by Jules Wake
Will shrugged, an amused look on his face that had her itching to wipe it off. Arrogant git.
‘It’s quite a commitment, going on holiday with someone. You’re not exactly the committing type.’
‘Says who?’ she asked, her head snapping towards him, half an ear on the increasing roar of the engine and conscious of that horrible sensation of being on the back of racehorse about to charge into action and unable to stop it.
‘You, I seem to recall. You told me you weren’t on the market for that sort of relationship.’
She pursed her lips, wishing she’d said a lot less to him that night nine months ago. Her words had been fuelled by a healthy dose of self-preservation. If only she’d had the sense to stick to them.
The plane picked up pace. She cast a fleeting glance out of the window at the trees speeding past. She leaned harder into her seat, bracing herself.
‘You seemed quite adamant,’ added Will, with a perverse grin, his voice filled with teasing challenge. Women chased him all the time, but she wanted to be different. And she didn’t want to depend on anyone. She thought that perhaps they’d found common ground, because he didn’t do commitment either. Boy, did he not do commitment. She’d lost count of the women he’d seen in the last seven months. No, that was a humungous lie. There’d been Izzie, the vet’s assistant, Cordelia, the interior designer, two Charlottes, Eva, Olivia, Thea, Martina, Ella and Dora, short for Isadora, which exactly summed up the sort of well-bred, well-educated and well-connected women Will associated with. She had been an anomaly. Although, to be fair, he’d treated her equally badly.
She shouldn’t complain. Everyone knew what he was like. She should have stuck to her guns and not given in to the beguiling undercurrent of chemistry that crackled between them. At fifteen they’d been friends. At twenty, when he came back from university, something had changed, which probably had a lot to do with the fact that he wasn’t a boy any more. Luckily he’d gone off to do something in the City, like his dad. Then he came back again.
It was when she started work at the pub that something had reared its head. After managing to resist for six months, she’d given in, tired and fed up after a horrendously long week at work, going home to solitary meals. After the late-night shift at the pub, against all her better judgement, when one too many brushes up against him had ignited her hormone levels to combustion, she’d foolishly let them do the talking. She might have even made the first move. She was still furious with herself for letting down her guard.
Memories slid through like tendrils of mist, snaking, damn them, through the barriers she usually managed to keep in place, before building into full-blown images, bringing with them the heat and taste of him. They exploded in her head, sending a rush of adrenaline punching into her system, making her pulse surge with fevered heat.
She clenched her fists tight beneath her legs, but it was no use, she couldn’t get him out of her stupid head. Heat gathered between her thighs as she tried to dispel what had become an indelible vision of his body gliding over hers, the remembrance of heated skin to skin and his hands tenderly cupping her face as he kissed her with a passionate thoroughness, as if scouring every other emotion out of her.
No wonder he was such a success with women; he had a brilliant routine. He’d successfully made her feel as if she were the only woman who had ever mattered to him. Or had she fooled herself because she was lonely? Whichever it had been, all the defences she’d so carefully constructed to protect herself from ever falling in love had gone up in smoke.
She should have stuck to her guns. Being independent was the best way to be. That way you couldn’t be let down by anyone. And hadn’t he shown her the truth of that?
She scowled, scrunching up her face, as if there were a nasty smell in the vicinity, which there might as well have been. Will was bad news. A womaniser, who moved on to the next woman as soon as he’d made a conquest. She’d been a challenge, like an unclimbed mountain to be scaled. And the minute he’d conquered her, he’d moved on to the next.
‘Maybe I’ve found the right person to have a relationship with,’ she snapped.
‘What, Giovanni?’ Will scoffed. ‘He’s not right for you.’
‘Why not?’ she asked, unable to keep the outrage at bay. ‘Although, what the hell it’s got to do with you, I’ve no idea.’ How dare Will presume he knew her or what was right for her?
‘I know you.’ Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t duck his serious contemplation. ‘You need someone stronger. More worldly. Someone who will treat you as an equal.’
