‘Yes, let’s forget him and plan what we shall do tomorrow. There’s so much I want to show you-’
‘What about your gondola? It’s your living.’
‘Not tomorrow. Tomorrow I forget work and think only of you.’
‘Oh, really,’ she teased. ‘Suppose I have other ideas?’
He looked crestfallen. ‘There’s another man you’d rather spend the day with?’
‘No, I-’ she bit back the rest, realising that she’d walked into a trap.
‘You’d rather spend the day with me than any other man?’ he said at once. ‘Bene! That’s what I hoped.’
‘You’re twisting my words. Maybe I want to spend the day alone.’
‘Do you?’
He wasn’t teasing any more, and neither was she.
‘No,’ she said quietly.
‘We could go to the seaside, if you like?’
‘Does it have a really sandy beach?’ she asked longingly.
‘I promise you a really sandy beach. Venice doesn’t just have the best cooking in the world, it also has the best beach in the world.’
‘Anything else?’
‘The best swimming, and the best company. Me.’
He was laughing again, playing the jester, inviting her to mock him. Then suddenly he drew her into his arms, holding her close, but not kissing her, content just to embrace. He drew back a little and touched her face with his hands, brushing back stray tendrils of hair, and studying her intently.
‘Dulcie,’ he whispered. ‘There’s so much-but not now-this isn’t the right time.’
A tremor of alarm went through her. This was too sweet, too delightful. What was she thinking of?
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I can’t see you tomorrow.’
‘Then the next day-’
‘No, I can’t see you again,’ she said desperately. ‘I’m going home. I should never have come here. Please let me go.’
He made no attempt to hold onto her as she broke free and began to run down the nearest calle. She simply had to get away from what was happening here. It shocked and confused her. Nothing was going according to plan.
Her footsteps slowed, then halted. It looked the same in all directions, and she had no idea where she was. By the one lamp she groped in her bag for a map and tried to work out which way up it went. It was hopeless.
‘Now I’m totally lost,’ she groaned.
‘Not while I’m here,’ he said, appearing from nowhere. ‘I’ll take you to the hotel. It isn’t very far.’
It seemed to her that they had come for miles, but when he’d led her through calle after calle, all looking the same, she found herself near the hotel, and realised that they’d only been walking for ten minutes.
‘There it is, just ahead,’ he told her. ‘You don’t need my help any more.’ He was keeping back in the shadows.
‘Then I’ll say goodbye,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening. I’m sorry it all ended so abruptly-’
‘Has it “all ended”?’
‘Yes, it has to. Because you see-I can’t seem to get my head straight.’
‘Nor mine. But my response would be the opposite of yours.’
‘I’m going home tomorrow,’ she said quickly. ‘I really must-I can’t explain but I shouldn’t have come here-goodbye.’
The last word came out in a rush. Then she walked away fast, and hurried into the hotel without looking back at him.
As she opened the door of the Empress Suite her mind was functioning like an investigator’s again. Cool. Calm. Collected. She was a rational thinking machine.
And the sooner she was out of here the better.
The phone rang. She knew who it would be.
‘Please don’t leave,’ came his voice.
‘I-ought to.’
‘You should never do what you ought. It’s a big mistake.’
‘Why?’ she asked, knowing that she was crazy to ask.
‘Because you really ought to be doing something else.’
‘That’s just clever words.’
‘Now you’re indulging in common sense,’ he reproved her. ‘You must stop that.’
‘More clever words.’
‘You’re right. Actions are better. I’ll be waiting for you at ten tomorrow morning, at the vaporetto landing stage near the hotel. Come prepared for swimming.’
‘But-’
‘Ten o’clock. Don’t be late.’
He hung up.
She couldn’t think what was happening here. She should be in control, but suddenly everything was out of her hands. To help collect her thoughts she went out onto her balcony and looked down the Grand Canal. It was quiet now and just a few lamps glowed in the darkness. Now and then a gondola, empty but for the silent oarsman, drifted across the water like a ghost, gliding home.
She had called the evening magic, a word which troubled her practical mind. And staying practical was essential she thought, beginning to argue with him in her mind. Let him say what he liked. She wasn’t to be tricked by pretty words.
But out here, in the shadows and the cool night air, the magic couldn’t be denied. Awed, she watched as one by one the café lights went out, and the water lay at peace under the moon. Still she stayed, not wanting this night to be over.
The shrill of the telephone blasted her gentle dream. It was Roscoe.
‘How are you doing?’ he demanded without preamble. ‘Have you got anywhere yet?’
‘I only arrived today,’ she protested.
‘You mean you haven’t managed to meet him?’
‘Yes, I have-’
‘Great! And he’s a real creep, right?’
She answered cautiously. ‘Mr Harrison, if this man was an obvious creep he’d never have impressed Jenny as he has. He’s subtle, and clever.’
‘You mean he’s got to you?’ Roscoe demanded.
‘Certainly not!’ she said quickly.
‘Are you sure? Like you say, subtle and clever. Knows how to get any woman under his spell.’
‘But I’m not any woman,’ she told him crisply. ‘I’m a woman who’s seen through him before we started. You can leave him to me. Tonight was stage one. Stage two will be my masterpiece.’
She hung up, feeling as though she’d been punched in the stomach. The call had brought her back to reality. What had she been thinking of to let this man weave fantasies about her when she knew the truth about him? It was simply-she searched for the worst word she knew-unprofessional.
But not any more, she assured herself. Tomorrow I’m going to be sensible.
Guido made his way through the streets by instinct and the fact that his feet knew the route by themselves. Lost in his blissful dream he didn’t notice the two men approaching him until he collided with them.
‘Apologies,’ he murmured.
‘Hey, it’s us,’ Marco said, grabbing his arm.
‘So it is,’ Guido agreed amiably.
‘You weren’t looking where you were going,’ Leo accused him.
Guido considered. ‘No, I don’t think I was. Is this the way home?’
Any Venetian would have recognised this as an absurd question since, in that tiny city, all roads lead home. The other two looked at each other, then stationed themselves on either side of Guido like sentinels, and they finished the journey together.
The Palazzo Calvani had a garden that ran by the water. Marco signalled the butler to bring wine, and they all sat out under the stars.
‘Don’t talk, drink,’ Marco ordered. ‘There are few troubles that good wine can’t cure.’
‘I’m not in trouble,’ Guido told him.
‘What’s got into you?’ Marco demanded. ‘Are you crazy?’
‘I’m in love.’
‘Ah!’ Leo nodded wisely. ‘That kind of crazy.’
‘The perfect woman,’ Guido said blissfully.
‘What’s her name?’ Marco asked.
But Guido’s sense of self-preservation was in good working order. ‘Get lost,’ he said amiably.