if to reassure her heart all was well. ‘You frightened the life out of me.’ She started to walk again.
His dark brows almost touched each other. ‘You should not be walking alone, it is almost dark. Please let me drive you to your house.’
Emma rolled her eyes. ‘I thought accepting lifts from strangers was dangerous?’ she said dryly. She glanced around. Now they were standing closer to the streetlamp but between the orange pools of each lamp it was pretty deserted and darker than she’d realised. But until the silly man had put the notion in her head she’d been happy.
‘Come,’ he said imperiously, and held out his hand.
Emma looked down at his strong brown fingers, even darker in the dim light, and considered the implications of his touch. Did she want to feel the warmth that she just knew was going to stay with her? She didn’t think so.
Emma avoided his hand and turned to his car. ‘All right.’ But as she reached for the door handle his fingers were there before her.
‘May I?’ he said. ‘Please allow me?’
Emma stood back as he glided the door open. Touchy Italian, she thought. ‘No problem. Feel free. I’m just out of practice with people opening doors for me.’ She swung herself into the low-slung seat and glanced around the interior of the European sports car.
She read the label of the owner’s manual on the console. She’d never been in a Maserati before. Her door clicked shut beside her shoulder and she forced herself to relax back into the seat. The leather was doeskin soft and she wiggled her shoulders in it. Nice. Different from what she was used to, that was for sure.
When he climbed in and secured his seat belt she leaned forward slightly, anticipating the car’s forward movement. When it didn’t happen she frowned and resisted drumming her fingers. He continued to linger and she turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. And you’re waiting for…? she thought with rising suspicion.
‘Would you like me to fasten your belt for you?’ He’d turned to face her and she realised she’d forgotten the obvious. She bit her lip. The man was scrambling her brains the way her hands were scrambling to get the clasp done up before, heaven forbid, he did help her.
‘Does the roof go up?’ She was gabbling but suddenly it was very close inside the car.
‘No.’ He reached forward and the engine started with a muted roar. ‘It’s a coupé. A Cambiocorsa 2007. I have one at home.’
‘Really? Only one?’ she said straight-faced. The car was black and low to the ground. She could see that. But she doubted she’d ever feel the need to hire one. ‘So you drove down from Brisbane? This is a hire car?’ And he had one at home. He was certainly from a different world.
His profile shifted as he glanced at her. ‘Are you interested in cars?’
Was she? The subject wasn’t one she’d buy a magazine on. ‘Not really.’
He nodded as if the answer was what he expected. ‘Then let us not discuss them.’ End of discussion.
Emma blinked. He’d assumed a protective and almost fatherly role, and Emma wasn’t sure she liked it. Well, she was no doormat for obedience. Think of your own topic, then, buddy, she thought. He didn’t offer any other conversational gambit and the silence stretched.
He was going tomorrow, she told herself, which made it acceptable if she gave in. ‘I live straight down this road. Barely worth driving, in fact,’ she said with less than subtle pointedness.
‘Si. And I also do not live far from here as I have rented a chalet at the Lakeside.’ He glanced across and then away. ‘They have a fine restaurant. Italian.’ She could hear the smile in his voice, and she wondered if it was just because it was almost dark and she had to rely on other senses or if it was because for the first time today he’d smiled broadly enough that it affected his voice. She was glad she couldn’t see the curve of his lips. She’d been trying not to look at the sinful promise of his mouth all day. No doubt the sight would haunt her.
‘So?’ he said.
What on earth was he saying? ‘So, what?’
He sighed. Patiently, as if with a child, and with this man she was beginning to feel like one. Not something she’d felt since she the age of sixteen and not something she decided she enjoyed. ‘Will you join me for a meal, please, Emma?’
Her heart did that fish thing again. Now? ‘Aren’t you going back to Angus’s?’
He shook his head once in the dimness. ‘His stepmother is there tonight. I dined with him last night and we talked. I will lunch with him tomorrow before I leave.’
Emma filled the silence while she considered the implications of his invitation. ‘Angus had a wonderful relationship with Ned since he’d made up with his father.’ Her mind skittered to the idea of dining alone with Gianni in an intimate setting and away again. Her thoughts went back to Angus. It was safer. ‘He seems to be at peace with Ned’s passing.’
‘Yes.’ Gianni inclined his head while he contemplated her profile. ‘Thankfully they had time to enjoy each other’s company. And Angus was instrumental in my recent contact with my brother. But you haven’t answered my question.’
The guy had a single focus. She went with the answer she’d known she’d make from the beginning. To live dangerously. ‘Perhaps. I need to eat.’ She looked down at her grubby skirt that she’d played cricket in. ‘I’d like to get changed, though.’
He nodded again. ‘How much time do you need?’
She thought about it. How much did she really need? Five minutes. ‘Half an hour,’ she said.
‘Good.’ Satisfaction was obvious. ‘Much faster than I expected.’
She tried vainly not to smile and she hoped he didn’t see or think she was making fun of him. ‘It’s this house, with the roses over the gate.’
She lifted her hand to the handle and his fingers came over the top to stay it. ‘Please wait for me to open it,’ he said quietly, and her hand froze under his. She sighed and leaned back against the leather.
She’d been right. His skin was warm and made the gooseflesh pop up on her arms like bubbles in the muddy sand at the edge of the lake. His hand moved away and she would have sworn his fingers were still there. Hot over hers.
If he could do that with just a touch, she was in big trouble if she invited anything else. But she wouldn’t. It was just a meal, she was feeling flat after the funeral and Grace was away, and she didn’t get to eat at the Lakeside very often. Never had, actually.
He opened her car door and she climbed out. It seemed a waste of energy to her but the cosseting was strangely compelling. He ushered her through the gate and up the path to her front door like an old-fashioned footman. Then waited while she unlocked the door and only left her when she entered her house, but he didn’t drive away until she’d shut the door.
She heard the roar of the car as it accelerated away and Emma’s heart flopped around as she leant back against the closed door. Her hand actually slid to her throat where her pulse pounded. What had happened to her in the last five minutes? It had just been a lift a few hundred
