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“She’s not here,” Sophia, the housekeeper, told him.

  Dash kissed the older woman on both of her rosy cheeks. Sophia had been with his family since he was a baby, and she was like an aunt to him. As a boy, he had even helped to teach her English. Whenever he was in town, Dash always spoke to Sophia in English, because he knew that she loved the practice. “Where is she?”

  “She and your papa are in Capri on holiday.”

  “Oh? When did they leave?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “How long will they be gone?”

  “For ten days.”

  Dash’s parents had retired to their Italian estate a few years ago, and they spent the majority of their time traveling. He usually spoke to his parents on a regular basis, but he had been busy lately and had been missing his weekly calls. He had yet to tell them about his new position. Dash had thought he’d get a chance to tell them during his visit.

  “Guess I’ll catch them next time. Sophia, I need your help.”

  “Sì, Dashie, whatever you want,” she said. Sophia had a soft spot for Dash and had spoiled him all of his life.

  “Come on. Let’s go in the kitchen,” he said.

  Dash held open the swinging door to the kitchen, allowing Sophia to enter first. The interior of the villa had been gutted and renovated into a modern marvel. The chef’s kitchen was equipped with a six-burner Bertazzoni range with bright red knobs and a double-door stainless-steel refrigerator. A professional espresso machine sat on the quartz countertop. The walls were painted a soothing pale yellow and the floors were covered with ceramic tile hand-painted in a geometric design.

  “Sophia, I need to put together a picnic basket for lunch.”

  “Just for you?”

  “No, I’ll need enough food for two.”

  “Dashie, you have a lady friend?” Sophia asked, smiling.

  “You could say that.”

  “Is Heather here? She was such a nice girl.”

  “Yes, she was, but Heather isn’t with me. We’re not together anymore.”

  Dash and Sophia shared a close relationship, and he had confided in her since he was a boy. Sophia had never had children, and she treated Dash more like a nephew than an employer.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did you find another, love?”

  Thinking about Lark made Dash smile. “I certainly hope so. She’s a special lady and I want to prepare a special lunch for her. Can you help me put something delicious together?”

  “No problema! I have some delicious treats for you and your lady friend.”

  Sophia went into work mode. She opened the refrigerator, took out prosciutto, a melon, a wedge of Pecorino Romano and a jar of homemade olive tapenade.

  “I made tomato-basil focaccia yesterday,” she said, reaching into the breadbasket on the counter.

  “Hmm, sounds good. I’ll be right back. I’m going to the wine cellar.”

  Dash crossed the floor, opened a door next to the pantry and went downstairs. The lower level of the villa included a billiards room, a walk-in humidor filled with hand-rolled cigars, a twelve-seat screening room and a fully stocked wine cellar. His parents loved to entertain whenever they were in town and kept the cellar stocked with a variety of champagne, wine and ports.

  He went inside the cool exposed-brick cellar and perused the bottles of wine until he found the perfect vintage—a ’97 Chianti and a pinot grigio made from local grapes. Dash was well schooled—from his parents—on the art of wines, learning at an early age which vineyards produced the best grapes and how the climate affected the crops. With his selections in hand, Dash trotted back upstairs.

  “You like?” Sophia asked, presenting him with a perfectly packed wicker basket filled with delicious Italian delicacies.

  Dash kissed her on the cheek. “Grazie mille!” he exclaimed.

  Sophia responded, “Prego!”

  “The only thing I need now is a blanket and then my picnic will be complete,” he said, taking the basket in his arms.

  “There’s one in the front closet, folded on the top shelf.”

  “Thanks again, Sophia—you’re the best! What would I do without you?”

  “Oh, go on!” She blushed and shooed him out of the kitchen.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he said. He made a beeline to the foyer and retrieved a green-white-and-red-checked blanket out of the closet before leaving.

  His loafers made crunching sounds as he crossed the gravel driveway and entered a four-car garage a few feet away. Inside were luxury vehicles parked side by side—a vintage silver drop-top Aston Martin, a black Bentley, a red two-door Fiat and a pearl-white Range Rover. Dash walked toward the SUV, but changed his mind. He decided to take the convertible instead. He wanted to see Lark’s hair blow in the wind. He put his treasures in the passenger seat of the Aston Martin and sped off down the driveway. He was sure Lark was awake by now and he wanted to return as quickly as he could, before she thought he had totally abandoned her. As he drove back to the hotel, a sense of joy filled his spirit. He had never felt this type of euphoria over a woman before—not even Heather. Though he hadn’t known Lark for long, Dash had no doubt he had found the love of his life.

  Chapter 11

  Lark stretched her arms wide and, with her eyes still closed, she rubbed her hand on the opposite side of the bed. She expected to feel Dash’s muscular body lying there, but the space he had occupied the night before was cold and empty. Lark opened her eyes and scanned the room. No Dash. She flipped back the covers and stepped out of bed. Her first thought was that he was in the shower. She padded across the room in her bare feet to the bathroom. She pushed back the door. No Dash.

