She didn’t know what had made her mention Sicilian, except perhaps a desire to know if this man really did come from the same part of the world as Lorenzo. It seemed that he did.

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.’