Give a Little (2 page)

“It’s a date then,” he said with a smirk in his voice. “I’ll see you there.”

“Not likely.” She hung up, tapping her mobile against her lips. So he was after an Italian car manufacturer, was he?

She pictured Luca and his sly grin as he said,
The game is on
.

The game was on, indeed. She pushed the button for the intercom. “Inga, compile all the information on Stallon-E that you can find.”

Her mother was already in the study when Bea arrived. Despite the fact that she had her shoes kicked off and legs folded under her, Jacqueline Summerhill looked every inch the Countess of Amberlin: fashionable and impeccable.

Although in the past the Countess of Amberlin would never have been caught with ink stains on her hands. Now she sat with a new leather-bound notebook, writing as she waited. Her first book, a narrative nonfiction work about the Summerhill women being touted as a modern-day
Downton Abbey
, was coming out in several months, and the next one was already in the works.

If that wasn’t enough, a couple weeks ago her mother had sold the film rights for her upcoming book.

Looking at her mother was like looking into a mirror twenty years in the future, except that lately her mother had a glow of happiness and contentedness that Bea didn’t have and never expected to achieve. That wasn’t her.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said to announce her presence.

Her mother looked up, her smile dimming at the edges. “You look agitated.”

“Not agitated.” She unwound her scarf and tossed her coat onto a chair. “On the hunt. Have I ever mentioned a man named Fraser?”

“Only a few hundred times over the past two decades,” Jacqueline said with a dry smile.

She accepted the tea her mother handed her and reached for one of Fran’s shortbreads, bypassing the macarons, which were okay in a pinch but not her favorite. “He tried to deceive me today.”

“That doesn’t sound any different than what he normally does.” Her mother sat back and studied her. “I take it you nipped it in the bud.”

“I’m certainly going to attempt to. I have an advantage on him. He doesn’t know I’m aware of his ploy.”

“And then what?”

She paused with her cup halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

Her mother studied her with that gaze that cut through all the layers to the little girl she still was deep inside. “What happens after you wiggle this deal out from under him? Another deal?”

“It’s what I do.” Currently it was keeping her from completely obsessing about Luca, and she considered that a good thing.

“Yes, but is it enough?”

She sipped her tea quickly and scalded her tongue. Setting the cup down, she frowned at her mother. “What are you getting at, Mother?”

Her mother lifted her chin and looked her in the eye. “Perhaps it’s time to think about the rest of your life, Beatrice.”

“As in retirement?” she asked incredulously.

Her mother smiled. “No one is delusional in thinking you could ever retire. I’m talking balance. All you do is work. When was the last time you took a holiday?”

The idea was a foreign concept to her. She shook her head. “I don’t take holidays, and I enjoy what I do.”

“I’m suggesting that you may enjoy doing other things as well.” Jacqueline leaned back, her arm across the back of the couch. “Maybe with someone else.”

She didn’t need to be a mind reader to know whom her mother meant. “If you’re asking if I date, I do. Plenty. I just haven’t met anyone who interests me past a minute.”

Her mother raised her brow. “Haven’t you?”

In her mind, Luca’s face smiled, with a half-lidded gaze and that sexy curl of his lips that said he wanted to undress you slowly and revel in you for days on end.

She crossed her arms and stared her mother down. “I know what you’re insinuating, and that’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?” Jacqueline asked with boldness she’d only recently discovered.

“He’s entirely wrong for me.”

“He loves you.”

“He loves himself,” she retorted, her arms tight. “And he’ll love anyone who adores him.”

“You can’t deny that he’s been there whenever we’ve needed him,” Jacqueline said from behind her teacup. “For us, because he loves us, but mostly because he loves you.”

Her heart hitched with a strange sort of longing, but she killed it. “I’m only a conquest to a man like Luca Fiorelli. Once he gets me, he’ll be bored.”

“You can’t believe that.”

She shrugged. She wasn’t sure—she only knew that around Luca she saw her worst self: the thirteen-year-old who wanted approval.

