Читать книгу Italian Boss, Proud Miss Prim - Susan Stephens, Susan Stephens - Страница 9

THE telephone receiver was in serious danger of connecting with the plate-glass window. And she thought she knew everything there was to know about controlling feelings? Did Rigo seriously expect her to remain on standby at his command? He must think everyone lived the same racy billionaire lifestyle he did. Some people had work to do.

Yes…like answering his phone, Katie concluded as it rang again. Glaring at the receiver, she walked over to the cradle, pressed a few buttons and switched it to record. Now she could take stock. She could fret all she liked, but she was going to miss her plane, meaning she would have to stay another night in Rome. But not here. Not with Rigo Ruggiero. Not in a million years.

She didn’t want to panic anyone, so her first call must be to the office. She would give them a carefully edited version of events. That done, she would book into a reasonably priced hotel—if she could find such a thing in Rome. Then she must do some shopping—toiletries and nightclothes, if nothing else. And if Rigo Ruggiero wanted to hear the reading of his stepbrother’s will and receive the package she had brought with her, he could damn well come and find her.

Katie booked into a respectable hotel, taking a compact room on the fourth floor with a view of the air-conditioning units. But she had everything she needed: a clean bed and a functioning bathroom, as well as a desk, an easy chair and a television. Best of all, there were quiet spaces in the lobby where she could meet up with Rigo when he found her. She was confident he would find her; that was what men like him were good at.

And now what?

She had paced the three strides by six it took to mark out the floor of her room, and was left facing the fact that she was alone in the raciest and most fashionable city on earth…a city she longed to explore. So, she could sit here in her hotel room, or be really adventurous and sit in the lobby.

She could always watch TV…

In Rome?

What about her shopping? There had to be a chain store close to the hotel.

Katie asked the concierge, who directed her to the Via del Corso, which he said was one of the busiest shopping streets in town. It certainly was, she discovered, though it bore no resemblance to any shopping street back home. It was so glamorous and buzzy she just stood and stared when she found it, until people jostled her and she was forced to move along.

So now what? Now she was a tourist, and she was enjoying every minute of it. Work seemed a million miles away…

After a moment’s hesitation, she took a deep breath and plunged right in.

To Katie’s surprise she loved every moment of the chaotic bustle, and hearing the lyrical Italian language being spoken all around her more than made up for the mayhem of the crowded streets. She had learned to love Italian at the music conservatoire she had attended, in what seemed to her like another lifetime now. Determined to brush all melancholy thoughts away, she told herself that she would never get another opportunity like this and should be savouring every moment so she could store away the memories to share with the girls in the office.

She began with some serious window shopping, which involved frantically trying to work out how many fantasy purchases she could fit into her fantasy wardrobe, not to mention how much fantasy designer luggage would be required to transport all these fantasy purchases home. But there was one adventure she could afford, Katie realised as she walked along, and that was drinking coffee at a pavement café like a real Roman.

She would be mad not to enjoy the shade of late afternoon, Katie convinced herself, feeling a little nervous as she eyed up a likely café. There were a few free seats, and, with all the new scents and sounds around her and the clear blue sky like an umbrella overhead, the temptation to linger and soak it all in was irresistible.

If she didn’t do it now she never would. Everyone had their shoulders thrown back in the warmth of the sun, and were talking loudly—as much with gestures as with their voices. This way of life intrigued her. It was so different from seeing people with their backs hunched against an icy wind and she wanted to be part of it, even if it was only for an afternoon. She wanted to let her hair down and be as uninhibited as all the other girls her age, who looked so fashionable and sassy in their street clothes.

Let her hair down? Yes. She might even unbutton her jacket, Katie decided in a wry moment of abandon. Spotting an empty table in a prime position, she targeted it. Why not? Shouldn’t she make the most of this short trip and live a little while she had the chance?

The handsome, dark-eyed waiter who brought Katie the menu was quite a flirt. He repeated the old cliché that while she was in Rome she must do as the Romans did—though the look in his eyes suggested that might be a step too far for her. When her cheeks pinked up he pursued a different line, suggesting gelato alla vaniglia as an alternative—making vanilla ice cream sound like the most decadent food on earth. He advised that this should be accompanied by a strong black coffee and some iced water to help the sweetness down.

Katie thanked him in Italian. ‘Ringrazie molto, signore.’

‘Ah, you speak Italian…!’ Elaborate gestures accompanied this exclamation, and then he continued to stare at her with deep pools of longing in his puppy-dog eyes. ‘Are you quite sure that’s all I can help you with, signorina?’ he murmured passionately.

‘Quite sure, thank you.’

Katie smiled. She knew the waiter was only joking but, looking around, she had gathered that was the Roman way—every man was duty-bound to flirt. ‘However,’ she said, deciding to play the waiter at his own game, ‘there is one thing…’

‘Sì…?’ Hope revived, the man dipped lower.

‘May I have my coffee now, please?’

‘Certamente, signorina,’ he said, affecting disappointment, but as he left he gave Katie a wink as if to say he’d recognised a fellow tease.

She was really beginning to enjoy herself, Katie realised, eyes sparkling with fun as the waiter walked away. She hadn’t flirted with a man since before the accident and then never seriously. In fact, this was the most excitement she’d ever had. Rome was proving to be everything it was reputed to be—magical, romantic, awe-inspiring…a city of adventure, and it had unleashed something in her.

Let’s just hope it wasn’t her reckless, inner self, Katie mused, because that fantasy Katie was far safer locked away. Thinking of Rigo—which she was doing rather a lot lately—it wouldn’t be wise to push the boundaries too far on this first attempt to live her dream.

A shadow fell over her table. A ripple of awareness ran down her spine.

