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gaze zeroing in on Isabel as if she was the only one on the veranda. His attention was flattering. Or it would be if she didn’t think he had an ulterior motive. He’d either decided to change his tactics, or he’d decided to enjoy the day and forget his only too apparent motive. Knowing him it must be the former.
    “Very much. But I’m planning to move out either today or tomorrow.”
    “Why, what’s wrong?” he asked with a quizzical lift of his eyebrows.
    “Nothing, the people are nice and the beds are very comfortable. But I didn’t come here to loll about in a luxury hotel when I have a perfectly good house of my own.” She felt her cheeks redden. They both knew it wasn’t “perfectly good.” She braced herself for his retort.
    “Ah,” he said. But that was all. No mention of the lack of water, heat or electricity. Which only made her worry about these things more. It was much easier to be brave when she had to convince him at the same time. Without a rival to fight with, she felt strangely deflated.
    “As you know, it’s harvest time and I need to be picking grapes.” She waited for his predictable comment about how hard the work was and how busy all the real workers were, but it didn’t come.
    Instead he drained his cup and said, “Ready?” then stood and pulled her chair out from the table. She had the feeling the whole hotel staff was standing there watching as if he werea movie star on location as she got into his car and pulled away. She had to admit he was better-looking than any movie star she’d ever seen.
    Did his attention to her raise her status in the community she longed to be part of? Either the group on the terrace at the hotel were shaking their heads, thinking she was a fool for going off with the Sicilian playboy who might even be married or they were cheering her on, thinking she’d be a fool for not running off to spend a day with the sexiest man around these parts.
    It didn’t matter, this was not a date. He was not interested in her nor was she in him. He was showing her around only because he thought he’d achieve his own goal that way. She was spending the day with him for the same reason, to get what she wanted. But she couldn’t help being curious about him and his family.
    She leaned back against the soft leather upholstery and let the sun shine on her face. She felt no need to make conversation since he seemed to be lost in thought, maybe pretending she wasn’t there. He’d insisted on showing her property, he hadn’t said he’d enjoy it. His eyes were hidden behind his wraparound sunglasses, one suntanned arm braced on the open window. His mind was somewhere else, no doubt.
    To distract herself from looking at Dario, thinking about him and admiring his hands on the wheel, his bronzed arms and his skillful driving, she tried to identify the different kinds of trees they passed—oak, elm, ash and maybe beech. There might even be cork and maple. In the hills above them, farm animals grazed. It was a peaceful and bucolic scene, one most tourists never saw. She told herself to sit back and enjoy it while she could. Tomorrow and the next day and every day after that she’d be at work in the vineyard.
    Glancing at his profile out of the corner of her eye, shethought he was just as gorgeous from that viewpoint as he was full-on, with his broken nose, his solid jaw and high cheekbones. From a strictly impersonal viewpoint of course. If he wasn’t married, she wondered why not. Was it his surly personality, or was that side of him reserved for her benefit?
    He pointed to a village perched high on a hill. And finally he spoke. “Casale,” he said, “one of the first towns taken by the Normans from the Arabs who took it from the Saracens who took it from the Byzantines.”
    “So I’m not the first foreigner to claim land here.”
    “Not at all. But you should know Sicilians are tough people. We may seem to give in at first, but we’re just rolling with the