The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi (3 page)

He smiled. ‘No. If you’re thinking of the film, that’s referring to three different people throwing a coin in.’

‘I thought I read somewhere …’ She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Never mind.’

He knew exactly what she meant—he’d read it, too. Throw in one coin to return to Rome, two for a new romance, and three for a marriage. Was that what she was looking for? he wondered. Marriage or romance?

Though it was none of his business. And he definitely wasn’t looking for either marriage or romance. No way was he repeating his parents’ mistakes. He kept his relationships short and sweet, ending them before they stopped being fun.

‘The fountain was built at the end of Agrippa’s Acqua Vergine. It’s meant to have the sweetest water in Rome—though I wouldn’t try drinking it,’ he added hastily, ‘and people are definitely discouraged from trying to paddle in it.’

‘
La Dolce Vita
, right?’ She smiled. ‘My best friend’s an English teacher and a film buff. She told me about it.’

He could just imagine Ella standing under the fountain the way Anita Ekberg had, letting the water pour down on her. Making her T-shirt cling to her body like a second skin. And then he’d have the pleasure of peeling it off later …

Right now, he thought wryly, he could do with some cold water himself. Ella Chandler was making him seriously heated.

Officially, this was the end of what she’d asked to see. He knew he ought to ask her if she wanted him to escort her back to the hotel or put her in a taxi; but he found himself reluctant to let her go. Weirder still, he found himself actually giving into the impulse to keep her with him a little longer. What the hell had happened to his self-control?

‘Time for a rest,’ he said, and found them a quiet table
at one of the little
caffès
in the nearby streets. When she’d chosen what she wanted from the menu, he ordered her a glass of
spremuta
, freshly squeezed ruby orange juice, and an espresso for himself. He gulped it down in one mouthful, then gave a rueful smile as he caught her raised eyebrows. ‘Sorry. It’s one of my bad habits.’

There was a tiny glitter of teasing in her eyes when she said, ‘Dare I ask what the others are?’

‘No.’ But the coffee hadn’t restored his common sense. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. ‘Do you have plans for tonight?’

‘Why?’ She sounded wary.

‘I wondered if you might have dinner with me. If you weren’t doing anything else?’

She blinked. ‘Dinner?’

‘Something simple. Traditionally Roman.’ Or maybe he could cook for her. He knew the perfect place to set a table. Even the swishest restaurant in Rome didn’t have a view as good as where he had in mind.

Dinner.

A date
.

Part of Ella was surprised and pleased that such a gorgeous man was asking her out; yet part of her wanted to run as far away as she could. She might be over Michael now, but it didn’t mean she wanted to repeat the experience. To get involved with someone, even briefly. To make herself vulnerable.

And yet this was Rome. The Eternal City. How lovely it would be to share her first proper evening in Rome with someone. And Rico was only asking her out to dinner, after all. It wasn’t as if there were any future in this.

Would it really be so wrong to say yes, or to enjoy the
attention? A bit of harmless flirtation might give her back some of her confidence in herself after Michael’s betrayal.

Though thinking about Michael meant that she needed to ask Rico something. It was going to be embarrassing, but no way was she going to do to someone else what Michael’s lover had done to her. ‘I’m assuming you don’t have a wife or a girlfriend?’

‘No. I’m single.’

‘Me, too.’ Just so it was clear. And she intended to stay that way. She wasn’t giving anyone else the chance to let her down, the way all the men in her life so far had let her down. Her father, her fiancé …

She was tempted to make an excuse, however flimsy. Tell him she was tired. That way, she wouldn’t risk getting closer to him.

Yet there was something about Rico that drew her. She enjoyed his company. And these three nights in Rome were meant to be fun. Given that neither of them had any ties, then maybe she should take the risk. Say yes.

‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘It’d be nice to have dinner with you.’

‘Are you vegetarian, or is there anything you don’t like to eat?’

‘No. And I don’t have any food allergies, either.’

‘Good. Then I’ll meet you at the hotel,’ he said. ‘I’ll call for you at eight.’

B
ACK
at the hotel, Rico saw Ella into Reception, and then went through the back into his office. His PA was tidying her desk, clearly just about to leave for the evening. ‘Lina, I know it’s late and I’ve given you absolutely no notice, but can you clear my diary for the next three days?’ he asked.

