One Summer in Italy. Sue Moorcroft
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as judge and jury? Amy seemed quite at ease with Levi, yet she’d recoiled from Davide from the first, which suggested she had perfectly good instincts. So far as Sofia knew, Levi had never made the least move on Amy.
Further, Sofia admitted to herself, her own experience should tell her that Levi understood the meaning of the word ‘no’ and could hear it with good grace. She felt uncomfortably guilty of jumping to conclusions.
‘I’ll leave you to your painting then,’ she said, having not the least idea of how to explain her thoughts and feelings to him without making herself look more of an idiot than he probably already thought her.
He smiled politely. ‘It would be nice to get the last of the light.’
She smothered a sigh, hyper-aware that she was still missing the wild one-night stand from her single woman’s CV. And Levi was so big and firm and golden … but out of bounds, even if she hadn’t killed any interest from him stone dead. Turning away, she headed for the stairs at the side of the terrace resolving to visit a couple of bars down in the town tonight where some of the thirty-something locals hung out. Maybe her English/Montelibertà accent would seem exotic to them and she could have a bit of an adventure with a Stefano or a Marco or a Tonio.
Once she’d let herself into her room she threw off her uniform and stood under the shower for several minutes, letting the cool water wash away her discomfiture along with the heat of the day. When she got out, she promised herself, she’d wriggle into the tight red dress she’d bought from Autograph last autumn because it was reduced. She’d be daring with her makeup, creating smoky eyes and a kissable mouth. She’d stuff thirty euros in her smallest bag and take herself off down into the town. Other women did it. Maybe by midnight she’d have gone home with the greatest talent she could find.
Ignoring the facts that she was having trouble imagining herself behaving that way, particularly when she was on breakfast shift on the terrace tomorrow, she stepped out of the shower and dried herself before stepping into her prettiest underwear.
But before she could start her makeup she heard a tentative knock on her door. ‘Sofia? Are you there? I’ve got the creeps.’
‘Amy?’ Covering up with a thin robe, she opened the door. ‘Are you OK? What’s creeping you out?’
Amy hugged herself, smiling sheepishly as she stepped into Sofia’s room. ‘I’m going to sound pathetic but I keep thinking someone’s tapping on the fly screen on my window.’
Sofia, imagining being eighteen years old, away from home for the first time and building up fearsome scenarios in her mind, replied bracingly. ‘I bet it’s that damned climber that grows like a Triffid all along this so-called staff garden. Shall we grab scissors from the kitchen and hack it back? Then it won’t be able to reach your window.’
Amy’s expression relaxed. ‘Do you think that’s all it is? I feel stupid now. You weren’t going out tonight, were you?’ she asked belatedly, gazing at Sofia’s red dress on its hanger.
Sofia’s hand passed over the red dress in favour of a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. ‘Not tonight. I’ve got to be up for the breakfast service tomorrow,’ she said, blithely abandoning her plans. It wasn’t much of a hardship when her heart hadn’t been in them in the first place.
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