The Boselli Bride. Susanne JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
you want to go.’ Effortlessly, he pulled the car to the side of the road for a moment and looked across at her. ‘What names are you looking for?’
Emily handed him the sheet of paper with the instructions and a small map, and after a few seconds he nodded. ‘They’re a bit out of the way,’ he conceded, ‘but easy enough to find. That’s if you…are happy…for me to take you,’ he added.
Emily looked at him quickly, realizing that today it hadn’t struck her that the man was still the stranger that he’d been last night when she’d refused his offer of a lift. So why did she feel so relaxed…so happy…to be sitting alongside him now? She turned to look in front of her. ‘If you’re sure it’s not inconveniencing you, Gio, I’d be very grateful,’ she said simply.
‘Which travel company are you with?’ Giovanni wanted to know as they drove away and, when Emily told him, he nodded. ‘They’re well known,’ he said briefly. ‘How long have you worked for them?’
‘Almost a year,’ Emily replied.
‘And before that?’
‘Oh, I had a couple of years with a small art gallery in London,’ she said, glancing across at the handsome profile, the strong neck and firm chin. His white shirt exposed heart-throbbing muscular arms and shoulders which tensed and rippled as he moved. She swallowed, looking away. ‘And what about you?’ she asked, thinking that it was his turn to answer some questions. ‘How long have you owned the shop?’
He grinned without looking at her. ‘Oh, it’s not mine,’ he said. ‘It belongs to a friend. I just mind the place for him from time to time.’
There was silence for a few moments after that and Emily thought-well, that didn’t say much. If it wasn’t his shop, what else did he do?
‘So, when you’re not selling beautiful marmalade jars…?’ she enquired.
‘My friend also owns the restaurant you were dining in last night,’ he said, ‘and I help out there, too, in the bar sometimes—but mostly I manage his paperwork for him.’ He paused. ‘By the way,’ he went on, changing the subject, ‘where is—Coral—today?’
‘Oh, I’m afraid Coral might have had too much sun yesterday,’ Emily said. She wasn’t going to go into details. ‘So she decided to stay at the hotel and rest for a few hours…which reminds me—I must ring her to see if she’s feeling any better.’
Taking her mobile from her bag, Emily dialled Coral’s number and was relieved that her friend answered almost immediately and sounded her old self.
‘Good,’ Emily said into the mouthpiece, ‘I’ll be back about six o’clock and we’ll go out to supper later—if you’re still feeling OK…What? Oh—I’m phoning from…from…I’m in a car on my way to one of those hotels, but once I’m there it shouldn’t take long,’ she added as she rang off.
Now why hadn’t she told Coral that it was Giovanni’s car that she was sitting in? she asked herself as she replaced her phone in her bag. And Giovanni must have been thinking the same thing because he gave her a wicked sidelong glance and said bluntly, ‘Is my name a dirty word then, Emily? You’re not…ashamed…of me, I hope?’
Emily felt her cheeks beginning to burn. ‘Of course not!’ she said. ‘It…it was somehow difficult to try and explain to Coral how you…I mean…how…I’ll tell her later, of course.’ The fact was that Coral had fallen madly in love with Giovanni and when they’d got back last night hadn’t stopped going on and on about him until the small hours. If Emily had said, Guess what? Giovanni just happened to be passing by and now I’m sitting in his fantastic car and yes, he’s just as gorgeous as he was last night! Coral would have demanded to know how that had happened, and her shriek of amazed jealousy would have been deafening and very difficult to explain to the man in the driving seat!
It took about twenty minutes to reach the quite imposing hotel, and Giovanni glanced across at Emily. ‘Do you have an appointment, or do you just turn up unannounced?’ he asked.
‘It varies,’ Emily replied. ‘It’s quite good not to let them know when you’re coming, for obvious reasons, but I usually do ring first. Let’s hope the manager is available today. I’m hoping to see Signor Saracco, but in any case I can get a good feel of the place and see if it’s the sort which our clients might approve of.’
They got out of the car and together they went into the large foyer. This would obviously have to feature in the brochure for one of their more expensive holidays, Emily thought, looking around her at the impressive glass cabinets containing luxurious clothing and jewellery. The girl standing behind the huge oak reception desk looked up as they entered, her eyes glancing briefly at Emily, but lingering for a lot longer on Giovanni, immediately captivated by his ruthlessly seductive appeal.
Emily stepped forward. ‘Parla inglese?’she asked, and the woman nodded hesitantly.
‘A leetle,’ she replied.
In the following few moments it was obvious that the receptionist was having a struggle with the language, and Emily made a mental note of the fact. It would be important for British visitors to feel comfortable at this early point, she thought, and for any queries they might have to be dealt with efficiently. Then Giovanni spoke quietly to the girl and for what seemed like ten minutes to Emily they conversed rapidly in Italian, the receptionist clearly relieved to be speaking her own language, laughing excitedly now and then—and also obviously enjoying talking to the handsome visitor. Then he glanced down at Emily.
‘This young lady is only standing in for the permanent receptionist,’ he explained, ‘owing to illness. She only started today and says it’s been the longest morning of her life. Another girl is coming in tomorrow, apparently. She is only seventeen,’ he added, and Emily was amazed. ‘Carla’—for that was the name on the identity tag the girl was wearing—looked at least in her mid-twenties. She was immaculately dressed, her black outfit pristine and enlivened with gold jewellery, her dark hair swept back elegantly. ‘I also asked if Signor Saracco was available, and she says that he is due back in one hour,’ Giovanni went on. ‘Do you want to hang on that long, or shall we find the other place first?’ He paused. ‘I don’t know about you, but I didn’t have any lunch. They do very good light meals, served all afternoon, so Carla tells me…’
Suddenly, the thought of sitting down to a gentle Italian repast sounded just what she needed and Emily smiled, realizing that her ‘lunch’ had been that glass of orange juice. ‘I’d love something to eat,’ she said, ‘and we might as well wait for the manager now that we’re here.’
‘Good,’ he said at once, cupping her elbow in his hand and leading her towards the other end of the entrance hall where late lunches were being served. Without looking back, Emily knew that Carla would be watching them. The young girl had been instantly flattered by Giovanni’s kindly attention to her, flashing her artificially long eyelashes at him as he’d looked across at her. And Emily could quite see how any female would be touched by his attitude. He’d been attentive, understanding…and deliciously sensuous, yet not creepy or overpowering. She’d give him full marks for the way in which he demonstrated his particular art-or was it craft?
He led her to a small round table in the corner, by a window which looked out across a beautifully green lawn. In a lazy circular movement, a hose was lightly playing water over the grass and Emily glanced up at Giovanni as he held out a chair for her to sit down.
‘They must employ a lot of staff to keep this place up to standard,’ she said. ‘It does seem a very well run establishment.’
For a few moments they studied a copy of the menu, then both decided on something called the House Special, which was ravioli accompanied by freshly cooked spinach.
‘I hope the service is good,’ Giovanni remarked as he clicked his fingers to attract the attention of the drinks waiter, ‘because I’m starving.’
Emily had to admit that she was beginning