by Kate Hardy
Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because he added with a grin, ‘Spoon.’
She couldn’t help laughing back. ‘Behave.’
His smile faded. ‘Then say the words.’
‘Which words?’
‘You know which ones. I need to hear them, Fran.’
Words she’d never said before.
She took a deep breath. ‘I love you.’
‘Didn’t hear that.’
‘I love you,’ she said, more loudly.
‘Good.’ He wrapped his arms round her and kissed her. Thoroughly.
The next thing she knew, they were sitting in the office chair—and she was on his lap, with her arms round his neck.
‘I missed you,’ he said softly.
‘I missed you too,’ she admitted.
‘We’ve been very stupid. We should’ve been honest with each other. Talked. Taken the risk instead of being too scared.’ He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘I need to see your parents.’
‘No, you don’t.’
He sighed. ‘Fran, I shared my family with you. Why won’t you share yours with me?’
‘Because it’s different.’
‘Because you were adopted, you mean?’ He stroked her face. ‘That doesn’t make any difference. They might not be your natural family, but they’re still your family—they’re the ones who grew up with you. And you refer to your parents as Mum and Dad, so surely you love them?’
She rested her forehead against his shoulder. ‘I’m not like any of them. I’m the odd one out.’
His arms tightened round her. ‘I don’t think you’re odd. Well, not very.’ He grinned as she lifted her head. ‘I thought that would make you glare at me.’ His voice softened. ‘Meet me halfway, Fran. At least introduce me to them. Because we’re going to have a big wedding.’
Oh, lord. ‘How big a wedding?’
‘I’m part of a big family. The Mazettis are close. And even if we disappear with the intention of getting married very quietly at the top of a mountain, they’ll all work out exactly where we’ve gone, and when we get back to base camp they’ll be waiting there with a party and more confetti than you’d think could ever be made.’
From what she’d seen of a Mazetti family party, he wasn’t exaggerating.
‘OK. I’ll call them.’
‘Call them now.’ He leaned forward, picked up the office phone and pushed it into her hand.
She replaced it on the desk. ‘Later.’
‘Now, Fran.’
For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse. But then she sighed, and punched in her parents’ number.
‘Hi, Mum. It’s Fran.’ She paused. ‘Can I come and see you? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’
Gio couldn’t catch the reply on the other end. Why hadn’t he thought to switch the phone on to hands-free speaker mode?
‘When do we want to come?’ Fran asked. ‘Um…’
He prodded her so she looked at him and mouthed, ‘This Sunday.’
Fran shook her head and turned away.
He grabbed her desk pad and scribbled a note. Ask for this Sunday or I’ll ask them myself. She’d once threatened to break the rules and look up his personal information on the staff records. He could do the same.
She scowled, but to his relief she said, ‘How about this Sunday? Uh-huh. I need to check the train times, but, yes, we’ll be there before lunch. OK. Bye.’
No ‘I love you’, he noticed. All businesslike. So very different from his own family. Well, he’d give Fran all the love she’d been waiting for. And more.
‘We’re not going by train,’ he said when she replaced the receiver.
‘Why not? Gio, my parents live in Oxford.’
‘Which means it’s straight down the M40. That’s fine. I like driving.’
‘But…’
‘Not buts, Fran.’ He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘By the way, there are two more things you need to know.’
‘What?’
‘Firstly, I’ve just discovered I’m very traditional. So, much as I want to take you back to my place tonight and spend every single second making love with you, I’m not going to.’ He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. ‘No sex,’ he whispered, ‘before marriage.’
She blinked. ‘Gio, may I point out that we’ve already, um, done it?’
‘Uh-huh.’ He smiled. ‘That was before you were engaged to me.’
‘I’m not engaged to you. You haven’t asked me to marry you.’
He waved a dismissive hand. ‘That’s a minor detail. I’m going to. Which makes you as good as engaged. And Italian men are ultra-traditional. No sex before marriage. Not even phone sex.’
‘Phone sex?’
