The Mysterious Italian Houseguest
Falling for the enemy!Italian movie star Javier Russo needs to escape his Hollywood life. Isola dei Fiori is the perfect retreat—a lush island in the glittering Mediterranean. What he didn't expect was having to share his peaceful hideaway with the infuriatingly beautiful Portia Marlowe!Celebrity reporter Portia is intrigued by her unwelcome and mysterious visitor, and the secrets he's clearly holding back. Villa Rosa isn't big enough for both of them, and soon there's nowhere to hide from their simmering chemistry!Summer at Villa Rosa - Book 2 of 4
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Falling for the enemy!
Italian movie star Javier Russo needs to escape his Hollywood life. Isola dei Fiori is the perfect retreatâa lush island in the glittering Mediterranean. What he didnât expect was having to share his peaceful hideaway with the infuriatingly beautiful Portia Marlowe!
Celebrity reporter Portia is intrigued by her unwelcome and mysterious visitor, and the secrets heâs clearly holding back. Villa Rosa isnât big enough for both of them, and soon thereâs nowhere to hide from their simmering chemistry!
âI want to stay here, Portia. Not in some hotel. Do you think that would be possible?â
Portia. Javier didnât say her name. He practically sang it.
He didnât even remember her. Not that sheâd expected him toâreally. But she had met him and interviewed him before. And it was kind of insulting for a guy not to remember youâeven in the cut-throat Hollywood industry.
Her rational head understood. At any press junket heâd meet hundreds of journalists and could never be expected to remember them all. On awards nights heâd speak to just as many again on the red carpet. She wasnât any different from any other person who shoved a microphone in his face and tried to think of an original question.
But it still stung.
And now he wanted to stay with her. Javier Russo wanted to stay with her.
She lifted her hands from his chest. She needed all her senses to be working. And they were already piqued. A fresh, clean scent drifted up under her nose. She scrunched up her face for a second and tried to shake it off. The last thing she needed to think about was fresh, clean Javier Russo.
SCARLET WILSON writes for both Mills & Boon Romance and Medical Romance. She lives on the west coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached via her website: www.scarlet-wilson.com.
Contents
PORTIA CLOSED THE door behind her and breathed out as the car puttered off into the distance. Finally, peace perfect peace.
Somewhere, on the other side of the house, she could hear the chirrup of birds. After three days of being constantly surrounded by people and chatter it was music to her ears.
She leaned back against the cool wall, tempted to just slide down it.
Her sister Mirandaâs wedding was over. She could stop smiling. She could stop fending off the intrusive questions from her sisters. Miranda had looked radiant, lost in the pink cloud of love and drifting off somewhere that seemed a million miles out of Portiaâs reach.
She was the oldest sisterâwasnât she supposed to get married first?
The tightness that had gripped her chest since sheâd got here eased just a little.
The last wedding guest had left. Miranda was off on her honeymoon, Posy had gone back to work, and Immi had returned to her job in the family business. Finally, Portia could have some quiet.
It wasnât that she didnât love her sisters. Of course she did. It was just that being around them was so...busy. They all talked at once, and over the top of each other. And what she really needed right now was a chance to take stock, to weigh up what to do next.
Her discarded mobile phone lay on one of the gilded tables in the large entrance hall almost mocking her.
LâIsola dei Fiori had patchy mobile coverage. Villa Rosa had an old phone line that didnât currently work, and no Internet.
She didnât need emails. She didnât need a phone signal.
The last conversation on the phone had turned her work life upside down.
âWhat have you brought us in the last four weeks, Portia? The award ceremony was weeks ago. Your red carpet interviews are yesterdayâs news. Youâre supposed to be an investigative reporter. This is Hollywood. And at twenty-seven your time is almost up. Bring me a headline story in the next four weeks or youâre history.â
Sheâd felt numb. Studying investigative journalism at university had been a dream come true. Finding a job in Fleet Street had been much harder. When sheâd decided to hitch around the US with a friend for a few weeks sheâd no idea how her life would turn out. One random conversation in a small café in Los Angeles had led to a temporary job at a TV station as a runner. When one of the producers had found out what sheâd studied heâd asked her to pull some material together for their entertainment gossip show. Portia was smart and Portia was beautiful. Two months later sheâd still been there and when the TV host had been involved in an auto accident on the way to the studio, sheâd filled in with less than an hourâs notice. The audience had loved her. Social media had exploded. The gorgeous brunette with tumbling curls, dark eyes, plummy English accent and sense of humour had attracted more viewers. Within a year the show had been a hit. All for a job that Portia had landed due to a complete fluke.
