cotton trousers and ocean-green low-necked top, Emily tripped lightly down the steps of the hotel to find Giovanni standing at the bottom waiting for her. Looking up, he grinned slowly, taking in every detail of her appearance and making no secret of his admiration.
‘You are a very beautiful woman, Emily,’ he murmured, and although Emily knew very well that easy compliments flew from the lips of amorous Italians like flocks of migrating birds, coming from Giovanni it seemed different. It seemed genuine, and she accepted it graciously.
‘Thank you…Giovanni…’ she said, lingering over his name for a second. He was so obviously a ‘Giovanni’ rather than a ‘Joe’, she thought briefly. That rather blunt derivative of his name could only be thanks to one of his English friends and somehow, to her, it didn’t suit him. And tonight she could have added that he, too, was worth more than one glance. His black, well-fitting designer trousers were teamed with an ivory cotton shirt, casually open, showing off his golden chest. He obviously liked dressing well, Emily thought.
She glanced across at him as he drove them into town. ‘Coral asked me to thank you again, for including her in tonight,’ she said. ‘As I explained on the phone, she’d already accepted an invitation which she didn’t feel able to change.’
He looked back at her, his dark eyes glinting in the reflection from the brightly lit dials of the dashboard. ‘No worries,’ he said easily, thinking that, with another woman, he might have said that he was very happy to have her all to himself, so that he could treat her to the undivided attention that was his norm with alluring females. But he decided not to say that, happy to relax in the comfortable silence that seemed to exist between them. He frowned briefly. He had known so many women in his life—had always regarded the female sex as treasures to be valued. But would he ever meet a woman who didn’t have an ulterior motive in wanting to belong to his family? That was what haunted him.
Feeling annoyed at his thoughts, he leaned forward to adjust something in front of him. The evening ahead was one to enjoy, for heaven’s sake! And he was determined to do just that—and to make sure that Emily had a good time, too. When he’d first seen her yesterday—was it only yesterday? he asked himself—she’d had the usual instant effect on him, arousing an animal instinct of wanting to get close, even to possess. But there was this elusiveness about her which continued to intrigue him. And he had to penetrate it somehow, if only to convince himself that he could find out what it was, what lay behind the rather enigmatic expression he’d noted on her fine, perfect features.
Realizing that they’d not exchanged a word for the last few minutes, Emily said, without looking across at him, ‘I hope today hasn’t been too boring for you, Giovanni. I’m sure there were far more interesting things for you to do than transporting me around and hanging about…’
He interrupted her at once. ‘I’m seldom bored, Emily. And I certainly wasn’t today. I’m only too pleased that I was able to be of some use to you.’
‘That’s what you seem to do quite a lot of—being of use to people,’ Emily said. ‘Your friend who owns the shop and the restaurant seems to make good use of you when you’re in Rome.’ Now she did look across at him, chiding herself for the sensuous pleasure she was experiencing at being close to him, of seeing the strong brown hands on the steering wheel, his taut, muscular thighs visible beneath the fine fabric of his trousers. She swallowed, trying to think of Coral, and where Nico might be taking her tonight.
‘Oh, well, my friends are good to me too, when I need them,’ he said. Then, ‘Are you hungry, Emily—would you like dinner straight away, or shall we go for a walk first?’
‘I’d like to eat now-then maybe walk off my meal later!’ Emily replied. ‘Lunch does seem quite a long time ago.’
‘Good. That suits me, too.’ He smiled at her with that certain, gentle smile which had the effect of making Emily’s pulse quicken. It was true, she thought—that Italian men had that certain something which could melt a woman’s heart. She’d never really believed it, but now she was experiencing it first-hand…Giovanni exuded that courteous roguishness which personified the Italian male.
After he’d parked the car, they strolled along side by side, through streets which—although less busy—still seemed to ooze with the warm friendliness of the timeless city. They passed one or two families with small children in tow, couples sightseeing hand in hand, and now and then a cheerful group of young Italian men, maybe hopeful of a romantic assignation later, all adding to the laid-back atmosphere of the evening.
Walking along beside Giovanni, Emily felt a surge of unexpected happiness ripple through her. Being in the sole company of the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on was something she had not anticipated when she and Coral had left Heathrow the other day. She was not meant to be here enjoying herself—she was employed purely on a business basis. And she realized that it was the first time since starting the job that anyone had invited her out, or treated her as Giovanni was doing. She met plenty of pleasant—and not so pleasant—people during the course of an assignment, but no one had ever asked her out to dinner or treated her other than formally. But maybe that was down to her, she acknowledged. Although there were certain guidelines laid down by the company which she should conform to—mostly in her own interests—she was also aware that she seemed to have developed a natural antipathy to showing undue familiarity with people—notably with men. She hoped she wasn’t thought of as stand-offish. Then she shrugged inwardly. So what? It was far safer, emotionally and in every other way, to keep slightly detached, to keep her distance. To try and enjoy life on the margins.
But, despite these thoughts, Emily was acutely aware that, although he was walking very closely by her side, Giovanni had not attempted to take her hand in his—and for a ridiculous moment she wished that he would! She could still recall the touch of his fingers on hers as he’d passed over the gift she’d bought at the shop yesterday—strong, protective fingers, sensitive and warm. Then she bit her lip. These thoughts must be thanks to the relaxed evening atmosphere, or to the occasional sight of two young lovers, their bodies entwined, as they passed, she thought.
He glanced down at her. ‘Although I don’t know your particular likes and dislikes, Emily,’ he said, ‘I’m pretty sure you’ll approve of my choice of venue for tonight. There are so many places to choose from, of course, but we have to start somewhere.’
Emily smiled up quickly. ‘It’ll be great to have someone…to have you,’ she amended, ‘to make the decision for me. I’m only just getting used to being totally independent in strange places, to try and find my own way around. And, although it’s getting easier, sometimes it can be…uncomfortable.’ She didn’t add that she frequently felt very homesick and wished that she was back in the comparative solitude and safety of the art gallery. But she’d made the decision to spread her wings, to search life out instead of waiting for it to find her—and you didn’t do that by hiding away in the cool, protective atmosphere of an art gallery.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Emily knew straight away that she was going to love it. It was on the top floor of the Hotel Hassler Roma and, as they were shown to a table by the window, soft piano music started to play quietly. Giovanni held out a chair for Emily to sit down and she glanced up at him appreciatively.
‘This is…lovely, Giovanni,’ she said, her eyes moist and shining with unaffected pleasure.
He returned her glance, his seductive lips parted in a brief smile. ‘I had a feeling it would be right for you, Emily,’ he murmured, pausing for a moment with his hand resting lightly on her bare shoulder, and she shivered instinctively.
‘You’re not cold?’ he enquired, moving away to sit down opposite her. ‘You haven’t brought a wrap
