Читать книгу Passionate Affairs: Breakfast at Giovanni's - Kate Hardy - Страница 11

‘LATTE art,’ Fran said, rolling her eyes, when Gio set the cup down on her desk the following morning. On the top was a heart—with concentric rings round it. ‘You’re showing off, aren’t you?’

He pantomimed surprise. ‘You mean, you noticed?’

‘Just a tad.’ She’d noticed something else, too—the guitar case tucked away in the corner of the office. But she hadn’t brought it up in discussion with him. After what he’d told her about the way his music studies had crashed and burned, she had a feeling that he was sensitive about it. She wasn’t going to push him to talk about it unless he was ready. ‘Thank you for the coffee. Now, if you want me to sort out these figures for you, go away and leave me in peace.’

‘Your wish is my command.’ He gave her a deep bow, followed by one of the knee-buckling smiles. ‘I’ll come and get you when the cake lady’s here.’

‘Cheers.’ She smiled back, then got to work with the spreadsheet.

Gio leaned through the office doorway at the perfect moment: just when Fran had finished the stats. She printed them off and waved them at him.

‘I’ll look at them afterwards,’ Gio promised. ‘But come and taste the goodies first.’

He introduced Fran to Ingrid, the baker, who talked them through the samples she’d brought. ‘And I’m leaving before you all start trying them,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing worse than doing a taste-test and not being able to give an honest opinion because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings. Give me a call, Gio, when you’re ready. Nice to meet you, Fran, Sally and Ian.’ She shook their hands, smiled and left.

‘Perfect timing,’ Sally said. ‘The morning rush is over, the lunchtime one won’t start for another twenty minutes—and we have chocolate cake. Oh, yessss. Those brownies are mine, all mine.’

Gio produced a knife and cut both the brownies into two. ‘No, they’re not. We’re splitting them all four ways. Except for the Amaretti, which are all mine.’

‘In your dreams,’ Fran said, scooping one of them and taking a nibble. ‘Oh, wow. Intense.’

‘Intense, good or intense, bad?’ Gio asked.

‘Definitely bad,’ she fibbed. ‘Let me save you the trouble of eat—’She didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Gio simply leaned over and took a bite from the Amaretti she was holding.

The feel of his mouth against her fingers sent a shiver of pure desire down her spine. Bad. Very bad. This was meant to be a tasting session. And they were tasting food, not each other. They were in the middle of his coffee shop, for goodness’sake! Sally and Ian were there, and a customer could walk in at any moment.

This was even worse than their coffee-making lessons. Because this time it wasn’t just the two of them. She really, really had to get a grip.

‘Mmm. Perfect,’ he said huskily.

He was talking about the biscuit. Not about her skin, she reminded herself sharply.

‘These flapjacks are good, too,’ Ian said.

‘Brownies. Oh-h-h. I need more brownies,’ Sally said, clutching her heart dramatically. ‘Save me. Give me brownies.’

‘Too late, Sal. You’ll have to make do with carrot cake.’ Gio handed her a piece wrapped in a paper napkin.

Lord, he had a beautiful mouth. Fran knew she should just stop watching him eat. The last thing she wanted was for her new boss to think she had the hots for him. And she could definitely do without Sally and Ian noticing the state she was in and teasing her about it.

When the samples had been reduced to crumbs, they looked at each other. ‘Well?’ Gio said.

‘They’re good,’ Ian said. ‘Better than our current range.’

‘And this is Fitzrovia,’ Sally said. ‘Organic food is definitely on the up in this area.’

Gio nodded. ‘Our coffee’s ethically farmed, so organic cakes and pastries fit with the ethos of Giovanni’s. Especially as these have no packaging. Eco-friendly and caring—that’s good. Fran?’

‘I checked out the local competition on the net. If we sell organic, that gives us differentiation from the others,’ she said. ‘Is our coffee organic?’

‘No, but you can talk to the supplier and see what they can offer us, so it’s a possible option—in the same way that we can do decaf on request,’ Gio said. ‘Do the figures stack up?’

She nodded. ‘We’ll need to put the prices up a little bit, because the wholesale price is higher than the non-organic cakes. But, as Sally said, our customers are the sort who put ethics above economics.’

