Vettori's Damsel in Distress (Harlequin Romance Large Print) (8 page)

‘He wants to know if you have any plans for tonight and, if not, can he buy you a drink. So good for business...’ she murmured.

‘Definitely washing my hair.’

Lisa gave him the bad news and he smiled ruefully, shrugged and drank his coffee.

‘What did you say?’

‘That you’re working tonight. Why?’ she asked, thoughtfully. ‘Have you changed your mind? He is rather cute.’

‘Very cute.’

‘Well, he knows where you’ll be tonight. Maybe he’ll come back.’

‘Does that mean I’ve passed the interview?’

‘When can you start?’

‘It had better be this evening, don’t you think? I wouldn’t want Marco to think I was lying.’

‘Heaven forbid. Come on, I’ll run you through the routine and then you’d better go and put your feet up. It tends to get busy on a Saturday night.’

Half an hour later, Geli said, ‘Can I make a hot chocolate to go? I’ll pay for it.’

‘There’s no need. Staff get fed and watered.’

‘It’s not for me. One of the stallholders I met this morning is a friend of Dante’s—’

‘They’re all his friends when they want something,’ she said, pulling a face.

‘Are they? Oh, well, anyway, she gave me some beads so I thought I’d take her a hot drink.’

‘That’s thoughtful, but it’s on the house,’ she said as Geli made the chocolate and poured it into a carry out cup with a lid. ‘You don’t know how grateful I am that you’re staying, Geli. I really didn’t want to leave Dante on his own.’

‘Hardly on his own. He seems to know everyone.’

‘Everyone knows him. They come to him for help because he’ll stand up for them, fight their corner against bureaucracy and lead their campaigns to save this place from the developers. They don’t care what it costs him. You’re different.’

Geli shrugged, not wanting to get into exactly how different it was. The situation was already awkward enough.

‘I mean it,’ Lisa said. ‘You’re the first woman he’s shown the slightest interest in for over a year and it hasn’t been for lack of attention from women wanting to comfort him. He was engaged—’

‘He told me what happened,’ she said, cutting Lisa off mid gossip.

‘You see? He never talks about that. I don’t suppose he told you that they were both punishing him for not doing what they wanted?’

‘Punishing him?’ Geli shook her head. ‘I... I imagined an affair.’

‘Nothing so warm-blooded.’ Lisa rubbed a cloth over the chrome. ‘It hit him very hard.’

So hard that he couldn’t envisage another relationship. That was why he’d told her. Not to forestall gossip, but so that she’d understand his reluctance to follow through on the obvious attraction. The classic ‘It’s not you, it’s me...’ defence.

‘I’m just saying...’ Lisa concentrated on polishing an invisible smudge. ‘I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.’

Really? A bit late to be worrying about that, Lisa...

Geli shook her head. ‘I’m not interested in commitment. My sisters have all that happy-ever-after stuff, baby thing well covered. I’m my mother’s child.’

She frowned. ‘Your mother?’

‘She didn’t believe in long-term relationships. My sisters and I all have different fathers. At least we assume we do, since we all look quite different.’

‘You don’t know your father?’

‘She used sperm donors.’ It was her standard response to anyone interested enough to ask. Spilling out the truth to Dante had been a rare exposure. But then everything about Dante was rare. ‘So much less bother, don’t you think?’

‘Um...’ She’d rendered Lisa speechless? That had to be a first... ‘Okay. Well, I suggest you come down at seven, while it’s still quiet, and you can shadow Matteo. He’ll look after you until you get the hang of things. Hold on...’ She reached behind her. ‘Take the menu to familiarise yourself with it.’ She wrote something on the bottom. ‘And that should deal with anyone pestering you for a date, although a shrug and
non capisco
will get you out of most situations.’

‘Like this?’ She shrugged and, putting on a breathy Italian accent, said,
‘Non capisco.’

Lisa grinned. ‘Say it like that and I refuse to be responsible!’

