Darcy sucked in a deep breath and just let it sit. Experience had taught her that if another human being had experienced grief then they seemed better at acknowledging it and understanding it in others. That seemed to be true this evening.

  The warmth from his palm flooded up her arm. He couldn’t possibly know how much this all overwhelmed her. Attraction. It had been a long time since she’d felt it. But attraction along with connection? She couldn’t remember feeling like this in for ever.

  Her past relationship with Damian was now a distant memory. He was married to someone else and had a family of his own. She strongly suspected he might have met his wife before Darcy and he had actually split. But suspicions and repercussions were not a path she’d ever wanted to go down. Once a relationship was over, it was over. She didn’t dwell. She didn’t dissect. At least that was what she told herself because, deep down, the hurt was still there.

  But as she felt warmth radiate up her arm she was asking herself a whole host of other things. While she’d dated and had a few casual relationships, she knew she’d built walls around herself.

  It was her duty to protect herself from hurt. Being stood up at the altar, closely followed by the death of her beloved sister, meant she’d learned to shield herself from the outside world. Edinburgh, and her home, had become her protective sanctuary. Was she lonely sometimes? Of course she was. But being a bit lonely was nothing compared to having your heart ripped out.

  She woke up to a beautiful view every morning. The flexibility of her job allowed her to live her life more or less as she pleased. All of a sudden, though, she was questioning if that was enough. If that was what she wanted. And the hot contact from Arturo’s palm was doing strange things to her body.

  He lifted one eyebrow. Did he know? Did he know the wave of panic that had just enveloped her? Or was this something else entirely?

  That lifted eyebrow was enough distraction to centre herself again. He gave an amused smile. ‘A bucket list? Hers, or yours?’

  Okay, a normal question. She could handle that. Thank goodness he couldn’t see all the places that her mind had just gone. Darcy leaned back, disconnecting their hands, and rested her elbow on the table, letting her head sit in her hand.

  ‘Mine, I guess. But I had no say in it, and she wrote it.’ She bit her lip and added, ‘I should have said I have another sister—Felicity. Laura wrote a bucket list for us both.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Arturo, sitting back in his chair too and lifting his glass of wine again. He picked up the wine bottle from the bucket next to them and topped up their glasses. ‘I’m settling in for the ride.’

  She smiled. He was making this easy on her. And, for the first time in for ever, it felt nice to share.

  ‘Okay, so are your bucket lists the same?’

  Darcy pulled a face. ‘So, I don’t really know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We were together when we were given them, but we didn’t open them together.’ She sighed and admitted out loud what she’d been holding in her head. ‘In a way, I’m glad we didn’t. Because mine has little handwritten notes from our sister Laura, and that just made it way more special. I imagine Fizz’s is the same.’

  ‘You call your sister Fizz?’

  ‘Yes, it’s like a nickname. You have them in Italy, right?’

  He gave a slow nod. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, Felicity’s is Fizz. She couldn’t say Felicity as a child, so she called herself Fizz. It stuck. As for the bucket list, she likely has the same kind of notes that I have. And we were also told we could interpret the list of things any way we wanted.’

  Arturo’s brow furrowed. ‘This is just getting curiouser and curiouser.’

  She smiled at the common phrase.

  ‘So she told you to go to a dance class?’

  ‘Not exactly. She told me to...’ Darcy paused for a second as she tried to remember the exact wording ‘...“Do something that scares you”.’

  Before Arturo had a chance to laugh, she waved her hand, ‘Oh, I know, I know, it’s not exactly as scary as a parachute jump, or diving with sharks, but—’

  ‘No, wait,’ Arturo said quickly, holding up his hand. ‘I am right there with you. Dancing is scary. Particularly if you didn’t spend your youth—’ he smiled and she could see him trying to recall something ‘—the lady that cleans the offices calls it “jigging around the dance floor”.’ He gave a little shuffle of his shoulders as he said those words, and Darcy burst out laughing. Several heads turned and she put her hand up to her mouth.

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘But you tried a Scottish accent there and it was perfect.’

  ‘Really? I’ll tell Doris, she’ll be impressed.’

  ‘Was it her that told you about the dance classes?’

  He nodded. ‘She heard my sister on a video call to me. Told me she could find me a dance class instead of my sister.’

  He tapped the side of his nose. ‘And, let me tell you, I’ve done a parachute jump and I’ve dived in a shark cage. Those things have nothing on being in that dance hall, all eyes on you, and your feet, back, arms and body all doing entirely separate things.’

  She lifted her free hand. ‘See? You get it. You understand. I’ve never been a natural dancer. I never like all eyes on me.’ She gave an awkward kind of shiver. ‘And I don’t really like getting that up close and personal with people I don’t know.’

  He blinked, his face deadpan. ‘So if Margaret had suggested the rumba?’

  She lifted her glass to him. ‘I would have broken the four-minute mile getting out of that place.’

  Arturo leaned forward and clinked his glass off hers. ‘To us,’ he agreed.

  They smiled at each other, and that flip-flop sensation was in her stomach again. This guy was doing strange things to her. This didn’t feel like the previous flirtations she’d had. This was just...different.

