He regarded her with amused curiosity, murmuring, ‘I wonder why you are learning my dialect.’
‘I’m not exactly learning it,’ she disclaimed hastily. ‘I just picked up a few words from a friend.’
‘And doubtless your friend is a handsome young man. Has he yet told you that you are grazziusu?’
‘I think we should concentrate on your purchases,’ Heather said, hoping she wasn’t blushing. Lorenzo had used exactly that word to her only the night before, explaining that it was one of the many Sicilian words for beautiful. She shouldn’t be talking like this with a stranger. But he was like a magician, who could twist the conversation this way and that with a wave of an invisible wand. He had said grazziusu with a soft, seductive power that even Lorenzo, in his ardour, hadn’t matched.
‘I see that you understand the word, and not from a dictionary,’ he observed. ‘I’m glad your lover appreciates you.’
No wonder this man had several mistresses if he went about talking like this. Doubtless she too was supposed to be flattered. But she refused to go weak at the knees. It had been a long day, and her legs were tired. That was all.
‘Shall we return to the matter in hand?’ she asked.
‘If we must. What next?’
Heather regarded him levelly. ‘Let me get this clear, signore. Just how many lady-friends are you trying to-er-keep happy?’
He grinned shamelessly, giving an eloquent shrug. ‘Is it important?’
‘It is if they have different personalities.’
‘Very different,’ he confirmed. ‘I like one to suit each mood. Minetta is light-hearted, Julia is musical, and Elena is darkly sensual.’
He was trying to unsettle her; there was no doubt of it. His eyes spoke meanings that went far beyond what his lips were saying. She observed briskly, ‘Well, that should make things nice and simple.’
‘Simple?’
‘A man of only three moods.’
She was startled at herself. A good sales assistant thought only of the sale. She didn’t backchat the customer and risk offending him. But he wasn’t offended. He even seemed amused at her swift riposte.
‘You’re quite right,’ he said. ‘Three isn’t enough. I have a vacancy for a witty lady, which you could fill perfectly.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t suit you at all,’ she fenced.
‘I’m not so sure about that.’
‘I am. Completely sure.’
‘I wonder why.’ He was laughing.
Heather laughed back. She was beginning to take his measure. ‘Well, for a start, I’d never agree to be part of a crowd. You’d have to get rid of all the others.’
‘I’m sure you’d make it worth my while.’
‘If I felt that you were worth it,’ she said daringly. ‘But you wouldn’t be, because I’m not in the market.’
‘Ah, yes, of course! You already have a lover.’
There was that word again. Why was the whole world harping on lovers all of a sudden?
‘Let’s just say that I have a young man who suits me.’
‘And he comes from Sicily, since you are learning his language. Which also means that you’re hoping to marry him.’
To her dismay Heather felt a revealing blush creep over her face. To cover it she spoke sharply. ‘If you mean that I’ve set my cap at him, you’re wrong. And this conversation is over.’
‘Forgive me. It’s not my business.’
‘Indeed it isn’t.’
‘But I hope he isn’t leading you on a fool’s dance, seducing you with hints of marriage, and then vanishing back to his own country.’
‘I’m not that easily seduced. Neither by him nor-by anyone,’ she finished hastily, wondering why her mind had scurried down that particular by-path.
‘Then you haven’t allowed him into your bed. That’s either very neglectful of him, or very clever of you. I wonder which.’
Indignantly she challenged him with a direct gaze, and what she saw startled her. Despite the teasing sensuality of his words, his eyes held the same dispassionate calculation he would have shown to a high-priced purchase.
‘You don’t dress like the others,’ he remarked. ‘Why?’
It was true. Heather was perfectly made-up and her long hair was elegantly styled, courtesy of the store’s beauty parlour. But whereas the other assistants, with their employer’s encouragement, dressed in slightly provocative styles, Heather stuck firmly to conventional clothes. Her skirt was black, her blouse was snow-white and fresh. Her boss had suggested that she might ‘put herself about more’, but she had refused, and since her sales figures were excellent the matter had been allowed to drop.
‘I think,’ the man persisted, ‘it’s because you’re a proud and subtle woman-too proud to put everything in the window. And subtle enough to know that when a woman holds back she’s at her most alluring. By covering yourself up you make a man wonder how you would look without clothes.’
It was a direct, frontal attack from a man with all the nerve in the world, and something in Heather was wryly appreciative even while something else warned her to put him firmly in his place.
‘Can I interest you in anything more, sir?’ she asked primly.
‘You could interest me in a good deal,’ he responded at once. ‘Let me take you to dinner, and we can discuss my interest in you.’
‘That wasn’t what I-still, I suppose I could have phrased that question more cleverly, couldn’t I?’
‘I thought you phrased it perfectly. I’m interested; I’ve made that plain. And I’m a generous man. I doubt your boyfriend will marry you. He’ll disappear, leaving you with a broken heart.’
‘And you’ll leave me dancing for joy, I suppose?’ she couldn’t resist answering.
‘It depends what makes you dance for joy. Shall we say ten thousand pounds to start with? Play your cards right, and I think you could do very well out of me.’
‘And I think the sooner you leave you the better. I’m not interested in you or your money, and if you say another word I shall call Security.’
‘Twenty thousand pounds.’
‘Shall I gift-wrap these items for you, sir, or have you changed your mind now you know you’ll get nothing from me?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’d better find a woman who’s selling herself. I’m only selling perfume. I take it you don’t want these.’
He shrugged. ‘There’d hardly be any point, would there? Of course, it’s a shame about the commission you would have earned.’
‘Commission be blowed!’ Heather said very deliberately. ‘The store is about to close. Goodbye! Don’t come back!’
He gave her a grin that contained a hint of challenge, and walked out with the air of a man who’d achieved something, although for the life of her she couldn’t think what.
She was furious, both with him and herself. He’d raised false hopes for her pay packet, and he’d insulted her. But, far worse, for a brief moment he’d persuaded her to find him charming. Part of her had enjoyed the light-hearted game she’d thought they were playing. But then she’d seen the cold calculation in his eyes, and she’d known that the woman who went to this man’s bed for money would be a fool. And the woman who did it for love would be an even greater fool.
She hurried home. Her flatmate was out so she had the place to herself as she prepared for the evening ahead with Lorenzo Martelli, the young man Sally called ‘her lover’. He wasn’t her lover, nor had he tried to urge her into bed, for which she liked him more.
In the month she’d known him she seemed to have been under a spell, something lovelier than reality, with none of reality’s pain and trouble. She didn’t call it love, because the word ‘love’ summoned up Peter, and a wilderness of suffering at the brutal way he’d dumped her. She only knew that Lorenzo had charmed her out of her sadness.