‘And what’s that?’ She was working hard to stifle her grin.
‘Sexy and desirable. Just like you . . .’ His expression flattened and he sat back in his chair.
‘Like me?’ Her spine straightened on cue.
He nodded. Matthew seemed to stare through Sarah, and she mulled over his words.
‘If you’re comparing me to a Sophia Loren or Monica Bellucci-type, know that’s the greatest compliment you could ever pay me. Those women are cultural icons.’
‘Take it.’ He winked. ‘And one final point, and then I’ll leave it, I swear.’
Sarah felt her throat dry, so down went a mouthful of wine. ‘Ok. Let’s have it.’
‘You look so great in jeans.’
‘Jeans? That’s the clincher?’ She gave a mock exclamation. ‘That’s all I wear!’
‘You don’t think I noticed?’
Looking at her gorgeous husband across the table, Sarah smiled. ‘You’re too good to be true.’
He laughed. ‘Have you taken a look at yourself?Youare the one that’s too good to be true.’ He paused for a moment as if he wanted to add something, but instead decided to drain his red in one.
‘Lies!’ she joked. ‘It’s just the massage and treatments from today.’
Matthew shook his head. ‘Sorry, dear wife, but you’re a natural beauty.’
‘Well, seeing as we are swapping truths . . .’
Matthew’s left eyebrow hooked. ‘I’m listening . . .’
‘That rig you’ve got under your shirt . . .’
He cleared his throat and peeked under the collar. ‘Hmm?’
‘. . . is mighty fine.’
‘I’m glad you approve.’
She blushed and gave him a nod. Sarah decided to blame the wine for her warm cheeks, giddiness and the Dutch courage.
Weighed down by their delicious dinner, yet buoyed by their tantalising banter, Sarah and Matthew’s walk back through the city was significantly slower.
‘Did you want to call it a night, or can I steal you for a little while longer?’ Matthew asked as they reached Piazza del Mercato Nuovo.
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘I’m going to keep that a surprise. You in?’
Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she replied, ‘You have piqued my interest.’
‘I’ll have you back in an hour. I promise.’ He took her by the hand and set off in the direction of the Arno River.
As Matthew led Sarah off the path and through the crowds that had gathered in the piazza, he said, ‘I swear, just a little further.’
Holding her by both arms, he asked her to close her eyes, and she had complied. ‘How high are we?’ she asked, given the stairs and steep ascent.
‘High enough. Don’t look yet,’ he reminded her for the fourth time.
