Lucy Gordon - The Tuscan Tycoon’s Wife

The third book in the Counts of Calvani series, 2003

Dear Reader,

Ive saved my favourite Calvani until last. The Tuscan Tycoons Wife is the story of Leo, Guidos half brother and Marcos cousin. He is like nobody else in the family, a countryman who would hate to live anywhere but close to the earth, far away from the fashionable cities, in the beautiful Tuscan hills.

Where the others are sophisticated, he is uncomplicated; a gentle giant with a huge warm heart that loves but does not judge. Many women would like him as a brother. But Selena isnt many women. Shes the one woman Leo cant forget, a hard-living rodeo rider who can challenge him on any level. Tough on the surface, lonely inside, she touches his heart because he can see how much she needs him-even if she cant see it herself.

She thinks hes as poor as she is-and thats fine by her. Its when she finds that hes not only rich but aristocratic that the trouble starts The only person who understands her feelings is Liza, Count Calvanis longtime love and eventual countess. Its Lizas intervention that reconciles the lovers, and brings the whole family together for the happy ending that unites them all.

Enjoy!

SELENA, you need either a miracle or a millionaire.

Ben eased himself out from under the battered vehicle, monkey wrench in hand. He was lean, elderly, and had spent thirty years as a garage mechanic. Now those thirty years were telling him that Selena Gates wanted him to revive a corpse.

This things had it, he said gloomily surveying the van, which was actually a Mini Motor Home, with the accent on Mini.

But you can make it go again? Selena begged. I know you can, Ben. Youre such a genius.

You stop that, he said with an unconvincing attempt at severity. It doesnt work on me.

Always has so far, she said, with perfect truth. You can make it go, cant you, Ben?

For a bit.

As far as Stephenville?

Three hundred miles? You dont want much! All right, itll probably just about make it. But what then?

Then Ill win some money in the rodeo.

Riding that washed up brute?

Elliot is not washed up, she flared. Hes in his prime.

Ben grunted. Been in his prime a few years, if you ask me.

Any mention of her beloved Elliot touched a nerve, and Selena was about to defend him fiercely when she remembered that Ben, good friend that he was, was fixing her van on the cheap, and calmed down.

Elliot and I will win something, she said stubbornly.

Enough for a new van?

Enough to get this one fixed as good as new.

Selena, there aint enough money in the world to get this ramshackle old bus fixed as good as new. It was falling to bits when you bought it, and that was way back. Youd do better sweet-talking a millionaire into buying you a new van.

No point in me chasing a millionaire, Selena sighed. Havent got the figure for it.

Sez who? Ben demanded loyally.

Sez me!

He regarded her tall, ultra-slim figure. Maybe youre a little flat-chested, he admitted.

Ben, under these old jeans Im flat everything. She grinned with rueful self-mockery. Its no use. Millionaires like their women- with both hands she traced the outline of a voluptuous figure. And thats something I never was. Havent got the hair for it either. You need long, wavy tresses not- she pointed to her boyish crop.

It was a startling red that blazed out like a beacon, telling the world, Im here! There was no way to overlook Selena. Smart, cheeky, independent, and optimistic to the point of craziness, she was her own woman. Anyone who challenged that soon learned the other lesson of that red hair. Beware!

Besides, Selena said, coming to her clincher argument, I dont like millionaires. Theyre not real people.

Ben scratched his head. They arent?

No way, Selena said, like someone articulating an article of faith. They have too much money.

Too much money is what you could do with right now. Or a miracle.

A miracle would be easier, she said. And Ill find one. No-itll find me.

Darn it, Selena, will you try to be a bit realistic?

What for? What good did being realistic ever do me? Lifes more fun if you expect the best.

And when the best dont happen?

Then think of another best and expect that. Ben, I promise you, somewhere, somehow, a genuine twenty-four-carat miracle is heading my way.

Leo Calvani stretched his legs as far as he could, which wasnt far. The flight from Rome to Atlanta took twelve hours, and he travelled first class because if you were six foot three, and forty-two inches of that was leg, you needed all the help you could get.

Normally he didnt consider himself a first class kind of man. Wealthy, yes. Afford the best, no problem. But frills and fuss made him nervous. So did cities, and fine clothes. Thats why he travelled in his oldest jeans and denim jacket, complete with scuffed shoes. It was his way of saying that first class wasnt going to get him.

An elegant stewardess hovered over him as solicitously as if he didnt look like a hobo. Champagne, sir?

He took a moment to relish her large blue eyes and seductively curved figure. It was an instinctive reaction, a tribute paid to every woman under fifty, and since he was a warm-hearted man he usually found something to enjoy.

Sir?

Im sorry?

Would you like some champagne?

Whisky would be better.

Of course, sir. We have- she rattled off a list of expensive brands until Leos eyes glazed.

Just whisky, he said, with a touch of desperation.

As he sipped the drink he yawned and wished the journey away. Eleven hours gone and the last was the worst because hed run out of distractions. Hed watched the film, enjoyed two excellent meals and flirted with the lady sitting beside him.

Shed responded cheerfully, attracted by his handsome, blunt-featured face framed by dark-brown hair with a touch of curl, and the lusty gleam in his blue eyes. Theyd enjoyed a pleasant hour or two until she fell asleep. After that he flirted with the air hostesses.

But for the moment he was alone, with only his thoughts of the coming visit to occupy him. A couple of weeks on the Four-Ten, Barton Hanworths ranch near Stephenville, Texas, enjoying wide-open spaces, the outdoor life, riding, attending the nearby rodeo, was his idea of heaven.

At last the great jet was descending to Atlanta. Soon hed be able to stretch his legs, even if only for a couple of hours before squeezing his protesting frame onto the connecting flight to Dallas.

Ben pared the bill to the bone because he was fond of Selena, and he knew her next few dollars would go on Elliots welfare. Any cents left over would buy food for herself, and if there were none, shed go without. He helped her hitch the horse trailer onto the back of the van, kissed her cheek for luck and watched as she eased her way carefully out of his yard. As she vanished he sent up a prayer to whichever deity watched over crazy young women who had nothing in the world but a horse, a clapped-out van, the heart of a lion and a bellyful of stubbornness.

By the time Leo boarded the connecting flight at Atlanta jet lag was catching up with him and he managed to doze until they touched down. As he unfolded his long body he vowed never to get on another aeroplane as long as he lived. He did that after every flight.

As he came out of Customs he heard a booming voice.