Lisa deliberately didn’t say anything. That counted him out. Will was infinitely superior and he knew it. Although it was doubly annoying that he’d nailed the very reason she was doing her best to discourage Giovanni’s determined flirtation, but she was damned if she was going to admit it out loud, especially not now and not to him, of all people.
‘Come on. Giovanni’s a lovely guy, but so is a Labrador puppy. There’s no emotional maturity there. Plus, he’s a good Italian mama’s boy. He’s not looking for an equal; he’s looking for someone to replace his mother. Someone who will look after him, tell him he’s wonderful and pick up after him. I can’t see you putting up with that.’
‘And you would know, would you?’ challenged Lisa, ignoring the flash of fury that his astute assessment triggered.
‘And there we go.’ Will smiled and he reached out and touched her hand. ‘You okay now?’
‘What?’ The unexpected contact startled her. It occurred to her that she hadn’t touched Will since that weekend or he her. Why now? They’d both been at great pains to avoid each other ever since THAT night.
He nodded his head towards the window and the view of the fields below them.
‘We’re safely off the ground.’ He leaned forward and fished a book out of the seat pocket.
She stared at his bowed head in open-mouthed astonishment, but he gave no sign of acknowledging it. She felt completely wrong-footed. Had his strategy been a deliberate distraction attempt, then? Had she told him over the late-night Cointreau they’d once shared? Could he have squirreled away the fact that she was terrified of take-offs and landings?
Low-level anxiety about the take-off had been bubbling away ever since she’d woken this morning and here she was, already several thousand feet up, without the usual sensation of sweat-drenched panic. Instead all her focus had been on the feelings Will stirred up.
She squirmed in her seat, not wanting to give him any credit for being kind. Will didn’t do ‘kind’. He was a bastard. A lying two-faced bastard. Surely he hadn’t deliberately wound her up just to help her. Winding her up was standard Will operating procedure.
He turned and caught her studying him.
‘What?’ he asked, resting a book of Italian recipes against his stomach, one finger lazily tracing the large silver scar on the palm of his left hand. Burns were an occupational hazard in professional kitchens, but he’d had that one a very long time. She’d often wondered how he’d got it.
‘What’s the deal with this Italian restaurant you’re setting up? Won’t it be pizza and pasta just like everyone else?’ She could needle too if she wanted.
Siena was right. They were as bad as brother and sister.
Will’s mouth twisted in a supercilious grimace. And she realised she’d answered the question.
‘Okay, why do you need to go to Italy?’ What she meant was why now and why Rome.
She nodded at the recipe book. ‘Wouldn’t desk research have sufficed?’
‘I want it to be authentic. Give people a taste of Italy that they’ve tried on their holidays. I’m going to break down the menu into different regional specialities.’
‘What, so you’re going to go to all the different parts of Italy as part of this re …?’ her voice died away as her words suddenly conjured up a vivid image: Will talking about his passion for Italian food, tracing a map of Italy on her naked stomach, pointing out Siena, Pisa and Bologna, be
fore being distracted by the possible whereabouts of Sicily. That conversation hadn’t ever been finished. Heat flooded her cheeks and her nipples sprang to ridiculously misplaced attention at the memory of his hand dipping lower and lower.
To her surprise he looked away. Most unlike the cocky self-assured Will she was used to.
‘Obviously not, but I’ve been to … Sic … places in recent years and kept notes. But I’ve not been to Rome for a long time. This was the perfect opportunity.’
Chapter 7
‘Welcome to Rome.’ Giovanni, planted an enthusiastic kiss on her lips, casting a slightly triumphant glance Will’s way. Lisa took a quick, indrawn breath and almost laughed out loud, except it might have hurt his feelings. Really? Giovanni thought he had competition there?
Tucking away her amusement, she focused on the cheerful chaotic family group that had emerged alongside them in the arrivals hall. With vociferous cries of delight, they fell upon a brown-eyed cherubic toddler, indiscriminate in his smiles as he was passed among welcoming aunts and uncles. A strange pang struck Lisa as he was finally hoisted onto his father’s shoulders. Waves of love radiated from the family group and for a brief second she wondered what it would feel like to be part of that. Nan loved her, but she was hardly the demonstrative type.
