‘That’s so nice of you.’
No, he most definitely wasn’t nice. His last girlfriend had said he was a machine, totally focused on his work—because he’d refused to change his rules for her. But he supposed that Rico the tour guide would be nice, at least on the surface. ‘It’s what I’m here for. To make Rome feel like home for you.’
Ella showed him how the camera worked and her fingers accidentally brushed against his. Awareness flooded through his whole body and he almost gasped. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted this strongly towards someone; and it was as much as he could do to concentrate on taking the film while she declaimed the speech.
‘You have a very clear voice, and you spoke it well,’ he said when she’d finished and he handed the camera back to her.
‘Thank you.’
She blushed. Very prettily. He couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like, all flushed and drowsy with pleasure. Pleasure that he’d just made her feel.
Enough. He really shouldn’t be thinking about Ella Chandler in sexual terms. She was a client, for pity’s sake. So what if she was the first woman to intrigue him like this in more than three years, since he’d taken over as CEO of Rossi Hotels? He knew how fleeting sexual attraction was. And he didn’t have time to let her distract him.
As they walked back up towards the Via Nova, Ella looked enchanted by the wisteria that grew along the wires, the leaves making a kind of canopy and the pale purple blooms hanging down.
‘Hand me your camera and smile,’ he directed, and took several shots of her with the wisteria framing her.
There was a secluded corner of his roof garden just like this. And he suddenly had the strongest vision of kissing her there under the night sky, her palm cupping his cheek and his hands tangled in her hair, her mouth opening underneath his to let him deepen the kiss …
Help. He needed to get back to a neutral topic. Fast. Something that didn’t make him think about sex. This was so inappropriate, it was untrue. Plus it unsettled him that she could have this sort of effect on him. He’d never found it hard to concentrate on work before.
‘What do you do at home?’ he asked.
‘My job, you mean?’ She shrugged. ‘I’m an accountant.’
‘And you enjoy it?’
‘It’s a safe job.’
He noticed she hadn’t said that she enjoyed it. Odd. Why had she gone for a safe job, rather than one that would make her happy?
As an accountant, she probably spent most of her time at her desk. She didn’t look the type to hit the gym or go running every morning. He’d already taken her on a longish walk, climbing up stairs and across uneven ground; and, since she wanted to see several other landmarks as well, they still had a fair bit of ground to cover. Exhausting his customers wasn’t a good business idea. He’d better schedule in a rest break.
‘Time to flop, I think,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and have some lunch.’
He took her to a tiny osteria where he knew the food was good, and found them a table in a little courtyard with vines growing across like a canopy to protect diners from the midday sun.
‘This is fabulous,’ Ella said. ‘I can’t believe Rome’s so green.’
‘What were you expecting?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘Something like London, I guess. With a pile of ruins at the edge of the city, not in the centre of things. But this is amazing. It’s special. The fountains and the architecture and the ruins and the greenery—it’s like seeing all of history mixed together at the same time, yet nothing’s out of place.’
That hadn’t really occurred to him before, but he realised that she was right. Rome was an amazing place. How had he let his home city become just wallpaper?
‘And I loved that wisteria in the Forum.’
He knew she’d love the lilacs in the Borghese Park, too. Though it was too far to go there today, and anyway he was showing her just the highlights of the city that she’d asked to see.
A crazy idea bloomed in his head. The more he tried to ignore it, the more insistent it became. Maybe he could spin out this tour guide thing for a little longer. Ella didn’t have any trips booked for tomorrow, and he knew she was staying in Rome for three nights. He hadn’t taken a day off in months and he had nothing desperately urgent lined up for the rest of the week, so it wouldn’t take his PA long to reschedule his diary.
‘It didn’t say anything in the brochure about lunch being included,’ Ella said, looking slightly concerned. ‘I take it this is an extra? I’ll pay for both of us.’
That was the accountant in her speaking, he guessed. She’d clearly worked out that tour guides didn’t exactly earn enormous salaries, and it was kind of her to offer to pay for his lunch. Unexpected, too; he was used to being the provider, and her offer threw him slightly.
And then there was the fact that Rico wasn’t usually a tour guide. His income was more than adequate for his lifestyle. The offer had been kind, but no way would he let her pay for lunch. It went too much against the grain. He gave her his sweetest smile to forestall any arguments. ‘Absolutely not. It’s all part of the tour.’ It was a complete fabrication, but maybe it was something he should take into consideration for the future.
The problem was, he hardly ever carried cash. If he took out his credit card, his cover would be blown—because what would a humble tour guide be doing with a platinum credit card? And he was really enjoying being just an ordinary man, instead of having people bowing and scraping to him or demanding things from him. Ella was reacting to him just for himself, instead of what he stood for, and that was so refreshing. He wasn’t ready to give that up. Not just yet.
He made a mental note to have a quiet word with the waiter and ensure that he paid at the bar, where she wouldn’t be able to see his credit card.
‘If you’re sure, then thank you very much. Do you recommend anything?’ she asked.
‘It depends what kind of thing you like.’
Oh, and that had come out so wrong. It sounded sleazy. Like a come-on. His voice practically oozed sex.
Though he had to admit, he wanted things to go further with Ella Chandler. A lot further.
Luckily she didn’t seem to notice that she’d put him into such a spin.
‘Is there something traditionally Roman on the menu that I could try?’ she asked.
He scanned the menu swiftly. ‘Cacio e pepe—it’s a kind of thick spaghetti with a pecorino cheese and black pepper sauce.’
She smiled. ‘That sounds lovely. I’d like to try that.’
‘I’ll join you.’ He ordered them a salad as well, and paused. ‘Would you like some wine? Red or white?’
‘Dry white would be lovely.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m afraid