‘Where I tell you exactly what I want to do with you. What I want you to do.’ He nuzzled the sensitive spot just below her ear. ‘And I’ll hear the change in your breathing. Know the very second that you come—and that you’re thinking of me when you do it.’
‘Oh-h-h.’
He could see from her expression that the idea intrigued her. And he could feel her heat beating just that little bit faster. He licked her earlobe. ‘I might just do that, some time,’ he told her, his voice husky with promise. ‘But not until we’re married. Which leads me to number two.’
She stroked his face. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready to hear this.’
‘Trust me, you will be.’
‘All right. The second thing?’
‘Our engagement’s going to be short.’ He moved back slightly so he could look into her eyes, and moistened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. ‘Really, really short.’
‘Define “short”.’
He stole a kiss. ‘Given that organising is your forte—how quickly can you organise a wedding?’
She laughed. ‘Is that a challenge?’
‘Nope. Wrong tone. I’m not challenging. I’m begging. And I’d prefer the answer to be something in nanoseconds.’
‘A small wedding we can sort out in however long the notice period is to the register office. Days, probably. A big church wedding—well, you have banns and all sorts of things to sort out. We’re talking weeks. If the church isn’t booked up. And I’m assuming you’re Catholic.’ At his nod, she continued, ‘I’m not. So there’s all that to sort out, too.’
‘How long?’
She shook her head. ‘I really don’t know. Can’t even guess. Definitely weeks.’
He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers. ‘I might have to revise number one.’
‘Uh-uh.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘You said you were going to do this the traditional way.’
‘In which case, I’d better take you home now. And you need to think about whether you want a big church wedding or a big register office wedding.’
‘You haven’t asked me yet,’ she reminded him. ‘And I haven’t said yes yet.’
‘I will,’ he said. ‘And so will you.’ He kissed her. ‘And now I’m going to take you home. Before my very poor self-control snaps. Because I remember what it feels like to be deep inside you, Francesca, and my body’s screaming out to do it again.’
He gently nudged her to her feet and led her out of the office.
The café was deserted and locked up, although one bank of lights was on over the counter. Fran blinked. ‘I saw your parents and your sisters earlier. I thought they’d still be here.’
Gio smiled. ‘Believe me, the second I switch my phone on you’ll hear beep after beep from all the text messages asking me if everything’s OK and we’re together again.’ His smile broadened. ‘For the first time ever I think they’re trying to be tactful. I think they realised we needed some space.’
Her eyes glittered. ‘I remember you saying once about needing a lock on your office door. Looks as if we don’t need one tonight.’
He dragged in a breath. ‘You’ve just put another of those X-rated pictures in my head.’
She gave him the sexiest smile
he’d ever seen. ‘Then let’s make it real, honey.’
Oh-h-h. It was way too tempting. He almost picked her up in a fireman’s lift to carry her back to the office and push the papers off his desk and ease into her body. But he stopped himself in time. ‘Not until we’re married. But we can have dinner together tomorrow night.’ He sighed. ‘And I’ll have to put you in a taxi at the restaurant door. On your own. Tonight as well as tomorrow.’
‘You’re absolutely serious about this traditional bit?’
He nodded. ‘Until I’ve met your family and spoken to your father, I’m not going to ask you to marry me.’
She sucked in a breath. ‘What if my dad says no?’
‘He won’t,’ Gio said confidently. ‘Because I’ll tell him how much I love you. That I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That you’re going to be my equal and I won’t expect you to give up your career to have babies.’ He smiled. ‘Though we most definitely are going to have babies. At least one. I want a little girl who looks just like her mum, with big blue eyes I can’t say no to.’
Fran gave him a truly wicked grin. ‘Can’t say no to, hmm?’
He kissed her. Thoroughly. And then called the local taxi firm. ‘While I still can,’ he said, when he’d ended the call. ‘The next time we make love, it’s going to be on our wedding night.’
‘That,’ she teased, ‘is a challenge.’
