An Italian Engagement. Catherine George

in a town called Pennington. I own a house within walking distance of my office building—why the smile?’

      She chuckled. ‘Would you believe I went to school in Pennington? I was brought up not far away from there in Stavely.’

      Max shook his head in wonder. ‘So you’re a girl from the Shires—small world. But you’re obviously based in London now.’

      ‘And run home to Stavely every chance I get! You told me you’re an architect, but what kind of work does your firm do?’ asked Abby.

      ‘We design large-scale buildings, mainly, but we also do individual work for people with specific requirements, like a recent client left partially paralysed after a road accident. I worked with him to modify his house, and now he can cope with everything in it from his wheelchair.’

      ‘That must be a very satisfying thing to do,’ she said, impressed.

      ‘It is.’ He smiled wryly. ‘But I also do an increasing amount for clients brave—or mad—enough to invest in romantic ruins. My house out here is a good advertisement,’ he said, topping up her glass. ‘What led you into your kind of work?’

      She shrugged. ‘Fate, I suppose—coupled with a love of music. I read English at university, took a further business studies course after that, and while I applied for jobs I worked at the local stately home.’

      ‘Do they get many graduates on their staff?’

      Abby nodded. ‘Quite a few in summer. But I had a foot in the door because I’d worked there before in vacations. The summer I graduated I helped out with a series of open-air concerts at the house, and got on very well with Simon Hadley, the events organiser. His permanent assistant left to have a baby before the end of the season and to my surprise he asked if I’d like the job. But after four seasons I feel it’s time to move on. I finish in a couple of weeks.’

      He eyed her narrowly. ‘I thought you promised to see Gianni next summer!’

      She flushed. ‘I will see him. I’ll be there at the concerts, but someone else will take care of him.’

      Max shook his head in mock reproof. ‘You mean you strung him along to make him sign on the dotted line.’

      ‘I was acting under instructions from Simon,’ she said firmly. ‘But I wasn’t lying. I’ll definitely be in the audience when he sings.’

      ‘But you won’t be Gianni’s nursemaid.’ He leaned nearer. ‘How do you know I won’t betray your secret?’

      She met his eyes squarely. ‘I don’t. Will you?’

      He shook his head. ‘I shall leave my little brother in blissful ignorance.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Abby sniffed rapturously as her truffle pasta was set before her. ‘Grazie,’ she said to the waiter with a warm smile. ‘Delizioso!’

      ‘The lad’s gone off in a daze,’ said Max, after the waiter had provided them with everything he could think of. ‘He thinks you’re delizioso too.’

      ‘Rather sweet, isn’t he?’

      ‘I didn’t notice. Eat. You can give me the rest of the Abigail Green life story afterwards.’

      ‘Only if you tell me Max Wingate’s in return,’ she retorted, and smiled very deliberately into his eyes. ‘Or should I call you “Massimo”?’

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘GIANNI’S little joke,’ Max said, resigned. ‘My mother insists on calling me that because it was her father’s name, but legally, and to everyone else, I’m Max.’

      The waiter interrupted them to refill glasses with wine, but after a word from Max he left them in peace.

      ‘I don’t know what you said, but the poor boy looked really hurt,’ said Abby reproachfully.

      Max shrugged, unrepentant. ‘Don’t worry—the “poor boy” will be back the minute you swallow your last mouthful.’

      She laughed, and went on with her meal with concentration which amused her companion. She set down her fork at last with a sigh. ‘That was wonderful.’

      ‘How about dessert?’ said Max, rolling his eyes as the waiter hurried to their table.

      ‘No room,’ she said, trying not to laugh.

      ‘Then it’s back to your hotel. Unless you fancy another stroll around town?’

      ‘It’s certainly a delightful place,’ she said obliquely, wishing now that she’d agreed to dessert if it meant more time with Max Wingate. Did she like him that much, then? Who was she kidding? Of course she did! Once he’d simmered down after the fright she’d given him he’d gone out of his way to help a stranger who’d not only disrupted his day but who had also almost given him a heart attack in the process. Gianni oozed natural charm, but Max’s hard-edged persona appealed to her far more. There was something compelling about the dark, heavy-lidded eyes which gave her a shivery feeling every time they met hers.

      ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, so softly she had to crane to hear him above the noise and bustle of the restaurant.

      Abby felt her face grow hot. ‘Just how kind and helpful you’ve been.’

      He leaned nearer. ‘Don’t endow me with non-existent virtues! I was kind as a means to an end—to coax you to spend the evening with me.’

      She eyed him quizzically. ‘Because you had to cancel your chess game?’

      He shook his head. ‘Aldo’s the builder who worked with me on the house. I can play chess with him any time. When fate sent you up my road instead of Gianni’s only a fool would have passed up the chance to take advantage of it. And I may be many things, but I’m no fool, Abigail Green.’

      ‘I believe you!’

      He sat back, studying her. ‘Do you get much hassle from the male celebrities you deal with?’

      ‘Sometimes it’s a bit tricky with the ones who forget they’re married, but nothing I can’t handle with tact—so far.’ Abby looked up with a smile for the waiter as he brought their espressos. ‘Generally I get on well with men.’

      ‘So I see!’

      ‘I meant the men I meet professionally. And the ones in college, too. Before that, in school, all my friends were girls. I was a real turn-off for the boys at that stage—too skinny, too tall and too much of a swot.’ She smiled philosophically. ‘But by the time I went up to Cambridge to university I’d filled out a bit, everyone else was clever—a lot of them much more than me—and my social life took off into the fast lane.’

      ‘I can well believe that!’ He got up, and held out his hand. ‘So, Miss Green. If you’ve finished your coffee and you can tear yourself away from our attentive waiter, let’s rejoin the evening passeggiata for a while.’

      Under a full moon the city looked more romantic than ever. Warning her to beware of uneven cobbles in some of the darker streets, Max took Abby’s hand in his as they made a leisurely tour of some of the restored medieval houses, and after a while suggested they observe local custom and make for the gelateria across the park, to sample the local ice cream. ‘It’s very good—they make it with fresh fruit.’

      ‘I’m still full of that fabulous meal,’ Abby said with regret. ‘Could we just wander round a bit more instead?’

      ‘Anything you want,’ he assured her, surprised to find he meant it quite literally. It was a long time since he’d walked anywhere hand in hand with a girl, and never with one who appealed to him as much as Abigail Green. ‘Poor Gianni. This pastime is a simple pleasure he can’t enjoy any more in his home town—one of the downsides to celebrity.’

      ‘He must have a girlfriend, surely?’