The Boselli Bride. Susanne JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
streets which—although less busy—still seemed to ooze with the warm friendliness of the timeless city. They passed one or two families with small children in tow, couples sightseeing hand in hand, and now and then a cheerful group of young Italian men, maybe hopeful of a romantic assignation later, all adding to the laid-back atmosphere of the evening.
Walking along beside Giovanni, Emily felt a surge of unexpected happiness ripple through her. Being in the sole company of the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on was something she had not anticipated when she and Coral had left Heathrow the other day. She was not meant to be here enjoying herself—she was employed purely on a business basis. And she realized that it was the first time since starting the job that anyone had invited her out, or treated her as Giovanni was doing. She met plenty of pleasant—and not so pleasant—people during the course of an assignment, but no one had ever asked her out to dinner or treated her other than formally. But maybe that was down to her, she acknowledged. Although there were certain guidelines laid down by the company which she should conform to—mostly in her own interests—she was also aware that she seemed to have developed a natural antipathy to showing undue familiarity with people—notably with men. She hoped she wasn’t thought of as stand-offish. Then she shrugged inwardly. So what? It was far safer, emotionally and in every other way, to keep slightly detached, to keep her distance. To try and enjoy life on the margins.
But, despite these thoughts, Emily was acutely aware that, although he was walking very closely by her side, Giovanni had not attempted to take her hand in his—and for a ridiculous moment she wished that he would! She could still recall the touch of his fingers on hers as he’d passed over the gift she’d bought at the shop yesterday—strong, protective fingers, sensitive and warm. Then she bit her lip. These thoughts must be thanks to the relaxed evening atmosphere, or to the occasional sight of two young lovers, their bodies entwined, as they passed, she thought.
He glanced down at her. ‘Although I don’t know your particular likes and dislikes, Emily,’ he said, ‘I’m pretty sure you’ll approve of my choice of venue for tonight. There are so many places to choose from, of course, but we have to start somewhere.’
Emily smiled up quickly. ‘It’ll be great to have someone…to have you,’ she amended, ‘to make the decision for me. I’m only just getting used to being totally independent in strange places, to try and find my own way around. And, although it’s getting easier, sometimes it can be…uncomfortable.’ She didn’t add that she frequently felt very homesick and wished that she was back in the comparative solitude and safety of the art gallery. But she’d made the decision to spread her wings, to search life out instead of waiting for it to find her—and you didn’t do that by hiding away in the cool, protective atmosphere of an art gallery.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Emily knew straight away that she was going to love it. It was on the top floor of the Hotel Hassler Roma and, as they were shown to a table by the window, soft piano music started to play quietly. Giovanni held out a chair for Emily to sit down and she glanced up at him appreciatively.
‘This is…lovely, Giovanni,’ she said, her eyes moist and shining with unaffected pleasure.
He returned her glance, his seductive lips parted in a brief smile. ‘I had a feeling it would be right for you, Emily,’ he murmured, pausing for a moment with his hand resting lightly on her bare shoulder, and she shivered instinctively.
‘You’re not cold?’ he enquired, moving away to sit down opposite her. ‘You haven’t brought a wrap with you?’
‘No—no, I’m not cold! It’s…I’m just excited to be here,’ she said quickly.
He looked across at her thoughtfully. The gentle light from the single candle on the table seemed to enhance the delicate curve of her cheek, accentuating the length of her dark eyelashes. He picked up his copy of the menu which the waiter had just given them, trying to concentrate on the selection of dishes on offer.
‘You’ve obviously been here before, Giovanni,’ Emily said with her eyes on her own menu. ‘What do you recommend amongst all this?’
‘I can recommend just about everything,’ he said at once, ‘but it depends on what you feel like.’
After a few moments, Emily put down her menu. ‘I’ve made my decision,’ she said lightly. ‘I’ve decided that you can order for both of us.’ She paused. ‘And I shall trust your choice unequivocally.’
He shrugged, grinning across at her. ‘Well, if you’re going to live dangerously, here goes,’ he said. ‘And anyway, in all matters, large or small, I like to think that any woman is perfectly safe in my hands.’
Just then, the waiter came to their table and, as Giovanni gave their order for wine, Emily gazed out of the window, swaying her shoulders lightly to the rhythm of the popular medley the pianist was playing. The hotel was situated at a spot overlooking the Spanish Steps, affording a bird’s eye view of the mellow roofs of old Rome, and Emily felt grateful, again, for having met Giovanni—because he was right. She would probably have never come across this charming restaurant, and at this moment, with stars beginning to pin-prick the darkening night sky outside, and the soft lighting and friendly atmosphere in the candlelit room, Emily felt as if she had been transported to an enchanted island. And she didn’t want to be rescued from it—not just yet!
Giovanni broke into her reverie. ‘I’ve ordered white wine, Emily,’ he said, ‘and for the meal, I thought grilled tuna with tomatoes and taggia olives, followed by suckling pig in sweet milk sounded about right. Plus a mixed salad.’ He paused. ‘I hope you approve.’
‘Heartily.’ Emily smiled.
‘And we’ll consider dessert later,’ Giovanni went on as the waiter departed. ‘Their chocolate mousse with hot chocolate sauce is a known favourite,’ he added.
‘Well, if I’ve room, that will certainly be the one for me,’ Emily said lightly, and he grinned.
‘I thought so,’ he said. ‘That’s why I mentioned it.’
Emily kept her eyes lowered for a moment. If he thought he knew her so well, she’d better watch what she said in future. This man seemed able to infiltrate her persona without even trying. He was getting close—dangerously close—she thought. But…she’d relax and enjoy it—just for tonight. There was no harm in accepting the fact that she was liking the feelings which Giovanni was arousing in her—the sense that she was not only liked, but that she was desired. And, in any case, these trifling few days would soon pass into history and would simply come in the category of harmless holiday meetings which never came to anything—and which never meant anything. Which was exactly how she wanted it. This time tomorrow she’d be back in the flat—alone—because Coral was going to spend the weekend with her parents, with just the unpacking and the laundry to fill her thoughts.
Their wine arrived and Giovanni raised his glass. ‘Let’s drink to…let’s drink to this evening,’ he murmured.
Emily picked up her own glass and gently clinked it against his. ‘To this evening,’ she replied slowly, letting the sparkling bubbles tease her lips and tongue. ‘This is wonderful,’ she added.
When the food arrived, Emily looked down at her plate. ‘This is rather…generous…’ she said. ‘I hope I can manage it all.’
‘Do your best,’ Giovanni said as he unfolded his napkin. ‘You look to me as if you need just a little building up, Emily.’
But he didn’t mean that, and shouldn’t have said it, he thought as he watched her for a second. It was true that she had a slender figure—unlike many of his compatriots, who were more generously endowed, but she possessed the most exquisite curves and, in his experienced opinion, they were all in the right places!
Presently, he said, ‘So, where are they sending you next, Emily?’
Emily picked up her glass to take a sip of wine. ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. ‘I shall know when I go back to work on Monday. But I normally spend the following