Irresistible You by Victoria Connelly Page A

was getting far too philosophical for her first day in Venice. She could allow herself at least one day off before she got down to the serious business of decision making.
    She was just pouring herself a nice big apricot juice when the door bell rang. It was probably Rosanna, she thought, coming to say, ‘and another thing …’ and Elena was ready to give her a piece of her mind this time. But it wasn’t Rosanna. It was Reuben.
    At once, Elena’s mind somersaulted into action. Reuben was in Venice. The man who wouldn’t put his brush down to make her a cup of coffee after three hours’ of her sitting for him had got on a plane and travelled a thousand miles to see her. If he had done that, then Mark and Prof were even more capable of turning up unannounced.
    Elena looked nervously passed Reuben’s shoulder in case all her fiancés were travelling together. What a horrendous thought! Elena’s Fiancés Tour Group. Discounts when three or more travel together.
    ‘Aren’t you going to welcome me?’ Reuben asked, obviously put out by Elena’s puzzled expression.
    ‘Of course!’ she said, kissing him quickly. ‘I’m just so amazed to see you! How did you find me?’
    ‘You told me where you were staying,’ he said, frowning. ‘It wasn’t that hard to find.’
    Elena’s eyes widened. So she had and, for once, he’d actually been listening to her.
    He held her tight for a moment before he came into the entrance hall and followed her up the stairs.
    ‘Bloody hell!’ he said, his eyes taking in the sweeping splendour of the apartment. ‘I mean – good grief! Does all this belong to one guy?’
    Elena nodded. ‘Sandro Constantini.’
    ‘Never heard of him. Can’t be that good if I haven’t heard of him,’ Reuben said, walking right into the room as if he owned it.
    ‘Jealously will get you nowhere,’ she chided.
    ‘I’m not jealous,’ he said, his eyes scanning the canvasses on display with the cautious scrutiny of a fellow artist. ‘They’re all pretty average, anyway. He must have a benefactor or something.’
    Elena smiled. ‘Reuben?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Why are you here?’
    He turned around and grinned, walking towards her and folding his arms around her waist. ‘I came to see you,’ he said, pushing his tongue into her ear.
    She pushed him away. ‘I know.’
    He sighed. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I felt bad about before - you know?’
    She nodded, but already her mind was racing ahead to what Rosanna would say when she came back and found she’d smuggled a man into the apartment. ‘But you didn’t have to come all this way, you know. You could have just called me.’
    ‘It’s not the same though, is it? Anyway, I thought I could get a bit of painting in.’
    Ah! Elena thought. The truth was coming out.
    ‘This place is brilliant!’ he continued. ‘Do you think this Sandro guy would mind if I used his easels?’
    ‘You can’t stay, Reuben!’
    ‘What? Why the hell not?’
    ‘It’s not my place! I’m not even meant to be here.’
    ‘But who’s going to know? Who’s going to tell on us?’
    ‘Rosanna! She’s really strict about these things.’
    ‘Elena, she’s not even met me yet. I’m sure I can persuade her,’ he said, his voice dark and silky.
    Elena sighed, knowing it was going to be hard trying to convince him. ‘She’s not the sort of woman who can be wound round your little finger, you know.’
    ‘But there’s loads of bloody room here! I really don’t see what the problem is.’
    She looked at him. How could she tell him that her real worry was Prof and Mark turning up as well?
    ‘The thing is,’ she began, ‘Rosanna doesn’t know when Sandro will be back. He could turn up any day and I don’t think he’s the sort to welcome a group of strangers in his home.’
    Reuben grimaced.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but why don’t you book into a hotel somewhere?’
    ‘You’ll come with me, then?’
    She bit her lip. ‘Reuben, I came here to see Rosanna. I