Passionate Affairs: Breakfast at Giovanni's. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘HOW about tomorrow?’ The words came out before he could stop them. Too eager. Stupid, Gio berated himself mentally. If he wasn’t careful, he’d scare her off.

      ‘Straight from one job to another, without a break?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

      Very stupid, he amended silently. Hell. Now she was going to say no. Because he’d rushed her. Of course she’d want a break between jobs. Time to recharge her batteries. Would he never learn not to jump in feet first?

      And then she smiled. ‘Well, it beats sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Tomorrow it is.’

      He could’ve kissed her. Except officially, they were working together now. And Gio had seen too many good business relationships messed up when sex had got in the way of business. He wasn’t going to make that mistake. Even though he was definitely attracted to Fran and every time he looked at her he felt that low, humming excitement in his blood.

      A feeling he’d just have to keep in check.

      He settled on taking her hand and shaking it, instead. ‘Thanks. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.’

      Time to let her hand go, now.

      Now.

      Because this was teetering on the very fine line between being a handshake and holding her hand. And he was aware of a tingling in his palm where her skin touched his.

      This wasn’t the time. And in the middle of his aunt’s restaurant was definitely not the place. As it was, Marco had assumed that Fran was his girlfriend, and despite Gio’s denial the family grapevine was probably already buzzing.

      He knew he’d get a call from his mother tonight, asking him how come he’d taken his girlfriend to meet his Aunt Netti before meeting his mother. Not to mention texts from Bella, Jude and Marcie staking their claims as bridesmaids, demanding full details of their new sister-in-law-to-be, and offering dinner invitations so they could meet her and grill her for themselves: his family didn’t seem to believe in taking things slowly.

      Just as well he’d switched his mobile phone to ‘discreet’ mode. Pity he couldn’t switch his family to ‘discreet’ in the same way.

      ‘Appreciate what?’ Marco asked, overhearing Gio’s last comment.

      Gio resisted the temptation to wring his cousin’s neck, and let go of Fran’s hand. ‘Perfect timing, cugino mio. I’d like you to meet my new office manager.’

      Marco stared at Fran, and then at Gio. ‘Office manager?’

      ‘Yup.’

      ‘You’re telling me you’ve just been conducting a job interview—over dinner?’ Disbelief filled every note of his cousin’s voice.

      ‘It’s the civilised way to do things.’ Gio gave a wry smile. ‘And as I have to eat anyway…’

      ‘You decided to multi-task it.’ Marco made exaggerated quote marks with his fingers around the word ‘multi-task’, and rolled his eyes. ‘You’re unbelievable. Fran, he did warn you he’s a workaholic and his favourite phrase is “multi-task it”, didn’t he? Don’t let him take advantage of you.’

      ‘She’s too efficient to do that,’ Gio retorted.

      Fran coughed. ‘And I’m also quite capable of speaking for myself, thank you very much.’

      ‘Indeed. And I apologise, Fran. My family’s bad habit—’ well, one of them, Gio thought ‘—is that we talk too much.’ He spread his hands. ‘Speaking of which…I’d better sneak into the kitchen to see my aunt. If you’ll excuse me for a little while?’ No way was he taking Fran with him to meet Netti. He needed to stop the family rumours before they spread: and he didn’t want his new office manager frightened off by the idea of his family claiming her as his new girlfriend.

      Which she wasn’t.

      Because he didn’t have a girlfriend.

      Didn’t want a girlfriend.

      Didn’t need a girlfriend.

      OK, so his life wasn’t absolutely perfect at the moment. He couldn’t shift this restlessness, this feeling that there was a black hole in the middle of his life. He had no idea what he was looking for or what might fill that black hole—but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t settling down, getting married and having babies, whatever his family might think.

      The second he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted with a hug and then a cuff round the ear by his aunt.

      ‘I’m too old and—at nearly a foot taller than you—too big for that,’ he said with a grin.

      ‘That’s what you’d like to think. I’m older and wiser and I know better. So where is she, then?’ Annetta asked.

      ‘Who?’

      ‘This bella ragazza Marco’s told me about. Francesca. This nice Italian girl.’

      ‘Netti, dolcezza, you know I adore you. But you’re jumping to conclusions.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘First of all, Fran’s not Italian.’

      ‘With a name like Francesca?’ Annetta scoffed. ‘Come off it.’

      ‘She’s not Italian,’ Gio repeated. ‘Secondly, she happens to be my new office manager. You lot have been nagging me for months and months and months to pace myself and take some time off—aren’t you pleased that I’m finally taking your advice and hiring myself some help?’

      But his aunt refused to be diverted. ‘Marco says she’s nice. She has a pretty smile. And that you don’t look at her as if she’s a colleague.’

      ‘Yes, she’s nice,’ Gio agreed. ‘But Marco’s just become a dad and he’s sleep-deprived. He’s seeing things that aren’t there. She’s my colleague. And I’m not looking to settle down.’

      ‘You’re not even looking at going out with anyone, let alone settling down! And you need a social life as well as your work,’ Annetta said, pursing her lips. ‘You need someone to take you in hand. Why not this so-called “new office manager” of yours?’

      ‘Because.’ Gio knew better than to get drawn into this argument. He’d be here all night. ‘Netti, cara, I should get back to Fran, before she decides I’m going to be a terrible boss and changes her mind. And Marco did say you’d made us crème brûlée with raspberries…’

      ‘Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily,’ his aunt warned, but she smiled and handed him the two dessert dishes. ‘Ring your mother tonight. You don’t call her enough. And you work too hard.’

      ‘Sì, mia zia. I know. That’s the way I’m made. It’s how Mazetti men are.’

      She threw up her hands. ‘You’re impossible.’

      He kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks for the pudding.’

      ‘My pleasure, piccolo.’ She shooed him towards the door. ‘Off you go, then. Back to the bella ragazza.’

      Uh-oh. She clearly