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Because his question was matter-of-fact, unemotional, she was able to answer steadily, ‘Yes. He was killed in a car crash.’
‘So you’re on your own?’
‘I share a flat with a friend, Sandy.’
‘He’s not holidaying with you?’
‘No, I’m alone… And Sandy’s a she.’
Now why had she found it necessary to tell a complete stranger that? she wondered. Other people had made the same mistake and she hadn’t bothered to correct them.
More than a little flustered, she hurried on, ‘We met at college, and after Jeff, my husband, died she invited me to share her flat. I would have liked her to come with me, but she’s a self-employed information consultant and she had too much work on.’
His manner casual, he queried, ‘Are you in the same line of business?’
‘No. I work for Westlake Business Solutions as a conference organiser.’
‘Sounds very impressive. Are you good at your job?’
‘Yes.’
The gleam in his grey eyes showed his appreciation of her answer before he asked, ‘What qualifications are necessary for a job like that? Apart from looks?’
As he added the rider there seemed to be a slight edge to his voice. Or was she just imagining it?
She answered briefly, ‘No qualifications as such.’
‘Then what do you need?’
‘A knowledge of how business works, a flair for judging what different clients want, and a certain originality. The ability to speak at least one extra language fluently is useful.’
‘And do you? Speak another language, I mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do go on,’ he said smoothly.
She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘On the whole it’s just hard work. Organising accommodation, conference facilities, a supply of suitable food and drink etcetera, and making sure everyone’s happy.’
‘Which I’m sure you do wonderfully well.’
This time there was no doubt about the edge, and, biting her lip, she remained silent.
‘So where do you organise these conferences?’
‘Worldwide…Tokyo, Sydney, Atlanta, Quebec, Paris, London.’
‘That must involve a great deal of travelling.’
‘Yes, it does.’
‘And a good chance to meet people? The business delegates, for example?’
Disconcerted by his manner, and feeling a growing tension, she answered awkwardly, ‘I usually only get to meet the people actually attending the conference, if things aren’t going smoothly.’
‘And of course you make sure they are?’
‘As far as possible.’
Apparently sensing her discomfort, he sighed, and, leaning back in his chair, shook his head ruefully. ‘Forgive me. I hope you’ll accept my apologies?’
‘For what?’
He gave a charming grimace. ‘I shouldn’t be grilling you about your life and work. You’re on holiday and the sun’s shining.’
The feeling of tension disappeared as though it had never existed.
And perhaps it hadn’t. Maybe it had been all in her mind? Something to do with his resemblance to Jeff? Or the fact that for the past three years she had avoided socialising in this way, and so had lost her ability to mix and relax on a personal level?
‘What do you have planned for the rest of your day in Innsbruck?’ His low, clear voice broke into her thoughts.
‘As much sightseeing as possible.’
‘Alone?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘As my business is now successfully underway, and I’m alone too, perhaps you’ll allow me to show you around?’
Her heart picked up speed and began to beat a tattoo against her ribcage while she decided what her answer should be.
She found him a fascinating and disturbing man. Disturbing not only because he reminded her of Jeff, but in a way she was unable to put her finger on.
Yet though her time spent in his company hadn’t been altogether comfortable—and perhaps it was her own reaction to his explosive sex appeal that had caused her discomfort—she knew she didn’t want it to end.
To hide the excitement that had suddenly made her feel like a girl again, she answered carefully, ‘Thank you, that would be very nice.’
Whether he was amused by her primness, or pleased by her acceptance, she wasn’t sure, but his white, even teeth flashed in a smile.
It was the first time she had seen him smile, and it added a thousandfold to his already considerable charm.
Dropping some schillings onto the table, he said, ‘Then let’s go.’
She gathered up her bag and jacket and they left the sunny courtyard, his hand at her waist.
Just that casual touch made her heart beat in a way that it had never done before. She had loved Jeff deeply, but they had been brought up together, he had been part of her life, so it had been a gentle, familiar caring. A feeling of warmth and safety rather than a mad excitement.
‘Innsbruck is a compact city as far as sightseeing goes,’ Dominic Loredan remarked as they emerged into the street. ‘Almost everything of interest is here in the Altstadt—unless you’d like to see the Olympic ski jump, or the Europabrucke, Europe’s highest bridge? Though tomorrow, if you head south on the motorway, you’ll cross it.’
‘I think, as time’s limited, I’ll stick with the historical part.’
