Unbuttoning the Tuscan Tycoon, page 1
Escape to beautiful Tuscany and Lake Como in this romantic new duet
One Summer in Italy
From Harlequin Romance author Michelle Douglas
Frankie Weaver and Audrey Dimarco are cousins in Australia—and when their late grandmother leaves them a bequest to spend the summer in Italy, they can’t wait to start their travels!
Frankie has big decisions to make about her future, while Audrey has new family members to meet near Lake Como...but both find their Italian escapades result in romantic encounters that could change all their plans!
Book 1: Unbuttoning the Tuscan Tycoon
On sale February 2023
Book 2: Cinderella’s Secret Fling
On sale June 2023
Dear Reader,
I think most of us have had a fantasy of running away from our daily grind and heading somewhere fabulous to indulge in some serious R & R. On one particularly fraught afternoon, I wondered what it’d be like to have a whole summer away. That’s how the One Summer in Italy duet was born.
In Unbuttoning the Tuscan Tycoon, my burned-out heroine Frankie gets to spend the summer on a beautiful vineyard in the rolling golden hills of Tuscany. She needs to make some hard decisions about her life, and she’s convinced a slower pace under a warm Tuscan sun will revitalize her. This summer, she’s determined to be carefree and laid-back. Her new boss, Dante, though, has other plans for her—and he’s as buttoned-up as they come!
As these two opposites butt heads, negotiate, agree and disagree, they find themselves more and more drawn to each other. But he’s a workaholic while she’s trying to be a free spirit. Can one magical summer lead to true love? Frankie and Dante’s story was a joy to write—a true escape—and I hope you enjoy their adventures, not to mention the sigh-worthy setting, as much as I did.
Hugs,
Michelle
Unbuttoning the Tuscan Tycoon
Michelle Douglas
Michelle Douglas has been writing for Harlequin since 2007 and believes she has the best job in the world. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero, a house full of dust and books, and an eclectic collection of ’60s and ’70s vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website, michelle-douglas.com.
Books by Michelle Douglas
Harlequin Romance
Miss Prim’s Greek Island Fling
The Maid, the Millionaire and the Baby
Redemption of the Maverick Millionaire
Singapore Fling with the Millionaire
Secret Billionaire on Her Doorstep
Billionaire’s Road Trip to Forever
Cinderella and the Brooding Billionaire
Escape with Her Greek Tycoon
Wedding Date in Malaysia
Reclusive Millionaire’s Mistletoe Miracle
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
With thanks and gratitude to the Hunter Writers Centre, City of Newcastle and the Port Authority of New South Wales for creating the Nobbys-Whibayganba Lighthouse Arts residency program. These studio spaces are such a boon to local creatives and visitors alike. It has been an honor to take part in the program.
Praise for Michelle Douglas
“Michelle Douglas writes the most beautiful stories, with heroes and heroines who are real and so easy to get to know and love.... This is a moving and wonderful story that left me feeling fabulous.... I do highly recommend this one, Ms. Douglas has never disappointed me with her stories.”
—Goodreads on Redemption of the Maverick Millionaire
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EXCERPT FROM BARCELONA FLING WITH A SECRET PRINCE BY ELLA HAYES
PROLOGUE
FRANKIE GLANCED ACROSS the table at Audrey. Nonna’s restaurant was hushed in a way it never had been before, the shades at the windows drawn and the door firmly shut. Audrey looked as glum and gutted as she felt. She lit the table’s candle, but it did little to dispel the gloom.
She hadn’t thought she had any tears left, but her vision blurred. Audrey instantly reached across and covered Frankie’s hand. She managed to send her cousin a watery smile. ‘I miss her so much.’
After today’s reading of the will, the fact they’d never see their beloved nonna again had become all too real.
Audrey’s grip tightened, and her chin wobbled. If Audrey started crying, Frankie would start howling and—
‘We promised her we’d be strong,’ she croaked.
Both women straightened, pushed their shoulders back.
Audrey gestured around. ‘I expect they’ll sell it.’
Frankie tried to keep her voice level. ‘It’s no doubt the sensible thing to do.’
The will had held no surprises. Nonna’s children—Audrey’s father and Frankie’s mother—had inherited equal shares of Nonna’s estate, with both Audrey and Frankie receiving...
Frankie glanced at the A4 envelopes on the table in front of them. One of them Audrey’s, the other hers. Nonna had left them whatever was in those envelopes.
Neither she nor Audrey had been in any hurry to open them. Audrey gestured. ‘Once I open it... It’s just... It all seems so final.’
Audrey had the kindest heart on the planet. And the softest. Frankie needed to be strong for her. She needed to be strong for them both.
‘She loved us both so much.’ Reaching out, she gripped both of Audrey’s hands. ‘And she’ll live on in our hearts forever. One day when we have children, we’ll regale them with stories about Nonna and her restaurant, and they’ll come to love her too.’ For a moment that vision filled her soul.