‘No. It’s a promise.’ He smiled. ‘And I’ll always keep my promises to you.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ON Sunday Fran was almost sick with nerves. She was awake hours before Gio was due to pick her up, and she couldn’t settle to anything.
At last he buzzed through to the intercom.
‘On my way down,’ she said.
‘Good morning, tesoro.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘All set?’
She nodded. ‘I just need to get some flowers on the way.’
‘Already sorted.’
Oh. Well, it would have been. Gio had impeccable manners. ‘Thank you.’
She barely said a word all the way to Oxford. Gio didn’t push her to talk—just occasionally reached out to squeeze her hand, letting her know that he was right beside her.
It was completely ridiculous. Of course her parents would like Gio. Everyone who met him liked him.
But—and it was a big but—she so wanted their approval. To know that she’d done something right in their eyes.
When they came off the M40, she directed him to her parents’ house. As he parked in the driveway, she frowned. ‘That’s Suzy’s car. And Ted’s.’
He smiled. ‘So I get to meet all of them, then? Good.’
He didn’t mind?
Her thoughts must have been obvious, because he touched her cheek. ‘Hey. You had to meet nearly all mine at once. There were rather more of them. And you know I want to meet your family.’ He climbed out, undid her door and then collected the most beautiful bouquet from the boot of his car. Pure white roses, lilies and freesias.
Which Fran’s mother most definitely appreciated, because she went pink with pleasure when Gio handed them to her. ‘How lovely! Thank you.’
‘My pleasure, Mrs Marsden. And thank you for allowing Francesca to bring me to lunch.’
‘Do call me Carol. Please.’ She smiled at him. ‘Hello, Fran.’
‘Hello, Mum,’ Fran muttered.
This was ridiculous. She’d been an office manager for years—firstly at the voiceover studio and then for the Giovanni’s chain. Competent, efficient and effective. So why did she turn into a shoe-scuffing, awkward teenager the minute she walked into her parents’ house?
‘I’ll put the kettle on. Tea?’ Carol asked.
Gio smiled. ‘Thanks. That’d be lovely.’
‘Warren—Fran’s dad—is at the allotment, but he’ll be home soon,’ Carol added.
‘What allotment?’ Fran asked
‘He’s doing this stuff about eco schools, and he thought having an allotment would fit in really well with it. And he wants us to have home-grown vegetables for lunch. He’s dragged the others off with him to help him cut the beans.’
Home-grown vegetables? Then Fran noticed her mother hadn’t just made the usual Sunday roast. There was a chocolate cake—her favourite—cooling on a wire rack. And an apple pie ready to go into the oven when the main course was out.
‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,’ she said, feeling guilty. Her mother must have spent all morning cooking. ‘You didn’t need to do all that.’
Carol scoffed. ‘Of course I did. You’re my daughter. I wanted to.’
‘And I didn’t think the others would be here today.’
‘Dom’ll probably tell you he’s only here because he can’t stand college food—but as soon as I mentioned you were coming today, he was straight on the phone to Ted and Suzy.’ Carol smiled at her. ‘They wouldn’t miss you coming home, love. Though you can expect Suzy to moan about the fact she could’ve seen her favourite band in Manchester last night and Ted’s swapped duty at the last minute to get today off.’ She handed Gio and Fran a mug of tea. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Gio. Fran hasn’t told me much about you, but then none of my four are particularly forthcoming.’
Gio smiled. ‘My mother has a spy network. If we don’t tell her ourselves, someone else does.’
Carol laughed. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
Just then, there was a kerfuffle; the kitchen door burst open and a young springer spaniel bounded in.
‘A dog? Since when…?’ Fran asked, looking at her mother.
‘No, she’s mine. Last week. Rescue dog,’ Ted explained. ‘Fran, meet Bouncer. Bouncer, this is my big sister.’
Fran could easily see how the spaniel had got her name. ‘Hello.’
‘Muddy paws! Oh, no. Sorry, Mum. Sorry, Fran,’ Ted said, looking at the paw-prints on the floor and his sister’s dress.