‘Of course. Is something wrong? Your grandfather’s ill?’ she asked, looking concerned.

‘No, he’s fine.’

‘Your father?’

No, and Rico certainly wouldn’t drop everything to rush to his father’s bedside. He was well aware that Lina knew it, too; she’d worked for the Rossi chain for longer than he had, long enough to know exactly why Rico had no time for his parents and never would. ‘I’m just taking some time off.’

She blinked. ‘Are
you
ill?’

‘Very funny.’ He glowered at her briefly. ‘I’m not that driven.’

‘Actually, you are, Rico.’ She patted his arm to soften her words. ‘Look, nobody’s going to be around at this time of the afternoon, so there’s no point in making any calls now. I’ll deal with it first thing tomorrow and move all your meetings.’

‘Thank you. I’ll have my mobile with me if you need to get in touch. Text or voicemail, that is,’ he added.

‘I’m not going to call you. It’ll do you good to have a break.’ She paused. ‘So are you going anywhere special?’

‘Maybe.’

She gave him a wry smile. ‘I should know better than to ask
you
a personal question.’

He grimaced. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.’

‘But everything personal is off limits. I know.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Tell me again why I put up with you?’

‘Must be my charm,’ he teased back. Then he grew serious again. ‘Thank you, Lina. I do appreciate you.’

‘I know you do,
tesoro
. It’s why I put up with all your impossible demands.’ But she was smiling. ‘Go and have some fun.’

‘I will.’ His step already felt lighter. Which was crazy. There wasn’t any future in this; Ella Chandler was a tourist, only here for a couple of days. But maybe, just maybe, Lina was right. Having a little fun in his life would do him good.

Rico left his office and headed for the butcher’s. It had been a long time since he’d last gone shopping, and it felt odd to be so domesticated. He came home via the greengrocer’s, the baker’s and the deli; then rolled up his sleeves and began preparing dinner, humming to himself as he worked.

What did you wear for dinner in Rome? Ella wondered. She’d expected to find a little
trattoria
somewhere and just watch the crowds as she ate, or maybe study the more detailed guidebook to Rome she’d brought with her. She’d packed a pretty, floaty summer dress at the last minute; hopefully that would be smart enough, especially if she put her hair up. She knew it wouldn’t be smart enough if Rico
took her somewhere seriously posh; then again, he knew the city better than most, so he was more likely to take her to a small, out-of-the-way place with amazing food and where it didn’t really matter what you wore.

At precisely eight o’clock, there was a knock on her door.

She opened it, and he smiled at her. ‘Ella,
bellezza
. You look lovely.’

He was wearing a different white shirt, this time teamed with faded jeans; he looked utterly gorgeous and her heart skipped a beat.

Reminding herself that this was just dinner, she asked brightly, ‘So where are we going?’

‘I thought I’d cook for you.’

She blinked. ‘You cook?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s not that difficult.’

True. Though Michael had never cooked. He’d always left it to her. And she’d been fool enough to let him get away with it.

‘You have a very expressive face,’ Rico said. ‘It looks to me as if you’ve been dating the wrong kind of man.’

He could say that again. ‘Perhaps,’ she said. This definitely wasn’t the time or the place to moan about her ex. ‘But I’m over him.’ And she was following the old saying to the letter: the best revenge was living well. Thanks to her lottery win, she was going to follow every single dream she’d ever had. Ones that Michael most definitely wouldn’t have shared.

Rico took her to the end of a corridor, then tapped numbers into a small, discreet keypad to open the door. She followed him up the stairs and they ended up in the most enchanting roof garden she’d ever seen. There were tiny fairy lights twined through the greenery, and one corner was draped in wisteria.

‘Oh, this is beautiful,’ she said in delight.

He looked pleased. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

There was a table laid for two in the centre of the garden, with a candle on the table and wine chilling in an ice bucket. And she had the clearest view of the Colosseum, with the three lowest tiers lit from the inside and the moon rising above it. ‘This is just amazing. Is this your place?’