* * *

Saturday night at Café Rosa was non-stop service of food and drink to the accompaniment of the jazz quartet from the night before. Everyone was very patient with her and Matteo caught any potential disasters before they happened. She had a couple more offers of a drink and dinner, which she managed to dodge without incident, although once Lisa was away there was no need to pretend that she and Dante might become an item—

‘Geli...’ She turned to find Lisa holding a tray loaded with coffee, water and a
panino
.

‘You can take your break now. Will you give this to Dan on your way upstairs? And remind him that it’s Saturday night. All work and no play...’ She looked around. ‘We seem to be between rushes at the moment. Take your time.’

* * *

Dante heard Angelica coming—it was disconcerting how quickly he’d come to recognise her quick, light step—but he didn’t look up as she opened the door. If she saw he was busy she might not stop. His head might be telling him not to get involved, but his body wasn’t listening and he needed to keep his distance.

‘Lisa sent you some supper,’ she said, placing it on the table behind his desk.

Of course she had. Any excuse that would throw them together...

He grunted an acknowledgement and continued to pound away at the keyboard.

‘It’s not good for you, you know.’

‘What isn’t?’

‘Eating while you work.’ Angelica backed up and propped herself on the edge of his desk. ‘You’ll get indigestion, heartburn and stomach ulcers.’

Nothing compared with what her bottom, inches from his hand, was doing to him. ‘Haven’t you got a café full of customers?’

‘I’m on my break.’ He continued typing, although it was unlikely he was making any sense. ‘Lisa expects me to sit on your knee and ruffle your hair while I tell you about all the men who’ve hit on me this evening.’

‘Did she say that?’

‘Not in so many words, but she told me to remind you that all work and no play makes Dante very dull. And she told me to take my time. Of course, it could be that I’m so useless she’s desperate to get me out of the way for half an hour.’

‘Are you useless?’

‘Not totally.’

No. He’d heard all about her virtuoso performance on the Gaggia from a very smug Lisa.

He stopped pretending to work and looked up. She’d swathed herself in one of the Café Rosa’s long black aprons and her hair was tied back with a velvet ribbon. She looked cool and efficient but that full crimson mouth would turn heads at fifty paces.

‘How many men?’ he asked.

‘Let’s see. There was Roberto.’ She held up her hand, fingers spread wide and ticked him off on a finger. ‘Dark hair, blue eyes, leather biker jacket.
“Andiamo in un posto più tranquillo...”
’ she said in a low, sexy voice.

‘I’d advise against going anywhere with him, noisy or quiet.’

‘He’s bad?’

‘His wife is away, looking after her sick mother.’

‘What a jerk,’ she said, using a very Italian gesture to dismiss him. ‘What about Leo? He wanted to “friend” me on Facebook. Was that a euphemism for something else, do you think?’

‘That you’re thinking it suggests you already know.’

‘Men! All they want is sex. Doesn’t anyone ask a girl out on a proper date any more?’

‘A proper date?’ he asked.

‘The kind where a man picks a girl up from her home, takes her to the movies, buys her popcorn and they hold hands in the dark—’

‘Was that it?’ He cut her off, trying not to think about Angelica in the dark with some man who might be holding her hand in the cinema but would have his mind on where else he was going to hold her when he got her home.

‘What? Oh, no. Gennaro was very sweet, but I’m not looking for a father figure, and Nic, the guy who plays the saxophone, said
“Ti amo...”
in the most affecting way, but I think that was because I’d just taken him a beer.’

‘That’ll do it every time for Nic; even so, that’s quite a fan club you’ve got there. Are any of them going to get lucky?’

‘With Lisa keeping a close eye on me? She’s doing a great job of protecting your interests.’

‘She doesn’t trust my personal charm to hold you in thrall?’

‘I’m down there and you’re up here working.’ She lifted her shoulders, sketching a shrug. ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’ She blew away a wisp of hair that had escaped its tie. ‘Did I mention Marco? He came in this afternoon when Lisa was showing me the ropes. I made him an espresso. He’s downstairs now...’ She stopped. ‘You don’t want to hear this when you’re so obviously busy. I hadn’t realised running a bar involved so much bureaucracy.’

