only place in this foreign land she felt truly comfortable. She understood all there was to know about plants, but shopping was a mystery she’d never had enough money to investigate before. It was made only slightly less nerve-racking by the fact that Gianni would be paying.
‘Oh, no…does that mean I have to do this all over again, from top to bottom of the city?’ She stared at the sheet of paper Gianni had given her. Her face was as long as his list.
‘It may not be so bad, madam. Try to put a brave face on it,’ the assistant sympathised. Her words brought Meg straight back to her senses.
‘Good grief, to hear me talk anyone would think this was hard work! If all I’ve got to do to please him is to rifle through a few clothes racks, I’ll be finished in no time!’ she announced.
Things didn’t go quite according to Meg’s master plan. She swept in and out of the next shop at high speed, but as she progressed down the list each visit became longer, and more leisurely. Although she never found anything that suited her taste and Gianni’s instructions as perfectly as the blue sheath and jacket, she actually began to enjoy herself. All the shop assistants fawned around her as though she were royalty. She was offered drinks, sweets and snacks everywhere she went. Trying on clothes became a delight rather than a chore. She learned that rich fabrics needed to be enjoyed and lingered over, not pulled on and off at speed. When she got to the final establishment on her list, she was amazed to find it was a real wrench to leave. But at last, awash with coffee and stuffed with cantuccini, she returned to seal the deal on her ideal outfit.
She had arranged to meet Gianni near the Ponte Vecchio. He was already there, laughing into his mobile. The moment the weight of his gaze fell on her, he ended the call. Walking towards her with a smile, he pulled out his car keys.
‘You haven’t taken as long as I thought you would!’ His gaze ran over her, and Meg’s mouth went dry. The afternoon was so hot she’d been convinced her temperature couldn’t possibly climb any higher. She was wrong. He looked magnificent. The contrast between his olive colouring and the brilliant white shirts he favoured was one she always admired. Today she was in for an extra treat. Gianni had not only turned back his cuffs so they exposed his smooth tanned forearms, he had also taken off his tie, and there were enough buttons open at his neck to expose a dark shadow of hair. Meg’s pulse began to race away with her manners. It was all she could do to keep either under control.
‘Don’t worry, Gianni. I’ve got everything for the business banquet, exactly as you instructed. Thank you so much. And would you believe it—I got most of it only after I ended up back at the very first shop I visited! They’re going to deliver it as soon as all the alterations have been made. Now—let’s get back to the villa. I can’t wait to get home, kick off my shoes and—’
She stopped, painfully aware she was gabbling. Gianni raised his eyes to heaven and clicked his tongue.
‘Women! If they’re at home they want to be out shopping. If they’re out and about, they want to get back home! They’re all the same!’ he said in a voice full of Italian indulgence.
I’m not. How I’d love to linger here with you. Oh, if only you knew…Meg thought, but bit her tongue. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
The days before Gianni’s first formal banquet passed in a whirl of preparations.
‘I knew I made the right decision in employing a female head gardener,’ he announced innocently as Meg knelt on a hearth, working at a flower arrangement. When he said that she sat back on her heels.
‘So you weren’t the man who threatened me with redundancy the moment I arrived?’ she mocked, without looking at him.
Gianni ignored her comment. He was too busy surveying the floral decorations draped around the summer dining hall. ‘I ask you—what man could have done this so beautifully?’
‘My great-great-grandfather and his contemporaries, for a start,’ Meg said, adding an extra spray of tiny orchid flowers to the display of lichen-and moss-encrusted logs set in the fireplace. She had designed everything, from the colour schemes to the hand-tied bouquets. It had given her so much pleasure. Gianni’s praise more than doubled her satisfaction, and she smiled as she put the finishing touches to the floral fire in the empty hearth. It was a sparkling mass of red and gold flowers, all cosseted in the perfect environment of the estate’s brand-new greenhouses. That was an extra source of pride for Meg. She had done it all herself.
‘Years ago floral art was part of every head gardener’s job description, no matter how tough and manly he was,’ she continued. ‘Going even further back, it was a prized skill among samurai swordsmen in Japan.’
‘I’d prefer geishas myself.’
‘I’m sure you would.’ Meg half turned to shoot the remark over her shoulder. The sight that met her eyes brought her up short. Although there was still some time to go before his guests were due to arrive, Gianni was already in full evening dress. He looked magnificent. Every inch the tenth generation aristocrat, he surveyed her work with pride. Meg couldn’t help staring up at him in barely concealed wonder. He grinned.
‘Flattering though your expression is, you don’t have time to crouch in the hearth, Cinderella! Your big moment starts in under an hour, and I want all my staff ready on time.’
Meg got to her feet slowly. It wasn’t often she had the chance to get so close to Gianni. She relished this rare excuse. Brushing the creases from her clothes added a few moments to her time in his presence. She was in no hurry to leave. He soon noticed.
‘I get the impression you aren’t looking forward to this.’
Meg made a face. Her mind had been full of all sorts of things but he had picked up on a particular worry. She decided there was nothing to lose by being frank.
‘I’m dreading it, to be perfectly honest.’
‘So am I.’
She stopped dead and stared at him, incredulous. There were only three other words this man was less likely to say, and they were I love you. His response had been so unexpected, she almost laughed.
‘But you’re the original socialite! How can you be dreading a party?’ she mocked. ‘I don’t believe it!’
Gianni was engrossed in removing a stray thread from his sleeve. When he heard the amusement in her voice he looked up.
‘This isn’t a party. This is work, Megan. To my mind the two things don’t go together at all. Once upon a time I could afford to relax. Now I’m responsible for the whole of the Castelfino estate and its employees, I can’t miss any opportunity to push the brand forward.’
He sounded so grim, Meg shivered.
‘Then thank goodness I have a job I love!’ she said with such feeling he laughed. The next moment he had closed the gap between them. Patting her shoulder, he gave a reassuring smile especially for her.
‘Don’t worry, Megan. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.’
Meg couldn’t share Gianni’s confidence. It took her no time at all to shower and change into her party clothes, but then her worries began in earnest. She dithered over which perfume to choose, and whether or not to wear lipstick. It was a classic case of putting off the moment when she would have to leave home. Only the memory of Gianni’s smile and his comforting