Back then it’d been her father. She thought she’d finally gotten over that—a woman who ran the world didn’t need anyone’s approval. But when she was around Luca, on the inside, something deep inside her reverted back to the girl who wanted assurances that she was enough.

She
hated
that.

How could that possibly be good for her? She didn’t get to where she was by seeking approval from men.

“
I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart,
” her mother quoted from
Much Ado About Nothing
.

“
I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me
,” she quoted back.

“You don’t have a dog,” Fran said as she entered the study.

Bea shook her head. “It was figurative.”

“It was shite,” her former nanny said as she took a biscuit and sat on an opposing chair.

Jacqueline smiled. “That was rather concise of you, Franny.”

“Some people need to hear it like it is.” She gave Bea a long look. “Especially pigheaded people.”

“I prefer to be thought of as determined,” she murmured, lifting her teacup.

Fran pointed a stubby finger at her. “You’re going to be thought of as a fool if you let Luca get away.”

Jacqueline cleared her throat delicately. “What Fran means to say is that you’ve been taking care of us all these years. You kept the family together after your father tried his best to drive everyone apart. When he died, you kept me from losing everything. You help your sisters, and you have countless people who rely on you. But isn’t it time you took care of yourself?”

Reclining, she stretched her arm out and flashed a confident smile to cover up her agitation. “Don’t worry, darlings. I have everything I need.”

Jacqueline and Fran exchanged a look. Fran rolled her eyes and said, “Stubborn as the day is long. Always has been.”

Her mother’s expression was harder to read. She hesitated, and Bea thought she wasn’t going to say anything. But then Jacqueline said, “I know you have what you need, but what about what you deserve?”

She frowned. “You think I don’t deserve what I have?”

Her mother took her hand. “My love, you deserve so much more.”

“I’m retiring from racing.” Luca lifted the green shirt the salesman had brought them and held it out. “Nico, you should wear this with your suit.”

His best friend, Nick, glanced at him in the mirror he faced as the tailor fitted him for his wedding suit. “That’s a color only an Italian would wear, and since when did you want to quit? You love racing, and now that I’m out of the game, you’re the number one driver on the circuit.”

He
was
number one, but it wasn’t because Nicholas Long had quit. Over the years they’d gone back and forth being on top. It was what had solidified their rivalry and, later, their friendship. Luca had always respected Nick; liking the man had been natural.

Teasing him was natural, too, so Luca sighed dramatically as he surveyed the shirt selection again. “It’s not the same since you left. There’s no one to challenge me. I have no point in going on.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Luca shrugged. It was the truth, in a manner of speaking. He
was
bored with racing; it really hadn’t been exciting since Nick stopped racing over a year ago. Their rivalry had kept him interested longer than he would have been otherwise.

But the excitement wasn’t there any longer. He was more interested in other things and other people.

Actually, one person in general. The problem was she claimed she wasn’t as interested in him.

Utter shite, as his British mother would say.

“How does this look?” Nick asked, tugging his coat down as he turned around.

Nick and his fiancée Rosalind were having an afternoon wedding, and the light gray suit was the perfect choice. Formal without being stuffy. “Rosalind has been good for you, in more ways than one, and that suit only proves it.”

Nick tugged at a sleeve. “As a bachelor friend, aren’t you supposed to dissuade me from marriage?”

Luca shook his head as he tossed the green shirt back onto the table. “If you didn’t marry Rosalind, I’d have to. She’s too delectable to be left alone.”

Nick only smiled. “Fortunately Rosalind met me first.”

They both knew Rosalind and Luca weren’t meant for each other. From the moment he’d seen her sister Beatrice, there hadn’t been anyone else for him. He hadn’t touched another woman since. No other woman could possibly satisfy him.

If only Beatrice admitted that she felt the same way.

As if reading his mind, Nick said, “Have you seen Beatrice lately?”

“Not since Viola’s wedding.” He glanced up to see Nick give him a look. “What does that mean?”

“I didn’t say anything,” his friend said.

“You didn’t have to.” He faced Nick, arms folded. “Something is clearly on your mind.”