‘There’s enough to keep me fully occupied, but I’m working on a development plan for Isola. One that doesn’t involve pulling down historic streets,’ he added.

‘Oh, I see. Well, that’s seriously important work and I’m disturbing you.’

Without a doubt...

‘Don’t forget your supper,’ she said, rubbing the tip of her thumb across her lower lip. ‘Is my lipstick convincingly smudged, do you think?’ As she leaned forward so that he could give her his opinion, the top of her apron gaped to offer a glimpse of black lace beneath the scoop top of the black T-shirt she was wearing. It was clinging to soft white breasts and if that was the view that customers were getting as she served them it was hardly any wonder that she was getting hit on. ‘Maybe I should muss up my hair a bit?’

‘You want Lisa to think that we’ve been making out over my desk?’

‘I’m doing my best to convince her that we’re struggling to keep our hands off each other. Without a lot of help, I might add—’

As she reached up to tease out a strand, he caught her wrist.

‘You want your hair mussed?’ he asked, his voice sounding strange, as if he’d never heard it before.

She said nothing, but the tip of her tongue appeared briefly against softly parted lips, her pupils widened, black as her hair, swallowing up the silver-grey of her eyes and the catch in her breath was answered by his body’s clamour to touch her, take her.

For a moment neither of them moved then he released her wrist, reached for the ribbon holding her hair and, as he tugged it loose, the silken mass fell forward, brushing against his face, enveloping him in the intimacy of its scent as she slid into his lap.

His fingers slipped through it as he cradled her head, angling his mouth to tease her lips open and, as he brushed against the sensitive nerve endings at her nape, a tiny moan—more vibration than sound—escaped her lips, her body softened against him and his tongue was swathed in hot sweet satin.

With one hand tangled in her hair, the other sought out the gap between her T-shirt and the black ankle-length skirt that hid her fabulous legs, sliding over satin skin to cradle her lace-covered breast, touch her candy-hard nipple.

She wanted this, he wanted it and he was a fool not to taste her, touch her, bury himself deep inside her—over his desk, on the floor, in his bed. It had nothing to do with emotion, feelings; this was raw, physical need.

It was just sex—

The four words slammed through his body like an ice storm. Colder than the snow-covered Dolomites.

‘It was just sex...’

The last words Valentina had said to him.

‘Okay, that should do it,’ he said, lifting her from his lap and setting her on her feet before swinging his chair back to face his laptop. ‘If that’s all, I want this on the Minister’s desk first thing on Monday.’

She didn’t move but he didn’t have to look to know that her hair was loose about her shoulders, her swollen lips open in a shocked O, her expression that of a kicked puppy. The image was imprinted indelibly on his brain.

He didn’t expect or wait for an answer but began pounding on the keyboard as if nothing had happened while she backed out of the room, then turned and ran up the stairs. Kept pounding until he heard the door bang shut on the floor above and his fingers froze above the keyboard.

He stared at the screen, the cursor blinking an invitation to delete the rubbish he’d just written. Instead, he slumped back in the chair, dragging his hands over his face, rubbing hard to eradicate every trace of Angelica Amery. It didn’t work. The scent of her skin, her hair was on his hands, in his lungs and, as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth in an attempt to eradicate the honeyed taste of her lips, it came away bearing traces of crimson lipstick.

It would be two more days before Angelica moved out.

They were going to be two very long days and right now he needed air—fresh, clean, cold air—to blow her out of his head.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘You can’t buy happiness but you can buy ice cream...which is much the same thing.’

—
from
Rosie’s Little Book of Ice Cream

G
ELI
’
S
RACING
PULSE
,
pounding heartbeat said,
Run—run for your life
. Falling in lust with a man who had made it clear not once, not twice but three times that while he might be aroused—and he had certainly been aroused—he was not interested in any kind of relationship was a recipe for disaster.

