perfect. Don’t wear anything else, not even a watch,’ the assistant said. ‘What about shoes?’
‘I was thinking black high heels,’ Fran said.
‘Patent or suede?’
‘Suede.’
The assistant nodded. ‘Perfect. You’re going to blow his mind when he sees you.’
Not when she wasn’t his real girlfriend. ‘Maybe,’ she hedged.
‘There’s no maybe about it,’ the assistant said with a smile. ‘That dress was made for you.’
‘I was planning to get a little black dress. Something practical that I could dress up or down.’
‘You could,’ the assistant said, ‘but, believe me, nothing’s going to be as perfect as what you’re wearing right now.’
And Fran knew the assistant was right when she opened her front door to Gio and his jaw dropped.
‘Wow.’ Then he seemed to recover fast and go back to their usual teasing relationship. ‘You scrub up nicely, Francesca Marsden.’
So did he. In dark trousers and a silk shirt, he looked stunning. And very, very touchable.
He reached out and traced a fingertip just below the line of her necklace. The feel of his skin against hers made every nerve end quiver and her pulse speeded up.
‘Your dress is the same colour as your eyes. It’s fabulous,’ he said softly.
And she knew he meant it.
He wasn’t paying his pretend girlfriend a compliment in front of his family.
He was telling her this, here and now. In private.
‘Not just the dress. You look fabulous.’ Then he held out his hand. ‘We’d better go. The taxi’s waiting.’
She locked up and followed him out to the taxi. He held the door open for her—the perfect manners were typical of Gio—and it seemed as if hardly a minute passed before they were there.
‘Are you really sure you’re up to this?’ Gio asked. ‘The Mazetti clan is pretty big. It’s not too late to back out.’
‘I’ve already met Nonna, your parents and your sisters, your aunt and some of your cousins,’she reminded him. ‘It’ll be fine.’
‘Then let’s do it.’ He slid his arm round her shoulders, and they walked into the hall together.
He’d said his family was big. But she hadn’t expected the place to be so utterly packed. Gio introduced her to person after person; although she was normally good with names, there were so many that she simply lost track.
And she had no idea who was topping up her glass, but the level of champagne never seemed to go down. It would be way too easy to drink too much and make a mistake—say something she shouldn’t. She made a mental note to put her glass down and forget about it.
‘Francesca, cara!’ Nonna came over to her, hugged her and kissed both cheeks. ‘You look lovely.’
‘So do you,’ Fran responded politely.
Nonna chuckled. ‘Ah, but I don’t have that extra sparkle—the look of a young woman in love.’
Maybe Gio’s family were seeing what they wanted to see, Fran thought. Or maybe after all these years she’d finally found her hidden talent: acting. Because she wasn’t in love with Gio.
Was she?
Before Nonna could say anything else, the band on stage played a fanfare.
Gio groaned. ‘Why do we have to do this every year?’
‘Because it wouldn’t be a birthday party without it, figlio mio,’ his father said, laughing and patting his shoulder.
‘You know the song,’ the singer said into the microphone. ‘Four times. Giovanni, Isabella, Giuditta and Marcella.’
The band played the introduction to ‘Happy Birthday to You’, and then were drowned out by the entire room singing in Italian. ‘Tanti auguri a te, Tanti auguri a te, Tanti auguri Giovanni, tanti auguri a te!’ The song was repeated for Gio’s sisters; and finally, there was a rousing set of cheers.
‘Your family definitely knows how to party,’ Fran said, smiling at Gio when the cheers had died down and the band was playing again.
‘Years of practice,’ Gio said. ‘Let’s get some food and escape outside. It’s boiling in here.’
Once he’d piled a plate with assorted canapés and dips, they found a quiet corner in the grounds. Gio looked at the bench, then at Fran’s dress. ‘Some of that varnish is peeling. I don’t want it ruining your dress. Better sit on my lap.’
From another man, it would be a cheesy excuse. From Gio, it was practical common sense. So when he set the plate down on the bench beside them, she acquiesced without making a fuss, settling herself on his lap and resting one hand on his shoulder for balance.
The fact that his hand was resting on the curve of her waist really shouldn’t be sending these little shivers through her body, she thought. He’d only done it to make sure she didn’t accidentally slide off his lap. And she really shouldn’t get used to being close to him like this. Close and personal.
Striving to keep her voice normal, she said, ‘It’s quite an evening.’
‘When we were kids, we used to have a bouncy castle and a barbecue in the back garden. But as we grew older and the family’s grown bigger, Mum decided to hire a hall and a band.’ He sighed. ‘To be honest, I’d much rather have a quiet night out somewhere. See a good film or a show. But Mum, Nonna and the girls really enjoy it. They love planning the party and getting dressed up and having an excuse to get everyone together and talk so much that they end up with sore throats the next day.’
‘So you put up with it for their sake?’ Fran guessed.
‘Yeah.’ Gio shrugged. ‘Just call me Saint Giovanni.’
She gave in to the temptation to stroke his cheek. Freshly shaven. Smooth and soft and sensual. ‘You’re a good man,’ she said.
He turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss into her palm—like the way she’d pressed a kiss into his palm that afternoon when he’d kissed her on her sofa. ‘Not really. I let my family down once—at the time when they needed me most. I promised myself I would never do that again.’
‘Everyone else forgave you long ago—if they ever blamed you in the first place.’Which, having met his family, she very much doubted. ‘Your dad’s heart attack wasn’t your fault. When are you going to forgive yourself, Gio?’
‘I don’t know.’ He sighed. ‘Can we change the subject, please?’
This wasn’t the time or the place to push him. ‘Sure. What do you want to talk about?’
‘Dunno.’
He looked utterly lost, and it made her heart ache. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose.
He looked up at her, his eyes dark, and his hands tightened round her waist. ‘Why did you do that?’
She opted for honesty. ‘Because you’re hurting, Gio, and I want to make you feel better.’
She couldn’t help staring at his mouth. Even though he was in a bleak mood, right now, there was still a tiny curve upwards at the corner of his lips. That irrepressible, funny man she’d grown to l—
Whoops. She was getting too much into this role of being Gio’s girlfriend. Better remember she was just his office manager, and this was just for show. ‘Talk to me,’ she said softly. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’
He shook his head. ‘Just ignore me. I’m in