small plump woman smiled at him fondly, and said something rapid in Italian as she left.
‘She’s been with him since he was born,’ Max informed Abby. ‘She knows what he wants before he asks for it.’
‘This is true,’ admitted Gianni. He gave his brother a sly smile. ‘But when I go to sing in London this lovely lady says she will look after me.’
Max shot a look at Abby. ‘Is that part of the service?’
She nodded briskly. ‘It’s my job. I look after all the artists.’
Abby spent a very interesting half-hour with the two men, who, though related by blood, were so different otherwise they might have been from a different species. Gianni Falcone was outgoing and charming and all Latin. In contrast the saturnine good looks of his self-contained brother were very British, but Max Wingate made it so clear he was no more immune to her charms than his brother that Abby was sorry when it was time to leave.
Gianni presented her with a compact disc of operatic arias as he walked with them to the car. ‘It is my latest recording, with my compliments,’ he told her, then kissed her on both cheeks and held the passenger door open as he teased his brother about the brand-new Range Rover.
‘Vesuvius orange—a hot colour but a very cool car, Max. He has a great weakness for cars, you understand,’ he informed Abby.
His brother hooted in derision. ‘How about that flash toy of yours?’
‘My Lamborghini is not flash. It is bellissima!’ Gianni embraced him affectionately and stood back. ‘I shall see you in London, Miss Abby. You I will see sooner, Max. Arrivederci.’
‘I was right,’ said Max with satisfaction as the gates closed behind them. ‘One look at you and Gianni was putty in your pretty little hands.’
Abby’s eyes flashed as she thanked him punctiliously for driving her to the Villa Falcone.
He chuckled. ‘That’s not what you really wanted to say!’
She smiled reluctantly. ‘True. But if I spoke my mind all the time I wouldn’t last long in my job.’
‘You find the artistic temperament tricky to deal with sometimes?’
‘So far there’s been nothing I can’t handle, mainly because I do my research in advance.’ She eyed him questioningly. ‘The glorious voice apart, I don’t know much about your brother.’
Max shrugged. ‘Gianni’s got his feet firmly on the ground. He enjoys the adulation and the fuss women make over him, but he won’t give you any trouble.’
‘You’re obviously fond of him.’
‘It’s hard not to be fond of Gianni.’ He gave her a sidelong glance as Todi rose into view on its hill. ‘We’re almost there. So, Miss Abigail Green, now you’ve got the business part over, let me show you something of the city tonight. I’ll introduce you to some local cuisine afterwards.’
Abby stared at him in surprise. She had expected him to drop her at the hotel and take to his heels in relief, his rescue mission over. But she was utterly delighted by the idea. A meal alone in her room was no competition for dinner in Todi with a man like Max Wingate. ‘Thank you, I’d love to see something of the town.’
He smiled. ‘Good. Afterwards we can eat formally at the Ristorante Umbria, or more casually over pasta at the Cavour. Your choice.’
‘Casual, please,’ said Abby promptly. ‘But I’ll need half an hour to change.’
‘I’ll wait for you in the bar. Give me your car keys. I’ll hand them over to the manager.’
Max watched her hurry away before he sought out the manager. He chatted with him for a while, and then settled at the bar with a glass of beer, prepared to wait a lot longer than half an hour. Not that he minded. Abigail Green was worth waiting for. When a frantic female had materialised in front of him on a road where he normally never saw a soul, he’d played hell with her from pure fright, because he could so easily have killed her. Then he’d taken a good look at her and thanked God his tirade had been in Italian. If she’d understood a word of it he’d have had fat chance of persuading her to spend the evening with him. And just the short time he’d spent in her company so far had whetted his appetite for more.
* * *
The room Domenico had arranged for Abby looked out over the hotel gardens and swimming pool, but for the moment her interest was centred solely on the bathroom. She showered at top speed, and to save time made brief phone calls to her mother and Laura while she dried her hair and did her face. At last, in a sleeveless black dress as simple as a T-shirt, she hung long amber drops in her ears and went downstairs, prepared to enjoy her evening out in Todi with a man who attracted her far more than any man she’d met in a long time. If ever.
Max walked into the foyer just as Abby appeared, and gave a heartfelt vote of thanks to fate as he smiled down at the glowing face framed in a glossy fall of hair almost as dark as his brother’s. ‘A woman of her word,’ he commented, tapping his watch. ‘Dead on time. Are you still up for a stroll before dinner?’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Abby assured him. ‘My brother-in-law says it’s a very interesting city.’
‘He’s right.’ Seized by an overpowering need to touch her, he put a hand under her elbow as they walked to the car, wondering if she felt anything like the same jolt of heat as her bare skin came in contact with his fingers. ‘Todi’s big on walls, three concentric rings of them—medieval, Etruscan and Roman, with some magnificent ancient gates. But the Rome jet-set is fast catching up with Todi. Some of its medieval houses have been restored as weekend getaways.’
‘Your brother didn’t fancy one of those?’
He shook his head. ‘Gianni inherited the Villa Falcone from his father, complete with Rosa and her crew to look after him when he’s home from his travels. And when his presence is demanded in Venice he enjoys more pampering there from his mamma.’ He gave an approving glance at her flat gold sandals. ‘The streets are mostly cobbled, but I see you’re prepared for it.’
She nodded with enthusiasm. ‘The only part of Italy I’ve visited before is Venice.’
He smiled down at her as he held the car door open. ‘You’ll enjoy the contrast. We’ll park near the Piazza Oberdan. From there it’s a short climb to the church of San Fortunato and the best view of the city.’
Abby’s day had started early in Venice, with a ride by water taxi followed by several hours by rail before the ill-fated drive from Todi. But all that seemed a long way behind her as she explored the ancient, beautiful city with Max Wingate. The pace of life there seemed so much slower that Abby could literally feel herself unwinding as they came down from San Fortunato to wander through streets which Max told her had changed little in appearance or purpose for centuries. They looked at so much beautiful architecture as they strolled that by the time they reached the basilica in the Piazza del Populo Abby’s action-packed day had caught up with her and she agreed gratefully when Max suggested they walk down the Corso Cavour in search of dinner.
‘For your information, Todi’s medieval piazza is one of the most famous in Italy,’ he told her as they reached the restaurant.
‘I