Sharing an apartment with that man, working with him was never going to work.

She threw open her bedroom window, stuck her head out and filled her lungs with icy air, hoping that it would cool not just her skin but freeze the heat from the inside out.

What was it about Dante Vettori that made her lose her wits? What had started out as a little teasing had ended with his arms around her, his mouth on hers, his hands spread wide over her skin. She shivered and pressed her hand hard against her breast, where his touch had created a shock of pleasure that racketed around her body like a pinball machine, lighting up every sensory receptor she had.

Maybe she should suggest some straightforward recreational sex so they could both get it out of their systems. No strings. Except if he’d been a ‘no strings’ kind of guy he’d have been out there, taking anything on offer in an attempt to obliterate the heartbreak. A man who looked like Dante would not have been short of offers.

If he’d been a ‘no strings’ kind of guy they would have been naked right now.

He needed something more than that. Or maybe something less. Someone who didn’t want anything from him but was just there...

She was good at that. She’d been rescuing broken creatures ever since she’d picked up that injured pheasant. She’d never tried rescuing a broken person before but there was no difference. They were edgy, scared and you had to earn their trust, too. No sudden moves. No demands...

She checked on Rattino, sat on the floor rubbing his tiny domed head, while she sipped iced water, rolled the glass against her mouth to cool her swollen lips and heated libido.

Having stretched the taking her time instruction to the limit, she found a clip and fastened back her hair, straightened her clothes, applied a fresh coat of lipstick. It was time to get back to work...

Dante was standing in the middle of the sitting room. He was wearing his jacket, had a bright red scarf around his neck and in his hands he was holding a battered cardboard box.

For a moment they stared at one another, then he said, ‘I found this on the back doorstep.’

‘On the doorstep?’ What was he doing on the doorstep when he was so busy writing a report...?

‘I needed some fresh air,’ he said.

You and me both, mister,
she thought, taking a step closer so that she could see what was in the box.

‘Oh, kittens.’ Two of them, all eyes, huddled together in the corner. ‘Your notice appears to have worked.’

‘I was under the impression that its purpose was to find the owner of Rattino so that we could return him to the bosom of his family,’ he said, unimpressed. ‘Not have the rest of his family dumped on our doorstep.’

She looked up.
Our doorstep...

‘In an ideal world,’ she said, returning to the kittens, picking each one up in turn and checking it over for any sign of injury before replacing it in the box. ‘They’re thin but otherwise seem in good shape.’

‘I imagine their mother is a stray who didn’t come back from a hunting trip.’

‘It seems likely. And would explain why Rattino went looking for food. He is the biggest. So what do you think?’

‘What do I think?’

‘Shall we call the black one Mole and the one with stripes Badger? We already have Ratty?’ she prompted. ‘
Wind in the Willows
? It’s a classic English children’s book,’ she explained when he made no response. ‘Or would you prefer Italian names?’

‘I think...’ He took a breath. ‘I think I’ll go and take down those notices before anyone else decides to leave a box of unwanted kittens on the doorstep.’

‘Right. Good plan. I’ll, um, feed these two,’ she said as he headed for the door. ‘Introduce them to the amenities. Will you keep an eye out for their mother, while you’re out? She wouldn’t have abandoned them.’

‘If she’s been hit by a car—’

‘You’re right. She may be lying hurt somewhere,’ she said. ‘Hang on while I see to these two and I’ll come with you. I know the kind of places she’ll crawl into.’

Geli had no doubt that Dante would rather be on his own but, rather than waste his breath, he said, ‘I’ll go and tell Lisa that she’s going to have to manage without you.’

‘You’ll make her evening.’

‘No doubt.’ His tone left her under no illusion that she wasn’t making his. ‘Wrap up well. It’s freezing out there.’

Twenty minutes later, having fed the kittens, reunited them with their brother and changed her flat working shoes for a pair of sturdy boots, she was walking with Dante along the street where she’d found Rattino.

