"I think we've earned this," he said.

She sat down on one of the seats he indicated, and found that it stretched back to become a recliner.

"I often go to sleep out here," he said. "On warm summer nights it's the best place."

"I can imagine," she said, sipping the champagne he offered her. "It's so perfect – almost too perfect."

"Why do you say that?" he asked quickly.

"Well, nothing is ever as perfect as it seems, is it?"

"Perhaps it is, once in a blue moon. But even if not, shouldn't we enjoy the illusion of perfection while we can?"

"I think that's dangerous," she said quickly. "Why store up disillusion for yourself?"

"Why deprive yourself of all faith in beauty?" he countered. "Or don't you believe in beauty, either?"

"Of course I do. How could I do my job without it? I believe in it but…I suppose I don't trust it."

She walked to the railing and stood sipping champagne, looking out into the blue and silver night. Now words felt like an intrusion. She wanted only to let the night, and the beauty, take possession of her.

She sensed him coming to stand behind her. This time, she knew that he would not go away unless she told him to. He laid his lips softly against the back of her neck, and the feeling shivered through her.

He kissed her there for a long moment, while she stood quite still, savoring the sweet sensation, the pleasure and the happiness.

She drew a long breath. The situation was slipping out of her control, and of all feelings that was the one she dreaded most.

Somehow she must be strong enough to leave him now, or it would be too late. Or perhaps it was already too late. She turned to face him.

Chapter Eleven

It was Justine who turned the embrace into a kiss, putting her arms about Riccardo's neck, so that he could be in no doubt of her intentions.