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‘Which means it’s very pricey.’ Rose drank a little more. ‘I can see why.’ She raised embarrassed eyes to his. ‘I’m putting you to so much expense, Dante. Please let—’
‘No!’ he said flatly. ‘To see you enjoy your dinner is reward enough.’
‘I’m enjoying everything.’ She looked round the packed, noisy dining room with pleasure. ‘I love it here.’ Her eyes sparkled as plates were set in front of them. ‘Grazie,’ she said to the waiter.
Dante laughed indulgently as she sniffed in rapture. ‘Enjoy, carina.’
‘I will! It’s a long time since that gelato.’
‘So tell me about this house you live in,’ Dante said later, after Rose had refused a dolce in favour of coffee.
‘It’s my own family home. Mum signed it over to me when she moved in with Tom. He wants them to get married,’ she added, ‘but Mum is happy the way things are, afraid that formalising the arrangement might change it. She believes in the saying “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it”.’
Dante’s eyes darkened. ‘She is wise.’
Rose looked at him questioningly. ‘Were you heartbroken when your wife left you?’
He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Dio, no! My brother, as always, was right. I had a fortunate escape—forgive me, Rose. You cannot want to hear this.’
How wrong could a man be? ‘Is Elsa still with the new man she left you for?’
‘Yes, though new is not the right word.’ Dante’s expressive mouth turned down. ‘Enrico Calvi is old enough to be her father, but so wealthy Elsa is now enjoying a life of idle luxury.’
‘She wanted to do that?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘Younger faces—and bodies—were winning the top jobs. She was glad to abandon her career while still known as a supermodel. Allora, I no longer see her face on magazine covers everywhere to remind me of my folly.’
‘Is she very beautiful still?’
He nodded carelessly. ‘I have not seen her since she left, but Elsa was obsessed with her looks and I doubt she has changed much. Calvi has children from a former marriage and does not demand the babies that would ruin his trophy wife’s perfect body. I, fool that I was, wanted children very much.’
Rose drank some water, suddenly sorry she’d eaten so much as her stomach lurched at Dante’s heartfelt admission.
His mouth tightened. ‘She waited until our wedding night to tell me she had no intention of having babies. Ever. But no more talk of Elsa.’ Dante looked at Rose in silence for a while, his blue eyes intent. ‘Now I must take you back. I wish you could stay longer, Rose.’
‘Not possible, I’m afraid.’
‘Que peccato! In the morning I will drive you to the airport in Pisa—unless you would prefer the train journey?’ He beckoned to a waiter to bring the bill.
‘No, indeed. But won’t that take up too much of your time?’
‘It is not far out of my way home,’ he assured her, ‘and will give me the pleasure of more time with you before you leave. But this will not be goodbye, Rose. I shall see you when I come to England again next.’
Her heart lurched. If Dante still wanted babies no way was she letting him anywhere near Bea. He took her arm to steer her past an approaching entwined couple as they walked back, the contact raising her pulse rate even higher.
Rose paused when they reached the foot of the hotel steps, her eyes raised to the handsome, intent face. ‘This has been a lovely evening, Dante. Not the kind of thing that features much in my life as a rule.’
‘Yet Charlotte told me you have someone in your life.’
‘He’s a friend from my college days.’
‘But surely you will marry one day, Rose?’
She shrugged. ‘I doubt it.’
Dante held the door open for her. ‘When you see Charlotte so happy with Fabio, do you not wish for a relationship like theirs?’ His eyes darkened as they made for the lift. ‘I have always envied them their marriage.’
‘They’re very lucky.’
Dante halted when they reached her room. ‘Ascolta, it is early yet, Rose. I would so much like to sit with you on your balcony and talk for a while longer like old friends. I can order tea. You would like that?’
She looked at him in silence for a moment. ‘All right, Dante.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘But only because you said the magic word.’
His smile mirrored hers. ‘Friends?’
‘No—tea!’
Dante laughed and rang room service. After a waiter arrived with a tray Dante tipped him and closed the door behind him then pulled up two of the chairs to the metal table on the balcony overlooking the moonlit Arno. Rose poured tea and the coffee Dante had ordered for himself, and sat back in her chair, eyeing him warily.
‘So what shall we talk about?’
‘You, Rose. Tell me why you started your own business.’
‘I applied for accountancy jobs but didn’t get the ones I wanted, so I decided to use my training for something else and eventually hit on bookkeeping.’