‘Urban cats have a fairly limited range,’ she explained, stopping every few yards to check doorways and explore the narrow street that had given her a fright the night she’d arrived. ‘They avoid fights by staying out of each other’s way whenever possible. Will you hold this?’

‘Where is your glove?’ he demanded when she handed him her flashlight and began to turn over boxes with her bare hand.

‘In my pocket. I held the kittens so she’d smell them on me but she’s not here—’

She broke off as he took her icy hand and tucked it into his own roomy fleece-lined glove so that their hands were palm to palm. ‘Now we’ll both smell of her kittens.’

She looked up at him. ‘Good thinking.’

‘I’m glad you approve,’ he said and the shadows from the street lights emphasised the creases as, unexpectedly, he smiled.

Oh, boy...
She turned away to grab one of the notices from a nearby lamp post and saw the wooden barriers surrounding the construction site where Via Pepone used to be.

‘There,’ she said. ‘If she’s survived, she’ll be in there.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘As certain as I can be. Disturbed ground, displaced rodents, workmen dropping food scraps, lots of places to hide. Perfect for a mother with three hungry kittens. Maybe someone working on the site knew they were there and when he saw the notice brought them to us.’

‘That makes sense.’ He walked across to the site entrance and tried the gate. It did not budge.

‘Is there a night watchman?’ she asked.

‘It’s the twenty-first century.’ He looked up at the cameras mounted on high posts. ‘It’s all high-tech security systems and CCTV monitored from a warm office these days.’

‘Okaaay.’ She reluctantly removed her hand from his glove and fished in her pocket for her own. ‘In that case you’ll have to give me a bunk-up so that I can climb over.’

‘Alarms?’ he reminded her. ‘CCTV.’

‘Which will deal with the problem of how I’d climb back out again with an injured cat. And the local
polizia
are so helpful. I’m sure they’ll drive me to the vet before they arrest me.’

‘Drive you to the vet, send out for hot chocolate to keep you warm and raise a collection to pay the vet’s bill, I have no doubt. But you’ve had your quota of excitement for this week.’

‘Well, that’s a mean thing to say.’ Their breath mingled in the freezing air and she pulled on her glove before she did something really exciting, like grabbing his collar and pulling him down to warm their freezing lips. ‘Okay, your turn. What do you suggest?’

‘I suppose I could climb over the fence and get arrested.’

‘Your life is that short of excitement?’

‘Not since you and that wretched kitten arrived.’

‘You can thank me later. Any other ideas?’ She waited. ‘I sensed an
or
in there somewhere.’

He shrugged, looked somewhere above her head. ‘Or I could make a phone call and get the security people to let us in.’

‘Maybe sooner rather than later,’ she suggested, stamping her feet.

He looked down at her for a long moment, then took out his cellphone, thumbed a number on his fast dial list and walked away down the street as he spoke to whoever answered. The conversation was brief and he wasn’t smiling as he rejoined her.

‘Someone will be here in a few minutes.’

‘Well, that’s impressive.’

‘You think so?’

He looked up at the floodlit boarding high above the fence with an artist’s impression of the office block that would replace Via Pepone. It bore the name of the construction company in huge letters. Beneath, smaller, was the name of the developer.

Vettori SpA.

Oh...
‘That’s not a coincidence, is it?’ she said.

‘My great-grandfather started the business after the war, repairing bomb-damaged buildings, working every hour God gave to save enough money to buy some land and build a small block of flats. My grandfather took over a thriving construction company and continued to expand the business until a heart attack forced him to retire and he handed it over to my father.’

This was his father’s project? ‘Was that who you called just now? Your father?’

Before he could answer, a security patrol van drew up in a spray of dirty snow. The driver leapt out, exchanged a few words with Dante in rapid Italian and then unlocked the small personal door set in the gates.

‘Take care, Angel,’ Dante said, taking her hand as they stepped through after him.

