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‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you fishing for compliments?’
He shook his head, only half concentrating on her words as he looked at her mouth.
‘You strode in there looking like a dark, enigmatic antihero, who hides his sensitivity under the surly, brooding exterior.’ She laughed at his expression. ‘Of course, I know you don’t have an ounce of sensitivity because you were quite awful to me yesterday.’
‘Yet you are here?’
‘Well, you did rescue me.’
‘From the results of your own stupidity.’
‘Yes, you did touch on the subject of my stupidity yesterday and I agree, in retrospect, that exploring alone that far off the beaten track might not have been the best idea I ever had. But I’m glad I did.’
‘You are?’ He was amused by her defiance.
She nodded. ‘If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have met you.’
‘Perhaps we were fated to meet?’ He half expected her to laugh at the suggestion, but she didn’t.
‘Perhaps.’
‘So you came with me tonight out of gratitude?’ ‘No, not gratitude,’ she denied huskily. ‘I did promise you a dinner, though I never actually thought I’d see you again.’ ‘But you wanted to?’
Her eyes slid from his. ‘I’m here, aren’t I? Are those exactly the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?’
‘This shirt is clean.’ Francesco closed his fingers over her hand and brought it up to his lips. ‘And I’ve showered.’
‘But you smelt quite incredibly good yesterday, too.’
‘Do you always say exactly what you are thinking?’
She looked startled by the question. After a thoughtful pause she shook her head. ‘No, it’s just with you. That’s really strange, don’t you think?’
Not nearly so strange, Francesco thought, as a man who could command a private jet simply by picking up a phone pretending to be the owner of a truck that most people would have been embarrassed to be seen in.
‘This is probably the most irresponsible thing I’ve done in my life,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose you’ve done a lot of irresponsible things?’
‘You sound envious.’
‘A little.’
‘Your friends didn’t look happy when you came with me.’ ‘They weren’t; they think I have lost my mind,’ she admitted frankly. ‘They suspect you prey on silly, impressionable female tourists like me. They think your intentions are dishonourable.’
‘Your friends are right—my intentions are entirely dishonourable.’
She blushed a little, but did not drop her gaze from his. ‘I’m relieved to hear it. They were actually green with jealousy.’
‘Perhaps,’ he suggested, playing devil’s advocate, ‘they had your best interests at heart. You know, I didn’t intend it to be like this.’ His frustrated scowl encompassed the borrowed beat-up truck.
‘I feel quite insulted. I thought running out of petrol was some elaborate plan to seduce me,’ she pouted. Behind the teasing words and smile her eyes still held that dazed, bruised quality.
‘I did have a plan to seduce you, but it wasn’t this.’
‘Was your plan nice?’
‘It depends how you feel about candlelight and silk sheets.’ And a meal served by an internationally renowned chef who had been flown in from Paris for the occasion on his private jet.
