Dreaming of Italy: A stunning and heartwarming holiday romance Read online

  Leaving the visibly miffed dog on the other side of the smart new gate, Mark led Emma through a stone archway and down to the pool. This was set low down, protected from the wind and prying eyes by high banks on all sides. Palm trees and large cacti had been planted all around and Emma could well imagine it looking like an oasis in a year or two. The water was crystal clear and very inviting and she could see why the dog might be feeling miffed. As she stood by the side of the pool looking on, Mark crouched down to test the temperature of the water with his hand. It was at this moment, that disaster in the shape of an enthusiastic water-obsessed Labrador struck.

  Somehow, Carmen must have been able to open the gate or circumvent it. Hearing a noise, Emma turned in time to see the dog charging down the path at speed, her nose headed inexorably for the pool. Unfortunately, as she launched herself bodily towards the water and her master, Mark also turned to see what was going on. Momentarily off balance, he didn’t have a chance as sixty or seventy pounds of joyful Labrador cannoned into his side. Man and dog both tumbled into the pool with a tremendous splash as Emma looked on, trying not to burst out laughing.

  ‘You stupid mutt, how did you get in here?’ Mark’s head, and then his body, appeared above the surface, his T-shirt riding up to his shoulders, exposing his whole torso. He was at no risk of drowning, since Emma could see the water barely reached his waist as he stood up staring accusingly at the dog. ‘Come on, Carmen, get the hell out of here. You know you aren’t supposed to be in here. Via, via, cagnaccia della miseria!’

  Carmen’s head also emerged from the water and Emma couldn’t miss the big canine grin on her hairy black face. However, it wasn’t this that kept Emma there, rooted to the spot. Her eyes had locked onto Mark’s naked back. She found herself staring, not at the V-shaped muscles, nor at his broad shoulders, but at three ragged white scars in a vertical line directly behind his right shoulder blade that stood out in stark contrast with the honey colour of the rest of his skin. As he caught hold of the dog and turned towards the side of the pool, pulling her by the collar, Emma’s eyes alighted upon three neat little round scars on the front of his chest directly in line with those on his back. Whatever had gone in had come out again, making one hell of a mess. Such a mess in fact that Emma could hardly believe he had survived.

  Reaching up with his free hand, Mark pulled his T-shirt down again until the scars were hidden from view. When he glanced up, Emma did her best to show no sign of having noticed anything untoward. Suddenly his reluctance to expose his torso was explained and she felt a wave of sympathy for him. Wounds like this must have been life-threatening and she could only imagine the trauma he had suffered. Luckily he appeared unaware that she had seen the signs of his injury. He caught her eye and grinned.

  ‘Bloody dog. I wonder how she managed to get in.’

  Emma smiled back at him. ‘You might need to rename her Houdini.’

  Mark cast an affectionate look down at the dog and released his hold on her collar. ‘Well, all right then, Carmen. Seeing as we’re both in, we might as well have a swim.’ As Carmen paddled happily away, he glanced back up at Emma. ‘The good news is that the water temperature’s risen a quite a bit over the past few days and it’s really very pleasant in here. The bad news is that I’ve got my phone in my pocket. Anyway, if you feel like joining us, Carmen and I will avert our eyes.’

  For a moment Emma was sorely tempted to slip out of her dress and join them, but then common sense kicked in. Regretfully, she shook her head.

  ‘I’m very tempted, but I think I’ll just stand and see which of you is the better swimmer.’

  She settled back on a bench and looked on as Mark demonstrated that he swam very well indeed, even fully clothed, putting his head down and setting off on a dozen lengths, before finally shepherding the Labrador back towards the steps at the shallow end. With a bit of pushing and shoving, he managed to eject her and then waited as she shook herself energetically. Carmen then trotted across to say hello to Emma who took immediate evasive action to avoid being soaked as the dog shook herself again. While this was happening, Mark climbed out of the pool and stood there dripping. He reached into his pocket and brought out his phone.

  ‘Well, I’ll be…! It really is waterproof. Remind me to write to Apple to congratulate them.’ He squelched across towards Emma. His clothes were plastered tightly across his body and he looked even more appealing, if that was possible. She swallowed hard and gave him a smile.

