‘Ice maiden? Really? Who says that?’
He was still grinning, but now he even managed to look a little bit embarrassed – he was a very good actor after all. ‘Oh, just people. No, of course you aren’t icy. Everybody loves you. I love you but, let’s face it, the job comes first with you.’
‘Well, maybe that’s because I like my job so much.’ She glanced across at Rich and summoned a grin. ‘Now, don’t you go telling your father that or he’ll make me work even harder. But I’m not really one of those boring people who just lives for her work… am I?’ The idea that her colleagues thought of her as distant and aloof was disconcerting.
Rich grinned back at her and, at her side, she heard Mark’s voice.
‘There’s more to life than work. That’s personal experience talking. Trust me.’
As she returned her attention to him, another thought crossed her mind. Yes, he had revealed that Carmen was a dog, but that didn’t necessarily mean that there wasn’t a special someone waiting for him back in Umbria. She took another sip of red wine and decided she had to know.
‘So, what about you, Mark? Did you manage to balance your private life and your work? Did you find your Mrs Right?’
In an instant, a cloud flashed across his face and his eyes suddenly dropped to the table top. She could have kicked herself. This had obviously been a question too far. Then, while she was desperately trying to think of a way out of the mess she had just created, he looked up again with those hypnotic eyes, the upset in them all too visible.
‘I thought I had, Emma, I thought I had.’ She saw him take a deep breath and she very nearly reached out to offer him a consoling hug, but she restrained herself as he added in clipped tones. ‘But I’m afraid it ended in tears.’
Fortunately, at that moment, Rodolfo’s wife appeared bearing a huge terracotta dish piled high with grilled meat, cheese and snake-like coils of sausage, all surrounded by what looked like thick, multi-coloured crisps. These turned out to be slices of potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, beetroot and some sort of turnips, quickly fried so the outside was crispy, while the inside remained soft and very, very tasty. Everybody started speaking at once, blown away by the sight and scent of the feast before them, and the moment passed. Emma slipped a glance sideways towards Mark and saw him smiling once more as he explained to Ethan just what delicacies were before them.
She drained her glass and reached for the Chianti. Rich got there first and filled her glass for her. He gave her a little, wry smile and she had a feeling he must have realised what had been going through her head. He topped up his own glass and clinked it against hers and then Marina’s.
‘It’s been a lovely evening. In fact, speaking personally, these have been the best few days I’ve had in years and it’s down to you and, of course, Marina. Thanks, boss.’
Ethan was quick to reach over and bang his glass against theirs and then Sinclair and Mark followed suit. As Mark’s glass clinked against Emma’s she heard him repeat Rich’s words. ‘Thanks, boss.’ There was a pause and then he added five little words so very quietly only she could hear. ‘I’m glad I’ve met you.’
Chapter 11
Next morning they all went for a run along a track though the woods above the hotel. Ethan and Sinclair soon accelerated away, leaving the others in their wake. Emma had a shrewd idea that Mark could have gone with them, but had chosen to stay behind and run alongside her. Behind them, Marina and Rich gradually slowed to a trot and receded into the distance. Soon all Emma could hear was the rhythmic pounding of her own feet as they scuffed through the dry leaves and twigs on the track. Everywhere was terribly dry and notices on gates and fences warned against starting fires. Last night Rodolfo and his wife, who had joined them for a glass of his home-distilled grappa, had told them about the great fire, the previous August, which had come within a hundred metres of La Luna. It was barely mid-June now and the grass was already turning brown. By August, it would be tinder dry.
Although it was still early, the temperature was already high and Emma was soon sweating profusely. As the track emerged from the trees onto a sort of headland overlooking the valley below, she spotted a fallen tree and glanced across at Mark.
‘Feel like taking a break for a minute or two? I’m still burping grappa.’
He grinned back at her and they slowed to a stop. She sat down on the big, old, tree trunk and he took a seat beside her. Stretching her back, Emma surveyed the view as her heart rate slowed once more.
It was a charming scene, looking down the hillside and out across the wide valley floor as far as Pisa and the coast beyond it to the right. It was too far for her to make out the Leaning Tower, but she felt pretty sure she could see the huge white bulk of the cathedral. The distant Mediterranean was shimmering in the morning sunshine and the air was full of the perfume of wild thyme and rosemary. She ran her hands through her hair and glanced across at him. He was sitting quite still, his eyes far away, his expression difficult to interpret. It wasn’t really happy and it certainly wasn’t really sad. In the end she settled for troubled. He must have felt her eyes on him as he suddenly turned towards her.
‘Look at you. You’re barely panting. Do you run every day back in Hollywood?’
‘Not every day, but when I can. I play tennis at least once a week as well and I live in a complex with a pool, so I get a fair amount of exercise.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘So, is there a pool at your lovely hotel in Umbria?’
He nodded. ‘It was only finished and filled a couple of weeks ago, but the water temperature’s been climbing steadily. Hopefully by the weekend it won’t be too chilly.’ His face broke into a little smile. ‘Our main problem at the moment is keeping Carmen out of it. Like all Labs, she loves the water. The trouble is that filtration systems and dog hair don’t mix.’
‘I look forward to meeting the love of your life.’
She smiled back at him, but his smile had gone now. He turned his face sharply away from her and gazed out over the valley before them once more. She sat there, wondering if she should say anything, but uncertain how to begin. In the end, he was the first to speak.
‘They’re wonderful things, dogs. Pure, unadulterated love is what they give you. When I was growing up, after the death of my parents, it was my granddad’s old dog, Tosca – he always named them after characters in opera – who kept me going. I’m sure she realised I was grieving and she stuck by my side like glue. She slept beside my bed – and on it when grandma wasn’t looking – and she accompanied me everywhere.’ He turned his head and caught Emma’s eye for a few seconds. ‘I’m not sure how I’d have coped without old Tosca.’
There was a catch in his voice and Emma couldn’t resist reaching out and resting her hand on his wrist. ‘It must have been so, so tough to lose your parents. How old were you?’
‘Five, coincidentally the same age as Carmen the dog was last year when my grandfather died.’
His eyes were trained on her hand on his arm. She didn’t make a move, waiting for him to say more, but she had to wait a good long while. In the end, when he finally looked back up, the pained expression had cleared from his face.