By Charlotte Lamb
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Additional resources for Illusion
Italians always noticed blondes. They were attracted by the Nordic colouring. The waiter's dark eyes strayed over her all the time, smiling. Deborah found it irritating. Once she might have been flattered, amused. She would have enjoyed all the masculine admiration. But at this present moment she felt only one thing towards men: hostility. She found male admiration almost insulting tonight. Stop staring, she wanted to snap at him, and her green eyes said something of the sort when she looked up once to find those soulful eyes fixed on her.
That was back in Italian and again Deborah had to guess by context and might be wrong, but from the way they both laughed she suspected she was right. She carefully betrayed no sign of having understood that one, though. ' he asked Deborah, turning back to her. ' 'A pity,' said Signor Scalatio, sighing. ' 'But of course she does,' Signor Scalatio said vigorously. ' and gave Deborah another warm, admiring smile. 'Let me get you both a drink. ' He had not asked her last name, accepting her without question as a friend of Matthew's, and she wondered if she would ever discover Matthew's last name.
As the lift started with a reluctant jerk she saw the dark-haired man crossing the foyer. Their eyes met. Deborah almost smiled at him, too, but at the last moment she looked away. It was safer. CHAPTER TWO When Deborah went down to dinner that evening the lift wasn't working. A printed card had been hung on the gate. Under repair, it announced. That meant she would have to walk down four flights of stairs and up again later. They wouldn't be repairing it tonight. The stairs were marble, ornate and well worn.