Liz Fielding – Italian Escape: Summer with the Millionaire / In the Italian's Sights / Flirting with Italian (страница 23)

‘Sensible and pretty,’ Minty assured him. ‘But I don’t want to go to Rome.’

An eyebrow quirked. ‘No? Then where shall I head to? North to the lakes or the mountains? Or I could drive us to Venice or Verona?’

Verona was new territory; the lakes were always lovely. Venice? Suddenly the thought of a jostling, crowded city didn’t seem that appealing, even one as quirkily beautiful as Venice.

Besides, Luca would hate it.

Minty looked out at the sunshine and thought about the light and very spring-like clothing she had just purchased. It was still early in the season. ‘I think we should go south,’ she decided.

Luca’s eyes flickered to her bare legs and feet, and he grinned but didn’t say anything.

‘Are you sure?’ Minty wasn’t sure what she was asking. Was he sure about taking the time off, about taking a trip with her? About being with her?

‘Completely. I haven’t taken any time off in well over a year. A break will probably do me good.’

‘Okay.’ She bit down on her bottom lip. These doubts were ridiculous. Luca was a grown man, a responsible, sensible CEO. If he said he wanted to take some time off, then it wasn’t her job to question him or dissuade him.

It was just that impulsive road trips were more her style than his. She wasn’t used to people adapting to her ways.

Minty slouched down further into her seat, deliberately, provocatively, assuming an almost horizontal, ultra-relaxed position. ‘South it is. How far are we going to go? All the way?’ She allowed a touch of innuendo to enter her voice and was gratified to see him swallow, his jaw clench. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

‘There probably isn’t time to get to Sicily and to enjoy it properly. Not if we’re going to drive—unless you want to fly?’

‘Oh, we are definitely driving. A road trip is much more fun if it actually involves a road,’ she insisted. ‘Flying makes it a mini-break; not the same thing at all.’

‘I went on holiday to Sorrento with my parents the year before they died,’ Luca offered. His face was blank, expressionless, but for all the studied nonchalance there was a dark undercurrent in his voice. ‘I never wanted to go back before—too many memories, I suppose—but maybe it’s time to make some new ones. Of course, you’ve probably been there far too many times.’

Minty shook her head. ‘Not even once,’ she said promptly. ‘Sorrento it is. Capri, Amalfi, Positano—sounds like a socialite’s dream. I bet I can find us a café where the price of coffee will make you cry.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Luca murmured drily, but he reached over with one hand and touched her, just a fleeting caress of her knee, yet it was as if a flame had scorched her, the heat travelling across her body. Minty resisted the urge to grab his hand, to move it back.

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