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‘Never too young for a bucket list,’ she quipped back.
‘Perhaps you’re right.’
He took her elbow and directed her over to a waiting taxi.
‘What would be on your bucket list?’ she asked him on the way. ‘If you ever made one, that is.’
‘There isn’t anything I want to do that I haven’t tried.’
Except marriage and children, came the unexpected and unwanted thought. But then Leonardo didn’t want marriage and children, did he?
Never forget that, Veronica. The man is a playboy. Which translates as a man who’s stayed as a boy and who plays at life. Not a man to start having serious thoughts about. Or to care about.
‘You should get your phone out and take some photos on the way to the restaurant,’ he advised her. ‘And again, once we’re inside. This particular trattoria is a rather special place.’
It was. Very special. And very beautiful.
The formal dining room inside was extremely glamorous, worthy of a palace. Veronica snapped several shots of the plush surrounds and elegantly set tables. But they didn’t eat there, Leonardo ushering her through to what could only be described as a garden room. It reminded Veronica of eating under the pergola last night. But this was on a much grander scale, with glass and iron-work tables instead of wood, and the plushest of cushions on the chairs. Above, across an intricate framework hung a canopy, not of grape vines, but an assortment of climbing vines which boasted scented flowers of all colours. The sky could be glimpsed through the odd break in the foliage, suggesting that this room would be unavailable if it was raining.
But it wasn’t raining. The day was glorious, as was the setting, the service and the company.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Leonardo asked as he perused the drinks menu. ‘I won’t be having any alcohol myself. I never drink when I’m flying. I’ll just be having mineral water.’
‘Then I will too,’ she said, not wanting to be tempted to get herself tipsy to soothe her nerves. If she was going to have a fling with Leonardo—which undoubtedly she was—then she preferred to do it with a clear head.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘You don’t even want one glass of wine?’
‘No, your company is intoxicating enough,’ she quipped flirtatiously.
Surprise flashed into his eyes for a split second, followed by a wry smile.
‘You don’t have to flatter me, Veron
ica,’ he said. ‘I’m a sure thing.’
She couldn’t help it. She laughed.
‘I’m so glad to hear that, Leonardo,’ Veronica said, deciding this was the way to play it—light-heartedly and a bit naughtily. ‘Last night was over far too quickly.’
‘I fully agree. It was little more than an entree. But, speaking of food, here comes the waiter. Would you like me to order for you?’
‘Si,’ she said, and he grinned at her.
Veronica had no idea what he ordered but felt confident it would all be delicious.
The mineral water arrived quickly, as did a small plate of herbed bread.
‘Would you mind if I asked you something personal?’ she said once the waiter departed.
‘That depends,’ came his careful answer. ‘I told you before, I don’t discuss past relationships.’
Her smile was amused. ‘You don’t have any past relationships to discuss, from what I’ve read. No, I’m curious about why you want to buy the villa so much. Is it just the view, or somewhere private to escape to when you visit your parents?’
‘I suppose it’s a bit of both. But it also holds good memories for me. The weeks I stayed with Laurence after I broke my ankle were some of the happiest in my life. I learned to control my usual restless self and found pleasure in activities other than the physical. Of course, I have your father to thank for that. He was a man of the mind more than the body. And a very good teacher.’
Veronica found it hard not to feel jealous. How she would love to have spent weeks at the villa with her father; to be taught chess by him, and listen to his favourite music sitting by his side on the terrace. She might have even learned to appreciate wine.
Still, it was good to hear nice things about him, even if it was second-hand information.