‘Ah,’ said Dante, nodding. ‘You went to college again for this?’
‘No. I did an eighteen-month home study course accredited by the Institute of Certified Bookkeepers, and managed to complete it in just over three months.’ Rose drained her cup and refilled it. ‘My mother was a huge help. So was Tom. He found a web designer for me and made sure I informed HM Revenue and Customs, and took out indemnity insurance to cover me while working in clients’ offices. I also got a practising licence...’ She paused, biting her lip. ‘This is probably boring you rigid, Dante.’
He shook his head decisively. ‘I am enthralled. You were so young to achieve all this, Rose. I am impressed.’
‘I had a lot of things going for me,’ she reminded him. ‘With such wonderful support from my mother and Tom, a home of my own with a room I can use for an office—and with my brain still in gear from my finals—I managed to get the new qualification quickly. I now divide my time between working at home and in travelling to small businesses grateful enough for my help and my reasonable charges to pass on my name to new clients.’
‘You make a good living from this?’
‘It was a slow start, but I’ve now done well enough to pay back the money my mother lent me for the original expenses for certification and optional exams and the web design and so on.’ Rose took a look at the clear-cut profile outlined by the light from her room. ‘So now you know all about me, Dante.’
He shook his head. ‘I think not. One day I hope to learn much, much more—but not tonight. I will leave you now to your sleep.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘Buonanotte. I shall see you in the morning. Since we must leave early, you would like breakfast brought to your room?’
Rose nodded. ‘Will you order it for me, please?’
‘Subito. And in the morning I shall ring you when it is time to leave.’ He went to the door and turned to smile at her. ‘Now lock it, per favore.’
* * *
Rose spent a restless night after the conversation with Dante. His talk of babies terrified her. If he found out that Bea was his child what would he do? What would she do, if it came to that? She eventually lapsed into a restless doze but woke early, and after a horrified look in the mirror stood under a hot shower until she felt, and looked, more human. By the time her breakfast arrived her hair was dry and she was dressed for travelling, her bags packed.
Soon afterwards, Dante rang. ‘Buongiorno, Rose.’
‘Good morning. I’m ready. I just have to sort the bill.’
‘I will be with you in one second.’
When Rose opened her door Dante smiled at her denim jeans and casual jacket. ‘You look so young, like a student again.’ He took her suitcase. ‘I will put this in the car, which is waiting outside. Forgive me if I stay there with it until you are ready to leave.’
‘Of course. I’ll join you as quickly as I can.’ Armed with her credit card, Rose approached the suave receptionist to ask for her bill.
‘All was settled in advance; there is nothing to pay.’ He handed her a receipted bill. ‘Signor Fortinari waits outside in the car,’ he added. ‘I trust you enjoyed your stay?’
She smiled. ‘I did. Very much. Goodbye and thank you.’
‘Arrivederci and safe journey, Miss Palmer.’
Rose felt uneasy as she left the hotel, wondering if she should have asked for an itemised version of the bill for Fabio, but forgot her worries when she saw the car waiting at the foot of the steps. It was sleek and scarlet and as handsome as the man who jumped out of the driver’s seat as she approached.
‘Wow, Dante, great car!’
He laughed as he handed her inside. ‘This is my one indulgence—she’s a sports car but also practical. She has four doors, also four-wheel drive, which is of much use to me in some parts of the country. You like her?’
‘What’s not to like? She’s obviously the love of your life.’
‘Davvero—see how she responds to me?’
Rose laughed and sank back in the seat, feeling the power vibrate through her body when Dante switched on the ignition. ‘What more can a man ask?’
He shot her a sidelong glance as he drove away from the hotel. ‘Those things a machine cannot do for a man.’
Annoyed to feel her face flush, Rose made no response as she settled down to enjoy the drive, content just to look at the passing landscape as they left the city. She relaxed as she breathed in the aroma of expensive new car, and whatever Dante had used in the shower. ‘This is a big improvement on the train journey,’ she commented when they were speeding along the autostrada. ‘I tried to look at the scenery I was passing through on the way here in the train, but I couldn’t concentrate.’
‘Why not?’
‘I was tired after all the effort it took to juggle appointments and so on before getting away.’ Plus her worries that Bea might be unhappy without her, and the strain of wondering what was wrong with Charlotte.
