and a large chest of drawers. Everything in the room seemed large. She peeped into the en suite bathroom and smiled again. Claw-foot bath, huge porcelain sink and a separate shower recessed so deeply that there was no need for a screen.

She turned around. ‘It’s lovely, Zach.’ The dark serious eyes she’d seen in the car had been replaced with twinkling blue ones and she was glad. Perhaps now that she’d cleared the hurdle of meeting Lucia he would relax. ‘I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this—I mean, a whole apartment to myself?’

‘You’ll need somewhere to hide from the mayhem.’

She sat down on the bed and gazed around the room. ‘Is that what it’s like?’

‘It can get crazy sometimes. We’ve only got fifteen guest bedrooms, but we’re filled to capacity every weekend and, as you know, weddings are demanding. There’s all the coordination beforehand, then when the wedding party arrives it’s busy. There’s always an army of beauticians and hair stylists in tow, then caterers, florists—you know the score. After the wedding we have to keep going. Breakfasts, checking out the guests, arranging transport, room cleaning, maintenance, then it begins all over again.’

‘Do you ever get time off?’

‘Not much.’

She ran her hand over the quilt, felt its silky cotton softness. Eight-hundred thread count.

Nice.

She looked up, found that he was watching her. Little butterflies started up in her stomach. ‘So, why put yourself through it? Weddings, I mean. You could run yoga retreats instead—far less demanding!’

‘Lower income too—this place costs a lot to run.’ Suddenly, his eyes took on a faraway look and he turned away, walked to the window. For a few moments he gazed at the view. ‘Actually, it’s not about the money. It’s because we fell in love...’

Silhouetted against the window, he cut a lonely figure. Olivia felt a shiver travelling up her spine, an urge to go to him, but instead she folded her hands in her lap.

‘When we came to view this place we’d been looking for a going concern, a boutique hotel—something that we could just take over. But then this place came up. It was in a bad state. The interior was shot, the garden was a jungle. Everything was wrong with it, but it had good bones and as for the location... I remember we stood out there on the terrace as the sun was going down and it was romantic.’ She could hear the smile in his voice, his evident fondness for the memory. ‘Then Izzy looked at me and said, “We should turn this into a wedding venue.” It was an inspired suggestion... I bought it the next day.’

Olivia imagined standing on the terrace with Zach, a fiery sunset over the sea, his body warm and close...but that was Isabella. He was in love with Isabella, he’d made his vows to Isabella, built a life and a home with Isabella.

Suddenly, he spun round and smiled. ‘Impressive speech about gratitude, by the way. Not at all over the top.’

She could feel the warmth in his smile, felt that they really were becoming friends. She pulled a face and laughed. ‘I was trying to be amenable. At least Alessia appreciated my performance.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, thanks for that. As-ton-ish-ing is going to be her new favourite word.’

‘Well, it’s a good word.’ She got to her feet and joined him at the window. ‘It sums up Casa Isabella perfectly.’

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