Audrey’s mouth curved into the smile that never failed to lighten Frankie’s heart. ‘We will.’ Pulling in a breath, she nodded. ‘It’s time.’
With a final squeeze, they released each other’s hands and reached for their envelopes.
Frankie pulled forth a letter. With trembling hands, she unfolded it.
My darling Frankie,
You know how much I love you. What you may not realise is how much I worry for you.
She blinked.
Do not become a slave to duty. Do not become a slave to others’ expectations. If I had one wish for you, my darling girl, it would be that you have the opportunity to forge your own path—one that will bring you happiness and satisfaction. Life is so much more than work. Do not forget to live, and love, and find joy in your life.
The words speared into the sorest part of her heart.
Frankie, you need a holiday. You need the time to evaluate your life and weigh up all your options.
She didn’t have time for a holiday! She didn’t...
Will you please do your nonna one final favour and make my wish for you come true? I ask that you spend this summer in Tuscany. You always spoke about doing so as a teenager—your eyes lighting up as you told me in the greatest detail how you planned to work and tour the area, enjoying the sights and the sounds...and the freedom, as you found out about your family who had once come from there.
The sudden memory of those old dreams burned through her. Once they’d made her ache with anticipation and tremble with excitement.
Her heart started to pound. Maybe Nonna was right. Maybe it was time for Frankie to pull her head from the sand and face a few hard facts, make some hard decisions. She swallowed. Decisions that would have a lasting impact on her life.
You stopped talking about it after your father died. Frankie, my dearest girl, you need to start dreaming again. Please, will you do this one thing for me?
Tears blurred her vision. Blinking hard, she returned to the envelope to discover an air ticket to Rome, a modest cheque to cover travelling expenses and a small velvet box. Lifting the lid, she found a silver pendant of a bird in flight—a symbol of freedom. She immediately fastened it about her throat.
When she glanced across at Audrey, she found her cousin staring at an air ticket of her own. Frankie cleared her throat. ‘I’m off to Tuscany. You?’
‘Lake Como. Wide eyes lifted to hers. ‘When are you planning to leave?’
The European summer had already started, but... ‘In two weeks.’
Audrey gulped. ‘Make it one week and we could travel as far as Rome together.’
She didn’t give herself time to think or waver. ‘Deal.’
They shook on it.
CHAPTER ONE
FRANKIE PULLED BERTHA, her sky-blue Kombi van, onto the hard shoulder and surveyed the huge wooden sign above a rather imposing set of gates. They were a tasteful combination of stone and wood, giving them an impression of permanence and prosperity. Of wealth.
They were the kind of gates that knew their purpose.
Unlike you.
She wrinkled her nose, tried to blow a raspberry at the needling voice full of censure.
You should be settling on your medical specialty, not galliv anting.
‘I’m not gallivanting!’
Three months, that was all she was asking. Three months.
On cue, her phone rang. Staring at the name on the screen, she was tempted to ignore it. Guilt got the better of her and at the last moment she pressed it to her ear. ‘Mum.’
‘Frankie, you know how worried I am about you and—’
‘Hi, I’m great! How are you?’
There was a pause at the other end.
‘Sorry, Mum, terrible timing. I’ll have to call you back.’
Dropping the phone to the seat beside her, she blinked hard. Why couldn’t her mother just be happy for her? Why couldn’t she tell her to have a lovely holiday? Why—
A fist tightened about her chest squeezing the air from her lungs. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing.
You have a whole summer in Tuscany.
She didn’t need to choose her medical specialty yet. She didn’t need to know if medicine was her future. She didn’t need to know anything.
Opening her eyes, she straightened. She had time. Nonna had made sure of it. And she had no intention of wasting the gift her grandmother had given her. She’d focus on the here and now.
And the here and now were those gates and that sign.
The sign read Vigna di Riposo—Vineyard of Rest—with carved grapevines bracketing the words. Brass plaques on the gates were etched with fat bunches of grapes. It might look fancy, but an unpretentious warmth threaded through it too.
‘Right.’ She clapped her hands. ‘We’re going to be chilled and laid-back.’ Two words that were completely alien to her, but ones she meant to master over the course of the summer.
Carefree and happy-go-lucky, that was her catchphrase. She was in Tuscany, the beautiful heartland of Italy, and this was dream-come-true stuff. She would relax.
Deep inside, a flicker of excitement began to burn. For the next six weeks she’d be based here at this beautiful vineyard. She’d arrived several weeks before the grapes were due to be harvested, but Senor Silva had said that he would find jobs for her to do prior to the picking—odd jobs like preparing the staff quarters for the mass arrival of the seasonal staff. It all sounded gloriously mindless.
She did a happy dance in her seat. She didn’t have any other responsibilities, wasn’t in charge of making any momentous decisions that would impact other people’s lives, wouldn’t need to make any split-second decisions that could have life and death consequences. Perfection!