‘If your mother is looking after your business while you are away she will be pleased to see you back, Rose.’
‘Unless she’s cross with me for buying presents.’
Dante laughed. ‘If so, you may blame me for encouraging your extravagance. But you are very close to your mother, yes?’
Rose nodded, smiling. ‘But we have clashes of temperament sometimes.’
‘My mother had many with my sister Mirella in the past, but now she is Nonna to several grandchildren the clashes happen only when she spoils them too much.’
‘How many nieces and nephews do you have?’
‘Five. Mirella and Franco have two sons and a daughter, and Leo and Harriet one of each.’
‘Harriet?’
Dante nodded. ‘My brother’s wife is English. You would like her.’
Rose was intrigued. ‘How did they meet?’
‘It is such a strange story I shall leave it until next time I see you. I must concentrate now as the traffic is heavy.’
Dante insisted on waiting at Galileo Galilei Airport with Rose until she was ready to board the plane, and took note of her telephone numbers and her address while passengers surged around them as constant announcements filled the air. ‘I will be in London next month to meet an old friend of mine, Luke Armytage,’ he told her. ‘He is a master of wine and owner of a chain of wine stores which retail our best vintages. I shall come to see you then, Rose, but I will consult you first to make sure you are free.’
‘Goodbye then, Dante.’ Rose smiled at him brightly as her flight was called. ‘And thank you yet again.’
‘Prego.’ Without warning, he seized her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. He raised his head to stare down into her startled eyes and then kissed her again at such length they were both breathless when he released her. ‘Arrivederci, Rose.’
Afraid to trust her voice, she managed a shaky smile and hurried away after the other passengers.
Dante stood watching as his heartbeat slowed, his smile wry when it became obvious that Rose had no intention of looking back.
* * *
The flight home was tiring. Rose spent most of it convincing herself that there was no danger of falling in love with Dante Fortinari again, even after the electrifying effect of his goodbye kiss, which, from the look on his face, had affected Dante in pretty much the same way. She was human and female enough to find this deeply gratifying, but she would make sure it never happened again. No way could she let him back into her life. She would have to tell him about Bea, and then she would be forced to tell her mother the truth at last, that Dante Fortinari was her child’s father. And then Tom would know, and so would Charlotte, and Fabio, and everyone else involved once she started the ball rolling. By the time Rose boarded the Pennington coach at Birmingham Airport, she had decided against any such dramatic upheaval in her tidy little life. If Dante did ring to ask to see her again she would take the coward’s way out and refuse to see him.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN THE CAB stopped outside Willow House the front door flew open while Rose was paying the driver, and a little girl dressed in jeans and T-shirt hurtled down the garden path with the tall figure of Tom Morley in hot pursuit. Rose abandoned her suitcase and swept her child up in her arms, kissing her all over her rosy, indignant face.
‘Where you been, Mummy?’ demanded Bea, struggling to get down. ‘You didn’t sleep in your bed for lots of nights!’
‘Only two nights, darling. Have you been a good girl?’
Beatrice Grace Palmer nodded happily. ‘Lots of times.’ She tugged on her mother’s hand. ‘Come on. Me and Gramma did baking.’
‘The cakes smell delicious, too,’ said Tom, taking charge of the suitcase. He kissed Rose’s cheek. ‘You look tired, pet.’
‘Only from travelling.’ Rose smiled as Grace Palmer appeared in the doorway, looking too youthful in jeans and jersey to be anyone’s grandmother. ‘Talking of tired, how’s Gramma?’
Grace hugged her daughter. ‘I’m just fine.’ She grinned triumphantly at Tom. ‘We coped very well, if I do say so myself.’
Rose allowed herself to be towed straight to the kitchen, where little iced cakes sat on a wire tray. ‘Look, Mummy,’ said Bea, bouncing in her little pink sneakers. ‘Fairy cakes!’
‘They look gorgeous. Let’s have them for pudding after our lunch, which is something delicious from the yummy smell coming from the oven.’
‘Nothing fancy, darling,’ said Grace. ‘I offered several menu suggestions to celebrate your return from foreign parts, but cottage pie won the majority vote. So come on, Bea. Let’s put the cakes away in the tin so we can lay the table, and we all need to wash before we eat.’
‘Bea and I will lay the table,’ said Tom, ‘and let Mummy wash first.’
‘Hurry up, Mummy,’ ordered Bea. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘I need another kiss,’ said Rose huskily, and picked her daughter up to hug her.
