The Art of Deception (Choc Lit) (10 page)

Stephen looked worried.
‘Now’s not really a very good time. When we went off for our walk, Uncle Max went for a shower, and then he was going to come over and join us. I think he’ll be here pretty soon. Why don’t you wait till he gets here, and then ask him if you can go across tomorrow?’

‘
What’s this about tomorrow?’ Max asked, coming up behind Stephen and Clare.

Nick
’s remark about the way she and Max kept staring at each other jumped into Jenny’s mind. Her eyes involuntarily flew to Max’s face, and she blushed. She hastily bent down to adjust her sandal, hoping that no one would notice.

‘
I didn’t realise you were only just behind us,’ Stephen told Max. ‘You should have called out and we would’ve waited for you.’

‘
You didn’t exactly look as if you were anxious for company,’ Max replied. He glanced at Stephen and Clare in amusement.

Howard half rose
from his chair. ‘I was asking Stephen about the internet, Max. Paula and I were wondering if we could check our e-mails tomorrow morning, and perhaps use the internet for one or two things after that.’

‘
And maybe have a little look at your paintings at the same time,’ Paula added. She gave Max a coy smile.

‘
Pass the sick bucket,’ Nick muttered into his drink.

‘
I don’t see why not, providing that it fits in with the plans for tomorrow. What
are
tomorrow’s plans, Jenny?’

‘
I’ve moved the optional visit to the vineyard from tomorrow afternoon to Friday. We did a lot of travelling today and I thought we should have a rest tomorrow. The plan’s to stay here and put together the sketches and ideas we’ve been working on. Then we’re going to talk about how we could use them as the basis for a larger, more ambitious project. As far as tomorrow evening goes, I’ve booked dinner at a restaurant in Montefalco. Carlo’s going to drive us there.’

Max smiled.
‘It sounds the perfect day.’

‘
Does that mean that you’re joining us tomorrow?’ she asked with a smile.

‘
It does indeed. By staying at home today, I’ve been able to catch up with everything urgent, and I can give myself a break tomorrow.’ He turned to Howard. ‘Why don’t you and Paula come across straight after breakfast? Use the computer and then have a look at my pictures. I’m sure it won’t take long.’

‘
That’s so kind of you, Max; isn’t it, Howie?’ Paula sighed.

‘
Paula’s right, it’s very sporting of you, Max. We both—’ Howard’s words were drowned by a loud crash.

They
all turned sharply. George was standing at the edge of the terrace, staring helplessly down at the two framed pictures he’d knocked over.

‘
Oh, dear me,’ he said. ‘I do apologise – so very careless of me.’ Stephen rushed forward and picked up the paintings. ‘Thank you, dear boy. So kind. How clumsy of me.’ He looked apologetically at them. ‘I’m afraid that once again, I’m guilty of sleeping for too long.’

Jenny
got up, went over to him, put her hand gently under his elbow and led him to the table. ‘There’s no such thing as sleeping too long, George. If you’re tired, you need to rest. It’s as simple as that. We’ve walked a long way today, and it’s hardly surprising that you’re exhausted. I know I am.’

She helped him
into his chair.

‘
How kind you are, Jennifer. Thank you.’

Nick put a drink on the table in front of him.
‘That’ll get you going again,’ he said cheerfully.

‘
Thank you, Nicholas.’

‘
Did you like what you saw of Assisi, George?’ Max asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to him.

‘
I did, indeed. It’s a truly beautiful town. I must confess, though, that the hills make it difficult for someone like me with old bones to get around. I did, however, manage the short walk down to the Basilica of San Francesco, steep though it was.’

‘
That’s quite a walk,’ Max said. ‘Even on a cool day.’

‘
I was keen to look at the church’s architecture, but there was a service about to start, so I decided not to go in until afterwards. Instead, I sat in the sun and watched what was going on. The courtyard was a sight to behold. Hundreds of priests in white robes and red caps were milling around in front of the church, and then they started filing into the church in pairs, singing as they went. What with the sun shining brightly, the bells chiming and the priests chanting, it was all highly evocative.’

‘I wish I’d seen it,’ Clare exclaimed.

‘
Indeed, it was quite moving, Clare. I watched until the very last priest had gone inside, and then I went to find some lunch. By the time I’d finished the lightest
gnocchi
I’d ever tasted, followed by goose breasts sliced as finely as
prosciutto
, and enjoyed a crisp white Orvieto, I’m afraid that I’d rather forgotten about the church’s architecture, and I made my way back to the
piazza
.’

