Best of Bosses 2008(37)

‘No, really. I have to eat. And I have a couple of suggestions about the business, so we might as well multi-task it.’

How could he resist? ‘Are you saying you’d make me work late on my birthday?’

‘Let you, more like,’ she teased back. ‘I’ll meet you outside your place in an hour.’

‘So where are we going?’

‘Within walking distance.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘That’s only half an answer.’

‘It’s the best you’re going to get. And the dress code is whatever you like.’

He loved the way she teased him. The way she’d come out of her shell over the last month. He’d wondered if meeting his family would bring out her shy streak even more, but it hadn’t—quite the opposite. And he really, really liked this confident, bubbly woman who’d emerged from her slightly too serious exterior. ‘So I could wear really loud surfer shorts and the most hideously raggy T-shirt in the world?’ he tested.

‘If you don’t mind people pointing at you and laughing at you, sure.’ She gave him the sauciest wink he’d ever seen, and sashayed out of the shop.

He swallowed the disappointment that she hadn’t kissed him goodbye. Well, of course she hadn’t. Nobody was here to report back to the Mazetti clan, were they? Besides, they’d agreed to forget about what happened on Sunday.

The problem was, his body refused to forget. He could almost feel the softness of her skin against his fingertips, smell her soft floral scent, feel the texture of her mouth against his.

It drove him crazy.

The more so because he really didn’t know how to deal with this.



An hour later, Gio had just come out of the front door when he saw Fran walking towards him.

‘What, no surfer shorts?’ she teased.

He’d opted for plain black trousers and the light sweater she’d bought him; despite the fact it was summer, it was chilly that evening. ‘I thought this might be more appropriate.’

‘It suits you.’ She ran her hand lightly over the soft cashmere. And even though her palm hadn’t actually been in contact with his skin, every nerve end was on red alert.

He was shocked to realise just how much he wanted Fran to touch him. Properly. Skin to skin.

This wasn’t meant to happen.

And he was going to have to be very, very careful.

‘Though dressed completely in black, with those dark glasses on as well…’ She tutted and sucked in a breath. ‘You look a bit like a James Bond wannabe.’

‘And how do you know I’m not James Bond?’ he retorted. ‘I could be sending out hidden messages in those lattes. Those rosettas could be a special secret-agent code.’

She laughed, and tucked her arm through his. ‘So you’re telling me your car is really super-turbocharged, instead of cornering like a tank and doing zero to sixty in about half a day?’

‘That’s below the belt,’ he reprimanded her, laughing. ‘So where did you say we were going?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘No clues whatsoever?’ he wheedled.

‘Nope.’

He gave in, and just enjoyed the experience of walking through London with her, arm in arm. She switched the conversation to favourite movies, and he hadn’t really noticed where they were going until she stopped outside Netti’s pizzeria.

‘Here?’ Talk about bearding the lion in its den.

‘It’s the best pizzeria in London. And it’s where you told me you celebrate red-letter days. So as today is your birthday—which I would say is a red-letter day—it seemed appropriate.’

The second he walked through the door, the room seemed to erupt with party poppers—and then there was a rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday to You’.

As the paper streamers began to settle, he could see that the middle part of the restaurant was full, the usual small tables pulled together to form one enormous long table. All the staff from the four branches of Giovanni’s were there, along with his parents, his sisters and their partners, and Nonna. There were two spare places at the far end; one of the chairs had a helium balloon attached, with the number twenty-nine emblazoned on it.

Marco gave him a hug. ‘Buon compleanno, cugino mio,’ he said.

Gio was still too surprised for any words to come out. When Netti emerged from the kitchen to give him a hug and a kiss, he submitted gracefully. And then he let Fran lead him over to his seat.

‘I had absolutely no idea you were planning this,’ he said. She’d already made a fuss of him that morning. He really hadn’t expected her to plan a surprise for the evening, too.

‘That was the plan.’ She smiled. ‘Though I can’t take all the credit. It wasn’t just me.’