With a minute
lift of his head, Rico summoned the waiter while contemplating bypassing the request for two double whiskies and simply ordering the bottle.
God knew he could do with the fortification. He was still reeling from Carla’s appearance at the door of his favourite restaurant. He’d been sitting at his usual table, frowning at his watch and feeling oddly on edge, when his skin had started prickling and his pulse had leapt, a crackle of electricity suddenly charging the air around him. He’d glanced up and there she’d been, standing at the edge of the terrace, scanning the diners for him.
She’d changed from the red dress she’d been wearing earlier into tight white jeans and a silky-looking pink top over which she wore a dark jacket, but the effect she’d had on him was just as intense as it had been when he’d met her beneath the tree. The bolt of desire that had punched him in the gut was equally as powerful. The whoosh of air from his lungs had been none the less acute.
Time had slowed right down as she’d walked towards him, her gaze not leaving his for even a millisecond, and he’d been so mesmerised that instinct had taken over. Out of habit he’d got to his feet and he’d been this close to kissing her cheek when a great neon light had started flashing in his head, an intense sense of self-preservation pulling him back at the last minute.
For one thing, if he touched her he might not be able to stop, and for another, it hadn’t looked as if any sort of physical contact would be welcome. Carla’s expression as she’d approached him had been severe, her gaze unwaveringly cool and her mouth once again a firm, uncompromising line, which was...unexpected.
Disappointingly, she neither sounded nor looked like someone keen on exploring the searing attraction that had arced between them, but the night was young, by Italian standards, and, at the very least, the last three months had taught him patience.
Nevertheless he was going to need his wits about him if he was going to maintain control while convincing her that taking ownership of the attraction they shared and acting on it was a good idea, which was why he decided against ordering the bottle.
When their drinks arrived a few moments later, he watched Carla pick hers up, tip back half of it and sigh with appreciation.
‘Long day?’ he asked, noting the faint smudges of tiredness beneath her eyes and briefly thinking about all the other ways in which he’d make her sigh once she’d come round to his way of thinking.
‘Long week,’ she corrected. ‘I was in Hong Kong until ten o’clock last night their time.’
‘Work?’
‘Yes. I went straight from the airport to my flat to the christening, then did the whole journey in reverse, only ending up here instead of there.’
‘And now I’m flattered.’
She set her glass down and arched her eyebrow. ‘I wouldn’t be.’
‘What made you reassess my invitation?’ he said, rolling his own glass between his fingers, her spiky attitude once again only intensifying his interest. ‘I was under the impression that it would be a cold day in hell before you would have dinner with me.’
Her gaze dropped to his fingers for one oddly heart-stopping moment before slowly lifting back to his. ‘Toast and smashed avocado lost its appeal.’
‘Really?’
‘No,’ she said drily. ‘Of course not. Your visit was brief but devastating. You departed in a hurry and left chaos in your wake. I’d like to rectify that.’
‘Why?’
‘Finn is upset and Georgie’s my best friend. If he’s upset, she’s upset, and that upsets me.’
‘Enough to accept an impromptu invitation to dinner in Venice?’ He couldn’t even begin to imagine a relationship that deep.
‘Evidently so.’
‘That’s some loyalty,’ he said, although who was he to judge when he’d done a similar thing, compelled by an intuition he didn’t even understand?
‘It goes both ways.’
Not always. In his experience, loyalty was a fickle, one-sided thing that could destroy and traumatise. Life, he’d come to discover, went a lot more smoothly if you expected nothing from anyone and no one expected anything from you. Not that now was the moment to be thinking about the gang he’d joined as a youth and the mistaken belief he’d found a place to belong and a bunch of people who’d turn into family.
‘So you’re here to change my mind about meeting Finn,’ he said, ruthlessly suppressing the harrowing memories before they could force their way into his head and focusing on Carla instead.
‘Yes.’
‘And there was me thinking you were interested in my charm, my wit and my devastatingly good looks.’
‘I’m afraid not.’