H
e smiled ruefully around the table.

‘
It sounds as if you’ve had a very exciting day, Mr Rayburn. Now I wish we’d gone to see the church again,’ Howard remarked.

‘
It does sound an interesting experience,’ Jenny said. ‘What a shame I missed it. Ah, here’s Maria. It looks as if our meal is on the way. I hope you’ve left some room for your dinner, George. We’ll need all our creative skills tomorrow, and a good meal tonight will help.’

She included Max in
the wide smile she gave the small group. He smiled back at her.

Nick’s words sprang again to
the fore of her mind, and she quickly went to the end of the table furthest away from Max.

With the meal finished and the group on the way to their beds, Jenny stared along the deserted table at Max, who showed no inclination to move.

‘
I’m not surprised that they’ve all turned in so early this evening,’ she said, playing nervously with her empty glass. ‘I think we’re all pretty much worn out after our day in Assisi.’

‘
Well, if you’re tired, you certainly don’t look it,’ he said, and he got up and came and sat next to her. She inhaled the smell of him, the muskiness of his pine aftershave, the heat of his skin, and she shivered.

‘
I missed you today, Jenny,’ he said softly. ‘All day long, I kept wondering what you were doing.’

She
tried to laugh. ‘You knew what we’d be doing – you’ve got the programme for the week and you’ve got the breakdown for today.’

‘
So I have. Silly me.’ He gave her a slow, lazy smile.

A frisson of excitement ran through her, curling her toes
.

She knew
that she ought to get up and go to bed. To be alone with Max on a balmy evening in a spotlit garden, the air filled with the heady fragrance of the fading day; just the two of them alone beneath the glittering stars and the fairy lights that twinkled in the leaves above, it was asking for trouble. It would be oh, so easy to lose her focus, to forget the past and give in to the longing that was surging through her. Much too easy.

But
she mustn’t; she couldn’t. Not even if she wanted to, and she didn’t; she really didn’t.

It was just that
him being so close to her made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She hated the fact that she was aching for him; that she was longing for him to put his arms around her and pull her close to him; that she was yearning to slide her hand beneath his shirt and run her fingers across the lean muscle of his chest. Hated the fact that she felt weak with desire at the thought of his body hard against hers, of his touch

on
…

S
he shouldn’t want that. Not with him. Not with the man who helped to destroy her father. She could never lose her heart to someone who’d done what he’d done. What would that make her?

And
how could she even think about taking advantage of his feelings for her, knowing that he liked her? What sort of person did that?

But
she had to be that sort of person. She had no choice: it was the reason she’d come to Italy; it was what she had to do.

But not that evening.
Not after a long day in Assisi, when she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to keep her distance. She’d do what she had to the following day. She’d need a clear mind if she was going to find out anything, and her mind was far from clear at that moment.

He moved closer.

She couldn’t breathe.

S
he jumped up and stepped back from the table. ‘To be honest, I feel shattered. I’ll see you tomorrow, Max.’ She paused a moment. ‘I’m very much looking forward to it,’ she added. She forced a smiled to her lips that promised much, then turned away fast.

But not
so fast that she missed the look of pleasure that spread across his face.

Chapter Ten

Jenny
jumped out of her bed, went over to the window and threw open the shutters. The air was alive with the sound of birds singing and distant dogs barking. Sunshine spilled on to the stone floor of her room, bathing her in the bright morning light. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on the narrow windowsill and stared at the view.

F
ramed by the window, lush green grass was bordered by a low wooden trellis around which white-petalled roses curled. Beyond the trellis, the grass stretched away to the rim of the slope, its verdant green spattered with colour from the wild flowers that grew among its blades. The steep descent of the olive trees down the slope to the plain below was marked by their feathery tips, which reached up to the clear blue sky.

It was a scene
that she absolutely had to capture in watercolour before she left Umbria.

She t
urned round to face her room, leaned back against the window sill and stared round her in a mixture of trepidation and excitement. The previous day, she and Max had taken a step forward in their relationship: they’d moved from being merely an employer and employee, to being friends. Admittedly, it was a friendship with romantic undertones, which she hadn’t sought and didn’t want, but it had brought her closer to achieving her goal.

She had no idea
how she was going to make the leap from friendly banter to a discussion about wrongdoing in the past, and that was scary. She’d have to hope that at some point Max would say something she could use to lead him back to the past. Maybe he’d make some further comments about Peter, and she could remind him of what he’d said the day before and ask him what he’d meant.

