Picture of Innocence(10)

She had the most supple, sexiest body he had ever seen, and he felt an instant stirring in his own as she glided down the aisle. The natural sway of her pert derrière forced him to adjust his pants. And this was the woman he had told he never wanted to see again.

Though on the plus side he suddenly realised his sexual antennae hadn’t been at fault after all, but working perfectly when he had kissed her—which put paid to his mid-life crisis theory.

He had parted with his last lover Madeleine, a New York accountant, at New Year, because unfortunately she had begun to hint at commitment … something he was averse to.

But he definitely did need a woman—and a weekend affair with the luscious Lucy would suit him perfectly on so many levels. She lived in England—he divided his time mostly between Italy and New York. He could sate himself in her sexy little body with no danger of ever having to see her again. Unworthy of him, he knew, but he couldn’t help thinking there would be a satisfying kind of justice in bedding Damien Steadman’s sister and walking away …





Seated on the bride’s side of the church, a misty-eyed Lucy watched as her friend Samantha and James Morgan, with eyes only for each other, took their wedding vows. No one could doubt the deep love they shared, and if ever a girl deserved happiness it was Sam, she thought.

Lucy had arrived at Samantha’s parents’ house, set on the cliffs above Looe, at eight that morning. They had all had breakfast together, and the rest of the time Lucy had spent in a kind of controlled chaos, getting dressed with the hairdresser and make-up artist fussing around her, while trying to keep Samantha calm and getting her ready for the service at two-thirty.

An hour ago Lucy had left for the church with the pageboy in a limousine, and—apart from having to take the little boy around the back of the old church for a pee—so far everything was going like a dream for her best friend.

Lucy had first met Samantha as a child, when she had spent every summer with her parents at their holiday home in Looe. They had both attended the children’s Holiday Club and become friends. But after her mother died her father had refused to holiday in Cornwall any more, and consequently Lucy had lost touch with Samantha. It had only been after she had finished art college and inherited the family holiday home in Looe, setting up house and her own business there, that they had renewed their friendship.

Samantha had been one of the first customers in her art and craft gallery, and they had instantly recognised each other. They had both had troubled teen years—Lucy had lost both her parents, and Samantha had been diagnosed with leukaemia at the age of thirteen and fought a five-year-long battle to full recovery. Lucy knew that was the reason Samantha had got pregnant within two months of meeting James. Convinced her leukaemia treatment had left her infertile, she had never considered contraception necessary.

Lucy sighed. She was a romantic at heart. After all, Samantha had suffered before meeting James and falling in love. Getting married with a baby on the way was the perfect happy ending.

‘Lucy, time to sign the register.’ The best man, Tom, took her arm.

Ten minutes later the church bells began to peal, and the bride and groom walked back down the aisle as man and wife.

Lucy followed behind with Tom. She had met him at the rehearsal on Thursday night—he was James’s best friend and a banker in the City. But nothing like the hateful, hard-faced banker she had met in Verona: Lorenzo Zanelli. Tom was fun.

The ceremony over, feeling totally relaxed, she glanced around the colourful congregation.

‘You look beautiful, Lucy,’ a deep, slightly accented voice drawled, and she almost dropped her posy of roses at the sight of the man sitting in the pew, his dark head tilted back, watching her.

She looked down into a pair of mocking eyes, her mouth hanging open in shock. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was invited.’

‘Move, Lucy—we are holding up the traffic.’ She shut her mouth and was grateful for Tom’s hand at her back, urging her on down the aisle.

Lorenzo Zanelli at Samantha’s wedding—it wasn’t possible.

Unfortunately it was, she realised as she spent the next half-hour at the bidding of the photographer as the wedding photos were taken. Somehow every time she looked up Zanelli seemed to be in her line of vision. Not surprising, she told herself. At over six feet, with broad shoulders and bold features, he had a presence about him that made him stand out in any crowd, and the superbly tailored silver-grey suit he wore with easy elegance simply enhanced his magnificent physique.

Seated at the top table at the wedding reception, Lucy tried to dismiss Zanelli’s presence from her mind and give all her attention to Tom. He was easy to talk to, and when the meal was over and the speeches began his was one of the best.