Nan’s response to her saying goodbye last night, and imploring her to take her tablets and behave, was a strident huff and a few choice words about Lisa’s fussing. Fussing! If only she knew. Reading those bloody leaflets that Dr Gupta had pressed upon her had left Lisa terrified and reinforced her decision to come to Rome. It was now or never. If anything did happen to Nan, she wouldn’t be able to leave her and she wanted this business with her father sorted before then. Lisa ignored the cowardly whisper, pointing out it would also be far easier to give him the ring and walk away without a backward glance, while Nan was still alive.
‘Come on. The car is this way.’ Giovani took her case and expertly wove his way through the busy airport and, when they stepped outside through the doors, even though it was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon, they were hit by a shaft of Italian heat and brilliant sunshine, a gorgeous contrast to the grey dampness of Luton they’d left scant hours ago. Her spirits lifted. She was here, in Rome and it had been kind of Giovanni to invite her. Despite the doubts that Will had planted in her head, she resolved to make the most of the next few days and enjoy herself.
She would cross any romantically inclined bridges with Giovanni as they came. Will’s dour predictions were Will being cynical. The young Italian was handsome and full of fun and, more importantly, he liked her. Perhaps she should give him a chance and see what developed and not assume that Giovanni was necessarily stereotypical of Italian men.
They stopped beside a tiny, battered Fiat 500, with one wing mirror missing. It looked as if it had done battle in a demolition derby and lost.
‘Seriously?’ Will drawled, looking at the car. ‘Is it safe?’
‘Yes.’ Giovanni grinned. ‘Perfect for Rome traffic.’
‘And what about the luggage?’ He indicated his and Lisa’s cases, looking at the tiny boot.
‘No problem.’ Giovanni picked up Lisa’s case and manhandled it into the back seat waiting for Will to follow suit.
With both cases wedged in the back there was only room for one passenger to squeeze in next to them.
Giovanni held open the driver’s seat and indicated to Will that he should get in the back. Will glanced down at his long legs; Giovanni grinned and held the door wider. Lisa almost giggled.
‘You’re kidding,’ said Will with a scowl.
‘It’s not far.’ Giovanni gave him a cheerful grin.
Lisa bit back a smile as Will climbed into the back, resigned disgust written all over his face.
The traffic was every bit as chaotic as Lisa had been led to believe. Cars zipped in and out of lanes with gay abandon, heedless of blaring horns, leaving eye-wateringly negligible gaps between bumpers. She crossed her fingers tight under her thighs and wondered whether she might have been better in the back. Being back on the plane was almost preferable to this. Giovanni’s jerky, rapid-braking style of driving made her feel slightly sick as did his habit of turning to talk to her as he drove. The car didn’t have any air conditioning and when Giovanni opened all the windows as they came to a stop in grindingly slow traffic, the car filled with hazy exhaust fumes.
‘This is the main road into Rome. It’s usually a lot busier than this,’ said Giovanni, before changing lanes with startling speed, squeezing the car into a gap in the next lane, which was moving fractionally quicker than theirs. Two seconds later he whipped the car back into the original lane, which had started to edge forwards more quickly. This constant lane-changing, trying to second-guess the traffic queues, interspersed with a running commentary on the other drivers, didn’t help the queasiness dancing in her stomach.
‘We have a whole week. Are there any places that you would like to visit? We have a wealth of sights. The tourist season is very busy now.’ He grinned at Lisa, and she smiled uncertainly. She wished he’d watch the road instead of turning her way like that, but she was grateful he hadn’t said anything about looking for her father.
For some reason, she didn’t want Will to know the real reason for her visit.
While looking out at the houses beside the road, and the streets beyond, it struck her rather forcefully that this could be a wild-goose chase. It had seemed quite simple when she was at home. Now the practicality and the enormity rocked home. Rome was a big city. The photo and address were very old. Anything could have happened in the intervening years.