  ‘Somehow I think you might need to change before dinner.’

  Chapter 14

  Marina and Rich arrived at the villa with Ethan and Sinclair bang on seven o’clock. Mark was back at his house reprimanding his dog and changing his clothes; Emma was waiting on the steps to meet Ethan as he emerged from the car.

  ‘Hi, guys. Welcome to Villa Graziella. Good flight?’

  Ethan came across to her, caught hold of her affectionately round the waist and lifted her easily into the air.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous. The villa looks as stunning as you do.’

  As he set her down again, Emma smoothed her dress and grinned at him. ‘I bet you say that to all the villas you meet. How did the award ceremony go?’

  ‘I won Best Male Actor in a Horror Movie. Mind you, there wasn’t much competition – most of the others didn’t need any make-up to turn them into zombies.’

  ‘Ouch, that’s a bit catty! Didn’t your mummy tell you to be nice? Anyway, congratulations on yet another trophy. Your collection must be enormous by now.’

  ‘You should come over to my place and check them out some time. Sinc keeps telling me I should store them in a vault somewhere, but I get a kick out of looking at them from time to time.’

  Sinclair shook his head in resignation. ‘One of these days the bad guys are going to come looking for your stash of trophies and then you’ll wish you’d followed my advice.’

  Emma led them into the hotel and handed them over to Claudio and his team who were doing a masterful job of trying to look as if the arrival of a global megastar was an everyday event. As they escorted him to the lift, Emma gave him a little wave.

  ‘Once you’ve freshened up, we’ll be in the orangery if you want to come down for a drink.’

  As the lift doors closed, Emma turned towards Marina and Rich and noticed the same odd expression on both faces.

  ‘What’s up, guys? Something happen out on the road?’

  Marina glanced across at Rich and then answered for both of them.

  ‘No, the trip was fine. It’s just something Ethan said in the car.’ Emma saw her searching for the right words. ‘He was asking us about you, you see.’

  ‘About me…?’

  ‘We think he’s interested in you.’ Rich sounded unusually hesitant and Marina took over.

  ‘What he actually asked was whether you were seeing anybody… you know, a boyfriend.’

  Emma took a few calming breaths, trying not to panic. Maybe Mark had been right after all. ‘Ah, okay, and what did you tell him?’

  ‘The truth – we don’t know.’ Marina gave her a nervous little smile. ‘Did we do the right thing?’

  Emma did her best to smile back, although her mind was whirling with the possible complications this could cause. ‘Of course you did and thank you both for telling me.’ She reinforced her smile. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll sort it out. I’m sure he was just curious. He and I go way back and he was probably only being nosey. And, seriously, thanks for coming to me with this. I appreciate it.’

  As Marina and Rich set off up the stairs, she saw relief on both their faces. As for her, things had potentially got a lot more complicated. She walked back to the orangery and ordered a double espresso. She needed her brain to be sharp this evening. If it was true that Ethan was interested in her, how should she react? The last thing she wanted to do was to rebuff him and maybe even piss him off so seriously that he might throw a tantrum and storm off. The alternative would be to play along with him for now and then let
him down gently when they were back in Hollywood. She immediately discounted this idea. First, she had never been the sort of woman to use sexual favours to get ahead and second, there was Mark.

  ‘Ecco, signora.’

  The waitress set the little cup down in front of her and Emma reached for it immediately, shooting the girl a little smile and murmuring grazie. It was boiling hot, so she just took a sip as she returned to her internal debate.

  She was under no illusions that she had developed a deep attraction to Mark in such an incredibly short space of time. Never in her life had she been so immediately swept away by a man. Whether this overwhelming sense of attraction was in any way reciprocated by him remained uncertain, but she potentially now found herself in the sights of one of the most familiar, and desirable, faces on the planet and she knew that getting together with Ethan would totally change her life forever: overnight she would be catapulted into the limelight and she had enough experience of what media hounding could do to people to want to stay well clear of that, even if she were interested in Ethan in that way, which she just wasn’t. Crazy as it would, undoubtedly, sound to a lot of the female population of the globe, she just didn’t feel physically attracted to the sexiest man on earth.