Bea obliged her with a smacking kiss. ‘I cried for you last night, so Gramma cuddled me.’
Rose blinked hard. ‘Then you were a lucky girl. Gramma’s the best at cuddling.’
Tom nodded in vigorous agreement over the curly fair head, winning a flushed, sparkling look from Grace as he took Bea from her mother. ‘Come on, Honey Bea. Let’s wash those paws.’
Rose hurried upstairs to her room and took a depressed look in the mirror as she hung up her clothes. Far from benefiting from her little holiday, she looked as weary and wan as she felt.
Lunch was a lively affair with much input from Bea about her activities in her mother’s absence. ‘I went to school all day yesterday, then to the park with Gramma and Tom.’
‘I bet they enjoyed that!’ said Rose, grinning.
‘We did,’ agreed Grace, and relieved her granddaughter of her plate. ‘What a star—you ate the vegetables, too. You liked that, darling?’
‘Yummy!’ said Bea, and gave Rose a smile exactly like her father’s. ‘Cake now?’
Rose waited expectantly, eyebrows raised.
‘Please!’ Bea beamed in triumph.
‘Good girl.’
After cakes had been devoured, Rose said casually, ‘I’d better find some things I bought in Florence.’
‘Where’s that?’ demanded Bea.
‘It’s a town near where Auntie Charlotte lives in Italy. I had to fly there on a plane. You can help me carry the parcels.’
Later that evening, after a rapturous Bea had tried on her new jeans and T-shirts, and the exquisite little dress that Rose hadn’t been able to resist, the child was finally tucked up in bed with her new cuddly Pinocchio before Rose could finally relax over supper with her mother and Tom and give details of her trip. She told Charlotte’s tale with care, not sure how much she was supposed to divulge to Tom.
‘Good God!’ He eyed Rose in disbelief as she finished. ‘Charlotte finally got you there, only to take off somewhere else?’
Grace put a hand on his arm. ‘No harm done, love. Rose had her first real break since Bea was born, and hopefully she was able to enjoy it, knowing that her baby girl was safe with us.’
He frowned. ‘But the fact remains that Charlotte stranded Rose alone in a strange country while she went swanning off to New York with Fabio. How did you manage, pet?’
Rose braced herself. ‘Charlotte asked Dante Fortinari to deliver a letter to the hotel to brief me. You remember him from the wedding, Tom?’
‘Of course I do. Charming fellow—got married shortly after Charlotte.’
‘But his wife left him pretty quickly, stupid woman,’ said Grace, eyeing her daughter. ‘You got on with him very well at the wedding, I seem to remember.’
Rose nodded. ‘He was great fun.’
Tom shook his head in disapproval. ‘I shall have words with my daughter next time she rings. Now, tell me why she was so determined to get you to Florence. Lord knows she’s asked you often enough before, so what made this occasion so different?’
‘Tom,’ said Grace gently, ‘perhaps Rose thinks Charlotte should tell you that.’
Rose sighed. ‘I do, but on the other hand, Tom, if it’s going to worry you it’s pointless to keep you in the dark.’ She recounted Charlotte’s suspicions about Fabio, followed by her remorse afterwards when she discovered the truth. ‘Fabio insisted I should stay at the hotel anyway, all expenses paid.’
Grace shook her head in wonder. ‘How on earth could Charlotte suspect Fabio of straying? The man adores her!’
‘And spoils her far more than I ever did,’ said Tom and raised an eyebrow at Rose. ‘So where does Fortinari come into this?’
‘He volunteered to show me round Florence.’ Rose smiled brightly. ‘Which was kind. I would have been a bit lost on my own.’
‘I should damn well think you would.’ Tom got up to hold out his hand to Grace. ‘Come on, love, we must let this girl get to bed. She looks done in.’
‘I could stay, if you like, Rose, and get up with Bea if she’s wakeful tonight?’ her mother offered.
‘Absolutely not,’ said Rose, laughing. ‘You’ve done more than enough, both of you. Though I’m afraid I’ll need you tomorrow afternoon for a couple of hours, Mum, if you can? A client got in touch while I was away so I’m driving to see her.’
‘Of course.’ Grace kissed her daughter good-night, and thanked her again for the presents. ‘You shouldn’t have been so extravagant.’
Rose smiled. ‘Dante got a far better price for them than I would have done, and in any case it was Fabio’s money.’