  “Where is he?” she wondered aloud.

  Lark stood there for a moment and then turned around, went over to the nightstand, picked up the house phone and asked the operator to connect her to Dash Migilio’s room. The line rang several times before the voice mail intercepted the call. Lark hung up without leaving a message and sat on the side of the bed. She wondered where he could have gone this early. They had shared such a special night together and Lark couldn’t believe that he had left while she was still asleep. She had planned on ordering room service, having breakfast in bed and another round of mind-blowing sex before going back to the mill, but now Dash was gone. Her mind started playing the “What if” game.

  What if he lied about not having a girlfriend?

  What if he’s like that jerk Edwin from the online dating site and is engaged to that girl in the picture?

  What if he just wanted to sleep with me?

  What if now that he’s made his conquest, he doesn’t want anything else to do with me?

  The more Lark ran the different scenarios through her mind, the madder she became. She had allowed herself to get swept up in the moment, and now that the moment had passed, regret filled the space happiness had occupied only a few hours ago.

  She stood and stormed back to the bathroom to clean her body of any evidence of their naughty evening. Under the spray of the shower, she lathered her body with shower gel and scrubbed her skin. Lark tried cleansing her mind as well and thought whatever was going on with Dash, she didn’t care. She needed to forget about their one night of bliss. Lark had come to Italy to take care of business, and that was exactly what she was going to do, with or without the sexy young designer.

  After showering, she ordered coffee from room service and then dressed in a khaki pantsuit—one of her original designs—a sheer flora blouse and a pair of coral-colored flats. She dusted her face with translucent powder, applied lipstick and combed her hair.

  There was a knock at the door. Lark paused, thinking it might be Dash. She crossed the room, took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “Good morning, miss. Here’s your coffee,” the room-service a
ttendant said, holding a silver tray with a white carafe and two small containers.

  “Hello. You can put it over there on the table.”

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Once the attendant left, Lark sat on the small sofa and poured a cup of coffee with cream and sugar. As she drank her coffee, she couldn’t help but think of Dash. A part of her was disappointed that he hadn’t shown up.

  “Oh well,” she said aloud.

  She finished the coffee, grabbed her purse and a pair of oversize sunglasses off the nightstand and bolted out the door. She didn’t have the driver’s phone number, but she planned to hail a taxi downstairs.

  “Hey, where’s the fire?” Dash asked, standing in the doorway.

  “I’m going to the mill,” Lark said sternly, without making eye contact. She refused to let herself get caught up in his charm yet again. Last night she had been momentarily sidetracked, but now it was business as usual.

  “We don’t have to be there until later. I’ve planned...”

  Lark cut him off. “I’d prefer to go now, approve the samples and get back to New York. I have a company to run.”

  Dash reached out to hug Lark, but she took a step back. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You seem distant.”

  Lark crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “Look, Dash, if you had to sneak out in the wee hours of the morning to check in with your girlfriend back in New York, then so be it. Let’s not kid ourselves and pretend this wasn’t just a one-night stand,” Lark spouted.

  “For one, I told you before I don’t have a girlfriend. Two, I didn’t sneak out. I walked out quietly so as not to disturb you. And three, our evening of making love was far from a one-night stand.” Dash pulled Lark to him and gave her a strong, manly kiss.

  Lark tried to resist, but she melted like a cube of ice under warm running water once his lips touched hers. He had set her straight in no uncertain terms and she believed his every word.

  “I left early to plan a surprise for you,” he told her.

  “A surprise? What type of surprise?”

  Dash took her by the hand. “Come on. You’ll see.”

  The lobby was filled with tourists and tour guides assembling to embark on an excursion to Florence and the surrounding area. As Lark and Dash moved through the crowd, toward the exit, she saw people with cameras hanging around their necks. Some were fiddling with maps and speaking in various languages about the day ahead.

  “They seem excited,” she commented.

  “As they should be. This land is magnificent—filled with ancient wonder,” Dash remarked with pride.

  “I wish I could hop on the tour bus and join them. Whenever I’m in Italy, I’m always rushing, going from vendor to vendor and attending shows. I never have time to relax and truly enjoy myself.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re going to take a break from business for at least a few hours and have an enjoyable picnic in the countryside.”

  Lark’s face lit up. “Do we have time?”

  “Of course. There’s no need to rush. Have you forgotten that my family owns the mill? Marco will have the samples ready whenever we arrive. You’re on my turf now and I’m calling the shots.”

  Lark found the authority in Dash’s voice appealing. She was accustomed to leading the charge. Letting go of the reins—at least for a little while—felt liberating.

  “Where’s the driver?” she asked once they were outside.

  “You’re looking at him. I went by my parents’ villa earlier and picked up my car,” he said, leading her toward the convertible.

  “Is this your car?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s the Aston Martin BD5 from Skyfall, except in the James Bond movie, the car had a hard top,” Lark said, admiring the spiffy sports car.

  “I see you know your cars. I’m impressed. I had the car remolded to make it into a convertible.”