  It was very, very annoying.

  Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of Claudio, who also had an odd expression on his face. For a moment, Emma wondered whether Ethan had been quizzing him about her relationship status as well. ‘Signora…’

  ‘Emma, please.’

  ‘Signora Emma, your guest has arrived.’

  ‘My guest?’ Had Laney Travers arrived a day early? ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘His name. It’s a… gentleman.’ There was a slight moment of hesitation before he decided on the correct nomenclature. ‘His name is Delgado, Erasmus Delgado.’

  Comprehension dawned in Emma’s head. ‘Oh, right, good. How did he get here? We were expecting to pick him up from the airport tomorrow.’

  ‘I believe he was driven here by his personal assistant. She is here with him.’

  By this time Emma was on her feet. She swallowed the rest of her espresso and braced herself for action.

  ‘Right, thanks, Claudio. Please lead me to him.’

  Erasmus Delgado was standing with his back to the reception desk, while a tall woman with very short-cropped hair completed the formalities. Erasmus Delgado’s hair, on the other hand, was anything but short. It hung in long, straggly grey cascades onto his shoulders and reminded Emma of stained-glass images of biblical prophets in St Martin’s church back home in Norfolk. His attention was directed at a gorgeous display of roses of all colours from deepest dark red to purest virgin white in a crystal vase on a delightful antique table, their perfume filling the air of the lobby. Emma went up to his side and did her best to attract his attention. It wasn’t easy.

  ‘Mr Delgado, good evening and welcome. My name’s Emma Taylor and I work for JMGP. It’s wonderful to meet you.’

  His gaze never wavered from the roses as he answered. ‘I imagine it is.’

  Clearly this particular film director wasn’t of the modest, self-effacing variety – not that there were a lot of them about. Emma had met his sort before so she just bolted on an even broader smile and tried again.

  ‘We’re so glad you could come here to meet up with Ethan and Laney. I’m sure they’ll be so happy to meet you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Emma waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming. Instead, she felt a touch on her arm and turned to see the lady with the urchin haircut. The smile still on her face, Emma introduced herself. The woman, who was probably in her forties or even early fifties, didn’t smile back, but she replied cordially enough.

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you. My name is Katya. I am Mr Delgado’s personal assistant.’ The accent was mid-European, her attitude brusque.

  As they shook hands, Katya almost broke Emma’s fingers. Surreptitiously nursing them behind her back, Emma continued with her charm offensive.

  ‘I hope you had a good journey. We would have been very happy to meet you and drive you here from the airport.’

  ‘Mr Delgado prefers to avoid air travel where possible, so we drove up from Rome, stopping off in Orvieto on the way as he was keen to see the town. His carbon footprint causes him sleepless nights.’ Emma nodded, vaguely wondering how he had managed to get to Europe from the USA, but Katya hadn’t finished. ‘Mr Delgado has a deep and lasting respect for the planet.’

  ‘I see. That’s good to know. Well, at least you’ve arrived safely.’ Emma turned her attention back to the director and for the first time she noticed a lump at his waist, concealed beneath his crumpled Hawaiian shirt. Might this be the famous tooth mug Ethan had mentioned? Clearing her throat, she had another go at establishing communication with him. ‘Is there anything we can do for you, Mr Delgado? Something to eat or drink, maybe, or would you like to see your rooms?’

  To her surprise, this elicited a response, but it wasn’t exactly what she had been expecting.

  ‘So sad, so very sad…’ His voice tailed off and his eyes never strayed from the roses. Fortunately, Katya was there to interpret.

  ‘Mr Delgado hates to see dead things. These flowers have been cut, so they are dead. This saddens him.’

  ‘Ah, yes, of course.’ Emma was beginning to feel she was in one of those dreams where you are trying to run through quicksand but it just drags you down and down. Fortunately, help in the shape of a Hollywood hunk arrived to save her.

