Though it was none of his business. And he definitely wasn’t looking for either marriage or romance. No way was he repeating his parents’ mistakes. He kept his relationships short and sweet, ending them before they stopped being fun.
‘The fountain was built at the end of Agrippa’s Acqua Vergine. It’s meant to have the sweetest water in Rome—though I wouldn’t try drinking it,’ he added hastily, ‘and people are definitely discouraged from trying to paddle in it.’
‘La Dolce Vita, right?’ She smiled. ‘My best friend’s an English teacher and a film buff. She told me about it.’
He could just imagine Ella standing under the fountain the way Anita Ekberg had, letting the water pour down on her. Making her T-shirt cling to her body like a second skin. And then he’d have the pleasure of peeling it off later …
Right now, he thought wryly, he could do with some cold water himself. Ella Chandler was making him seriously heated.
Officially, this was the end of what she’d asked to see. He knew he ought to ask her if she wanted him to escort her back to the hotel or put her in a taxi; but he found himself reluctant to let her go. Weirder still, he found himself actually giving into the impulse to keep her with him a little longer. What the hell had happened to his self-control?
‘Time for a rest,’ he said, and found them a quiet table at one of the little caffès in the nearby streets. When she’d chosen what she wanted from the menu, he ordered her a glass of spremuta, freshly squeezed ruby orange juice, and an espresso for himself. He gulped it down in one mouthful, then gave a rueful smile as he caught her raised eyebrows. ‘Sorry. It’s one of my bad habits.’
There was a tiny glitter of teasing in her eyes when she said, ‘Dare I ask what the others are?’
‘No.’ But the coffee hadn’t restored his common sense. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. ‘Do you have plans for tonight?’
‘Why?’ She sounded wary.
‘I wondered if you might have dinner with me. If you weren’t doing anything else?’
She blinked. ‘Dinner?’
‘Something simple. Traditionally Roman.’ Or maybe he could cook for her. He knew the perfect place to set a table. Even the swishest restaurant in Rome didn’t have a view as good as where he had in mind.
Dinner.
A date.
Part of Ella was surprised and pleased that such a gorgeous man was asking her out; yet part of her wanted to run as far away as she could. She might be over Michael now, but it didn’t mean she wanted to repeat the experience. To get involved with someone, even briefly. To make herself vulnerable.
And yet this was Rome. The Eternal City. How lovely it would be to share her first proper evening in Rome with someone. And Rico was only asking her out to dinner, after all. It wasn’t as if there were any future in this.
Would it really be so wrong to say yes, or to enjoy the attention? A bit of harmless flirtation might give her back some of her confidence in herself after Michael’s betrayal.
Though thinking about Michael meant that she needed to ask Rico something. It was going to be embarrassing, but no way was she going to do to someone else what Michael’s lover had done to her. ‘I’m assuming you don’t have a wife or a girlfriend?’
‘No. I’m single.’
‘Me, too.’ Just so it was clear. And she intended to stay that way. She wasn’t giving anyone else the chance to let her down, the way all the men in her life so far had let her down. Her father, her fiancé …
She was tempted to make an excuse, however flimsy. Tell him she was tired. That way, she wouldn’t risk getting closer to him.
Yet there was something about Rico that drew her. She enjoyed his company. And these three nights in Rome were meant to be fun. Given that neither of them had any ties, then maybe she should take the risk. Say yes.
‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘It’d be nice to have dinner with you.’
‘Are you vegetarian, or is there anything you don’t like to eat?’
‘No. And I don’t have any food allergies, either.’
‘Good. Then I’ll meet you at the hotel,’ he said. ‘I’ll call for you at eight.’
BACK at the hotel, Rico saw Ella into Reception, and then went through the back into his office. His PA was tidying her desk, clearly just about to leave for the evening. ‘Lina, I know it’s late and I’ve given you absolutely no notice, but can you clear my diary for the next three days?’ he asked.
‘Of course. Is something wrong? Your grandfather’s ill?’ she asked, looking concerned.
‘No, he’s fine.’
‘Your father?’
No, and Rico certainly wouldn’t drop everything to rush to his father’s bedside. He was well aware that Lina knew it, too; she’d worked for the Rossi chain for longer than he had, long enough to know exactly why Rico had no time for his parents and never would. ‘I’m just taking some time off.’
She blinked. ‘Are you ill?’
‘Very funny.’ He glowered at her briefly. ‘I’m not that driven.’
‘Actually, you are, Rico.’ She patted his arm to soften her words. ‘Look, nobody’s going to be around at this time of the afternoon, so there’s no point in making any calls now. I’ll deal with it first thing tomorrow and move all your meetings.’
‘Thank you. I’ll have my mobile with me if you need to get in touch. Text or voicemail, that is,’ he added.
‘I’m not going to call you. It’ll do you good to have a break.’ She paused. ‘So are you going anywhere special?’
‘Maybe.’
She gave him a wry smile. ‘I should know better than to ask you a personal question.’
He grimaced. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.’
‘But everything personal is off limits. I know.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Tell me again why I put up with you?’
‘Must be my charm,’ he teased back. Then he grew serious again. ‘Thank you, Lina. I do appreciate you.’
‘I know you do, tesoro. It’s why I put up with all your impossible demands.’ But she was smiling. ‘Go and have some fun.’
‘I will.’ His step already felt lighter. Which was crazy. There wasn’t any future in this; Ella Chandler was a tourist, only here for a couple of days. But maybe, just maybe, Lina was right. Having a little fun in his life would do him good.
Rico left his office and headed for the butcher’s. It had been a long time since he’d last gone shopping, and it felt odd to be so domesticated. He came home via the greengrocer’s, the baker’s and the deli; then rolled up his sleeves and began preparing dinner, humming to himself as he worked.
What did you wear for dinner in Rome? Ella wondered. She’d expected to find a little trattoria somewhere and just watch the crowds as she ate, or maybe study the more detailed guidebook to Rome she’d brought with her. She’d packed a pretty, floaty summer dress at the last minute; hopefully that would be smart enough, especially if she put her hair up. She knew it wouldn’t be smart enough if Rico took her somewhere seriously posh; then again, he knew the city better than most,