‘Then I suggest we start with the Hofburg Palace and the Hofkirche Chapel… That is, if you haven’t already seen them…?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ she said, no longer caring overmuch what she saw. Just being with this charismatic man was enough.
‘They’re just across the way from each other…’
His mouth was fascinating, she thought. It was a mouth that was at once coolly austere and warmly sensual. A clear-cut mouth that sent little shivers down her spine…
‘Then later I’ll take you up to Schloss Lienz for dinner.’
She dragged her gaze away from his mouth and, feeling her colour rise, echoed, ‘Schloss Lienz?’
‘The schloss dates from the sixteenth-century and has quite a turbulent history. To begin with it was a fortress, then it was used as a royal hunting lodge, now it’s a first-class restaurant. From the terrace, which seems to hang in space, there’s a superb view over the city.’
‘It sounds wonderful.’ Glancing down at the faint marks still visible on her dress, she added, ‘Though I’ll need to get changed first.’
‘So will I. Where are you staying?’
‘At the Bregenzerwald.’
‘What a coincidence!’
‘You mean you are?’
‘Room 54.’
Hardly able to believe it, she marvelled, ‘I’m in room 56.’
‘Well, well… It seems coincidences are like swallows; they come in pairs…’
The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of excitement. Nicola hadn’t known this kind of happiness for over three years.
She found that Dominic Loredan was an easy and interesting companion, who proved to have an extensive knowledge of the city, an appreciation of beauty, and a dry sense of humour when pointing out the more droll aspects of the scenery.
When the pair had finally finished traipsing around the cobbled lanes of the old town, and seen most of what was to be seen, warm and a little dusty, they took a horse-drawn carriage back to their hotel.
Leaving her at her door, Dominic asked, ‘How long will you need? An hour? Half an hour?’
Not having expected to dress up for dinner, she would have to go down to the car for her main suitcase. Even so…
‘Just long enough to have a shower and get changed,’ she answered quickly, begrudging even this amount of time spent away from him.
‘Good.’ Grey eyes smiled into green. ‘I’ll give you a knock in about half an hour.’
As she looked up at him he brushed her cheek with a single finger, and while she stood mesmerised, he bent his dark head and touched his lips to hers, a thistledown kiss that turned her knees to water and melted every last bone in her body.
Totally bemused, a hand to her lips, she watched him disappear into his own room. Then, like someone under a spell, she went into hers and gently closed the door.
CHAPTER TWO
FOR a little while she stood quite still, feeling again that most fleeting of caresses. Pulling herself together, she went to pick up her car keys.
Frowning, she stared at the empty space where she remembered them being before glancing around. Instead of lying on the chest of drawers, the keys, with their rental tag, were on the dressing table.
Perhaps she was mistaken? Maybe that was where she had left them? Or possibly one of the chambermaids had come in and moved them?
Whichever, the important thing was they were still there. So long as the car hadn’t been stolen it wasn’t a problem.
Stolen…
The implications of that thought made Nicola check her overnight case. A quick glance through the contents showed her passport and spare money were untouched, and so was her grandmother’s jewellery box, which held most of the things she treasured.
Holding her breath, she released the catch and opened it. Everything seemed to be there. A small string of pearls Jeff had bought her for a wedding present, her grandmother’s locket, the keys to John’s house in Venice…
With a sigh of relief, she closed the lid and replaced the box.
Then, picking up the car keys, she took the lift down to the car park and hurried over to the blue saloon. Releasing the central locking, she moved to lift the lid of the boot.
It refused to budge.
Another press of the key released it. Which undoubtedly meant that it hadn’t been locked in the first place.
Oh, but surely she’d locked it?
Or had she?
She lifted the boot lid, half expecting to see her case gone, but it was still there, exactly as she’d left it.
No, not exactly.
As if someone had closed it in a hurry, caught between the two zips where they met in the centre, was a small piece of material.
Opening the case, she looked inside. Once again nothing was missing. Everything seemed to be as it should be, apart from that tell-tale scrap of ivory satin that had been caught in the zip.
Eager to be off that morning, she had wasted no time in packing, so perhaps she had left that bit of nightdress hanging out?
But wouldn’t she have noticed it?
Apparently not.
The only rational explanation had to be her own carelessness.
Yet the three things—the keys being moved, the car being unlocked, and the material caught between the zips—made a logical sequence that was very hard to dismiss.
Except that in the long run it made no sense.
If someone had got into her room and, finding the distinctive rental-tagged keys, gone to the trouble of locating the car and searching her case, wouldn’t they have taken everything worth stealing? Including the car?