In her mind’s eye, she saw herself as a puffy dandelion seed head and the image made her feel light and free. All of Tuscany was her playground for the next three months. She would make the most of it.
Driving through the gates, she pointed Bertha up the gravelled drive. Topping the rise, her jaw dropped at the vista that spread before her. The view looked as if it’d been pulled from the pages of a guidebook.
In the hollow below sat a low-slung building, built of the local honey-coloured stone and accented with the same dark wood as the gates. It would be the main public building where the wine was sold and tastings took place. In the blinding summer sun, its shady interior promised ease and comfort.
Outbuildings stretched off further to her left, but it was the surrounding countryside that held her spellbound. Spreading down the hillside in front of her and along the valley, and up the slope beyond, grapevines marched in lush greenness beneath a perfect blue sky—green and gold throbbed in the air, and things inside of her that had been knotted too tight, began to loosen.
It was a classic Tuscan landscape—beautifully serene—and a sigh that seemed to last forever eased from her lungs.
Pulling Bertha into the visitors’ car park, she gazed her fill, but didn’t switch off the engine. This car park wasn’t for employees. Signor Silva had told her to follow the road around to where she’d find the staff car park, and the seasonal quarters beyond where she’d be able to set up camp in Bertha.
She snapped a picture to send to Audrey before pushing the van into reverse. At the same moment, a man emerged from the shady interior of the building, and made a beeline for her.
The precision of his movements, and the alarming amount of ground those long legs covered, had her blinking. But any alarm she might have felt at having perhaps stepped out of line by stopping to admire the area was quickly overridden by a shock of feminine appreciation.
She swallowed, hard, her throat becoming strangely dry. She and Audrey had joked that Italian men were devastatingly handsome, but she hadn’t expected to be confronted by the most beautiful man she’d ever seen on the first day of arriving at her new job.
Part-time job.
The reminder of just how much free time was now hers had her lifting her face to the sun and drawing in a breath of fragrant summer air as she waited for the man to reach her.
Raven-dark hair gleamed rich in the early afternoon sun and dark eyes that looked black from this distance connected with hers, sending a crackle of something through her, like an electrical pulse. He looked oddly familiar as if she’d seen him somewhere before. Was he a film star or some kind of celebrity?
At just over six feet, there wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on that lean muscular body. Powerful shoulders tapered to lean hips and long, strong thighs. Maybe he was an athlete? Or a dancer? Her knowledge of either was meagre, though, so it didn’t help her identify him. What she did know, was that he moved with an innate grace that had a sigh welling in her chest.
Pick your jaw up off the floor, Frankie.
She managed it just before he reached her door. ‘We’ve been expecting you.’
He spoke perfect English in a thick—and divine—Italian accent, and—
One look at his face told her he wasn’t happy about something. She straightened. ‘Signor Silva? I’m very excited to be here. I hope I’ve not stepped on any toes by stopping to admire all of this. It’s beautiful. I’ll head around to the staff car park now.’
‘I will show you the way.’
He strode around the van and leaped into the passenger seat. His scent—all lemon and sage and sunshine—invaded Bertha’s interior, pulling oxygen out of Frankie’s lungs and replacing it with something that made her head feel light. He pointed the way and, swallowing, she turned Betha in that direction, unable to utter a single sensible syllable. If forced to talk, her words would probably emerge in a gabble of g and b sounds.
Which wasn’t the impression she wanted to make.
Except we’re not worrying about any of that at the moment, are we?
That was right! And it wasn’t like she wanted to impress the man or anything. His beauty had taken her off guard, that’s all. And nobody wanted to look or sound like a fool. Her included. Even with a catchphrase of carefree and happy-go-lucky.
‘Not Signor Silva,’ he said now in that beautiful accent.
Signor Silva was the vineyard’s staff supervisor. He’d said he’d meet her on arrival. She glanced at the man beside her, moistened her lips and swallowed carefully, doing all she could to ensure her voice would work without disgracing her. ‘Then...who are you?’
‘My name is Dante Alberici.’
Dante...? Summoning the research she’d done on Riposo, she sifted through her mind. Alberici...? ‘Oh, my God!’ She swung to him. ‘You own Vigna di Riposo.’ And a large portion of real estate in Tuscany too—including prime sites in Florence. The Alberici Corporation was world-renowned, and Dante Alberici a self-made man. ‘You’re the big boss!’
Careful of incoherent g and b sounds.
‘Please do not run into that wine barrel with your van.’
She reefed her gaze back to the front and negotiated the entrance to a car park demarcated on either side with wine barrels. As the car park was hidden behind several outbuildings, it was clearly meant for staff like her.
‘They might only be for decorative purposes, but I should like them to remain in one piece, yes? And your van too.’
‘Yes, absolutely. That’s definitely what we want. No minor prangs happening here or anything of the sort. No indeedy.’
Shut up, Frankie.