‘Then we’ll both enjoy our booty free of guilt,’ said Tom, eyes twinkling.
* * *
Later Rose checked on her sleeping child, longing to kiss the rosy cheek but too tired to risk waking her up. Yawning, she went next door to her own room, glad to crawl into bed. It had been an odd sort of holiday. The stay in Florence had been too short, the air travel too tiring and her taste of the dolce vita with Dante too unsettling. It would take effort to knuckle down to routine again. Not that she had a choice. And though most people, like Dante, thought her job boring, her travels to meet with clients made it far less so than being confined to an office all day. As she reached to turn out the light her phone rang.
‘Rose?’ said a husky, unmistakable voice.
She sat bolt upright. ‘Dante!’
‘Did all go well on your journey?’
‘It did, and now I’m back where I belong.’
‘I do not agree with that,’ he said, surprising her. ‘In Firenze you belonged there. I shall be in London soon and will drive to see you.’
Rose was about to veto the idea when Dante went on without pausing.
‘Now I know you are safe I will let you sleep. Buonanotte, Rose.’
‘Good night. Thanks for ringing,’ she said politely.
His chuckle sent tremors down her spine. ‘You knew that I would. Ciao.’
Rose switched off the light and slid down in the bed, but thanks to Dante’s call she was no longer tired. The mere sound of his voice had conjured up not only his goodbye kiss but all her doubts and fears about keeping his daughter secret from him. But he had no legal right to claim Bea as his daughter, she reassured herself with a resurgence of the old resentment. His sole contribution to her existence was a fleeting episode of sexual pleasure before he’d returned to the fiancée he’d neglected to mention.
* * *
When Bea had been dropped off at nursery school the next morning Rose got down to work right away to make up for lost time. Usually she did some household chores before settling at her desk, but Grace had left the house in remarkably immaculate condition for someone in charge of a lively child. Rose sighed. In the beginning, after Bea was born, she had tried hard to transform herself from slapdash student into perfect mother, housekeeper and eventual wage earner. She’d learned the hard way to get her priorities right. As long as Bea was happy, clean and well fed Rose took her mother’s advice and kept her brief spells of spare time for taking the baby for walks, or resting while Bea napped. The chores could wait until Rose had time and energy to spare for them. Or, said Grace, she could accept money to pay for a little help in the house.
Rose switched on her computer, smiling at the memory of her indignation at the suggestion. She’d been so determined to be the most efficient single parent it was possible to be. And if she was sometimes desperate for a good night’s sleep, or to be out clubbing or shopping with girlfriends again, or even just taking a walk without pushing a buggy, she never admitted it to a soul. She sighed irritably and settled down to work in the brief window of time before she collected her daughter.
Bea’s face lit up when she saw her mother waiting for her. ‘Mummy! You came today.’
‘Of course I did.’ Rose took her leave of the young teacher and held Bea’s hand. ‘I told you I would.’
‘You didn’t come yesterday.’
‘I was away, so I asked Gramma and Tom to fetch you.’
Bea nodded as she was buckled into her car seat. ‘They fetched me lots of times.’
‘Only two times, darling.’
Bea looked unconvinced by the maths. ‘Are you going to work today?’
‘Yes, but only for a little while this afternoon. Gramma will stay with you and I’ll be home in time for tea. And tomorrow it’s Saturday and we can go to the park.’
* * *
Rose was soon so firmly entrenched in her usual routine again it was hard to believe the trip to Florence had ever happened until Charlotte rang to grovel with apologies and demand every detail of Rose’s taste of la dolce vita.
Rose brushed that aside. ‘Did you ask Dante Fortinari to show me round, Charlotte?’
‘Certainly not. I just asked him to deliver your letter by hand because there was cash in it.’ Charlotte paused. ‘Though Dante seemed pretty keen on meeting up with you again.’
‘He was very kind,’ said Rose colourlessly. ‘And,’ she added with more bite, ‘I would have been a bit lost in Florence if he hadn’t turned up.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Charlotte remorsefully. ‘But if Dante looked after you it all worked out in the end.’
‘As did your problem,’ Rose pointed out. ‘You were mad to think Fabio would cheat on you!’
‘Hormonal, not mad.’ Charlotte drew in an audible breath. ‘I behaved like a total idiot because—wait for the roll of drums—I’m pregnant at last.’