Gio smiled. ‘Good. We’ll trial fifty-fifty to start with, see how it goes. Starting on Monday. Give it a month, see how it’s affecting sales. If they’re the same, we’ll make a wholesale switch.’

‘I think,’ Sally said, ‘you should ring Ingrid and say we’re not sure about the brownies—we need some more for testing. A lot more. A whole trayful—no, make that a whole ovenful.’

Gio ruffled her hair. ‘Yeah, yeah, Sal. She’ll really believe that. Thanks, team. Fran, I need to go over to Docklands. Can you draft me a letter to Ingrid about the trial?’

‘Sure.’

‘Thanks. See you later.’

She loved the way he trusted her enough to get her to draft the letter, instead of dictating it to her over the phone when he got to Docklands. Although she’d adored her job at the voiceover studio, this job was turning out to be a real buzz, too. He’d listened to what she had to say about franchising, too. What she thought counted.

Though it wasn’t just that, she thought as she headed back to the office. It was working with Gio that gave her the buzz. Because there was definite chemistry there—the way he’d eaten that Amaretti from her fingers…

But she needed to keep her feet on the ground. It was stupid even to contemplate any sort of relationship other than a working one with Gio. She already knew he didn’t do relationships and he was at a place in his life where he didn’t really know what he wanted. Yes, he flirted with her and teased her, but he did that with just about everyone—so she’d better not start getting any ideas.

She drafted the letter for Gio’s approval and was just about to ring through the order to the supplier when she was aware that someone had walked into the office. She looked up, and recognised the woman from the photo on the computer.

‘Hello. You’re Gio’s mum, aren’t you?’

Mrs Mazetti looked a bit thrown. ‘How did you know?’

‘Apart from the fact that he has your eyes, you mean?’ Fran smiled, and flicked through the computer screens to show her the wallpaper. ‘This is how I know.’

‘Oh!’ She looked pleased. ‘I didn’t know he had a photo here.’

‘Do have a seat, Mrs Mazetti. Can I get you a coffee and a pastry or something?’

‘No, but thank you for offering. Is Gio around?’

Fran shook her head. ‘Sorry, he’s at the Docklands branch this afternoon—do you want me to ring through to him and get him to come back?’

‘No, no, it’s fine.’ Mrs Mazetti flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I know I shouldn’t really bother him when he’s working. He hates being disturbed when he’s busy.’

‘Is it anything I can help with? I’m Fran, his office manager, by the way.’

‘Angela Mazetti.’ She took Fran’s outstretched hand and shook it. ‘I thought you might be Francesca.’

It was Fran’s turn to be thrown. ‘Why? Has he said something about me?’

Angela rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. I’m his mother. Giovanni never tells me anything.’

‘Ah. Marco was your mole?’ Fran guessed.

Angela laughed. ‘Oh, dear. Was it that obvious?’

Fran laughed back. ‘Gio says you’re all ganging up on him and trying to get him to settle down, Mrs Mazetti.’

‘Call me Angela,’ the elder woman said. She sighed. ‘We don’t gang up on him really. We just worry about him. When you have a son of your own, you’ll know exactly what I mean.’

Having a child wasn’t on her list of immediate plans, Fran thought, but she tried her best to look sympathetic.

‘So are you settling in OK?’ Angela asked.

Fran nodded. ‘Everyone’s been really nice. And Gio’s lovely to work with.’

‘Good.’Angela gave her a speculative look. ‘So you’re just colleagues.’

‘Yes. And he’s an excellent boss. He expects a lot from his staff, but he’s fair and he’s honest—so everyone’s happy to make the extra effort.’

‘Hmm.’ Angela stood up again. ‘Well, I can see you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. It was nice to meet you, Fran.’

‘Shall I tell Gio you dropped in?’ Fran asked.

Angela raised an eyebrow. ‘I could say that I was just passing…but he’d never believe that.’ She gave Fran a rueful smile. ‘And, from the look on your face, neither do you.’

