Ava gave a little sigh and heard the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.
Yes, she was a pushover—and he knew he had her in the palm of his hand.
* * *
They emerged into the sunny street in front of the hotel around noon the next day.
Gianluca, showered and shaved and completely energised, looked incredible in a simple pair of dark trousers and one of those shirts he wore that seemed to be tailored to his powerful body.
He held her hand and walked right past the posse of pretty girls who yesterday had taken up so much of his time. Ava glanced at them and hoped her little smile wasn’t too smug.
As he moved ahead of her to open the car door she caught her reflection in the mirrored surface of the window and knew beyond doubt that she had to purchase some new clothes.
Gianluca had said nothing about her trousers this morning, and she’d picked her girliest top—a short-sleeved cotton blouse with a scooped neckline. But if clothes maketh the woman they didn’t reflect at all how she was feeling.
The shiny black Italian sports car shot out into the traffic, with Gianluca driving with the insouciance for which the Italians were famous—one hand on the wheel, the other playing with her hair, as if he couldn’t stop touching her.
Ava’s heart was pounding like a bird gone crazy in its cage.
She wanted to tell him how different this was for her—the Amalfi coast, driving in a sports car with her lover...her lover... Nobody back home would believe it.
A flutter of nerves swept through her. There were so many things that could go wrong.
Heck, she didn’t believe this—not after the long hours she’d worked back in Sydney, the routine that had become her safety zone in an unsafe world. How had she managed to break out of that?
But she didn’t feel unsafe with Gianluca. As they drove in this mad way past scooters and pedestrians and other gazillion-dollar sports cars her sense of unreality was Technicolor, but the command of the man beside her, not only over the car but his environment, was reassuring.
Gianluca Benedetti...maybe not so much playboy of the western world...maybe not at all... She looked at him with soft eyes. Maybe the man to get a crazy lady out of a fix.
‘If you keep looking at me like that, tesoro,’ he growled, ‘we won’t be getting where we’re going.’
‘And where are we going?’
‘I thought a little touristing around the coast. There are some pretty sights I’d like to show you.’
‘I’d like that too, but—’
How did she broach this? I need to stop at some boutiques because all the clothes in my suitcase look like I’ve just stepped out of a business-is-us catalogue!
‘But...tesoro?’
‘Can I have an hour? To myself?’
He gave her a curious look. ‘You will not run off?’ he asked, quite seriously.
‘No!’ Ava shot back just as seriously. ‘Why would you think that?’
He grinned. ‘Just checking.’
She relaxed and felt foolish. She wasn’t used to this kind of banter, although she could quickly grow used to it. Her heart felt light and fluttery in her chest, as if she’d run a race and stopped and her heart didn’t know it yet.
‘Where should I drop you? When should I pick you up?’
Ava bit her lip. She wanted clothes—except she didn’t know where to begin looking.
‘Ava?’
She scanned the road, spotted some well-dressed women coming out of a shop with bags. Bingo!
‘Anywhere here,’ she instructed nonchalantly.
He grinned at her, as if she hadn’t fooled him in the least, and double-parked.
‘Are you sure I’m not wanted?’
He was, but she needed to do this herself. How embarrassing to ask a man to shop for her because she didn’t have the first clue about what really suited her.
She had no doubt Gianluca was an expert, but the thought of him with a bevy of other far more fashion-conscious women before her wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on.
‘Come back in an hour.’ That should give her enough time. She hoped.
As the sports car shot off once more into the traffic she felt a pang of regret, but she needed to do this for herself.
The stores seemed uniformly ordinary—and then she entered a boutique where instantly she saw what she was looking for. A long pale blue silk dress with an overlay of gossamer material embroidered with tiny blue forget-me-nots. As a little girl she had missed out on having a mother who liked to dress her up. She’d grown up in jeans and T-shirts, a real tomboy, not through preference but necessity.
This was the sort of dress she’d always thought was too girly for her even as she’d admired the look on other women.
Ignoring the price tags, Ava finally walked out with three bags, laden with her purchases. She was feeling better about her body and it gave her more confidence, trying on clothes that suited her. She made a few more purchases down the road, ditching her trousers for good and feeling much freer in a pair of white capris.