relief—when she saw who it was.
‘Buon giorno, signorina,’ Giovanni said through the open window, a roguish smile on his lips, his black eyes unashamedly taking in her appearance.
‘Oh…hello, Giovanni—I mean, Joe…’ Emily replied, hardly believing her luck. He’d be sure to offer to help find the place she was looking for—and in this heat she wouldn’t be turning him down.
Without switching off the engine, he got out of the car and came around to open the passenger door for her. Well, well, well—Lady Luck was on his side again, he thought. It was as if she had been planted neatly on that pavement for him to offer her a ride. He didn’t usually drive his car around the city at this time of day.
He got in beside her, turning to look at her for a second, noting her flushed cheeks and aware that she seemed out of breath. ‘You were obviously trying to get a taxi,’ he said. Well, there couldn’t have been any other reason for her to stand there alone with her arms in the air. ‘It can be difficult sometimes,’ he added.
‘So I see,’ Emily replied as they drew away smoothly. ‘None of them seem to need my custom today.’ She leaned her head back and sighed, grateful for the air-condition-ing—and to be with someone who knew where he was going. ‘I need to visit two hotels today…My work involves assessing places that might meet all the criteria for British visitors,’ she explained, ‘and I don’t know how to get to either of these.’
‘Well, what a good thing I’m not at the shop this afternoon,’ Giovanni said, ‘so I can take you wherever you want to go.’ Effortlessly, he pulled the car to the side of the road for a moment and looked across at her. ‘What names are you looking for?’
Emily handed him the sheet of paper with the instructions and a small map, and after a few seconds he nodded. ‘They’re a bit out of the way,’ he conceded, ‘but easy enough to find. That’s if you…are happy…for me to take you,’ he added.
Emily looked at him quickly, realizing that today it hadn’t struck her that the man was still the stranger that he’d been last night when she’d refused his offer of a lift. So why did she feel so relaxed…so happy…to be sitting alongside him now? She turned to look in front of her. ‘If you’re sure it’s not inconveniencing you, Gio, I’d be very grateful,’ she said simply.
‘Which travel company are you with?’ Giovanni wanted to know as they drove away and, when Emily told him, he nodded. ‘They’re well known,’ he said briefly. ‘How long have you worked for them?’
‘Almost a year,’ Emily replied.
‘And before that?’
‘Oh, I had a couple of years with a small art gallery in London,’ she said, glancing across at the handsome profile, the strong neck and firm chin. His white shirt exposed heart-throbbing muscular arms and shoulders which tensed and rippled as he moved. She swallowed, looking away. ‘And what about you?’ she asked, thinking that it was his turn to answer some questions. ‘How long have you owned the shop?’
He grinned without looking at her. ‘Oh, it’s not mine,’ he said. ‘It belongs to a friend. I just mind the place for him from time to time.’
There was silence for a few moments after that and Emily thought-well, that didn’t say much. If it wasn’t his shop, what else did he do?
‘So, when you’re not selling beautiful marmalade jars…?’ she enquired.
‘My friend also owns the restaurant you were dining in last night,’ he said, ‘and I help out there, too, in the bar sometimes—but mostly I manage his paperwork for him.’ He paused. ‘By the way,’ he went on, changing the subject, ‘where is—Coral—today?’
‘Oh, I’m afraid Coral might have had too much sun yesterday,’ Emily said. She wasn’t going to go into details. ‘So she decided to stay at the hotel and rest for a few hours…which reminds me—I must ring her to see if she’s feeling any better.’
Taking her mobile from her bag, Emily dialled Coral’s number and was relieved that her friend answered almost immediately and sounded her old self.
‘Good,’ Emily said into the mouthpiece, ‘I’ll be back about six o’clock and we’ll go out to supper later—if you’re still feeling OK…What? Oh—I’m phoning from…from…I’m in a car on my way to one of those hotels, but once I’m there it shouldn’t take long,’ she added as she rang off.
Now why hadn’t she told Coral that it was Giovanni’s car that she was sitting in? she asked herself as she replaced her phone in her bag. And Giovanni must have been thinking the same thing because he gave her a wicked sidelong glance and said bluntly, ‘Is my name a dirty word then, Emily? You’re not…ashamed…of me, I hope?’
Emily felt her cheeks beginning to burn. ‘Of course not!’ she said. ‘It…it was somehow difficult to try and explain to Coral how you…I mean…how…I’ll tell her later, of course.’ The fact was that Coral had fallen madly in love with Giovanni and when they’d got back last night hadn’t stopped going on and on about him until the small hours. If Emily had said, Guess what? Giovanni just happened to be passing by and now I’m sitting in his fantastic car and yes, he’s just as gorgeous as he was last night! Coral would have demanded to know how that had happened, and her shriek of amazed jealousy would have been deafening and very difficult to explain to the man in the driving seat!
It took about twenty minutes to reach the quite imposing hotel, and Giovanni glanced across at Emily. ‘Do you have an appointment, or do you just turn up unannounced?’ he asked.
‘It varies,’ Emily replied. ‘It’s quite good not to let them know when you’re coming, for obvious reasons, but I usually do ring first. Let’s hope the manager is available today. I’m hoping to see Signor Saracco, but in any case I can get a good feel of the place and see if it’s the sort which our clients might approve of.’
They got out of the car and together they went into the large foyer. This would obviously have to feature in the brochure for one of their more expensive holidays, Emily thought, looking around her at the impressive glass cabinets containing luxurious clothing and jewellery. The girl standing behind the huge oak reception desk looked up as they entered, her eyes glancing briefly at Emily, but lingering for a lot longer on Giovanni, immediately captivated by his ruthlessly seductive appeal.
Emily stepped forward. ‘Parla inglese?’she asked, and the woman nodded hesitantly.
‘A leetle,’ she replied.
In the following few moments it was obvious that the receptionist was having a struggle with the language, and Emily made a mental note of the fact. It would be important for British visitors to feel comfortable at this early point, she thought, and for any queries they might have to be dealt with efficiently. Then Giovanni spoke quietly to the girl and for what seemed like ten minutes to Emily they conversed rapidly in Italian, the receptionist clearly relieved to be speaking her own language, laughing excitedly now and then—and also obviously enjoying talking to the handsome visitor. Then he glanced down at Emily.
‘This young lady is only standing in for the permanent receptionist,’ he explained, ‘owing to illness. She only started today and says it’s been the longest morning of her life. Another girl is coming in tomorrow, apparently. She is only seventeen,’ he added, and Emily was amazed. ‘Carla’—for that was the name on the identity tag the girl was wearing—looked
