Page 26

‘All done,’ Gabe said and smothered a smile as he saw Stefano grin to himself. In peak season people booked months in advance to eat at the stunning restaurant; even helicopter slots did not come easily.

Sometimes there were advantages to having a centuries-old name.

First, though, business or, for once, not his business but scoping for hers.

‘We’re just approaching Vellascura,’ Stefano said. ‘We’ll take a slow pass over.’

‘Camera,’ Gabe reminded, because she had almost forgotten why she was even here.

Work.

‘Oh, yes.’

And once they had landed in Capri they headed straight for the opulent villa that might just suit. The helicopter meant they had arrived before the ferries and masses and so they wandered through Villa San Michelle, and relatively had the place to themselves.

‘Soon it will be packed,’ he explained, ‘but for now…’ He watched her taking photos and it was clear she wasn’t another tourist, and not just to him.

One of the curators, a little bristly, came over and asked if she needed any extra information.

Many might be politely dismissed at this point, but her smile and the way she admitted just why she was here, her openness and honesty, had the earth move a little.

‘I’m just going to have coffee with the business manager,’ she explained.

‘Go for it.’ Gabe nodded. ‘See that path?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll be somewhere along it.’

The meeting went well. How could it not? The villa was stunning, from stone lions to endless arches and views.

Yet she remained under the spell of Palazzo Rinaldi.

And, many notes and pictures later, she followed the paved path that spiralled upwards. There were fountains and gardens off gardens, and shady areas hidden with ivy and statues that dripped vines, and not once did she have that panicked feeling that she would never find him.

He would be there.

Yet he was not.

Oh, why had she worn the navy dress instead of shorts? It felt as if she were draped in carpet as she climbed the endless stairs, but still there was no sign of Gabe.

She was still dizzy from their one kiss, from the look they had shared, from everything since she had first laid eyes on him, and when she came to a roped-off area was about to head down, to step into a garden she might have missed…then she read the sign.

Proprietà Privata—Vietato l’Accesso.

Private property—the first words he had said.

Access denied.

Stella knew then that he was there, knew as she defied the rules and stepped over the velvet rope, they were letting the other in.

And there he was, lying on the grass, staring at the green canopy the trees made, and she sat down by his side.

‘You’ll get me in trouble.’

‘I know the owner.’ He met her eyes. ‘So it’s access all areas.’

Why did those words make her burn?