At The Italian's Command

Sophie felt a slight flutter of panic as she entered. Then the manager removed her coat and scarf, and sexy Sophie was back in place, smiling confidently as she was shown to Rafe’s table.

She could not remember a time when conversation had stopped for her. At school, she had always been the girl next door, never a threat to any of her girlfriends, never one of those girls sought after by the boys because they promised things with their eyes and the way they moved. She had never minded. In fact, she had come to see that, as spectator sports went, watching the world go by was a pretty good one. Later, out of her teens, she had had boyfriends and they had been nice guys, the sort you could always introduce to the parents and know that they would like him as much as you did.

As she approached the full table she now felt like one of those girls and it was crazy, but she enjoyed the feeling.

Not knowing anyone there, she inadvertently sought out Rafe. Her heart thudded for the space of a couple of seconds as his green, shuttered eyes caught hers, then the silence was broken with a series of introductions.

‘You’re late,’ Rafe said as soon as she was seated next to him. ‘I thought you were one of those women who always ran to time…’

‘Blame the taxi driver,’ Sophie lied, lifting her wineglass to her lips and not quite meeting his eyes. In the daze of introductions, she had not only noticed how magnificent he looked, but had also taken in the cool blonde seated on the other side of him. Angela Street had not been introduced as a girlfriend, but she certainly fitted the description. Long, blonde, blue-eyed and leaning possessively into him, arm touching arm, her low silk top gaping just enough to provide him with a teasing promise of what lay in store for later that night.

‘Maybe he was in temporary shock at seeing you in that very…what is the word I’m looking for?…racy little number…’ Rafe allowed his eyes to drift downwards in purely masculine appreciation. When she had walked in, he had done a double take. Had it been his imagination or had the entire table fallen silent? He, certainly, had been rendered momentarily speechless at the sight of her. Speechless and a little taken aback, because the last thing he had been expecting had been a siren in a dress that looked as though it had been spray-painted on.

‘He didn’t actually see the racy little number, as I was wearing a very thick, very old-fashioned black coat.’ Rafe had turned his back on the blonde and, out of the corner of her eye, Sophie could see the curtain of white hair falling forward as Angela attempted to regain his attention.