An Italian Engagement. Catherine George

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reproachfully.

      Max shrugged, unrepentant. ‘Don’t worry—the “poor boy” will be back the minute you swallow your last mouthful.’

      She laughed, and went on with her meal with concentration which amused her companion. She set down her fork at last with a sigh. ‘That was wonderful.’

      ‘How about dessert?’ said Max, rolling his eyes as the waiter hurried to their table.

      ‘No room,’ she said, trying not to laugh.

      ‘Then it’s back to your hotel. Unless you fancy another stroll around town?’

      ‘It’s certainly a delightful place,’ she said obliquely, wishing now that she’d agreed to dessert if it meant more time with Max Wingate. Did she like him that much, then? Who was she kidding? Of course she did! Once he’d simmered down after the fright she’d given him he’d gone out of his way to help a stranger who’d not only disrupted his day but who had also almost given him a heart attack in the process. Gianni oozed natural charm, but Max’s hard-edged persona appealed to her far more. There was something compelling about the dark, heavy-lidded eyes which gave her a shivery feeling every time they met hers.

      ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, so softly she had to crane to hear him above the noise and bustle of the restaurant.

      Abby felt her face grow hot. ‘Just how kind and helpful you’ve been.’

      He leaned nearer. ‘Don’t endow me with non-existent virtues! I was kind as a means to an end—to coax you to spend the evening with me.’

      She eyed him quizzically. ‘Because you had to cancel your chess game?’

      He shook his head. ‘Aldo’s the builder who worked with me on the house. I can play chess with him any time. When fate sent you up my road instead of Gianni’s only a fool would have passed up the chance to take advantage of it. And I may be many things, but I’m no fool, Abigail Green.’

      ‘I believe you!’

      He sat back, studying her. ‘Do you get much hassle from the male celebrities you deal with?’

      ‘Sometimes it’s a bit tricky with the ones who forget they’re married, but nothing I can’t handle with tact—so far.’ Abby looked up with a smile for the waiter as he brought their espressos. ‘Generally I get on well with men.’

      ‘So I see!’

      ‘I meant the men I meet professionally. And the ones in college, too. Before that, in school, all my friends were girls. I was a real turn-off for the boys at that stage—too skinny, too tall and too much of a swot.’ She smiled philosophically. ‘But by the time I went up to Cambridge to university I’d filled out a bit, everyone else was clever—a lot of them much more than me—and my social life took off into the fast lane.’

      ‘I can well believe that!’ He got up, and held out his hand. ‘So, Miss Green. If you’ve finished your coffee and you can tear yourself away from our attentive waiter, let’s rejoin the evening passeggiata for a while.’

      Under a full moon the city looked more romantic than ever. Warning her to beware of uneven cobbles in some of the darker streets, Max took Abby’s hand in his as they made a leisurely tour of some of the restored medieval houses, and after a while suggested they observe local custom and make for the gelateria across the park, to sample the local ice cream. ‘It’s very good—they make it with fresh fruit.’

      ‘I’m still full of that fabulous meal,’ Abby said with regret. ‘Could we just wander round a bit more instead?’

      ‘Anything you want,’ he assured her, surprised to find he meant it quite literally. It was a long time since he’d walked anywhere hand in hand with a girl, and never with one who appealed to him as much as Abigail Green. ‘Poor Gianni. This pastime is a simple pleasure he can’t enjoy any more in his home town—one of the downsides to celebrity.’

      ‘He must have a girlfriend, surely?’

      Max nodded. ‘But so far he’s managed to keep her identity secret—even from his mother. Lord knows how. She thinks he tells her everything. Gianni confided in me because he was bursting to tell someone, but he wouldn’t give me a name—probably because she’s someone Luisa wouldn’t approve of.’

      ‘In what way?’

      He shrugged. ‘In his mother’s eyes no woman in the world is good enough for Giancarlo Falcone.’

      Abby eyed the aquiline profile curiously. ‘He calls her Mamma. You don’t.’

      ‘If you met her you wouldn’t believe she’s old enough to be Gianni’s mother, let alone mine.’ He smiled down at her. ‘How about you? What about your parents?’

      ‘My father died when I was little, so my mother brought us up almost single-handed. She’s due in Venice next week to meet her baby grandson.’ Abby smiled affectionately. ‘Mother thought it only right to let his Italian grandparents get their visit in first. They own a restored farmhouse not far from here. Laura and Domenico spent their honeymoon there.’

      ‘The ideal place for it.’ Max halted as clocks began chiming. ‘Alas, the witching hour. Time to get back to the car.’

      Abby smiled warmly at him as they walked. ‘Thank you so much for dinner and the fascinating tour of Todi. I enjoyed every minute of it.’

      His hand tightened on hers. ‘A pity you’re not staying longer so I could persuade you to do it all again.’

      ‘Perhaps you’ll come to one of the concerts in London before I finish.’

      He shook his head. ‘If I do you’ll be too busy to spend time with me. How about dinner with me one night instead?’

      Abby saw no point in being coy. ‘I’d like that very much.’

      ‘In that case—’ Max broke off as his phone rang. With a word of apology he listened for a moment before answering in fluent, irritable Italian. The heated conversation went on at length while he helped Abby into the car. When he finally slid into the driver’s seat Max gave her a wry smile. ‘My apologies. That was Gianni in full flow.’

      ‘Something wrong?’

      ‘As far as he’s concerned total disaster. Luisa’s taken it into her head to make a surprise visit to the Villa Falcone. She’s ordered Gianni to meet her off the train in Perugia tomorrow.’

      ‘He’s not happy with that?’

      ‘He’s devastated. She’s interrupting his idyll with the mystery lady.’

      ‘Ah! So was he asking you to fetch your mother instead?’

      ‘Practically begging. He’s desperate to spend every minute he can with the love of his life, so he implored me to help him out. If I fetch his mother from Perugia tomorrow afternoon he can spend a few extra hours with his innamorata.’ A smile played at the corners of his mouth. ‘I said I’ll ring him back to give my answer.’

      ‘So will you help him?’

      ‘I told him I

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