The Art of Deception (Choc Lit) by Liz Harris Read Free Book Online Page A

himself in front of her.
    ‘ Ooh, yes, please.’
    H e went over to the table at the side of the terrace, where several bottles of Prosecco lay on a bed of ice alongside a glass jug of peach purée, picked up one of the bottles and opened it. When he’d finished mixing two Bellinis, he carried one of the drinks carefully across to Clare.
    Jenny moved swiftly to the table and helped herself to the other drink. Raising her glass to Stephen, she laughingly thanked him as she hurried across the terrace to Max’s side.
    Max glanced down at her, smiled briefly, then looked back at the view. She followed his gaze across the spotlit garden to the feathery tips of the olive trees, their fragile leaves a deepening grey in the fading light of the day.
    ‘ This is truly an artist’s paradise, Max. The view from up here is inspirational.’
    ‘ It is, isn’t it? It looks different in every light, but with the sun setting over the plain, this is a particularly beautiful time of day. It’s my favourite, in fact.’
    ‘ I think it’s mine, too,’ she said. ‘It’s so calm. But a place like this always holds something for an artist, no matter the time.’
    ‘ You’re absolutely right about that. I don’t remember if I told you in London, but I collect paintings in a small way – nothing terribly grand – and whilst I obviously enjoy looking at my pictures, nothing surpasses the pleasure I get from a view like this. There’s always something new to be discovered.’
    ‘ I’m guessing that there’s a connection between your fondness for your art collection and the fact that you’ve set up the courses here.’
    ‘ I’m sure that’s true, but it also owes a lot to my total lack of artistic skill. I really admire anyone who can paint – perhaps because I’m so useless at it myself – and if I can do anything at all to help those interested in art to improve, then so be it.’
    Jenny gave him a sly smile. ‘And of course, it’s nothing to do with the profitable use of pre-existing facilities.’
    Max laughed. ‘Well, maybe just a little bit. I am a businessman, after all. But it’s a bit of a worry, you being able to read me like a book,’ he added in amusement.
    ‘Perhaps “like a painting” would be a better comparison in the circumstances,’ she said with a smile. She tore her eyes away from his face, and forced them back to the view ahead of her. ‘Whatever the reason, it’s a wonderful place to have an art course and I’m glad that you decided to go down this path.’
    ‘ Me, too. But you wouldn’t believe how many people were against it.’
    ‘ Against it?’ She turned to him in surprise. ‘Why on earth would they be against it? It’s a brilliant idea.’
    ‘ You should put on cookery courses, I was told by anyone I mentioned my plans to. It’s the in thing. But imagine being indoors all day, tied to a hot stove, peeling potatoes, chopping vegetables, when there’s all this going on in the world outside.’ He gestured to the garden. ‘Nope, I told them, it’s got to be art classes.’
    Who had he discussed his plans with, she wondered and took a sip of her drink. She was pretty sure he wasn’t married. There hadn’t been any mention of a wife in the articles she’d read online. But there could be a girlfriend back in England, and, thinking about it, there probably was. The fact that he ran a successful company and had property abroad was more than enough to make him highly eligible.
    S he glanced up at his strong profile, and a sudden heat rushed to her face.
    And so was the fact that he was very, very good-looking. Even if he didn’t have a single penny to his name, he would still have been in great demand.
    But not by her. Even if she wanted to fall for him, her feelings about what had happened to her father would stop that happening.
    A lso, she was in danger of assuming that because she found him so attractive, he might want something more from her, too. But there was no reason to