  “It’s a beauty! I’m a huge fan of vintage cars. If I didn’t live in Manhattan, I’d probably have at least two—a red ’67 Mustang and an Aston Martin.”

  “You’re a woman after my own heart. I love cars, too. Why don’t you drive?” Dash said, handing her the key.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course.” He moved around to the driver’s door and opened it for her.

  Lark put on her sunglasses, slid into the gently worn leather seat and ran her hands across the chrome steering wheel.

  After putting the picnic basket and blanket in the trunk, Dash settled into the passenger seat. He told Lark how to exit the hotel and find the main road. They headed out of the city and soon were driving through the lush countryside. Rolling hills of emerald-green grass surrounded them, and the fresh citrus smell from lemon trees permeated the air as they whizzed along.

  “You drive these roads as if you’ve done this before,” Dash remarked.

  “No, this is my first time. Your car drives like a dream. It handles the curves with such precision.”

  “Thanks. I have it serviced on a regular basis, even though I don’t live here.”

  “I was so excited about getting behind the wheel that I didn’t even ask where we’re going.”

  “To Livorno. It’s a quaint costal town and I know of the perfect spot to have a picnic. It’s high above the city, where there are magnificent views of the sea.”

  “Sounds divine. How far?”

  “A little over an hour.”

  “Oh, is that all? I could drive this car all day,” Lark said, beaming.

  The drive was pleasant, with the sun bright in a clear, azure-blue sky and the soft wind blowing through their hair. Their conversation was limited except for an occasional directive from Dash. Lark was absorbed in the moment, basking in the experience of driving her dream car. The kilometers ticked by until they were at their destination.

  “Oh, wow! You were right. This is a gorgeous view,” Lark said, stepping out of the car and looking out over the sapphire-blue sea.

  Dash came up behind her, hugged her by the waist and kissed her neck. “It’s postcard perfect.” He released her, retrieved the basket from the trunk and spread the blanket on the grassy meadow.

  Lark took off her shoes and jacket before kneeling down on the cashmere blanket, which had the colors of the Italian flag. “What’s in the basket?”

  “We have homemade olive tapenade, tomato-basil focaccia, cheese, prosciutto and melon,” he said, taking out the items one by one. “And what Italian meal could be complete without vino?”

  “Nice spread. Where did you get all of this?”

  “I can’t take the credit. Sophia put it together for me.”

  “Who’s Sophia?” Lark asked.

  “She’s my housekeeper. Actually, she’s more than just a housekeeper and cook. She’s more like an aunt. She’s been with our family since I was little and I adore her.”

  “Well, aren’t you just the spoiled little rich boy?” Lark teased.

  “I might be wealthy, but I’m far from spoiled. I plan to make a mark on the fashion world and not rest on my family’s laurels.”

  Lark searched Dash’s face, which had a stern expression, and she could see that he was serious. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “No worries. Of course, I could easily kick back and spend my trust fund globe-trotting and entertaining random women along the way, but that type of hedonistic lifestyle isn’t for me. One day my designs will be among the ranks of Valentino, Armani and Versace.”

  Hearing Dash speak so strongly about his future and living his life with integrity, instead of living off his family’s money, endeared him to Lark all the more.

  “I like you
r passion. I feel the same way about my designs. Even though I’m the chief operating officer of RR, I want to one day earn a CFDA for my creativity.”

  Dash leaned over and kissed Lark on the lips. “I’m sure you will, sweetheart. You are really talented. We make a great team.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  They enjoyed the afternoon lounging on the blanket, eating and drinking wine. The more time she spent with Dash, the more smitten Lark was becoming. Though there was a gap in their ages, they were on the same plane both personally and professionally. Lark couldn’t help but wonder if she had finally found her match. The thought was thrilling and frightening at the same time. Could she possibly have a future with a man born in a completely different decade?

  Chapter 12

  Lark’s morning had begun with doubt and trepidation—she had thought that Dash had taken their night of bliss lightly. Dash had proved her wrong, not by using mere words, but by taking the time to orchestrate an impromptu picnic. The location he’d chosen, atop a hill overlooking turquoise waters, was tranquil and romantic. The food his housekeeper had prepared was light and tasteful. Lark subscribed to the philosophy that it wasn’t what a person said, but what he did that spoke volumes. And Dash’s actions that afternoon had shown her she was more than a casual-sex partner to him. She knew from experience that men who wanted only intercourse didn’t bother to plan outings. Those men called in the middle of the night for what they wanted and fled shortly thereafter with no regard for the feelings of their sexual partner.

  This was exactly the type of afternoon she needed to ease the stress of running a major design firm. After her grandfather had passed away and her father retired, the business had been left to her. Lark’s father had been reluctant to let his daughter take over the reins and had even offered to postpone his retirement. He had thought that she was too young to run the company. Lark had assured her father she was more than capable of not only running the business but of increasing sales exponentially. The fashion industry was tougher than she had imagined, and growing the business hadn’t been an easy task.

  “Thanks for such a lovely afternoon,” she said as they packed up.