Uncovering the Correttis. Carol Marinelli

a brief greeting. As she walked into the restaurant, Emily blinked. The place really was sumptuous, the guests elegant. The smell of herbs and garlic had Emily’s mouth watering.

      Instead of being led through to the main restaurant, though, they were taken upstairs. Emily assumed it was because they were a last-minute booking. Only as she rounded the bend on the stairs did she realise that this section was the most exclusive, and she was terribly grateful for the prompt from Anton to dress formally. The jewels on the elegant guests glittered more than the candles on the beautifully dressed tables. One wall was glassed, French windows leading out to a balcony where the guests ate to the stunning backdrop of the Mediterranean at sunset.

      Anton had better have some good information. Otherwise she was going to have hell to pay when she put in her expenses.

      He spoke with their host as they walked through the restaurant, and when they reached their table, Emily frowned as instead of sitting opposite her, Anton took a seat to her side, their waiter hastily rearranging the place settings.

      ‘I like to face the view,’ he said. He was sitting so close that their knees briefly brushed and Emily pulled hers away.

      ‘You are nervous,’ he commented.

      ‘Do you blame me?’ Emily asked, and then it happened. The man who had given her nothing suddenly gave her the first thing her mind had begged for on meeting him—she was treated to his smile. His full mouth moved slowly and she saw his white, perfectly straight teeth. But more than that, his face lightened as his smile reached right to his eyes and claimed Emily’s ability to breathe in the process.

      ‘You have nothing to be nervous about,’ Anton said. ‘You are with me.’

      ‘Which tells me nothing,’ Emily responded with a wry smile, but yes, despite her nervousness around him, she did not feel unsafe.

      ‘Wine?’ he asked, but Emily shook her head.

      ‘Not while I’m working.’ This was, perhaps, a poor excuse. Normally Emily would be the one ordering it in the hope that whoever she was interviewing might open up a touch further, but she felt terribly aware that she needed to somehow stay in control here. ‘Speaking of work...’ She went to her bag to pull out her recorder but as she did, his hand closed over hers.

      ‘Not here.’ There was a slightly ominous note to his voice, and she looked at the hand closed over hers. ‘Why would you draw attention to yourself?’