What are you telling me this stuff for? Do I care about scaffolders who have gone missing?
She hadn’t felt that that was much of a joke, but then he was in the midst of work at a tense time and she had clearly irritated him, so she had simply ignored that response and had kept on texting, striving not to be too thin-skinned and to keep up a cheerful front.
Downstairs, Abigail had a salad waiting for her in the dining room. Jo ate with appetite. She had risen soon after first light when Trixie had phoned about her grandmother’s accident and she had missed out on breakfast when she’d gone to help. Thanking the housekeeper, she left the house and walked to the church through the grounds, enjoying that pleasant amble along the shaded walk below the trees.
Gianni’s helicopter landed on the helipad at Belvedere. He was tired and unshaven and he would have enjoyed a shower, but he was even more determined to run Jo to earth...and ground her, possiblyfor ever. He strode into the grand house to be greeted by Abigail.
‘Where’s Jo?’ he asked lightly.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know. She was here for lunch but, to be honest, she doesn’t spend much time here. She’s probably next door organising the tradesmen. Mrs Renzetti is a tireless worker,’ she said admiringly.
Gianni’s lips compressed. ‘She is,’ he agreed as he turned on his heel and headed back out again.
He strode through the arched gate he had had constructed and walked into the Ladymead front garden. He didn’t stop to admire his foresight. In fact, just about then, he thought it had been crazy of him to facilitate her visits to her family and make her more accessible to others. When was she planning to make time forhim? He had texted her to tell her that he was coming home. He had expected either a response or to find her waiting for him. To receive neither had only angered him more.
He found Sybil in the barn feeding her motley collection of animals.
‘Oh, she’s at the church for the jumble sale,’ she told him brightly.
McTavish whimpered behind a metal mesh gate, penned in and clearly hating it.
‘Why’s he locked up?’ Gianni enquired in surprise.
‘He couldn’t be trusted with the tradesmen.’
‘Let him out,’ Gianni urged.
‘Are you sure? I thought he hated you too.’
‘No, we’re making progress,’ Gianni insisted as he opened the gate and McTavish emerged, visibly thought about attacking him and then stilled with a bewildered expression on his face. ‘Come on, we’ll go find your mistress.’
A jumble sale. His wife was helping with a jumble sale. He had vaguely assumed Jo did only hands-off stuff like fixing flowers in the church and of course she sang solos in the choir on special occasions. It was infuriating to credit that even a jumble sale was more important than he was on Jo’s terms.
He strode into the garage and climbed into his sports car. He was about to reclaim his wife. McTavish barked at him. ‘Forgot about you.’ Gianni sighed, opening the passenger door, trying not to wince as the Scottie sprang into the car and sat down, flexing his claws on the pristine leather upholstery.
He drove round to the church by the road. He had no doubt that Jo had walked, ignoring the fact that he had a brand-new four-by-four sitting ready for her use. She shunned personal gifts if she could get away with it, yet she accepted that he cover the heavy expenditure of the repairs to Ladymead. Annoyance snaked through Gianni and his dark golden eyes flashed with ire.
He strode into the church hall, which was a hive of industry. Women were rushing about setting up stalls and unpacking bags and boxes. He saw Jo and then he saw nobody else. He was so intent on reaching her that he almost tripped over the priest and was then forced to pause and make gracious small talk when he was anything but in the mood for it. He watched Jo over the elderly man’s shoulder. What on earth was she wearing? Some sort of shapeless cotton shroud the colour of grass? Or the colour of grass stains? He couldn’t decide. But even that ugly garment couldn’t stifle her luminosity, the gold of her hair and the jewelled perfection of her eyes against her pale skin. A hunger as unstoppable as his temper lanced through Gianni and he thoroughly resented that surge of lust.
Jo looked up from the box she was unpacking and saw Gianni and everything, literallyeverythingjust fell away from her as if someone had waved a magic wand. He stalked through the crowd looking very much like a Greek god, an exquisitely tailored black pinstripe suit sheathing broad shoulders, lean hips and long powerful legs. A red shirt and silver-grey tie bucked the conventional vibe he had utilised for the board meeting. The cut male lines of his perfect features were breathtakingly spectacular even with a heavy cloud of stubble darkening his skin. Jo stared and a helpless stab of yearning was followed by a far more earthy inner clench that made her flush and press her thighs together. For a split second, she couldn’t believe she was married to him or that the same man could possibly have declared that she was a cut above him. He was her perfect ten and he washome. Only a split second from rushing forward to grab him and rush him back to Belvedere, she encountered his eyes and she froze.
His dark golden eyes were scorching hot, his lean, darkly handsome face taut and hard. She frowned because he was clearly angry. What the heck had happened to put him in such a mood? My word, was her first thought, had the board of directors ousted him from his position?
Gianni leant over the stall to say, ‘Why aren’t you at home?’
Jo blinked. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she whispered. ‘Why did nobody tell me that I’d been spirited back in time to the nineteen fifties?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
GIANNI’SSHIMMERINGEYESflamed like torches in receipt of that comeback. ‘I texted you to tell you that I was on my way back—’
Jo dug her phone out of her pocket, her palm damp. ‘No, you didn’t,’ she began and then she realised that her phone was as dead as a dodo because it had run out of charge. ‘Oh, dear.’
‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’
‘Let’s go outside to have this conversation,’ Jo urged, moving out from behind the stall. ‘I don’t want anyone overhearing us and I can only give you five minutes.’
‘Fiveminutes?’Gianni seethed, only half under his breath.