‘Hey, mud washes out. It’s not a problem.’ Gio made a fuss of the spaniel. ‘Hello, bella ragazza.’ He was rewarded with a lick—and muddy paw-prints on his shirt.
‘Ted’s girlfriend’s a police dog handler,’ Suzy said. ‘She’s meant to be helping him train the pup. Not that it’s working yet. Hi, Fran.’ She gave Gio a shy look. ‘And you must be Gio?’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, shaking her hand.
Fran made quick introductions. ‘And this is Dominic, and my dad,’ she finished as they walked in together, laden with vegetables.
‘Hello, love.’ Warren smiled at her. ‘I cut extra beans so you can take some home to London with you. And Dom’s going to wrap some carrots up for you in newspaper—they keep better with earth on.’ He looked at Gio. ‘Nice to meet you, young man.’
‘And you.’ Gio held his hand out. ‘May I have a quick word in private, Mr Marsden?’
‘Warren.’ He smiled. ‘When Carol told me Fran was bringing you to see us, I wondered. Come into my study. Bring your tea with you.’
‘Does this mean you’re getting married?’ Suzy asked when Gio followed their father out of the kitchen.
Fran took a sip of tea. ‘Possibly.’
‘Um, have you sorted out bridesmaids yet? Because if not, I’d really…Well…’ Suzy wriggled on her chair. ‘You know.’
Fran stared at her sister in surprise. ‘You want to be my bridesmaid?’
Suzy nodded. ‘I know I’m the scary dentist-to-be and all that, but—you’re my big sister. And even if you want me to wear a dress that makes me look like a meringue…I won’t mind.’
Carol squeezed her hand. ‘And I know you’re brilliant at organising, but I’d love to help you choose your dress.’
Fran really hadn’t expected this reaction. Her mother and sister wanted to be involved in the wedding?
‘And we’ll be ushers if you want us to,’ Dominic added.
‘As the elder twin, I’ll make sure he wears a suit,’ Ted said, sitting on the floor with a wriggling puppy on his lap.
Which was when Fran realised. They we
re making a fuss just because she’d come home. So maybe, all these years when she’d thought she was an outsider, she’d been completely wrong. Her throat felt thick with tears and she swallowed hard. ‘I’d love that. Gio…being Italian, he wants to ask Dad’s permission to marry me.’
‘We guessed as much. Because you never bring anyone home,’ Suzy said.
‘And that’s why Ted—’ Dominic began.
His brother nudged him hard. ‘Shush, or I’ll let Bouncer chew your shoes.’
‘Ted what?’ Fran asked curiously.
‘Ah.’ Ted stared at the floor. ‘I, um, bent some rules. Looked him up on the police computer.’
Fran stared at him in shock. ‘You didn’t!’
He shrugged. ‘Well, we just wanted to be sure he was OK. And that he treats you right.’
‘He will,’ Warren announced, returning to the kitchen. ‘Gio and I have just had a very interesting chat.’
Fran squirmed. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘And I think we all need to disappear for a minute,’ Warren added.
Gio shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. This is the exactly the right time and the right place—in the heart of your house and the heart of your family.’ He took a small box out of his pocket and dropped to one knee in front of her. ‘Francesca Marsden. I have your father’s permission to ask you a very important question.’ He opened the box to reveal a platinum ring set with a heart-shaped diamond. ‘Will you marry me?’
A heart-shaped diamond—a ring she hadn’t even known he’d bought—given in the heart of their house and the heart of her family. Fran could hardly see because her vision was blurred with tears. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I will.’
‘I think,’ Warren said, ‘this means champagne. So we can welcome Gio to the family properly.’ It seemed to take only seconds for a bottle of champagne and seven glasses to appear. And as the cork popped, Gio held her very tightly. ‘It’s just the beginning,’ he said softly, ‘of the rest of our lives. And a very extended family.’
One that wasn’t as tactile as the Mazettis and maybe didn’t say it as often, Fran thought—but one that felt the same way.