By the time Leo boarded the connecting flight at Atlanta jet lag was catching up with him and he managed to doze until they touched down. As he unfolded his long body he vowed never to get on another aeroplane as long as he lived. He did that after every flight.

As he came out of Customs he heard a booming voice.

‘Leo, you young rascal!’

Leo’s face lit up at the sight of his friend advancing on him with open arms.

‘Barton, you old rascal!’

The next moment the two men were pummelling each other joyfully.

Barton Hanworth was in his fifties, a large amiable man with grizzled hair and the start of a paunch that his height still disguised. His voice and his laugh were enormous. So were his car, his ranch and his heart.

Leo made sure to study the car. In the six weeks since this trip was planned he’d spoken to Barton several times on the telephone, and never once had his friend missed the chance to talk about his ‘new baby’. It was the latest, the loveliest, the fastest. He didn’t mention price, but Leo had checked it online, and it was the costliest.

So now he knew his duty, and lavished praise on the big, silver beauty, and was rewarded by Barton’s beaming smile.

Since Leo travelled light it took barely a moment to load his few bags, and they were away on the two-hour journey to the ranch near Stephenville.

‘How come you flew from Rome?’ Barton said, his eyes on the road. ‘I thought Pisa was closer for you.’

‘I was in Rome for my cousin Marco’s engagement party,’ Leo said. ‘Do you know him? I forget.’

Barton grunted. ‘He was at your farm when I came to Italy two years back, and bought those horses of yours. What’s she like?’

‘Harriet?’ A big grin broke over Leo’s handsome face. ‘I tell you, Barton, if she weren’t my cousin’s fiancée-well, she is, more’s the pity.’

‘So Marco drew the prize and he’s hog-tied at last?’