‘Well, of course you’d want to check me out. Make sure I’m not some kind of bombshell man-eater who isn’t going to treat your son properly—or some kind of incompetent airhead who’s going to cause him extra work to sort out the mess she’s made so he’ll be under even more stress.’

Angela laughed. ‘Consider me suitably reassured. Welcome to Giovanni’s, Fran. And if you’re ever at a loose end on a Sunday, you’re always welcome to come to lunch at our place. Don’t ever feel you’re intruding, because we normally have a houseful and there’s always room for one more.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’ The sheer warmth of the invitation made Fran’s throat feel tight. But if she burst into tears she’d have to explain, and she didn’t want Gio’s mum to think she was a flake. ‘Thank you.’ Please, please don’t let Angela Mazetti hear the wobble in her voice.

‘Ciao,’ Angela said, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and left the office.

Fran was too busy for the rest of the afternoon to notice the time but, exactly as the previous day, she was aware of the precise moment that Gio returned: just about at closing time. She finished what she was doing and saved the file, then walked into the coffee shop. ‘Hi.’

Gio turned to face her. ‘Hi. Had a good afternoon?’

‘Fine, thanks. I’ve done the letters for you, a bit of research on that project you asked about, and all the orders are sorted for tomorrow and Monday.’

‘Brilliant. It’s so good to know I don’t have to stop what I’m doing and sort it all out myself. And having this extra time…You know, maybe my family’s right and I do work too hard.’

Did that mean he wanted to skip the barista training this evening? The sudden swoop of disappointment in her stomach made Fran realise just how much she’d been looking forward to it.

But then he asked, ‘Do you still have time to stay and learn about cappuccinos?’

Pleasure fizzed through her—a feeling she tried to damp down, because she knew it wasn’t just the fact she was learning something new. It was because she’d be close to Gio. ‘Sure,’ she said, aiming for insouciance.

Gio was cross with himself for feeling so pleased that she was staying late again. And crosser still when he realised it was more than just pleasure at a new employee showing commitment to the café chain.

The real reason it made him happy was because he was going to be close to Fran.

When she’d hugged him yesterday, he hadn’t been able to stop himself hugging her back. And it had taken all his strength of will to let her go again.

This was bad. Really bad. Because now was just about the worst possible time to start a relationship, when he was thinking of taking the business up another gear and he had no free time. And Francesca Marsden was just about the worst possible person he could think of to have a relationship with, because she was his new office manager and he was going to need her help in the business. He couldn’t afford to lose someone who’d already shown initiative and drive and an ability to second-guess him.

He locked up, then motioned her towards the coffee machines. ‘Same as yesterday with the milk and the espresso, but this time you’re making cappuccino. That’s a third coffee, a third milk and a third froth. You’ll need to rock the jug a bit as you pour—or you can spoon the froth on top if you find it easier.’

He watched her as she worked. When she was concentrating, he noticed, she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth. And it made him want to lean forward and touch the tip of his tongue to hers. Kiss her. Mould her body against his. Feel the weight of her breasts as he cupped them.

He swallowed hard, just as she looked up and slid the cup in front of him. ‘Is this OK?’

‘Looks good.’ He tasted it. ‘You need a touch less milk and a touch more froth, but for a first attempt it’s excellent.’

‘Thank you.’

‘When you’ve done your food hygiene course, you can practise on some customers. In the quiet spots of the day, that is; I wouldn’t expect you to handle the morning, lunchtime or mid-afternoon rush, first off.’ He smiled at her. ‘And now I ought to let you go home.’ He didn’t want her to go—but on the other hand, it was probably better for his rapidly unravelling self-control that she did. ‘Your family’s going to be beating my door down and yelling at me for making you work too hard.’

‘I doubt it. They know I’m a big girl and I can look after myself.’

She’d clearly aimed for a flippant note, but he could hear the underlying hurt. What was wrong? He fished in the tub on the counter, drew out a chocolate dipper and handed it to her. ‘Spill the beans.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Yes, you do. You’re the eldest of four, but you’ve hardly mentioned a word about your family. Whereas mine are always around—if not in person, then on the phone or texting or emailing.’ She’d met more than one of them, too. ‘Sally said my mum dropped by this afternoon. Gave you the third degree, did she?’

