Vettori's Damsel in Distress (Harlequin Romance Large Print) by Liz Fielding Page B

closed both of her hands around the box of black beads she’d been looking at and indicated that she should put it in her bag.
    ‘I sorted out her traders’ licence a few months ago,’ Dante explained. ‘It’s her way of saying thank you.’
    ‘She should be thanking you.’
    ‘I don’t have a lot of use for beads and, since you are my friend, it would make her happy if you took them. You can buy something from her another day.’
    ‘
Grazie mille
, Livia,’ she said. ‘Will you tell her I love her stall, Dante, and that I’ll come back and buy from her very soon.’
    He said something that earned her a huge smile then, after more hugs and kisses for both of them, Dante took the carrier she was holding and peered into it.
    ‘You changed you mind about window-shopping, I see?’
    She shrugged. ‘I’ve got a job, rent-free accommodation for a month and a workshop that I’m paying for with my time. And now I’ve got some fabulous material to work with, just as soon as I unpack my sewing machine.’
    ‘Do you need more time?’ He looked around. ‘I believe there are still a few black things left—’ She jabbed her elbow in his ribs and he grinned. ‘I guess not.’ He took a sheaf of papers from the roomy pocket of his waxed jacket. ‘Shall we get this done?’
    She took one and looked at the photograph Dante had taken of the kitten. ‘He’s quite presentable now that he’s clean and dry.
Trovato
... Found?’ He nodded. ‘
Contattare
Café Rosa. And the telephone number. Well, that’s direct and to the point. Uh-oh...’ She looked up as something wet landed on the paper and the colours of the ink began to run into one another as more snow began to fall. ‘If we put them out now they’ll be a soggy mess in no time,’ Geli said. ‘Have you got a laminator?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Fortunately, I packed mine.’
    * * *
    While Dante, wrapped up against the weather, left on his mission to stick up the laminated posters of the lost kitten, Geli called her bank’s fraud office and passed on the crime number the Commissario had given her.
    ‘Okay?’ Lisa asked, handing her a long black apron.
    She shrugged. ‘I’ve done everything I can.’ She tied the apron over her clothes and watched Lisa’s demonstration of the Gaggia and then produced, one after the other, a perfect espresso, latte and cappuccino.
    Lisa, arms folded, watched her through narrowed eyes. ‘You’ve done this before.’
    ‘I was a student for four years. My sisters paid me for the work I did for them, but paints, material and professional sewing machines do not come cheap. Then, as now, I needed a job.’
    ‘Right, Little Miss Clever Clogs, you’ve got your first customer.’ She indicated a man standing at the counter. ‘Go get him.’
    Geli took a deep breath.
‘Ciao, signor. Che cosa desidera?
’ she asked.
    He smiled.
‘Ciao, signora...
Geli
,’
he added, leaning closer to read the name tag that Lisa had pinned to her apron.
‘Il sono
Marco
.’
    ‘Ciao,
Marco
. Piacere. Che cosa desidera?’
she repeated.
    ‘Vorrei un espresso, per favore,’
he said. Then, having thanked her for it,
‘Che programme ha per stasera? Le va di andare a bere qualcosa?’
    The words might not have been familiar, but the look, the tone certainly were and she turned to Lisa. ‘I think I’m being hit on. How do I say I’m washing my hair?’
    ‘He wants to know if you have any plans for tonight and, if not, can he buy you a drink. So good for business...’ she murmured.
    ‘Definitely washing my hair.’
    Lisa gave him the bad news and he smiled ruefully, shrugged and drank his coffee.
    ‘What did you say?’
    ‘That you’re working tonight. Why?’ she asked, thoughtfully. ‘Have you changed your mind? He is rather cute.’
    ‘Very cute.’
    ‘Well, he knows where you’ll be tonight. Maybe he’ll come back.’
    ‘Does that mean I’ve passed the interview?’
    ‘When can you start?’
    ‘It had better be this evening,