  ‘So, why do you think your sister is telling—presumably both of you—to do something that scares you?’

  Darcy’s skin chilled a bit and she set her wine glass down and started pulling a few pieces off the bread. ‘Our family changed when Laura was sick.’ It suddenly occurred to her that Arturo hadn’t asked what happened. ‘Her death wasn’t an accident. She had acute lymphoblastic leukaemia and had a variety of treatments over a number of years. Other things happened too.’ She paused because she wasn’t ready to go there yet. ‘So there was a lot of strain on our family.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘Fizz and I are actually twins. Laura came along a few years later but we were all inseparable. My dad used to call me and my sisters the Terrible Trio. We actually all got on. We had our own friends and things, but there’s nothing like having sisters.’ She pressed her lips together for a second, deliberately not letting herself get lost in memories. ‘Once one of us wasn’t there any more, things just changed. Fizz is in London now, and I’m in Edinburgh. We don’t see each other as much as we should.’

  As she said the words out loud, she realised how true they were. She knew that right now her eyes were shining with unshed tears. ‘I think Laura probably knew what would happen. She was kind of the linchpin—the steadying force. She knew we would probably retreat into ourselves. I guess her bucket list is to try and push us out there again.’

  She sat back and took a breath, trying to sort things out in her head. It was as if she’d already known all that but saying it out loud made the difference.

  Arturo was looking at her curiously. ‘You have a twin?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Identical?’

  Darcy shook her head. ‘No. We do look like sisters, but we’re not identical.’

  Arturo gave her a few moments. ‘A bucket list is an interesting idea. What else does she have on it for you?’

  Darcy took a handful of nuts. ‘Another three things. I haven’t quite worked out what I’ll do for them yet. One of them is to grab a friend and have a mad twenty-four hours in a European city somewhere.’

  ‘That’s a good one.’ He reached over for some of the bread. ‘What’s your favourite city then? Barcelona? Vienna? Paris? Madrid?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve been to a few. But I’m toying with somewhere I’ve never been before.’

  ‘You have a list?’

  ‘In my head.’ She tapped the side of her forehead. ‘Pisa—do I want to stand and do the traditional tourist picture with my hand outstretched?’

  She demonstrated and he shook his head. ‘Oh, please, no.’

  ‘Or Venice? I know that they’re hideously expensive, but I might want to try a trip on a gondola and look at St Mark’s Square.’

  He gave a slow nod. ‘Venice is a cool place, particularly at night.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Not sure if I should ask questions about that or not.’

  He gave her a smooth smile and she breathed in, trying to not let her body respond to just how unconsciously attractive Arturo Fabiano was. It wasn’t just her. She’d seen the occasional glance from other females in the bar area. They probably wondered what Arturo was doing with her, sitting here in Edinburgh’s poshest hotel with her silly dance skirt on.

  ‘I considered Milan too, and Rome. I’d love to see the Colosseum.’

  ‘Once seen, never forgotten,’ he agreed. Then he looked up. ‘All your cities are in Italy. Is that just a coincidence?’

  Her cheeks started to flush. ‘Well, yes and no. It’s a place I’ve never been. I did have plans to go there a few years ago and...’ she looked out of the large window to the street outside ‘...I ended up here instead.’

  ‘Edinburgh instead of Italy?’

  She swallowed and spoke as lightly as she could. ‘Don’t ask. And I have looked at other places. But some of them I’ve been to—Paris and Euro Disney, Berlin, Crete and mainland Spain on traditional girl holidays or city breaks. My father took us to Switzerland and Denmark on family holidays years ago. But Italy—’ she looked upwards ‘—it just slipped through my grasp.’ She tilted her head and connected with those eyes again. ‘Which part of Italy are you from?’

  ‘Verona,’ he said without hesitation. ‘The city of love. Romeo and Juliet land.’

  She put her hand on her heart. ‘Oops, sorry I didn’t mention it on my wish list.’

  ‘You’re forgiven,’ he said. ‘If the Romeo and Juliet play didn’t exist, we probably could have kept Verona as Italy’s hidden secret.’ He held up both hands. ‘Unfortunately...’

  ‘Is that where your sister’s wedding is?’

  He nodded.

  ‘In a hotel in the city?’

  He took a few seconds to answer, stroking his wine glass between his fingertips in a way that instantly dried her throat. ‘Actually, she’s getting married in our estate.’

  ‘What?’ The word came out before she could help it. But of course. A man staying at the most expensive hotel in Edinburgh, with a glass office that faced the castle and wore suits like he did? Of course they’d have an estate. Not your average house in a normal street. She was kind of feeling stupid right now for not even considering this before.

  Arturo spoke carefully. ‘We have an estate in the outskirts of Verona. My family have lived there for generations. The house is big enough to hold the wedding, and Cara has always wanted to get married in our home.’

  He gave a soft laugh. ‘I doubt I’ll recognise the place by the time I get home. I can only imagine what she’s been up to in my absence.’

  ‘Are you worried?’

  He gave the slightest shake of his head. ‘Cara has impeccable taste. She won’t have done anything long-lasting.’ He pulled a face. ‘At least I hope she won’t.’

