would be interested in her in a million years! No wonder he was looking so amused.
In desperation, she tried to salvage her pride. ‘It’s just that I might need to make notes as we talk, that’s all, and if you’d told her she might have laid the table with a bit more practicality. It’s a little dark out here…don’t you think? With just the candlelight?’
‘Ah! I understand.’ He pulled out one of the chairs for her and watched as she walked hesitantly over to sit down. ‘Well, I’ll just have to see what I can do about that for you. There are some extra lights out here somewhere.’
‘Thank you.’ Why did she feel so unbearably self-conscious? she wondered angrily. Why was she aware of every nuance in his voice, every flicker from his dark eyes as they moved over her?
She watched as he walked across to a light switch and switched it on.
‘So how is that?’ he asked.
Isobel had expected a bright overhead light to come on, but instead garden lights flickered on, glittering like icicles around the palm trees and the edges of the veranda, giving the gathering dusk an even more romantic feel.
‘As you probably know, that isn’t any help at all,’ she muttered, and he smiled.
‘Really? I think it’s much better.’ ‘ He strolled back and sat down opposite. ‘Best I can do, I’m afraid.’
Somehow Isobel didn’t believe him. In fact she got the distinct impression he was enjoying her feeling of discomfiture. ‘Well, never mind. I’ll just have to use my Dictaphone,’ she said as she reached to get it out of her bag. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Without waiting for an answer she turned it on and put it down in the centre of the table.
‘Actually, yes, I
do
mind.’ Calmly he leaned over, picked the machine up and talked into it. ‘Note to Ms Izzy Keyes… You need to relax a little, unwind and switch off.’ As he spoke his eyes held hers. ‘And by the way—has anyone ever told you that you look quite extraordinarily attractive when you are angry?’
Then he switched the machine off, and watched as her green eyes blazed with fire.
‘Marco, stop making fun of me! I really need to start assimilating information for my article,’ she told him in consternation.
‘I wasn’t making fun. I was being serious.’ And he really was, he realised suddenly. There was something exciting about the way her intelligent green eyes could blaze like that—the way her smooth, pale skin could warm up to boiling point.
‘Let’s assimilate information the old-fashioned way… hmm?’ He murmured huskily. ‘Let’s have a conversation and get to know each other.’ He watched as her eyes narrowed warily on him. ‘Anyone would think I’d suggested something scandalous,’ he said humorously.
‘No, you haven’t, but I think you are missing the point.’ Her heart was thudding uncomfortably hard against her chest as she strove to sound in control. ‘I’m interviewing you, and—’
‘No, I think
you
are missing the point Izzy. We are sitting on a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean, about to havedinner. Life is too short for rigid rules. You can assimilate your information, as you like to put it, but let’s do it my way.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘
My
way Izzy…or no way.’ He cut across her firmly.
‘Well, what can I say…?’ She shrugged helplessly. She wasn’t at all happy about the way this conversation was going, and she was totally out of her comfort zone now. ‘I was just trying to be organized, so I don’t forget anything.’
It was strange, but the more she tried to put up her businesslike barriers the more Marco felt inclined to tear them down. ‘You won’t forget anything,’ he told her softly. ‘And here’s a radical idea—if you do, you can ask me in the morning and I’ll remind you.’
He leaned across and filled both of their wine glasses.
‘Now, what shall we drink to?’ he asked nonchalantly.
She wanted to tell him again that she didn’t drink while
In desperation, she tried to salvage her pride. ‘It’s just that I might need to make notes as we talk, that’s all, and if you’d told her she might have laid the table with a bit more practicality. It’s a little dark out here…don’t you think? With just the candlelight?’
‘Ah! I understand.’ He pulled out one of the chairs for her and watched as she walked hesitantly over to sit down. ‘Well, I’ll just have to see what I can do about that for you. There are some extra lights out here somewhere.’
‘Thank you.’ Why did she feel so unbearably self-conscious? she wondered angrily. Why was she aware of every nuance in his voice, every flicker from his dark eyes as they moved over her?
She watched as he walked across to a light switch and switched it on.
‘So how is that?’ he asked.
Isobel had expected a bright overhead light to come on, but instead garden lights flickered on, glittering like icicles around the palm trees and the edges of the veranda, giving the gathering dusk an even more romantic feel.
‘As you probably know, that isn’t any help at all,’ she muttered, and he smiled.
‘Really? I think it’s much better.’ ‘ He strolled back and sat down opposite. ‘Best I can do, I’m afraid.’
Somehow Isobel didn’t believe him. In fact she got the distinct impression he was enjoying her feeling of discomfiture. ‘Well, never mind. I’ll just have to use my Dictaphone,’ she said as she reached to get it out of her bag. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Without waiting for an answer she turned it on and put it down in the centre of the table.
‘Actually, yes, I
do
mind.’ Calmly he leaned over, picked the machine up and talked into it. ‘Note to Ms Izzy Keyes… You need to relax a little, unwind and switch off.’ As he spoke his eyes held hers. ‘And by the way—has anyone ever told you that you look quite extraordinarily attractive when you are angry?’
Then he switched the machine off, and watched as her green eyes blazed with fire.
‘Marco, stop making fun of me! I really need to start assimilating information for my article,’ she told him in consternation.
‘I wasn’t making fun. I was being serious.’ And he really was, he realised suddenly. There was something exciting about the way her intelligent green eyes could blaze like that—the way her smooth, pale skin could warm up to boiling point.
‘Let’s assimilate information the old-fashioned way… hmm?’ He murmured huskily. ‘Let’s have a conversation and get to know each other.’ He watched as her eyes narrowed warily on him. ‘Anyone would think I’d suggested something scandalous,’ he said humorously.
‘No, you haven’t, but I think you are missing the point.’ Her heart was thudding uncomfortably hard against her chest as she strove to sound in control. ‘I’m interviewing you, and—’
‘No, I think
you
are missing the point Izzy. We are sitting on a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean, about to havedinner. Life is too short for rigid rules. You can assimilate your information, as you like to put it, but let’s do it my way.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘
My
way Izzy…or no way.’ He cut across her firmly.
‘Well, what can I say…?’ She shrugged helplessly. She wasn’t at all happy about the way this conversation was going, and she was totally out of her comfort zone now. ‘I was just trying to be organized, so I don’t forget anything.’
It was strange, but the more she tried to put up her businesslike barriers the more Marco felt inclined to tear them down. ‘You won’t forget anything,’ he told her softly. ‘And here’s a radical idea—if you do, you can ask me in the morning and I’ll remind you.’
He leaned across and filled both of their wine glasses.
‘Now, what shall we drink to?’ he asked nonchalantly.
She wanted to tell him again that she didn’t drink while
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