‘Enlighten me.’
‘Isola Santa Margherita.’
‘Which is?’
‘My island.’
She lowered the spoon she’d been using to her plate and stared at him. ‘Your island.’
‘Corretto.’
‘Neighbours?’
‘No.’
‘Access to the city?’
‘Boat.’
For a moment a shadow passed across her face and he thought he saw a shudder ripple through her but both were gone before he could be sure.
‘There are taxis, I presume?’
He gave a brief nod and reminded himself that he needed to know as much about shadows or shudders as he did about smiles that weren’t genuine, which was nothing. ‘There are, but they’re expensive and you have to book ahead. I and my boat, however, are free and entirely at your disposal.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you must have lots to be getting on with,’ she said, replacing the spoon in the bowl of olives and picking up a napkin.
‘As a matter of fact, I don’t. I’m supposed to be taking things easy.’
‘Then you don’t need to be ferrying me around.’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ he said with an easy coolness that matched hers. ‘I’ll take you anywhere you need to be.’
* * *
Quite frankly, Carla thought as she watched Rico embark on piling food onto his plate, she needed to be anywhere other than here, on a private island, cut off from the city, from people, from help. Anywhere other than having brunch with the man who’d presented her with a smorgasbord of deliciousness that had momentarily tempted her to divulge tales of the horrendous food she’d had to eat while growing up on a commune, which could well have wound up becoming a conversation about her instead of him and potentially led down a path she’d really rather not tread.
If only she hadn’t hung about in the doorway to the kitchen, transfixed by the sight of him and rooted to the spot, but had instead got a grip and made herself scarce. If only she hadn’t stood there, staring at his
back, watching the muscles of his arms bunch and flex as he did whatever he was doing, struggling for breath and going weak at the knees while her temperature soared.
An effect of her still malfunctioning body clock? Probably not, but it was the excuse she’d decided upon and she was sticking to it. She was contemplating using it too as an explanation for actually considering accepting his suggestion to act as her taxi, despite her deep-seated desire to take care of herself.
Not that she really needed one.
If she applied clarity and reason to her thinking she’d see that this situation was nothing like the one it had reminded her of in the early hours of this morning. There was no malicious intent behind Rico’s offer of help. No attempt to control her actions or her thoughts. No demand for anything in return. The island might be cut off but she wasn’t. No one was stopping her from going anywhere.
She’d be better off focusing on the reality of today and not the memories of a decade ago, she told herself, adding a spoonful of artichoke hearts to her plate. Yes, she didn’t want to be indebted to him and yes, it was bad enough that he’d had to rescue her in the first place, but surely the quicker she sorted everything out, the quicker she’d be home. With his means of transport and knowledge of the city, neither of which she had, Rico would definitely speed things up. She only understood enough Italian to be able to order off a menu. He’d be able to slice through the bureaucracy in a way that she simply couldn’t.
Maybe she ought to learn to accept help without feeling as if she was somehow failing by not being able to handle things on her own. Just because she was capable didn’t mean she had to be all the time. Maybe, occasionally, it would be a good idea to let someone else take the reins, on a practical level at any rate.
And, perhaps, he’d lend her some cash?
Carla had been financially independent for years, ever since she’d realised that having her own money and plenty of it would give her choice and freedom. She paid her credit card off in full every month. The only money she borrowed was for her mortgage. But even if she asked Georgie to send her some, with no ID she wouldn’t be able to pick it up. Without her phone she couldn’t access her digital wallet. However strong her motivations, however excellent her intentions, she had to be practical.
‘OK, well, first of all,’ she said, taking a great leap in her personal development by choosing to look forward not back, ‘I need to go to the police station and report the theft of my things.’
‘We can leave as soon as you’re ready to go.’