Nick nodded at the tailor, who stood and walked away discreetly. Then he faced Luca. “It might be time to step up your game.”

He had. It’d taken all his willpower, but he hadn’t contacted her since that night. “Beatrice wouldn’t respond to being pushed. I’m playing the long game, and she’s close to coming around.”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “If you say so.”

“I do.” He could tell by the way she’d looked in the kitchen, when he’d returned her knickers. She’d looked like if he’d pressed her he could have had her undressed on the kitchen table.

“One thing is sure,” Nick said, picking up a white shirt. “She wants you.”

“Which is what makes this so frustrating.” He handed his friend a dark purple shirt. “You will wear this, and as your best man I’ll wear lavender to complement you.”

“Purple?” Nick frowned at the shirt. “You think so?”

“It’s violet, not purple, and I’m Italian. Of course I know.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “You’re half-British. You choose to be Italian because women prefer the accent.”

He loved England, but he preferred all things Italian because his heart was there. “I may move back to Italy.”

Nick froze, his gaze sharp. “Is this because you’re retiring from racing?”

He shrugged. His parents stayed there most of the year now that they were older, dividing their time between Bologna and Rome. And there was his new business. The only thing keeping him in London was Beatrice Summerhill.

As if reading his mind, Nick asked, “Or does this have to do with Bea?”

Sometimes his friend was too astute for comfort. “I’ve started a new endeavor close to Bologna, and I find myself wanting to spend more time growing it.”

“What sort of endeavor?”

Luca hadn’t revealed his role in the company to anyone other than his family, but maybe it was time since his prototype had just been unveiled. “Have you heard of Stallon-E?”

Nick gaped. “You’re involved in Stallon-E?”

“Stallon-
eh
,” he corrected. “Like stallion, in Italian.”

Nick shook his head. “Whatever. It’s the most anticipated car of the decade. A high-performance electric car with the Italian aesthetic? Of course, you’re involved.”

He was more than involved. He’d worked with his cousin Gianni, who was an engineer, to design the prototype. He’d invested quite a bit of his own money and hired someone to drive the business. The day-to-day operations didn’t interest Luca; working around the clock wasn’t his style. He preferred being a visionary.

“For a man who lives out loud, you have a lot of secrets,” Nick said. “You’ve been planning on retiring for a while then?”

He shrugged. It was inevitable. Racing and having a relationship didn’t go together. There were too many cities, too many women. He’d seen many loving relationships disintegrate because of temptation and jealousy.

Not that he was tempted by anyone other than Beatrice Summerhill. No other woman compared.

“I’m surprised that you’re still in London.” Nick gave him a sly look. “Except that Bea is here.”

He sighed. Having her so close yet so far ripped his soul in half. Chasing her hadn’t been working—she used it as an excuse to push him away in public. However, leaving her alone wasn’t working either. He was at his wits’ end.

He missed her.

He missed the fiery glint in her eyes. He missed the way she felt in his arms, and how perfectly she filled his bed.

Nick blinked in wonder. “You’ve shagged her, haven’t you?”

Luca pushed his friend against the mirror, rumpling the wedding suit. “Never speak of her that way.”

A slow smile spread across Nick’s face. “I wasn’t sure if she was just a challenge that you’d tire of once you won her, but you actually love her.”

“It’s a terrible thing,” he said, letting his friend go.

“Yes, I know.” Nick laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “But it’s wonderful, too, once you and she are on the same page.”

“I’m not certain that will ever happen.” He scowled, because he wasn’t sure she would ever be with him, yet he couldn’t imagine a world without her.

“What’s irresistible to her?”

“World domination,” Luca said without hesitation.

Nick shrugged. “Then offer her the world and she’ll be yours.”

A motley band of men in wigs and court jester clothing crowded the bar, boisterous and enthusiastic. Rowdy smiled at the scene, his heart warm and full because they were all there for him. He was going to miss these crazy guys.

Curl lifted his beer. “To Rowdy, the best flanker a guy could have at his side!”

A cheer went up from the guys around him and, grinning, Rowdy clinked his pint glass against his teammates’.