A
t the same time, she’d have to do her best not to encourage him romantically. It wouldn’t be fair on him. And as for her … She couldn’t pretend to herself any longer that she didn’t have feelings for him – she did.

I
f circumstances were different; if she didn’t have to keep holding herself in check, reminding herself why she was there and that Max’s charming, friendly face was merely a front for a very different sort of man; if it weren’t for this, she’d be free to give in to the way she felt, to do what she wanted to do – her knees felt weak …

She glanced
across the room at the clock next to her bed, and promptly straightened up in horror.

Damn, she thought;
it was much later than she’d realised. She’d wanted to finish her breakfast before Paula and Howard appeared on the terrace, but it was too late now to get ahead of them. How stupid of her!

The
moment she’d lain back on the pillow the night before, it had hit her that if she went across to Max’s with the Andersons, she might be able to look round a room or two whilst he was showing them his computer.

She
couldn’t believe that she’d almost missed seeing how she could turn the situation to her advantage. It just showed how easily an emotional involvement with Max could make her lose her focus.

There’d
almost certainly be some photos on display at his house, and these would give her an excuse to go back to the conversation about his family and their business, and from there she could introduce the subject of her father. It hadn’t seemed the right time when they were in Bevagna, but she’d have to tell Max who her father was at some point if she was going to get any answers, and this could be as good a time as any. In fact, it would be a relief to get it over and done with.

Her last thoughts before she’d fallen asleep
had been that she’d get up early, have breakfast on the terrace and then wait for the Andersons to arrive. She’d tell them that she was going to go to Max’s with them as she was curious to see his paintings too.

B
ut they could have already gone by now.

She
hurried into her bathroom and showered at speed. Then she put on her sky-
blue halter
-
neck sundress, brushed her hair and clipped it on top of her head with a tortoiseshell comb, slipped into silver low-heeled sandals, and rapidly made her way to the terrace.

It
was empty. Paula and Howard were either
eating
breakfast
alone,
or they’d already gone across to Max’s.

She hesitated
next to the buffet table, not sure what to do.

She could always ha
ng around for a while to see if they appeared, but if she did, she’d run the risk of getting trapped in conversation with the next person to arrive, and she didn’t want that. If they’d already gone to Max’s, she needed to get there while they were still using the computer.

‘
Buon giorno
.
’ Maria came on to the terrace with a pot of coffee and a jug of fresh milk. She put them on the table and turned to leave, but Jenny called to her and asked if the Andersons had had their breakfast yet.

They’
d asked to eat a little earlier that day, Maria told her. They’d finished already and gone out. But it wasn’t long ago – it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

That decided her –
it would take them some time to check their e-mails and find a hire car, let alone look at Max’s paintings, so she’d have time to grab a bowl of cereal and a quick coffee.

She
tipped some flakes into a bowl, added milk, picked up her spoon and went and sat down.

‘
Good morning, Jennifer. Or should I say
Buon giorno
?’

She groaned inwardly, and looked up.
George was approaching the table, a wide smile on his face.

Damn
. Why must this be the first morning that he hadn’t overslept?

He
took the place opposite her. ‘What a glorious day this is. Painting in the garden is going to be most pleasant after our exertions of yesterday.’

‘
It is a lovely day, isn’t it? Can I get you anything, George? Some cereal maybe, or a piece of cake? I know you don’t like cheese in the morning.’

‘
Indeed, I think I shall have some cake this morning, but not until I’ve had my cup of tea. I find that I’m getting quite used to the Italian breakfast.’

‘
I suspect you’re the only one. I still prefer cereal and I’m sure the others do, too.’

A moment later,
Maria came out with hot water and tea bags, which she put next to George. Jenny started to eat her cereal quickly.

‘
You seem to be in a hurry, dear lady,’ George observed.

‘
I am.’ She finished the cereal, picked up her coffee and gulped it down. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to excuse me. I want to get over to Max’s while the Andersons are still there, and I’m not sure how much longer they’ll be. Like Paula, I’m keen to see his paintings, and it suddenly occurred to me that it would be less invasive to do so at the same time as they did.’

‘
How thoughtful, my dear. Nevertheless, I’m sure that he’d be delighted to show them to you at any time.’

She glanced
across the table at him. His eyes were twinkling.

She looked at him suspiciously.
‘What are you trying to say, Mr Rayburn?’

‘
That I rather suspect he’d prefer to show you his paintings when the two of you were by yourselves.’

