lines from around her mouth.
Angelo found his attention straying to her kissable lips coated with a shimmery light pink gloss. Okay, so not every aspect of her was prim and proper. A fantasy of her pulling off her glasses and letting down her hair played in his mind. Realizing the direction of his wayward thoughts, he halted them.
With effort, his gaze rose over the light splattering of freckles on her pert nose to her intense green eyes. How had he failed to notice her beauty up until today? Had he been that absorbed in his work that he’d failed to see what was standing right in front of him?
He cleared his throat. “I’ll pick you up at say five-thirty?”
“Mr. Amatucci—”
“If we’re going to travel together, we should at least be on a first name basis. Please, call me Angelo.” Now where in the world had that come from? He made a point of keeping his distance from his employees. But then again, he was taking her home with him, where she would meet his family, and that broke all of his professional rules. He reconciled himself with the fact that Kayla’s time working for him was limited—soon his regular PA would be back. So maybe he could afford to bend the rules a bit.
“And please call me Kayla.” She smiled again, and this time it reached her eyes, making them sparkle like fine jewels.
“We’re going to my home in Italy. It’s a small village in the Tuscany countryside—Monte Calanetti.”
“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it, but then again, I’ve never had the opportunity to travel abroad. Is it big? The village that is?”
He shook his head. “The last time I saw it— granted it has been quite a while—but it was as if time had passed it by. It is rather small and quaint. It is entirely a different world from New York City. Now, are you still interested in going?”
She hesitated and he worried that he’d have to come up with an alternate plan. As of right now, he didn’t have one. He needed someone who was familiar with his accounts and wouldn’t need a bunch of hand-holding. Kayla was his only viable option. He wasn’t one to beg, but at this particular moment he was giving it serious consideration.
Her dimpled chin tilted up. “Yes, I am. It sounds like it’ll be a great adventure.”
“I don’t know about that. The reason I’m going there isn’t exactly pleasant, but then again, that isn’t for you to worry about. You need to go home and pack.”
“Okay. But what should I plan on wearing for the trip? Business attire?”
“Definitely something more casual. There won’t be any business meetings, so use your best judgment.” He had no doubt her casual attire was as dull and drab as her suits. Not that it mattered to him what she wore so long as she was ready to work.
Kayla gathered her things, and then paused. “Before I leave, should I make plane reservations?”
He shook his head. “No need. We’ll take my private jet.”
Her pink lips formed an O but nothing came out. And for a moment, he let himself wonder what it’d be like to kiss those full, tempting lips. Not that he would, but he could imagine that one kiss just wouldn’t be enough. Something told him that lurking beneath that proper and congenial surface was a passionate woman—
Again, he drew his thoughts up short. The last thing he needed was to notice her feminine qualities. He wasn’t about to mix business with pleasure. No way.
FLUFFY CLOUDS FLOATED past the jet’s windows.
They’d soon be touching down in Italy.
A giddy excitement bubbled up in Kayla’s chest as she glanced across the aisle at Mr. Amatucci—er—Angelo. She still had a problem remembering to call him by his given name after referring to him as Mr. Amatucci for so long. Being on a first-name basis left her feeling unsettled—not exactly sure how to act around him. If anything, Angelo was even more quiet and reserved than before. Had he sensed her attraction to him?
Impossible. She hadn’t said or done anything to betray herself. She smoothed a hand over her gray skirt. She was worrying for nothing.
Just act normal.
She glanced at her boss. “Do you know how long until we arrive?”
Angelo turned in his leather seat to look at her. “What did you say?”
“I was wondering how long we have until we land in Italy.”
“Not much longer.” His dark gaze dipped to the pen and paper in her lap. “Are you working?”
“I am.” Her body tensed as she read over her scribbled notes for the Van Holsen account. She didn’t have anything innovative enough to measure up to the Amatucci standard. “I thought this would be a good time to flesh out some ideas.”
“And you like doing it longhand?”
“I think better that way.” She’d never really taken the time to consider her creative process, but yes, now that she thought about it, she did always start with pen and paper. She didn’t move to the computer until she had a fully functioning idea.
“Is that for the Van Holsen account?”
“Yes, I’ve been doing what you suggested and going with a nostalgic appeal.”
“Good. Can I see what you’ve come up with so far?”
She glanced down at all of her scribbles and half thoughts. And then her eyes caught sight of his name scrolled out in cursive. Her heart clenched. What in the world?
She must have done it while she’d been deep in thought. Immediately, her pen started crossing it out. The last thing she needed was for her boss to think she had a crush on him. That would be the end of her career.
“I...I don’t exactly have anything solid yet.” She was going to have to be careful in the future of what she wrote down just in case Mr. Curious decided to peer over her shoulder.
“I could help you. Let me see what you have.” He held out his hand.
She really didn’t want to hand over her notepad, but what choice did she have if she wanted to stay in his good graces? She glanced down at the scratched-out spot and squinted. She could still see his name—all fourteen letters. But that was because she knew it was there. She ran the pen over it a few more times.
With great hesitation, she handed over the legal pad. Angelo’s acute gaze skimmed over the page. Her palms grew moist. He took his time reading, but he paused as he reached the bottom. That was where she’d vigorously scratched out his name, almost wearing a hole in the page.
“I’m guessing that you’ve ruled out this idea?” He gestured to the blob of ink.
“Most definitely. It wouldn’t have worked.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you