Yes. But, if he told her that, then she’d know he’d been economical with the truth about being a tour guide. And he liked the fact that she was responding to him as a man, not as the head of the hotel chain; he still wasn’t quite ready to give that up. ‘It’s borrowed,’ he said. Which was an equivocation: he was borrowing it from himself.

She looked slightly worried. ‘Are you sure the owner doesn’t mind?’

‘The owner definitely doesn’t mind,’ he reassured her. ‘Please, take a seat. May I pour you some wine?’

‘Thank you.’

He held her chair out for her, then poured them both a glass of wine. ‘I’ll just go and get our antipasti.’

He brought out a platter of
bruschetta
to share.

‘Wow, this is fabulous,’ she said after the first taste.

‘Thank you.’ He inclined his head, playing it cool, but inside he was pleased. Particularly as she ate without fussing about carbs or calories; the last three women he’d dated had toyed with their food, and it had irritated him hugely. He loathed pretence.

And the fact that right now he was pretending to be something he wasn’t … He pushed that aside. It was only a tiny white lie. And it meant he could be himself with her, instead of the man everyone expected him to be.

She complimented him on the pasta Alfredo he served
for the next course, and on the spring lamb served with rosemary potatoes and garlicky spinach.

‘It’s very simple Roman food,’ he said with a smile.

‘And you’ve taken the time to make it. To spoil me. I appreciate that,’ she said.

‘I have a confession to make,’ he said when he brought dessert through. ‘Puddings aren’t my strong point. I bought the panna cotta from the local deli.’

‘But you’ve taken the time to present it nicely,’ she pointed out.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not a hotel inspector in disguise, are you?’

She laughed. ‘No. I’m just a boring accountant.’

‘You’re not boring at all,’ he corrected. ‘I’m enjoying your company.’ He smiled back at her. ‘And I know you weren’t fishing for a compliment, before you say it.’

‘I’m enjoying your company, too,’ she said shyly.

‘Good. Come and look out over Rome. This place has great views.’ He took her hand, drew her to her feet, walked with her to the edge of the terrace.

She leaned both hands on the balustrade to look out over the city; the churches and buildings were all lit up so brightly that every detail was visible. Rico couldn’t resist standing behind her and resting his arms on the balustrade on either side of hers, while he pointed out what all the buildings were.

This close, he could smell her perfume; it reminded him of spring violets. And, with her hair up, her nape was bare and way, way too tempting. The spaghetti straps of her dress were no barrier to his lips at all …

With an uncontrollable impulse, he dipped his head so he could kiss the curve of her neck; she shivered and leaned back against him. Her skin was so soft against his mouth, so sweet—and it wasn’t enough. He spun her round
to face him and brushed his mouth against hers. He could feel her lips parting, inviting him to deepen the kiss; he loved the way she responded to him, her shyness melting beneath his mouth.

He could feel her breasts pressing against him and he slid one hand between their bodies so he could caress her. Through the thin material of her dress and the lace of her bra, her nipple was hardening; he rubbed his thumb against it, and she gave a little gasp of pleasure.

Good. So it was the same for her. This crazy, unexpected surge of desire.

And right now he really needed to see her. To touch her. Skin to skin.

His hand went to the top of the zip at the back of her dress. ‘Ella. May I?’ he whispered, drawing her back away from the edge so that the greenery gave them privacy again.

She nodded, and he slid the zip down to her waist. He hooked a finger into one spaghetti strap and slid it down, then the other, coaxing the material down to her waist. Her bra was strapless, lacy and very, very pretty; but it was in the way. He needed to see her right now. He unsnapped her bra, let it drop to the floor, then cupped her breasts in both hands. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said softly.
‘Bellezza.’

She blushed. ‘I, um …’

Yeah. He knew. This wasn’t the time for words. He kissed her again, hot and urgent; when she tipped her head back, he kissed his way down her throat, then took one nipple into his mouth and sucked. Her hands slid into his hair, urging him on.

Rico’s senses were spinning. He was so aware of the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her perfume. When he finally straightened up and looked at her again, desire lanced through him. She looked gorgeously dishevelled,
naked to the waist and with wisps of hair escaping from their confines. He wanted to take her hair down properly, see it spread across his pillows.