‘
This is about the paintings and nothing else,’ she said firmly.

‘
Of course it is. Why else would you want to visit the home of a delightful man, who clearly finds you quite delightful, too?’

She forced a laugh
and stood up. ‘You and Nick are as bad as each other, and you’re both wrong. I won’t be long – after all, it’s only a small collection. You can make a start on your work when you’ve finished eating, if you want. Would you tell the others that, please?’

She
hurried across the terrace and made her way up the side of the house to the path that ran between the cypress trees, linking their garden with Max’s. She half ran along the path, but slowed to a fast walk when she came out on to the lawn in case anyone should be looking out of the windows.

Glancing to her left
as she made her way across the grass, she was relieved to see that the wrought-iron gates at the top of the wide drive leading to both of the houses were still locked. A heavy padlocked chain was coiled around the two gates, holding them together. Max was obviously still in the house and hadn’t decided to go off anywhere while Paula and Howard were sorting out their e-mails.

As she drew
near to the
loggia
, she saw that the French windows at the back of the house were open, suggesting that Howard and Paula had gone in that way. She’d go around to the front, she decided. She knew that Stephen used the French windows for convenience and she was certain that Max wouldn’t mind if she followed his example, but it wouldn’t feel right.

She walk
ed past the stone pillars that supported the
loggia
roof; clusters of pink roses were growing around each of the pillars, and she leaned across to smell them. At that moment, Stephen came bounding through the French windows.

He
glanced in her direction, and stopped short.

‘
Jenny! What a surprise. I was just coming over to join you all. I decided to have breakfast with the others today. D’you know where you’re going or d’you want me to take you to the old man?’

She
straightened up and took a few steps towards him.

‘
I’m fine, thanks, Stephen. I was just going round to the front. I’ve come across to check on Paula and Howard. They said they were going to try and hire a car for Saturday, and it occurred to me that they might need some help with the Italian,’ she added with a flash of inspiration.

‘
They seem to be doing all right, as far as I can tell. Howard’s on the internet and Paula’s having a guided tour of the place. Go in this way. Uncle Max and I always do.’

‘Thanks,’ she said and she started walking towards the
open doors.

‘
Well, if you’re sure that you’re OK and you don’t mind going in on your own …’

‘
You get off, Stephen – you don’t want to keep Clare waiting,’ she laughed. ‘But thanks for the offer.’

‘
I’ll see you later, then.’ He grinned, gave her a little wave and started to run across to the cypress trees.

She
went up to the French windows, hesitated a moment, and then went through them into the house. Pausing, she looked around her at what was obviously a sitting room. Whoever had planned the interior design had managed to make the room look comfortable and, at the same time, stylish. Quite an achievement, she thought.

When she’d gone
a little further into the room, her gaze fell upon a huge oil painting hanging above the fireplace. She stared up at it, mesmerised. The painting was a stunning blend of greens on a stone-coloured background, absolutely perfect for its position in the room, and a fascinating exercise in colour.

With
great difficulty, she tore her eyes away from it, telling herself that she was meant to be looking for photographs, and she continued to look round the room. And then she saw what she was looking for. Three silver-framed photographs stood on a slender mahogany table next to the wall. Even from where she was standing, she could tell that they were informal family-type photographs, and she quickly went over to them.

The first was of
a very young Stephen. He was leaning against a dark-haired woman, who was smiling down at him. That must be his mother, she thought. The other two were of the same man – Peter. There was no mistaking the face that she’d first seen on the obituary. In the first of the two photos, Peter was by himself, staring into the camera. In the other, he had his arm round Max’s shoulders and they were standing in front of a large warehouse. Max couldn’t have been more than about fifteen or sixteen at the time.

S
he picked up the photo and peered at it.

‘
And in here you’ll see the painting that I had commissioned in London earlier this year. It’s by one of my favourite artists.’ Max’s voice came from just outside the sitting room door.

She
stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, the photo in her hand. The door opened and Max came into the room, closely followed by Paula.

‘
Just have a look at this, Paula. It’s … Jenny!’ he exclaimed. His face broke into a broad smile and he took a step towards her. ‘What a lovely surprise.’

Paula
spun round to face her. For a moment Jenny thought she saw anger flash across her face, but the moment passed and Paula was smiling brightly. She must have been mistaken, she thought.

‘
You should have told us you wanted to come across, too, Jenny,’ Paula said. ‘We would have waited for you. Silly you.’ She gave her little-girl laugh. But Paula’s bright smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, she noticed.