He nodded to the circular table by the window. ‘I had breakfast there. Comfortable. Nice views out. We can have dinner together. You can tell me all about what you and Flora did.’ He shot her a crooked smile. ‘Whatever it is I have, you’ve either caught it already or else it’s going to pass you by so sitting opposite me to eat won’t alter that.’
‘I’m robust. Don’t you remember? The healthy outdoor life? Not cooped up behind a big, dusty ledger making lots of money?’ Georgie smiled and felt something warm inside her, a feeling of kinship. ‘Okay. I’ll bring the menu in and we can decide.’
She walked out into the sitting room, went to check on Flora to find that she was sound asleep and, walking past the floor-to-ceiling mirror by the door that led to the wide landing outside, she paused and looked at her reflection.
She’d dressed in a hurry, had thrown on one of the outfits she had bought when he had stuck money into her account with instructions to buy suitable clothing.
At the time, she had thought about the sort of suitable clothing he had meant, going on what she had seen of the women he dated, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to buy anything involving sequins, leather or prints mimicking animal skins. Too short was also out and too revealing.
Which had left her with just a few more expensive versions of the sort of stuff she usually wore.
She wasn’t going to let her own insecurities worm their way into her head.
This wasn’t some kind of date. In a way, you could almost say that it was a meeting of sorts, an opportunity to debrief on her day with his daughter.
Shame she didn’t have a nicedebriefing outfitlike a suit. She would have felt a lot more comfortable. But she was wearing what she was wearing and it wasn’t as though he was interested in her that way at all, anyway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY ORDERED LOBSTER SALADS. Fresh bread. Various cheeses and biscuits and wine, although she told him firmly that alcohol of any kind wasn’t recommended to someone with a cold.
‘More than a cold, I think.’
‘Okay, then, flu if you’d rather.’
‘You need to work on your Florence Nightingale persona.’ But he was smiling when he said that and, as their eyes met, Georgie felt a little ripple of awareness shimmer through her, light and feathery and reaching deep into all parts of her.
To distract herself, she glanced through the window. From where she was sitting at the little circular table, she could see the sky in all its radiant, dusky colours of pinks and purples and indigo blues reflecting on the calm waters of the lagoon.
The suite, the most expensive in the hotel, was on the very top floor of the main building and the panoramic view was extensive. Breathtaking.
When you were out and about, mingling with the crowds, the sights were almost too big to fully appreciate.
From here, the Cinderella castle was a distant silhouette, coming awake as it was lit up, and the monorail that she and Flora had ridden earlier in the day glided soundlessly by in the distance, ferrying guests through the various resorts.
She tore her gaze away and looked at Alessandro, who was reclining on the sofa, having made it out of the bed.
While she’d been checking on Flora and ordering food, he’d changed into some comfortable tracksuit bottoms and a black polo shirt and he looked stupidly handsome and not at all ill.
‘Did you work at all today?’ she asked curiously, swivelling the chair so that she was looking directly at him.
‘No. Not at all.’ He grimaced. ‘I can’t remember the last time I took a full day off work. I thought about opening the computer but I fell back asleep before I could do anything with that thought.’
Georgie hesitated.
‘If you want me to stop asking personal questions, then tell me, but right now…’
‘Look, this is a very different situation for me,’ Alessandro said heavily. He looked at her with a thoughtful, assessing expression until she reddened. ‘I… I’m not in the habit of discussing anything personal with women, but this isn’t a relationship and never will be, so do I object to you asking me personal questions? Oddly, not as much as I would normally.’
‘What do you talk about when you’re with…er…those women you date? If you never discuss anything personal? How far can you go chatting about the weather and world news?’
‘Am I picking up a certain amount of disapproval in your voice?’ His eyebrows shot up and she reddened a shade more.
‘Of course not.’
‘There’s a lot more to a relationship than talking,’ he murmured. ‘In fact, I find that the non-verbal part of a relationship is always a lot more satisfying.’
‘Um!’ Her mind filled up with images of Alessandro enjoying that non-verbal side of a relationship and threatened to implode from the hot, graphic nature of what she was thinking.
