The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni: The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi / The Moretti Seduction / The Boselli Bride. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
talking acquaintances or benefits?’
To her annoyance, she actually blushed. ‘Acquaintances. Rico, I hope you realise I don’t sleep around.’
‘Neither do I. Don’t believe everything you read in the press.’
She stared at him, shocked. ‘The press follow you about?’
‘In Italy, sometimes. It depends who I’m seeing.’
‘I’m a nobody, so you should be safe,’ she said dryly.
‘That wasn’t what I meant. But the press blow things up out of proportion and twist a story to suit themselves. If everything they said about me was true, there’d be so many notches I wouldn’t actually have a bedpost left. Dating someone doesn’t necessarily mean sleeping with them.’ He leaned forward and stole a kiss. ‘Let’s start again. What do you want to do this evening?’
Her mouth was tingling—and that kiss had been the lightest and sweetest of touches. He tempted her so badly that she could barely resist him. ‘Do you want to come upstairs for a mug of coffee while we think about it?’
‘Sure.’ He followed her up to her flat. ‘What sort of thing do you normally do in the evenings?’
‘It depends what kind of day I’ve had.’ She switched on the kettle and shook grounds into a cafetière. ‘I might go to the cinema or out for a drink with friends; I might just go for a walk by the river; or I might collapse on the sofa in front of the telly.’ She gave him a wary look. ‘I should perhaps warn you I’m really not into clubbing.’
‘Good. Me, neither.’ He looked at the photographs pinned with magnets to her fridge. ‘That must be your mum.’
‘Yes.’ She had to swallow hard. Even now, a year later, she still missed her mother badly. Missed her smile, her gentle calmness, her common sense.
‘She’s very like you,’ he commented.
‘I hope so.’ She definitely hoped she hadn’t inherited any of her father’s genes. Pushing the thought away, she suggested, ‘Maybe we can go for a walk by the river? It’s really pretty here in Greenwich.’
‘I’d like that. And I’d like to see more of London while I’m here. What’s the epitome of London?’
She thought about it. ‘I guess it’d be something like the Changing of the Guard outside Buckingham Palace. Mind you, you need to be there early to get a decent spot to see it, so it’ll have to be a weekend.’
‘We’ll leave that for Saturday, then.’
She gave him a regretful smile. ‘Sorry, I can’t make it. I’m working.’
‘You’re working six days a week?’ Rico looked concerned. ‘You’re risking burnout if you keep up that kind of pace.’
‘Unless I have a really big celebration cake to sort out, it’s only half a morning on Saturdays, enough to keep the cafés stocked with cupcakes. They’re closed on Sundays, so I can take Sundays off,’ she explained.
‘Let’s do the Changing of the Guard on Sunday, then.’
He hadn’t given her any idea about his schedule; she didn’t have a clue when he was going back to Rome. ‘Are you in London for very long?’
‘Possibly.’
Which served her right for asking a closed question. Then again, she had the feeling that Rico could turn the most open question into a closed one.
‘We should make a list of places we’re going to see.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re such a control freak, Rico.’
‘You work with lists,’ he pointed out, gesturing to the lists held to her fridge door by magnets.
‘I like being organised.’
‘Now who’s the control freak?’ he teased, and kissed her.
If he kept this up, she’d forget all about making acquaintances and go straight for benefits. ‘Busted,’ she said, and moved away from him to make the coffee—while she still could. ‘With you coming from Rome, I guess we should do a tour of Roman London. We can start with the Roman Wall; plus there’s a Roman bath near the Strand, and an amphitheatre under the Guildhall. And guide books are bound to list other stuff I don’t know about.’
‘So you’re going to be my personal tour guide of London?’
‘Ironic, considering how I met you.’ She coughed. ‘Except I’m not pretending to be a guide.’
‘I wasn’t pretending. I was doing the job—and I didn’t hear any complaints from you,’ he reminded her.
‘No. You really made the Colosseum come alive for me. You know a lot about your home city.’
‘Because I love Rome,’ he said simply. ‘It’s the only place I ever want to live.’
So this thing between them, she thought, had definite limits. She had no intention of moving to Rome, and he had no intention of moving here. Not permanently. So she’d take the warning as read. This was a fling, until his interest waned. She’d enjoy it while it lasted, but she wouldn’t expect anything more from him.
He took a mouthful of the coffee she gave him. ‘This is good. Thanks.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘Let’s make that list. Do you have a laptop?’
She fetched it and placed it on the kitchen table between them. He scooped her onto his lap and wrapped his arms round her waist. ‘Now we can both see the screen,’ he said.
‘We could both see it perfectly well from where we were sitting,’ she pointed out.
‘Yes, but this way is more comfortable.’ He kissed the curve of her neck.
He was right; it felt good to be held close to him like this. Not that she was going to tell him. She didn’t want him thinking that all he had to do was whistle and she’d sit up and beg.
Between them, and with the help of a few websites, they came up with a mixture of the famous sights and some quirky, out-of-the-way places to visit.
‘Enough for now. It’s a nice evening. Let’s go for that walk by the river,’ he said.
The sky was streaked with pink feathery clouds as they wandered hand in hand along the path by the Thames.
‘Since I’m being your personal tour guide, I should tell you that that’s the Royal Naval College,’ she said, pointing out the complex of beautiful white buildings and the twin grey domes with their gold clocks and weather vanes. ‘It was designed by Christopher Wren.’
‘Like St Paul’s. Which we need to add to our list,’ he said. ‘It’s gorgeous.’
They carried on down the Thames Path until they reached a waterfront pub. ‘I sometimes stop here for a drink with Ju,’ Ella said. ‘Apparently Dickens used to drink here. And the food’s OK, too, if you fancy something to eat?’
‘Sure.’ They had a drink on one of the wrought-iron balconies, then headed back inside when their food was ready; the waiter had found them a table overlooking the Thames.
When they came back out, the sky was midnight blue, fading almost to white and then deep orange at the horizon, and the buildings of London were all lit up. ‘That’s the Millennium Dome over there,’ she said, pointing out the white dome with its yellow, blue and red spikes. ‘It always reminds me of a birthday cake with candles on it.’
‘London’s beautiful by night,’ Rico said. He leaned down to kiss her. ‘And so are you.’
‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t just the words that touched Ella. Rico made her feel beautiful in the way he touched her, the way he listened to her. And he