Sergio was watching her every move and she made no effort that he could see to put on a show designed to draw his notice to her. Her clothing was unremarkable, the overall all-concealing. She was not provocative and her movements were very quiet, so why was he still watching her? There was something different about her, an unknown element that stood out and grabbed his attention. The pale pink blush of awareness that had swept her ivory complexion had sent his healthy male hormones on a rampant surge. Her amazing eyes were as green as the bitter-sweet apples his English grandfather had once grown and there was a surprisingly direct look in them. A lingering appraisal of the lush pout of her crushed strawberry mouth was sufficient to arouse him to a serious level of discomfort.
Kathy kept on working at the patch of carpet that she knew needed more specialist attention than she could give it. She was really fighting to think straight but she was amazed by her response to him. No man had had that effect on her since Gareth—and Gareth had never left her so bemused that she scarcely knew what she was doing. But then she had been in love, a dreaming teenager drifting along on a raft of foolish romantic expectations. Her reaction to the guy in the business suit, she reasoned feverishly, was just a reminder that Mother Nature had blessed her with the same physical chemistry as every other human being and sexual attraction was just a part of that. Maybe she should be welcoming the discovery that a broken heart and disillusionment hadn’t entirely killed off her ability to feel like a normal woman.
‘Excuse me…’ she muttered with careful politeness, moving across the room to leave.
Instinct made Sergio spring upright. Near the doorway she lifted her bright head, her apple green eyes telegraphing her tension. The words of amused protest he had been about to voice to retain her presence went unspoken. Madonna diavolo, she was a cleaner and he a Torrente! His strong bone structure tautened, rigorous self-discipline reinstated. What was he thinking of? But he still could not accept that it was a coincidence that such a strikingly beautiful woman should be working so close to his office and conveniently available at his first call. It was even more unusual for him to work late without his customary support staff in attendance. It had to be some kind of a set-up!
Sergio was well aware that his fabulous wealth made him a constant target. Women frequently went to extreme lengths to catch his eye. Vital pieces of clothing slipped so that he could see what was on offer and how easily available it was. Any shade of gallantry in his character had turned to hardened cynicism while he was still a teenager. Too many maidens in distress had vied for his attention with fake incidents that ranged from cars that had broken down, doors that wouldn’t unlock and flights that had been mysteriously missed to last-minute accommodation problems and sudden attacks of illness. Innumerable women had used the tactics of guile and trickery just to get the chance to meet Sergio and spark his interest. A seemingly respectable and very bright PA had once stripped down to her saucy lingerie to bring him coffee, while several others had used late meetings and business trips to get naked and raunchy for his benefit. At the age of thirty-one, he had received countless sexual invitations, some subtle, most of them bold and a few downright strange.
The door safely shut behind her again, Kathy drank in a quivering breath of oxygen to replenish her starved lungs. She wondered who he was and then discarded the thought again. What did it matter to her who he was? On the way past the chessboard, with its pieces fashioned of polished metal and glittering stones, she hesitated, studied the state of play and swiftly sacrificed a pawn, hoping to tempt the other player into relaxing their guard. Was it him? She thought it highly improbable: there were two other large offices linked to that inner hallway and one of them contained half a dozen desks. A posh guy with gold cuff links and a cold upper-class accent that just shrieked an English public school education struck her as a very unlikely candidate for exchanging long-distance chess moves with a total stranger. She sped back down the corridor to continue the work he had interrupted.
Sergio was closing his laptop when the phone rang.
‘We’ve got the mysterious chess joker on camera, sir,’ Renzo revealed with satisfaction.
‘When did you manage that? This evening?’
‘The incident took place last night. I’ve had a man checking the surveillance footage for hours. I think you’ll be surprised by what I’ve found out.’
‘So, surprise me,’ Sergio urged, stifling his impatience.
‘It’s a young woman, one of the maintenance staff, who works nights—a cleaner called Kathy Galvin. She started here a month ago.’