‘I … the usual places, I guess.’ She’d fully intended to read her guide book on the plane, but with Will sitting next to her she’d been reluctant. An organised person might have planned and prepared much earlier. In fact, he made her feel like a grubby, unsophisticated schoolgirl on her first trip abroad. Flying by herself, while absolutely terrifying, had also felt grown up and glamorous and ever so slightly daring. Will made it look like hopping on a bloody bus.
With a fixed smile, she focused on the sights around them, which looked rather industrial and run down, although every now and then they’d dip below an ancient viaduct running over the road. As they neared the city, the buildings started to become more interesting, the juxtapositions decidedly odd. There, next to a modern square electrical department store was an ancient bridge, the worn pointing making the bricks look as if they might tumble down at any moment. A huge many-tiered church towered over a square, the white marble making it look like an elaborate wedding cake. The numbers of pedestrians increased, gaily taking their life in their hands as they sauntered through the traffic, which had once again begun to back up.
Despite the touch of a headache from the liberal use of horns and the fumes, Lisa was fascinated by the good-natured chaos. Cars seemed to join the main arteries of roads from every side road, opening like tributaries flooding evermore into a river already threatening to burst its banks. Drivers threw their hands up in the air, tooting with exasperated exuberance, and it seemed like a contest as to who could toot loudest and longest. Giovanni seemed completely unconcerned about the early-evening cacophony around them, with the window open and his arm resting on the opening, he tapped along to the Europop blasting from the car’s radio. Most of the songs seemed to be English, to be fair, but the stream of Italian between, spoken at the speed of light, was yet another reminder that she wasn’t in Leighton Buzzard any more.
She squirmed in her seat, itching to get out and walk along the streets in the balmy air, along with the early-evening crowd, who all looked as if they had somewhere to be. It was infectious, that sense of a city on the move, heading somewhere important. Were that couple, arm in arm, going home to eat pasta? Was the handsome man with the briefcase heading to a rendezvous with a gorgeous brunette, already waiting with a double espresso in a café? Lisa sighed.
‘You okay?’ asked Giovanni. ‘We’re nearly there.
’
‘I’m fine. Is the traffic always like this?’
He let out an uproarious laugh. ‘No, this is good. This is tourist season, remember. No one stays in Rome in the summer unless they have to.’
With a sudden lurch, Giovanni hauled the car into a side street, hurtling along the quiet road, racing through the gears before dropping back down, with equal drama, to throw the car around another corner, before screeching to a halt outside a gate. With a quick toot, it rolled open with slow grace.
After a short drive along a winding foliage-bordered road, Giovanni pulled up with a flourish, throwing his arm out of the open window to indicate the building nestled right between one of the ancient arches of the aqueduct.
‘Wow! This is the apartment?’ Lisa gasped. It reminded her of some crab or snail which had taken up residence in someone else’s shell.
‘Very nice. I wasn’t expecting this,’ murmured Will, as he clambered out of the back of the car, stretching as he did so. Lisa averted her eyes from the flash of stomach and dark-blonde hair above the waistband of his very low-slung jeans, irritated by the rapturous appreciation of her hormones. Since when were they in charge?
‘I didn’t know they were allowed to do things like this.’ Thinking about bricks and mortar was a good distraction. The planning departments at home wouldn’t let someone build within spitting distance of this type of ancient monument, let alone use the walls of it as part of the structure.
Will laughed. ‘Welcome to Italy. I think they take their history in their stride because there’s so much of it.’
‘Si, si.’ Giovanni pulled her case out of the back of the car and carried it to the door, before opening up with a large, old-fashioned key.
The entrance led into a high-ceilinged, cool, dark hall, tiled in black-and-white marble stone. To their left, an ornate wrought-iron railing edged a wide staircase, which curved up and around two sides of the room, the stone steps worn in the middle, smoothed away by many years of footsteps treading up and down them.