One Night In His Bed. Christina Hollis
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the rest. For myself, I’ve been living off chateaubriand and fries for days, so I think I’ll make it something vegetarian for my main course. I fancy a change today.’ He lifted one shoulder in an easy gesture.
Vegetarian—that sounded reassuringly cheap. Sienna decided to order the same thing he did, but went on pretending to study the menu. This was partly to give his friends time to arrive, but also because it was a rare luxury. Sienna had not been out to lunch for years, and certainly never to a bewitching place like this. The experience ought to be played out for as long as she could manage.
Poring over the deckle-edged, beautifully inscribed menu, she waited until, despite his obvious good manners, Garett showed signs of becoming a little restless. Eventually she looked up shyly. He smiled and summoned the waiter.
‘What have you chosen, Signora di Imperia?’
Sienna stopped smiling. ‘Oh…er…actually, it all looks so good I was hoping you could give me some suggestions…Garett…’
‘I think we need a few more moments to decide, signor.’ Garett nodded to their waiter. The moment the man stalked away, Sienna’s host leaned forward with the look of someone who was about to reveal a great secret.
‘You were right, signora, this place might have been beyond me if I had come here on my own. I thought to follow your selection! I can recognise all the general words, for things like soup and pasta, but some of these regional names are beyond me. Could we perhaps puzzle them out between us?’
Laughing, they went through the choices together, and came up with cacciucco for their starter, with pansôti al preboggion to follow. Sienna stayed with her idea of choosing the same things he did. It made ordering easier, and gave her a few extra seconds to gaze around in awe at her surroundings—and, more secretively, at her host.
The headwaiter materialised beside Garett the moment they were ready. Sienna looked up and smiled a little apprehensively as the man flourished his silver fountain pen over a small leatherbound notepad.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll do the ordering,’ Garett said smoothly, before she could open her mouth.
She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen.
His pronunciation was faultless. Before Sienna could congratulate him, a telephone call from his mobile burst in between them.
‘Darn—it seems like we’re going to be lunching on our own after all, signora. My friends can’t make it,’ he said when he had taken the call. He clicked his tongue, and then smiled at her reaction. ‘What’s the matter? Anyone would think you weren’t looking forward to eating here in your dream restaurant.’
‘It isn’t that.’ Sienna watched him switch off his phone and tuck it away. Suddenly it was as though the shrinking market girl had returned, trying to take up as little room as possible at his table. ‘I had not expected to be dining alone with you.’
He narrowed his eyes in a way that made her smile, despite her nerves. ‘That cuts both ways, you know, signora. But I suppose we’re both going to have to buckle down and endure it.’ He sighed theatrically, making Sienna giggle.
As her laughter died away, the sophisticated silence of the restaurant closed in. Garett was completely at ease. He sat back and studied his surroundings openly. Sienna could not manage to look anywhere directly, taking small swift glances around the room when she thought no one else was looking. Her mind was as active as her eyes, although it was not doing her much good. She desperately wanted to start up a witty, sparkling conversation. Only two things stopped her. Not being able to look at him without blushing was bad enough, but the second reason was still more of an obstacle.
She could not think of a single sensible thing to say. But then she was rescued by the most unlikely of sources. A butterfly flitted in through an open window of the restaurant.
‘Oh, look—an orange tip!’
‘You know about butterflies, signora?’ He quirked a brow, suitably impressed.
‘Not really, but they’ve increased at home since the place has been allowed to run wild. They like the purple flowers that have seeded themselves all the way through the old terrace walls. The name is one I like, too—easy and obvious.’
Sienna almost felt she might be about to relax, but the arrival of their wine and first course put a stop to that. Her stomach contracted to the size of a split pea again. As usual, Garett took the attentions of the staff in his stride. Even before they swept away he leaned over his dish and inhaled appreciatively.
‘Ah—so cacciucco must be fish soup, Signora di Imperia?’
‘That’s right. I don’t know how much you picked up from the menu, but it said all the restaurant’s raw materials are brought in fresh each morning. They come from a few kilometres away at the coast, or from local farms and smallholdings.’
He paused while breaking his bread, and leaned towards her with an enigmatic look on his face.
‘I saw that. It made me realise that the ordinary people around here have to make things, as you do, or wrestle produce out of their surroundings. The menu really brought it home to me.’ He paused again, considering what a strange word ‘home’ was in his circumstances. He tried to laugh again, but it came out as a harsh, dry sound. ‘I ate nothing but junk until I managed to make a better life for myself. The chance to eat fresh local food in a place like this is a luxury.’
Sipping at a spoonful of her soup, Sienna regarded him. His mouth was a grim line now, and his eyes were hard as he stared past her into space.
‘Perhaps it is all this home-grown fresh food in Liguria that keeps us so good-tempered?’ she risked, testing his mood.
That broke Garett’s trance. A puzzled frown flickered across his features, and he looked down at his clenched hand as though it belonged to someone else. Sienna noticed that it took him a conscious effort to relax his fingers. She went on watching him from beneath her lashes, and as she did so he began to lose the hunched tension that made him look like a prizefighter. He picked up his spoon, but to Sienna’s relief did not actually attack his meal. He skimmed the cacciucco with graceful, economical movements.
Relieved, she concentrated on her own lunch. Even so, he had completely finished before she dared to speak again.
‘I wish I had more of the killer instinct,’ she said, almost making it sound casual. ‘It would make an event like this less of an ordeal for me.’ She tried to laugh, but it did not work.
‘Fine dining is supposed to be a pleasurable experience.’ Tipping his bowl away from him, he finished the last of his soup. Then he laid down the spoon. His every movement seemed measured to Sienna, as though he was unable to relax for a moment.
‘Do you enjoy it, signor?’
‘In the right company, yes.’
‘Then it is a shame your friends are not here.’
‘Oh, I’m doing fine, signora.’
He smiled, and the richness of his tone made Sienna wonder if he was only talking about lunch…
CHAPTER THREE
FOR once in his life, seduction was not on Garett’s agenda. He was visiting Europe for a rest, not more of the same. He glanced across at her, the smile still teasing his lips. Seduction might be too much hassle at the moment, but fantasies…they were another thing altogether. He would find time for those instead.
As though reading his mind, the girl blushed and lowered her head. Amused, Garett went back to his meal. He did not anticipate any trouble from a casual lunch guest like this. She was intended as nothing more than visual entertainment for him. He liked to furnish his world with beautiful things, but, while he looked on works of art as investments to be studied as well as displayed, his women were different. They were like butterflies. They flitted into his life through one window of opportunity and out through the next. This one would be no different.