She felt a sudden flicker of self-consciousness, and was annoyed at herself. For Pete's sake, she was a woman of the world, not a blushing violet! She'd known where this might lead as soon as their eyes met on the lagoon the first day.

But the word "fun," signposting the way ahead, had almost caught her unaware.

Yes, he would be fun, she thought, considering him. The whipcord strength of that easy, loose-limbed body, the sensual light in his eyes, his air of devilment.

Fun. But also a great deal more.

"It's early days for the hotel," he said, apparently not seeing her turmoil, or choosing not to see it. "I turn my hand to most things. Tomorrow night I shall be serving food at the Calvani party."

He watched as she sipped the sweet drink he had ordered for her.

"You never really answered my question yesterday," he said. "How long do you mean to stay in Venice?"

"You practically answered it yourself."

"Yes, I told you that you should stay forever. I'm afraid I tend to arrange people's lives for them, like a dictator. But only the ones I like."

"I don't know how long I'll be here," she said, not answering this directly.

"Is there nobody waiting for you at home who will object if you stay away too long?"

"No," she said wryly. "There is nobody who will object if I stay away too long."

"There ought to be. Please excuse me – I told you I was a dictator. To me it is so clear that you are a woman who should not live alone -"

"But perhaps it's my choice, and then you really are being a dictator."

"Is it your choice?"

"I'm divorced," she said abruptly.

"Your wish or his?"

"He slept with someone else. I threw him out. End of story."

"Had he been faithless before?"

"If he had, I'd have thrown him out before."

"You didn't want to try to save your marriage?"