Angel?
She turned and looked up at him.

‘A construction site is a hazardous place,’ he said.

‘Yes...’ With the ground frozen, no work had been done in the last couple of days and, as the patrolman shone his flashlight slowly across the site, there were few footprints to mar the pristine snow. Then she saw something... ‘There!’ She snatched her hand away to point to where the light picked up a disturbance in the snow. Not paw prints but a wider trail marked by darker patches of blood where an animal had dragged herself across the ground, desperate to get back to her babies. ‘She’s hurt.’

‘Wait...’

She ignored Dante, running across the yard, using her own small flashlight to follow the trail until she reached the place where the cat had wedged herself under pallets piled with building materials.

‘Let me do this.’ Dante knelt beside her, but she’d already stripped off her gloves and was holding out her hands so that the cat could smell her kittens. Crooning and chirruping, she dragged herself towards the scent until Geli could reach her and lift her gently from her hiding place. ‘
Dio...
She’s a mess.’

‘We need to keep her warm. Take my scarf,’ she urged, but Dante pulled off his beautiful red cashmere scarf and wrapped it around the poor creature. ‘We need to get her to a vet,’ she said.

Dante looked at this angel, so passionate, so full of compassion.

He called the vet and then asked the security guard to drive them to his office. ‘He’ll meet us there. Come on; it’ll be a squeeze, but it’s not far,’ he said, holding the door so that she could slide into the passenger seat, then squashing in after her, sitting sideways to give her as much room as possible. ‘I’ll breathe in when you breathe out and we should be okay,’ he said, and she laughed. Such a good sound.

The vet was unlocking the door as they arrived, and Dante translated while Geli assisted him until his nurse arrived and they were no longer needed. Then they retired to the freezing waiting room.

‘This is going to take a while,’ she said, her breath a misty cloud. ‘You should get back to your report.’

‘It will keep.’ He settled in the corner of the battered sofa and opened his jacket in invitation but she hesitated. Despite the last hour, she wasn’t likely to forget the appalling way he’d behaved when she came up to his office. Okay, she’d been flirting a little but he should not have risen to it. Should not have kissed her, touched her and, when she’d responded with an eagerness that had wiped everything but need from his mind, he should not have rejected her.

He was a mess, he knew it, but the room was freezing and she wasn’t going anywhere until she knew whether the cat was going to survive.

‘Come on. You’re shivering,’ he said and, after what felt like for ever, she surrendered to the reality of the situation and sat down primly beside him. ‘Snuggle up. You’re letting out all the warmth,’ he said, looping his arm around her and drawing her close, wrapping his coat around her.

She looked at him. ‘Snuggle?’

‘My mother used to say that. That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded and relaxed into him. ‘My mother used to say that when we piled on the sofa to watch a movie on the television.’

‘What movies did you watch together?’

‘
Beauty and the Beast. Mary Poppins. The Jungle Book. White Fang
... We used an entire box of tissues between us when we watched that one.’

‘Did White Fang die?’ he asked, in an attempt to distract himself from the way her body was pressed against his, the tickle of her hair against his cheek.

‘No, it was the scene where the boy had to send the wolf away for its own safety. He pretended he didn’t love it any more. It was heartbreaking.’

‘I can imagine.’ He looked down at her. Or, rather, the top of her head. ‘Is the cat going to make it, do you think?’

‘It’s hard to say. She seems to have taken a glancing blow from a car. There’s a lot of superficial damage, cuts and scrapes and a broken bone or two.’ She turned her head and looked up at him and, despite his best intentions, it took all his strength not to kiss her again. ‘It depends what internal damage has been done.’

‘Yes, of course.’
Look away. Think about the cat.
‘How on earth did she manage to get under the fence and drag herself back across the site?’

‘Cats are amazing and she’s a mother. Her babies needed her.’

‘They survived without her.’

Her face pressed against the collar of Dante’s shirt, his neck, sharing his warmth, Geli heard a world of hurt in those few words.