Vettori's Damsel in Distress (Harlequin Romance Large Print) by Liz Fielding Page A

say to them?’ Geli asked.
    ‘To close their mouths before they catch flies.’ She shook her head. ‘You are going to be so good for business. Your make-up, your clothes—everything is perfect. Do you always make this much effort?’
    ‘It goes with the territory. When you’re a designer, you have to be your own walking advertisement.’
    ‘It works for me. I’m no Milan fashionista, but I’d give my eye teeth for a jacket like yours.’
    ‘I’ll design a Dark Angel original for you when you come back from Australia. A very small thank you for being such a friend in need.’
    ‘You don’t have to do that.’
    ‘It will be a totally selfish gift,’ she assured her. ‘You’ll wear it and with those elegant shoulders you’ll look fabulous.’ She lifted her hands in a
job done
gesture.
    ‘You’re telling me that I’m going to be a walking shop dummy,’ she said, grinning broadly.
    ‘Walking and talking.’
    ‘Oh, right. Everyone will want to know—’ She stopped as Dante pulled out a chair and joined them.
    Geli had wondered, as she’d taken her wake-up shower, if she’d imagined the attraction, or if it had simply been heightened by the drama of her arrival. A combination of being in Isola, being lost, the weather. Could anyone really hit all her hot buttons with no more than a look?
    Apparently they could, even if it was a slightly crumpled, unsmiling version this morning.
    ‘
Buongiorno
, Angelica,’ he said. ‘Did you sleep well?’
    ‘
Buongiorno
, Dante,’ she replied, her voice remarkably steady. It was the rest of her that felt as if it was shaking like a leaf. ‘I slept amazingly well, under the circumstances.’
    Dante, on the other hand, looked as if he’d been working all night and the urge to reach out and smooth the creases from his face was almost overwhelming. Fortunately, before she could do anything that idiotic he turned to Lisa.
    ‘What will everyone want to know?’ he asked.
    ‘How on earth you managed to convince Geli that she should work for you,’ she replied without a blush.
    ‘Oh? And what is the answer?’
    ‘You’ll know that when you’ve persuaded her,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘Off you go.’
    ‘Lisa,’ Angelica protested. ‘My Italian is on the basic side of basic.’
    ‘
No problema.
I might have an Italian father but I could barely utter a word when I arrived. Tell her, Dante,’ she urged, turning a smile on her cousin that was so sweet it would give you toothache. ‘There’ll be a queue of regulars lining up to help her with the language and anything else she needs to make her stay in Isola a memorable experience before she can say
ciao
. Isn’t that so?’
    Geli, who had two older sisters, recognised one of those exchanges which, on the surface were exquisitely polite, while underneath there were seething undercurrents of hidden meaning.
    ‘But you’re family,’ Geli protested, not sure what was going on, but not wanting to be in the middle of it.
    ‘Unfortunately,’ Dante said, his face expressionless. ‘You can’t fire family. It wasn’t just the language; it was weeks before she could get an order straight or produce a decent espresso without me standing over her—’
    Lisa snorted derisively and when he looked up she lifted an eyebrow a mocking fraction right back at him. ‘I’m sure Geli is
much
smarter than me.’
    He looked thoughtful. ‘But nowhere near as devious, it would seem.’
    ‘It runs in the family,’ Lisa replied, moving aside as the waiter arrived with a tray containing her cappuccino, an espresso for Dante and two bowls of something pale and creamy. ‘I’ll walk you through the job when you come back from the
commissariato
, Geli.
Buon appetito
.’
    ‘Sì...grazie...’
she said, then, unsure what to say to Dante, she indicated the bowl in front of her. ‘What is this?’
    ‘
Zabaglione.
Whipped eggs, cream, sugar, a little Marsala. I usually leave out the wine before midday,’ he added, ‘but