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He just hadn’t admitted how much he actually missed it.
His feet were rooted to the spot. But Lucia’s weren’t. She was headed out the door. She was leaving. Who knew how long she would actually stay here. He could get up tomorrow morning and discover her gone.
‘Have dinner with me?’
‘What?’ She stopped. She looked shocked.
‘Have dinner with me,’ he repeated, stepping closer to her. The words had come out of nowhere. He couldn’t take them back. He didn’t want to take them back.
‘We have things we need to discuss.’ He saw a wave of panic flit across her eyes. ‘Business we need to discuss.’
‘Oh, of course.’ She glanced down at her digital camera. ‘My program will take a few hours to run.’ She was stalling. Of course she was. The last thing she’d want to do was have dinner with him.
‘Then you’ll have a few hours to kill,’ he said quickly. This was embarrassing. Logan Cascini wasn’t used to women saying no to him. But Lucia wasn’t just any woman. Lucia was the woman he’d once loved. Sure, it felt awkward. Sure, this wasn’t an ideal situation.
But this was the first time he’d seen her in twelve years. If this fresco turned out to be important, it could have significant repercussions for his business. He had to keep on top of this.
He almost laughed out loud. His mind was giving him all the rational, professional reasons for having dinner with Lucia. But his heart was giving him a whole host of completely irrational, emotional reasons for having dinner with Lucia.
None of them professional. All of them personal.
His mouth kept talking. ‘We can discuss any paperwork that will need to be completed. I’ll need to translate everything for Louisa, and if there’s going to be any extra expenses we’ll need to discuss those too. There’s a nice restaurant in Monte Calanetti. It will give you a chance to see the village.’
She was hesitating, looking for a reason to say no, and he wasn’t prepared to accept that.
He walked around her in long strides. ‘Leave the arrangements to me.’
‘Well, I... I...’ She was still murmuring while he left.
CHAPTER THREE
FOUR DIFFERENT OUTFITS. That’s how many she’d tried on. She hadn’t brought that many clothes as she’d only expected to be here a few days and hadn’t expected to be socialising at all, let alone socialising with the man she used to live with. Two suits, one pair of trousers, one extra skirt and a variety of tops were all that her trusty red case held.
A white shirt, a pale pink shirt and a bright blue one were currently lying on her bed. She was wearing a flared white skirt and red shirt. And against all her better judgement a bright red pair of stilettos.
The shoes gave some height to her diminutive stature. Right now she was praying that the restaurant wasn’t in the middle of the cobbled streets of Monte Calanetti.
Logan was waiting outside for her in an idling car. She’d expected him to drive something black and sleek but instead he was in a four-wheel drive.
He gave her a nod as she opened the door and climbed in. Catching sight of her shoes, a glimmer of a smile appeared on his face. ‘We’re going to the local restaurant—Mancini’s. I hope you like traditional food.’ His eyes were gleaming.
She was nervous. And she couldn’t quite work out why. Logan had changed into a white open-necked shirt and dark fitted trousers. His dark hair still had that rumpled look that she’d always loved. It was like a magnet—all she wanted to do was lift her hand and run her fingers through it.
She shifted her legs nervously in the car, crossing them one way then the other. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. She eyed her shoes warily. ‘Where is the restaurant?’
Logan was completely cool. He didn’t seem at all unsettled at being around her. ‘It’s a converted farmhouse on the edge of the village. The chef’s family have owned the restaurant for years, his wife-to-be is the ma?tre d’—she’s from the US.’ He gave a little smile. ‘It’s an explosive combination.’
With Logan this was all about business. She would clearly have to adopt the same attitude.
He pulled up outside the restaurant, switched off the engine, and before she even had a chance to think he had come around the car and was opening her door and holding out his hand towards her.
She stared at his tanned hand and fingers. Touch him. She’d done it once. Her palm had burned for around an hour afterwards. Did she really want to touch Logan Cascini again?
