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It was Daisy’s turn to stay silent. He thought she was worrying about David’s debt, and it had sounded almost as if he cared. As if he actually wanted to help.
The blood was humming in her ears and her heart was suddenly beating too fast and too loud. She glanced across at him, her eyes scanning his face. But had he meant it? Or was he just being in character? Saying what a doting boyfriend would say to the woman he loved?
She looked up at him with a smile that betrayed none of her confusion. ‘Okay. I promise.’
‘Good. I’ve ordered a Chianti with our food. Is that okay?’
She blinked, caught off guard by the change of subject and by the sudden realisation that they were talking normally—almost like they were a real couple.
‘Of course.’
‘They do an excellent Montespertoli here.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. I don’t really know much about wine. David buys it and I just drink it.’
He grinned. ‘I have much the same arrangement with my sommelier.’
‘You have your own sommelier?’
‘Of course,’ he said, feigning astonishment. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’
She laughed. ‘Of course! In fact, I need to check in with mine—make sure he approves of your choice.’
His eyes were glittering. ‘Trust me, I’ve made the right choice.’
She felt her breath explode inside her chest. Obviously he was talking about the wine or the food or maybe both. But her head was spinning, her heart speeding like a getaway car, and she knew that more than anything she wanted him to be talking about her.
When finally she felt that she could trust her voice, she tilted her head and said, ‘So, how do you know it’s the right wine?’
‘Wine? Is that what we’re talking about?’
His eyes rested on her face and she felt her colour rise. But, holding his gaze, she nodded.
‘Come on. I really want to know. I promise not to tell my sommelier if you don’t tell yours.’
Laughing softly, he leaned forward over the table, so that suddenly she was conscious of the solidity of his shoulders and the symmetry of his face.
‘Okay... Well, if, say, the food has lots of flavour it would need to be partnered with something rich and smooth and sexy—’
She swallowed; her mouth felt suddenly dry, her throat like sandpaper. He might have been talking about himself. She felt an ache, sharp and intense like hunger. Only she knew it wasn’t the sort of hunger that could be satisfied by food.
‘Basically, you just need to trust your instincts.’ Pausing, he glanced over her shoulder. ‘Ah, excellent. I’m starving.’
Watching the waiters put their plates on the table, Daisy felt her appetite return.
As Rollo had promised, the meal was delicious. Tiny baby clams stuffed with breadcrumbs to start, followed by ravioli with pear and ricotta. The main course was osso buco—veal shanks in white wine and lemon.
Pressing her napkin against her lips, Daisy laid her knife and fork down on her empty plate. ‘That was perfect.’
‘I’m glad you liked it.’
His eyes across the table gave nothing away and, taking a deep breath, she said carefully, ‘I can see why you bring all your dates here.’
He didn’t answer. Around them, the air seemed to grow thicker, and she felt a nervous shudder run down her spine.
‘I don’t bring all my dates here,’ he said quietly. ‘In fact, you’re the first date I’ve ever brought here.’
Daisy felt her heart punch against her chest.
