‘It’s nice to meet you, Gio. Are you from Rome?’ He might have been eating at the hotel rather than staying there.
For a moment longer his expression was unreadable. Then he smiled. ‘No, but I visit often.’ He gestured towards the road where there was a break in the traffic and together they made it to the large cobblestoned piazza and began walking across. Ahead a group of tourists posed before a huge, ornate fountain. ‘And you? I know you’re not local.’
‘No.’ She paused, wary of sharing too much, then shook off the urge for caution, impatient that she was overthinking things. ‘I’m Australian. From Melbourne.’
‘You’ve left an Australian winter for spring in Rome? It’s a good time to be here. Before the true heat and all the visitors. I assume Melbourne is chilly now?’
‘I—’ He’d taken her by surprise, assuming she’d flown straight from Australia. But it was easier to let him believe that than explain her true situation.
‘Melbourne winters are cold. The wind sweeps up from the Antarctic.’
She looked sideways and once more he was scrutinising her. But even as she thought it he smiled, a slow furling of the lips that made her pulse quicken. He really was an extraordinarily charismatic man.
Why was he spending time with her? But then he spoke and she shelved the question.
‘Not just in winter. I was there in spring and I’d swear we had four seasons in a day. Everything from rain and wind to blazing sun.’
Stella’s footsteps slowed. ‘You’ve been there?’
Strange that his casual comment should make her feel homesick. She no longer pined for Melbourne as she had through those terrible days when she grappled with the loss of her mother and everything she knew. But suddenly she yearned for that little suburban house with its well-tended garden. She remembered helping her mum pick home-grown vegetables and playing hopscotch with her friends on the cracked, concrete driveway.
‘Once or twice. But not for a while.’
‘You should visit in summer, in January when the Australian Open Tennis is on, right near the city centre. It’s a great day out.’
Her mother had taken her once. Not to centre court, because they couldn’t afford the tickets. They’d got a pass that gave access to the outside courts and practice areas. Her mum had packed a picnic and they’d drifted from court to court, seeing so many of the players Stella had heard about.
‘You’re a tennis player?’
‘Not for a long time.’ Her mother had been and Stella had loved her lessons on Saturday mornings. But there’d been no court near her father’s house and he hadn’t seen the need for her to travel just to hit a ball. She blinked and yanked her thoughts to the present. ‘How about you?’
He had the build of a sportsman.
‘I’ve been known to play from time to time. I’ll have to remember your advice next time I go to Australia.’ He gestured ahead. ‘Here we are.’
Stella’s attention was on the brightly decorated gelateria as she stepped onto the road. An engine roared suddenly and a hand closed around her elbow, pulling her back. She stumbled, colliding with a large, hard body as a tiny car sped past.
‘Alwayscheck the traffic before crossing.’
That deep voice didn’t sound lazy now but taut with concern. She looked up and felt again the unfamiliar ripple of awareness she’d experienced back in the hotel. As if Gio were no stranger but someone she knew. Or should have known in another life. As if they had an unseen connection.
She shook her head at the flight of fancy. It was ridiculously unlike her. She’d grown up to be practical, sensible and hard-working. As a child she might have believed in magic and fairytales, but she’d moved beyond that. The magic in her world had died with her mother.
‘Thank you.’ She stepped back and he released his hold. ‘I’ll remember to look out in future.’
She made some half-hearted joke about being too focused on getting her ice cream but felt strangely shaken.
But not by the near collision. By the sudden, urgent longing for a past life she could never recapture? Or was it something to do with her companion?
They crossed the road together but didn’t touch and she was glad because that little prickle of sensation when he’d grabbed her was concerning. It had been like that when he’d handed her belongings to her. She couldn’t remember feeling someone’s touch in that way before.
You’ve never run away from your life before either.
Relief flooded her. Of course things seemed odd today. Her life was in uproar. No wonder she was on edge, imagining things.
‘Are you okay, Stella?’
This time she didn’t look up at him, though she registered a rush of warmth at the way his deep voice lingered on her name. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’