  Darcy was still trying to get over the fact that Arturo had an estate. That, plus the good looks and the Indiana Jones-style job. She felt as if she could be in her own version of a film.

  ‘How do you like the wine?’ He leaned over and topped up her glass again.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she admitted, ‘but no more for me. I’m a lightweight.’

  ‘Will you join me at the next class?’

  She lifted her glass. ‘Ah, you’ve been bribing me.’

  ‘Not at all. I just prefer learning with someone who is at the same stage as me. You know why I’m there and why it’s important to me, so...’

  Something rushed into her head. Darcy had never been impetuous, and even the second she had the thought, something told her she should check with either Libby or her sister before she proceeded any further. She took a slow breath, trying to calm her heart-rate that had instantly speeded up. Could she really ask him to join her on a mad twenty-four-hour tour? It was certainly playing on her mind right now.

  She swallowed the last of her wine and looked Arturo Fabiano in the eye. When was the last time she’d taken a chance? When was the last time she’d done something spontaneous?

  ‘I’ll come on Wednesday with you, if you agree to have a mad twenty-four hours with me in an Italian city of my choosing.’ She waved her hand. ‘I’m paying, of course.’

  He blinked. For a moment he just sat there, and part of her cringed, a tiny part started to die inside.

  Her mouth automatically started talking again. ‘Who better to show me around than a real-life Italian who can show me the best bits, and help me with the language?’

  Silence, but only for a second.

  Something flickered in his vision, then he blinked again and raised the rest of his wine towards her. ‘It’s a deal. But I’ll warn you...’

  His words dangled in the air. She was still getting over the ‘deal’ word and trying not to punch the air.

  ‘You’ll warn me what?’ Her voice had a teasing tone that even she didn’t recognise. This was what good Italian wine and a surge in confidence did for her.

  ‘Once we’ve done your mad twenty-four hours, I might ask you for something in return.’ His eyes were fixed on hers. He had a teasing look in them too. ‘Only if you agree, of course.’

  Her stomach twisted and she wasn’t sure how she would explain this turn of events to anyone else.

  ‘I do a favour for you, and you do a favour for me,’ he said slowly, in a smooth tone that made her feel as if dragonflies had just fluttered against her skin.

  This was convenience, certainly for her, and it looked like it would be for him too.

  She lifted a few of the nuts into her palm. ‘I guess we’ll just need to see what the future holds then.’ She smiled back, nodding in agreement, and told herself she must be out of her mind.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FOUR DAYS LATER, Arturo pulled up outside the cottage and gave a low whistle. When Darcy had told him that she lived ‘somewhere out in the sticks’ he hadn’t expected a white stone cottage set against a splash of green hills. It looked more like a painting than a real home.

  He also tried to take a steadying breath. His family home back in Verona was more than a hundred times bigger than this. He had to be careful not to say or do anything to overwhelm her. Particularly when he knew what he was going to ask her in return.

  Darcy Bennett was intriguing. He’d done a little digging. Some people might say that was off. But Arturo was used to doing a little digging on any new person he came across. With his line of work, and his family wealth, it paid to know who you were making friends with. Darcy Bennett was exactly who she said she was. She had a good job, and was well regarded in her field. When she’d given him her address for the pick-up to the airport, council planning records showed that she’d done extensive renovations on her cottage over the last few years.

  The bright red door flew open and she stood there with a smile. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, she was wearing black three-quarter-length trousers, flat shoes and a white shirt tied at the waist. ‘Come in,’ she shouted as she disappeared back inside.

  He got out of his car, locked it—even though he hadn’t seen another person—and walked to her doorway. A small bag was sitting just inside the door and he ducked his head as he stepped inside the cottage.

  The whole place was much brighter and airier than he’d expected. To his left was a pale blue fitted kitchen with a large Aga stove that was popular in farmhouses. Through another door that was slightly ajar he could see a modern white bathroom. But the place that drew his attention was just ahead. As he stepped into what must be Darcy’s sitting room, he saw a wall of glass that faced straight out onto the Scottish landscape. It was completely hidden from the road, out of sight from anyone else. The view was magnificent, and there was even a sheep wandering around outside, which seemed utterly uninterested in the new person through the glass.

  It was six in the morning, and the sun was up with a little mist on the hills.

  Arturo couldn’t help but smile as he moved over and sat down on the cheerful multicoloured large sofa. Darcy was inside a cupboard, wrestling with some coats. She pulled out two. ‘What do you think? Black or red?’ She held them both up but he just laughed and held out his hands towards the glass wall.

  ‘I think this place is amazing.’

  ‘You do?’ He could tell by the expression on her face that she was pleased. She obviously took pride in her home.

  ‘Of course,’ he said and nodded outside. ‘You even have your own sheep.’

  She laughed, ‘Oh, that’s Betty, and she isn’t mine. She’s the farmer’s next door. There’s a small gap in his fence that he keeps meaning to fix and she likes to wander through.’ She held up the coats again. ‘Which one?’

  He stood up and walked over, touching one and then the other. The black one was made of wool, the red one a lightweight raincoat. ‘Are you absolutely sure you want to take a coat?’

  She looked surprised. ‘Of course.’