you had your gelato. It is basic and traditional, and so popular it is always crowded.’
‘Sounds good. Lead on.’
After her hot, furtive dash earlier on it was dangerously pleasant to stroll with Dante through the balmy warmth of the Florence evening. For one night like this she would pretend he was just a friend she was enjoying an evening with, rather than the man who’d once broken her heart and turned her life upside down. The trattoria was packed, as he had forecast, but a place was found for them in a long red-walled dining room filled with laughing, talking, gesticulating diners sitting elbow to elbow, in total contrast to the formality of the night before, and Rose loved it.
After discussion with the waiter who brought their menus Dante ordered wine and mineral water and sat back, amused to see Rose so obviously enjoying the proximity with her fellow diners.
‘This is more like it,’ she said with satisfaction, sneaking a look at the dishes set down at the next table. ‘Will you help me choose, Dante?’
He leaned close to translate the names of the dishes, and after much discussion about the various delights on offer Rose settled on a mixed grill of fish with spinach. ‘I don’t cook fish much at home, so this is a treat for me. What are you having?’
‘I like your choice. I will have the same.’ Dante nodded in approval as he studied the bottle of wine a waiter offered for his inspection. ‘Grazie. Try the wine, cara, and give me your opinion.’
‘Mmm,’ she said with relish. ‘Gorgeous. What is it?’
‘A Fortinari Classico,’ he said with pride. ‘I am impressed that they keep this range here.’
‘Which means it’s very pricey.’ Rose drank a little more. ‘I can see why.’ She raised embarrassed eyes to his. ‘I’m putting you to so much expense, Dante. Please let—’
‘No!’ he said flatly. ‘To see you enjoy your dinner is reward enough.’
‘I’m enjoying everything.’ She looked round the packed, noisy dining room with pleasure. ‘I love it here.’ Her eyes sparkled as plates were set in front of them. ‘Grazie,’ she said to the waiter.
Dante laughed indulgently as she sniffed in rapture. ‘Enjoy, carina.’
‘I will! It’s a long time since that gelato.’
‘So tell me about this house you live in,’ Dante said later, after Rose had refused a dolce in favour of coffee.
‘It’s my own family home. Mum signed it over to me when she moved in with Tom. He wants them to get married,’ she added, ‘but Mum is happy the way things are, afraid that formalising the arrangement might change it. She believes in the saying “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it”.’
Dante’s eyes darkened. ‘She is wise.’
Rose looked at him questioningly. ‘Were you heartbroken when your wife left you?’
He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Dio, no! My brother, as always, was right. I had a fortunate escape—forgive me, Rose. You cannot want to hear this.’
How wrong could a man be? ‘Is Elsa still with the new man she left you for?’
‘Yes, though new is not the right word.’ Dante’s expressive mouth turned down. ‘Enrico Calvi is old enough to be her father, but so wealthy Elsa is now enjoying a life of idle luxury.’
‘She wanted to do that?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘Younger faces—and bodies—were winning the top jobs. She was glad to abandon her career while still known as a supermodel. Allora, I no longer see her face on magazine covers everywhere to remind me of my folly.’
‘Is she very beautiful still?’
He nodded carelessly. ‘I have not seen her since she left, but Elsa was obsessed with her looks and I doubt she has changed much. Calvi has children from a former marriage and does not demand the babies that would ruin his trophy wife’s perfect body. I, fool that I was, wanted children very much.’
Rose drank some water, suddenly sorry she’d eaten so much as her stomach lurched at Dante’s heartfelt admission.
His mouth tightened. ‘She waited until our wedding night to tell me she had no intention of having babies. Ever. But no more talk of Elsa.’ Dante looked at Rose in silence for a while, his blue eyes intent. ‘Now I must take you back. I wish you could stay longer, Rose.’
‘Not possible, I’m afraid.’
‘Que peccato! In the morning I will drive you to the airport in Pisa—unless you would prefer the train journey?’ He beckoned to a waiter to bring the bill.
‘No, indeed. But won’t that take up too much of your time?’
‘It is not far out of my way home,’ he assured her, ‘and will give me the pleasure of more time with you before you leave. But this will not be goodbye, Rose. I shall see you when I come to England again next.’
Her heart lurched. If Dante still wanted babies no way was she letting him anywhere near Bea. He took her arm to steer her past an approaching entwined couple as they walked back, the contact raising her pulse rate even higher.
Rose paused when they reached the foot of the hotel steps, her eyes raised to the handsome, intent face. ‘This has been a lovely evening, Dante. Not the kind of thing that features much in my life as a rule.’
‘Yet Charlotte told me you have someone in your life.’
‘He’s a friend from my college days.’
‘But surely you will marry one day, Rose?’
She shrugged. ‘I doubt it.’
Dante held the door open for her. ‘When you see Charlotte so happy with Fabio, do you not wish for a relationship like theirs?’ His eyes darkened as they made for the lift. ‘I have always envied them their marriage.’
‘They’re very lucky.’
Dante halted when they reached her room. ‘Ascolta, it is early yet, Rose. I would so much like to sit with you on your balcony and talk for a while longer like old friends. I can order tea. You would like that?’
She looked at him in silence for a moment. ‘All right, Dante.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘But only because you said the magic word.’
His smile mirrored hers. ‘Friends?’
‘No—tea!’
Dante laughed and rang room service. After a waiter arrived with a tray Dante tipped him and closed the door behind him then pulled up two of the chairs to the metal table on the balcony overlooking the moonlit Arno. Rose poured tea and the coffee Dante had ordered for himself, and sat back in her chair, eyeing him warily.
‘So what shall we talk about?’
‘You, Rose. Tell me why you started your own business.’
‘I