‘She was lovely.’

‘Yeah. She’s bossy and she’s interfering and she drives me absolutely bananas,’ he said with a grin, ‘but I still wouldn’t change her for anything. I knew she’d come and check you out. I bet she’d been skulking in the street, wearing dark glasses and hiding behind bay trees in big pots, until she saw me leave and knew the coast was clear to come and vet you.’

Fran laughed, but he could still see the sadness in her eyes. ‘Tell me about your family,’ he said softly.

She took a deep breath. ‘I’m adopted. My parents didn’t think they could have children. So they adopted me…and then the twins came along. And then Suzy.’

He reached out slid his hand over hers. Squeezed it. ‘Hey. There’s nothing wrong with being adopted. It just proves your parents really wanted you to live with them. They chose you.’

She swallowed hard. ‘That’s what they said, when they told me the truth about my parentage. That I’m special because they chose me.’

‘And then being able to have more children was a bonus for them. An unexpected bonus.’

‘Maybe. But I’m not like Suzy or Dominic or Ted. I…’ She struggled to pull her hand away. ‘Oh, just ignore me. I’m being wet.’

‘No.’ He refused to let her hand go. ‘Have you told your parents how you feel?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to hurt them or make them feel I don’t appreciate what they’ve done for me over all the years. But I know I’m a disappointment to them. The others were all good at sport and exams, and I’m not.’

‘But look at what you are good at,’ Gio said. ‘You’ve got tons of common sense—something a lot of highly academic people don’t have. You’re good with people. And you’re scarily organised. I’m willing to bet you anything you choose that they don’t see you as a disappointment.’He paused. ‘Something else Nonna says. You never treat your children the same, because they’re all different. But you treat them equally. And you love them the same amount—just for different things.’

She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Maybe.’

‘Definitely.’ How on earth could Fran not fit in to her family? She’d been here less than a week and already she was part of the team. He’d noticed a couple of times this afternoon that the Docklands team had been halfway to dialling Fran to ask for help sorting out a problem before remembering that he was there on the spot.

But maybe being adopted gave you a different perspective. Fran’s birth parents had given her away, so no doubt there was a part of her that would always worry her new family wouldn’t want her, either. That there was something about her that made her unlovable.

‘Have you ever tried finding your birth parents?’ he asked quietly.

She shook her head. ‘I’ve never wanted to. I’m sure they had good reasons at the time for not keeping me.’

And if she managed to trace them and they didn’t want to know her, Gio knew that a second rejection would shatter her trust in people completely.

Right now, Fran needed security—something Gio knew he couldn’t give her in a relationship, given that he didn’t know what he wanted from life right now. But he could definitely make her feel part of Giovanni’s.

‘It’s good that you’re not judging them too harshly. Not bitter about it.’

‘There’s no point. Being bitter isn’t going to change anything or make things better.’ She shrugged. ‘Besides, Mum and Dad gave me a stable home.’

She hadn’t mentioned love, Gio noticed, something he’d always taken for granted in a large and noisy family where you got hugged and kissed every day and told how special you were. And even though the demonstrativeness had been excruciatingly embarrassing during his teens—especially when his parents insisted on showing all his baby photos to any girl he brought home—he’d always known he fitted in, that he was part of the family.

‘Your family’s proud of you,’ he said softly. ‘Maybe they’re not good at telling you—maybe they’re English and reserved instead of Italian and over-demonstrative like my lot. But my guess is they’re proud of you. And they’re going to get even prouder when Giovanni’s expands and your parents realise that their daughter is the number two in the company.’ He squeezed her hand again, and this time let it go. ‘Want my advice? Go home, ring them and tell them you love them.’

‘I might just do that.’

‘No “mights”. Do it. It’ll make you feel better.’ He smiled at her. ‘Go home. I’m not going to make you stay really late on a Friday night.’ Even though what he wanted to do with her would take the rest of the weekend, let alone the night. Because he was going to be sensible about this. ‘I’ll see you on Monday, OK?’

‘Sure. Have a nice weekend.’

He laughed. ‘You’ll never know how glad I am that you didn’t say, “Giovanni Mazetti, don’t you work too hard”…’