  ‘Razzy, my man, it’s great to see you again.’ Ethan enveloped Erasmus in a bear hug and then transferred his attention to Katya, giving her one of his broadest and most beguiling smiles that would have had the knees of millions of women around the globe trembling in response. ‘Katya, my darling, you look just as gorgeous as ever. What happened to all the hair? The plaits?’

  As he said it, an image crossed Emma’s mind of Katya with blonde plaits, dressed in a dirndl, running across an Alpine meadow singing about the hills being alive with the sound of music. However, Ethan’s greeting brought no more than a token polite reply. Emma found herself wondering if the woman ever smiled. Mind you, from what she had seen of Erasmus so far, working for him was unlikely to be a bundle of laughs.

  ‘Good evening, Ethan.’

  Katya held out her hand towards him and it was on the tip of Emma’s tongue to warn him to beware of the vicelike grip but she decided to keep her mouth closed; however, she felt sure she saw him wince at the contact. Whipping his hand away again, Ethan turned to Emma and repeated his warm smile. Her knees didn’t tremble, but she definitely found herself smiling back.

  ‘Hi again, English. Who does a man have to kill around here to get a cold beer?’ He glanced over his shoulder at the monolithic figure of Sinclair who had materialised behind him, arms crossed. ‘Two beers?’

  Sinclair nodded at his boss and then shot a hint of a smile at Emma who immediately pointed in the direction of the orangery.

  ‘No need to kill anybody. Come on through and let’s have a beer.’

  To her surprise, Katya took Erasmus by the arm and led him firmly, but not unkindly, away from the roses in the direction of Emma’s pointing hand. He obeyed meekly and Emma was impressed. However unapproachable she might appear, Katya did at least know how to deal with her eccentric employer and this boded well for the success of the weekend.

  They ordered drinks and then took up places on two comfortable leather sofas facing each other across a glass-topped coffee table, Katya at her boss’s right hand and Ethan beside Emma. Sinclair perched on a bar stool a few feet away and kept a weather eye open. Ethan tapped Emma’s arm.

  ‘So, how’s it been going? Found any other romantic places for us?’

  Emma was happy to be able to launch into a detailed description of the places they had visited since they had said goodbye in Pisa. Gradually, as she did so, she spotted more than a glimmer of interest on the face of the director and a hint of a sm
ile, although this might have been simply as a result of tasting one of the villa’s special apple, kiwi and passion fruit smoothies. Katya, Emma noticed, drank nothing. By the end of her exposé, during which she also gave Erasmus a quick outline of the locations they had found up north, she definitely got the impression that he had been listening. Clearly he was already familiar with the screenplay and he proceeded to ask a number of questions about the different locations, culminating with Villa Graziella itself. Emma told him about her idea.

  ‘I thought this might be an ideal location for the point in the movie when Emily and her governess have the fever. I know it’s Umbria, rather than Tuscany, but I don’t see that as a problem. Do you?’

  Erasmus shook his head. ‘Absolutely no problem at all. I think it would be perfect.’ Then, to Emma’s total surprise, he actually paid her a compliment. ‘JM was right – you know what you’re doing.’

  From the expression on Katya’s face, she was equally surprised and maybe even a bit miffed. Maybe even jealous? However, before she could chime in, Erasmus swallowed the last of his smoothie and jumped remarkably nimbly to his feet. ‘And now I have to meditate.’

  Remembering what Ethan had said about the link between meditation and bowel movements, Emma had a shrewd idea what this might portend, so she stood up hastily and ushered him to the lift. As they got there, Katya reaffirmed her authority, pressing the call button before Emma had a chance.

  ‘Thank you, Emma, I’ll take it from here.’ She shepherded Erasmus into the lift and as the doors hissed shut, Emma felt a wave of relief.

  ‘Hey, boss, is it safe to come out now? We’ve been hiding.’ She turned to see Rich peeking out from behind a lemon tree in a terracotta pot in one corner of the lobby. Marina’s head emerged alongside him, a broad grin on her face. Rich was also grinning by now. ‘I was terrified I’d burst out laughing. My father told me some stuff about Erasmus, but I had no idea he was quite so wacky.’