him?'
She looked away. 'I—cared,' she said in a low voice. 'But I discovered that—he didn't.'
'Well, at least he's trying to put things right now, no matter what your mother says.' He gave an awkward chuckle. 'Even asked my permission, which threw me.' He put his hand on her shoulder. 'It won't be easy. I know, but maybe you could try meeting him halfway?'
But he would have to want that too, she thought. And he doesn't. Besides, how can I meet him anywhere when I don't even know who he is? And never did...
She suppressed a sigh, and her little smile was wintry. 'Perhaps that's a bridge I have to cross.' She kissed his cheek. 'Good luck with Cornwall. I'll be in touch.'
She didn't want to be late for lunch, so she reluctantly spent some of Sandro's money on a taxi after all.
She hadn't changed into anything more formal for their meeting, just added her favourite pair of earrings—the tiny enamelled cornflowers on delicate silver chains. But she began to wish she had dressed more smartly as she walked across the Grand Capital's marble foyer, skirting the fountain and the groups of elegant women who'd gathered there to chat before lunch.
Sandro was already sitting at the bar when Polly entered. He was laughing at something the barman had said, and she hesitated, almost stunned, as the full force of his attraction hit her once more like a punch in the throat.
Nor was she the only one, she realised, recovering her breath. Women were sending him predatory looks from all over the room. No change there, then, she thought drily, remembering the same reaction every time she'd walked down a street with him in Sorrento.
And the scar on his cheek had not detracted from his appeal in any way. On the contrary, thought Polly, he looked like some Renaissance swordsman injured in a duel.
At that moment, he looked round and saw her. He slid off the stool, coming across to her, his mouth curling in faint cynicism as he registered her instant tension.
'Cara,' he said softly, and took her hand. 'So you have decided to join me. I could not be sure. But I am delighted.' He leaned towards her, his gaze travelling to her mouth, and Polly flinched, freeing her fingers from his grasp.
'Still no kiss?' His tone was mocking. 'Even though I have learned my lesson from this morning, and shaved more closely in anticipation?'
'I don't consider that any particular inducement,' Polly responded stonily. 'I've agreed to marry you, and I see no need for any—embellishments.'
'Now, there we disagree. I see I shall have to teach you the difference between public and private behaviour, my reluctant bride.' He smiled as he spoke, and only Polly was aware of the ice in his voice. 'But we will discuss that later.'
He took her to a corner table, and signalled to a hovering waiter. 'What would you like to drink. Is it still Campari and soda?'
More unwanted memories, she thought, biting her lip. She said coolly, 'Just a mineral water, please.'
'Last night you drank white wine.'
Today I need to keep a clear head.'
He gave her a thoughtful look, then turned to the waiter. 'Mineral water, per favored he directed. 'For both of us.'
The waiter departed, leaving a silence behind him that Sandro was the first to break.
'Have you had a productive morning?' he asked.
'I suppose so.' Polly gave a slight shrug. 'I resigned from my job, and visited my parents, who are planning a holiday in Cornwall.'
'I have not been idle either,' he said. 'The legal requirements for our marriage are being fast-tracked, so I have decided it would be best if you moved here to my suite until the wedding.'
'I—move in with you?' she repeated blankly. 'What are you talking about?'
'Finding a flat to rent for such a short time could be a problem,' he explained. His mouth curled slightly. 'But do not be too disturbed, cara. The suite has two large bedrooms.'
She said in a hollow voice, 'There are three of us. Four with Julie.'
"The bambinaia will
She looked away. 'I—cared,' she said in a low voice. 'But I discovered that—he didn't.'
'Well, at least he's trying to put things right now, no matter what your mother says.' He gave an awkward chuckle. 'Even asked my permission, which threw me.' He put his hand on her shoulder. 'It won't be easy. I know, but maybe you could try meeting him halfway?'
But he would have to want that too, she thought. And he doesn't. Besides, how can I meet him anywhere when I don't even know who he is? And never did...
She suppressed a sigh, and her little smile was wintry. 'Perhaps that's a bridge I have to cross.' She kissed his cheek. 'Good luck with Cornwall. I'll be in touch.'
She didn't want to be late for lunch, so she reluctantly spent some of Sandro's money on a taxi after all.
She hadn't changed into anything more formal for their meeting, just added her favourite pair of earrings—the tiny enamelled cornflowers on delicate silver chains. But she began to wish she had dressed more smartly as she walked across the Grand Capital's marble foyer, skirting the fountain and the groups of elegant women who'd gathered there to chat before lunch.
Sandro was already sitting at the bar when Polly entered. He was laughing at something the barman had said, and she hesitated, almost stunned, as the full force of his attraction hit her once more like a punch in the throat.
Nor was she the only one, she realised, recovering her breath. Women were sending him predatory looks from all over the room. No change there, then, she thought drily, remembering the same reaction every time she'd walked down a street with him in Sorrento.
And the scar on his cheek had not detracted from his appeal in any way. On the contrary, thought Polly, he looked like some Renaissance swordsman injured in a duel.
At that moment, he looked round and saw her. He slid off the stool, coming across to her, his mouth curling in faint cynicism as he registered her instant tension.
'Cara,' he said softly, and took her hand. 'So you have decided to join me. I could not be sure. But I am delighted.' He leaned towards her, his gaze travelling to her mouth, and Polly flinched, freeing her fingers from his grasp.
'Still no kiss?' His tone was mocking. 'Even though I have learned my lesson from this morning, and shaved more closely in anticipation?'
'I don't consider that any particular inducement,' Polly responded stonily. 'I've agreed to marry you, and I see no need for any—embellishments.'
'Now, there we disagree. I see I shall have to teach you the difference between public and private behaviour, my reluctant bride.' He smiled as he spoke, and only Polly was aware of the ice in his voice. 'But we will discuss that later.'
He took her to a corner table, and signalled to a hovering waiter. 'What would you like to drink. Is it still Campari and soda?'
More unwanted memories, she thought, biting her lip. She said coolly, 'Just a mineral water, please.'
'Last night you drank white wine.'
Today I need to keep a clear head.'
He gave her a thoughtful look, then turned to the waiter. 'Mineral water, per favored he directed. 'For both of us.'
The waiter departed, leaving a silence behind him that Sandro was the first to break.
'Have you had a productive morning?' he asked.
'I suppose so.' Polly gave a slight shrug. 'I resigned from my job, and visited my parents, who are planning a holiday in Cornwall.'
'I have not been idle either,' he said. 'The legal requirements for our marriage are being fast-tracked, so I have decided it would be best if you moved here to my suite until the wedding.'
'I—move in with you?' she repeated blankly. 'What are you talking about?'
'Finding a flat to rent for such a short time could be a problem,' he explained. His mouth curled slightly. 'But do not be too disturbed, cara. The suite has two large bedrooms.'
She said in a hollow voice, 'There are three of us. Four with Julie.'
"The bambinaia will
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