No.

It couldn’t be—

‘Signorina Bannister.’

‘Rigo!’ Lurching to her feet, she quickly sat down again. Why should she feel so guilty? But she did. ‘You’re the last person I expected to see—’

‘Clearly.’

Tipping designer shades down his nose, he shot a glance at the waiter. Had he heard something of their conversation? Well, if he had he’d got the wrong idea. Rigo’s hackles were so far up he was practically snarling. ‘So, this is what you get up to while I’m away?’ he demanded when the waiter disappeared inside the café.

‘Did you enjoy your drive around the track?’ she countered pleasantly.

‘I thought I asked you to wait for me at the penthouse?’

‘I didn’t know how long you would be—’

‘I also thought you had a plane to catch,’ he interrupted. ‘You were in a tearing hurry to leave, as I remember—’

‘But how can I before I’ve read the will? And I missed my plane.’ She resisted the temptation to add, thanks to you. Leaning on her hand, she stared up and from somewhere found the courage to hold his stare.

Rigo visibly bridled again as the waiter returned with her coffee. What was the poor waiter supposed to do? She’d ordered coffee and he was perfectly within his rights to bring it. And how dared Rigo question her actions when he had left her on the flimsiest of pretexts and for an unspecified length of time?

But as they still had business to complete her reasonable self conceded that it might be better to build bridges. ‘Would you like to join me?’ She pointed to an empty chair.

Rigo pulled out two chairs. ‘As you can see, I am not alone…’

Now she noticed his companion was the beautiful young blonde in the magazine. The girl had been shopping and was making her way towards them, weighed down by countless carrier bags. The café was obviously a prearranged meeting place.

Every man turned to watch as the young girl threaded her way through the tables. Katie couldn’t blame them, the girl was gorgeous—especially when she lifted the carrier bags on high to avoid hitting anyone with them, revealing even more perfectly toned thigh.

Composing her face, Katie determined to love this young woman for the short time she would have to know her—if only so as not to appear small-minded and deadly jealous, though this resolution took a nosedive when the girl draped herself over Rigo.

‘Rigo, il mio amore,’ she pouted, tugging at his resistant arm, ‘sì sara lunga?’

Having asked whether he would be much longer, she turned her luminous stare on Katie.

Katie smiled, or tried her very hardest to.

After taking full inventory of Katie, Rigo’s companion appeared satisfied and risked a sultry smile.

No doubt having concluded I’m no threat, Katie reasoned.

‘Antonia,’ Rigo protested in a weary voice, ‘please try to remember that Signorina Bannister is here in Rome on business.’

Rigo was defending her? She had gone up in the world, Katie thought wryly, trying not to mind when Rigo settled his young companion into the chair next to her own.

‘Don’t worry, I know when I’m not wanted,’ Antonia responded sulkily, refusing to sit down now she had deposited her bags. ‘I don’t want to be here while you’re talking business—’

‘Oh, please, don’t go on account of me…’ Katie seized the opportunity to stand up. ‘I was just going anyway—’

‘No, you weren’t,’ Rigo argued. ‘You’ve barely started your coffee.’

Katie’s instinctive reaction was to look down at Rigo’s hand on her arm. Could he feel her trembling beneath his touch?

‘And you sit down too,’ he instructed Antonia, lifting his hand away from Katie. ‘What’s wrong with you both?’

Where to begin? Katie thought, feeling like the poor relation. But Rigo had made it impossible for her to leave without appearing rude, and so reluctantly she sat down again.

Only Rigo appeared relaxed as silence stretched between them. With Antonia sulking and Rigo paying neither of them much attention, this was uncomfortable. ‘So…you found me?’ Katie mumbled self-consciously. She wasn’t the best conversationalist at the best of times—and this was hardly that. As Rigo turned to her she was vaguely aware that the waiter was serving more coffee, as well as a soda and a piece of delicious ice-cream cake known as semifredo for Antonia.

‘Found you?’ Rigo’s sexy lips pressed down. ‘It appears so,’ he agreed, lowering a fringe of jet-black lashes over his emerald eyes. ‘I guess it must be fate.’

His direct stare made her hand shake and she quickly replaced her coffee-cup in the saucer before she spilled it.

‘Of course,’ he added, ‘if you will choose to walk down the most popular shopping street in Rome…’

His wry look plus Antonia’s raspberry and vanilla scent was a lethal combination, Katie realised, finding her gaze drawn to his sexy mouth. ‘Er—yes…’

‘And here was I, thinking you were back at the penthouse answering my calls—’ his lips pressed down ‘—while all the time you were out shopping.’

By now her cheeks must be luminous crimson, Katie realised, glancing at Antonia, who, having decided to stay, was wolfing down cake as if calories never stuck to her thighs. ‘I awarded myself a break—’

‘I applaud your initiative, Signorina Bannister.’

A bone-melting stare over the rim of his coffee-cup accompanied this assurance.

Play with fire and you are likely to get burned, Katie reminded herself, managing to slop her own coffee over the table.

She reached for a wad of paper napkins, but Signor Ruggiero got there first.

‘Allow me,’ he insisted. ‘Tell me, Signorina Bannister,’ he said, angling his stubble-shaded chin to slant a stare directly into her eyes, ‘should I want to employ you, do you think I could trust you to resist the lure of shopping in Rome?’

Was he serious? Did he think she could endure this level of tension every day? ‘If you wanted to employ me, Signor Ruggiero, I should have to warn you, I’m not free—’

‘Rigo,’ he reminded her. ‘Ah, well,’ he murmured, lips pressing down in mock-regret, ‘I shall just have to find a way to live with the disappointment.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We should be getting back to finish our business. What have you done about your flight?’