The Vineyards Of Calanetti. Rebecca Winters
it big? The village that is?”
He shook his head. “The last time I saw it— granted it has been quite a while—but it was as if time had passed it by. It is rather small and quaint. It is entirely a different world from New York City. Now, are you still interested in going?”
She hesitated and he worried that he’d have to come up with an alternate plan. As of right now, he didn’t have one. He needed someone who was familiar with his accounts and wouldn’t need a bunch of hand-holding. Kayla was his only viable option. He wasn’t one to beg, but at this particular moment he was giving it serious consideration.
Her dimpled chin tilted up. “Yes, I am. It sounds like it’ll be a great adventure.”
“I don’t know about that. The reason I’m going there isn’t exactly pleasant, but then again, that isn’t for you to worry about. You need to go home and pack.”
“Okay. But what should I plan on wearing for the trip? Business attire?”
“Definitely something more casual. There won’t be any business meetings, so use your best judgment.” He had no doubt her casual attire was as dull and drab as her suits. Not that it mattered to him what she wore so long as she was ready to work.
Kayla gathered her things, and then paused. “Before I leave, should I make plane reservations?”
He shook his head. “No need. We’ll take my private jet.”
Her pink lips formed an O but nothing came out. And for a moment, he let himself wonder what it’d be like to kiss those full, tempting lips. Not that he would, but he could imagine that one kiss just wouldn’t be enough. Something told him that lurking beneath that proper and congenial surface was a passionate woman—
Again, he drew his thoughts up short. The last thing he needed was to notice her feminine qualities. He wasn’t about to mix business with pleasure. No way.
FLUFFY CLOUDS FLOATED past the jet’s windows.
They’d soon be touching down in Italy.
A giddy excitement bubbled up in Kayla’s chest as she glanced across the aisle at Mr. Amatucci—er—Angelo. She still had a problem remembering to call him by his given name after referring to him as Mr. Amatucci for so long. Being on a first-name basis left her feeling unsettled—not exactly sure how to act around him. If anything, Angelo was even more quiet and reserved than before. Had he sensed her attraction to him?
Impossible. She hadn’t said or done anything to betray herself. She smoothed a hand over her gray skirt. She was worrying for nothing.
Just act normal.
She glanced at her boss. “Do you know how long until we arrive?”
Angelo turned in his leather seat to look at her. “What did you say?”
“I was wondering how long we have until we land in Italy.”
“Not much longer.” His dark gaze dipped to the pen and paper in her lap. “Are you working?”
“I am.” Her body tensed as she read over her scribbled notes for the Van Holsen account. She didn’t have anything innovative enough to measure up to the Amatucci standard. “I thought this would be a good time to flesh out some ideas.”
“And you like doing it longhand?”
“I think better that way.” She’d never really taken the time to consider her creative process, but yes, now that she thought about it, she did always start with pen and paper. She didn’t move to the computer until she had a fully functioning idea.
“Is that for the Van Holsen account?”
“Yes, I’ve been doing what you suggested and going with a nostalgic appeal.”
“Good. Can I see what you’ve come up with so far?”
She glanced down at all of her scribbles and half thoughts. And then her eyes caught sight of his name scrolled out in cursive. Her heart clenched. What in the world?
She must have done it while she’d been deep in thought. Immediately, her pen started crossing it out. The last thing she needed was for her boss to think she had a crush on him. That would be the end of her career.
“I...I don’t exactly have anything solid yet.” She was going to have to be careful in the future of what she wrote down just in case Mr. Curious decided to peer over her shoulder.
“I could help you. Let me see what you have.” He held out his hand.
She really didn’t want to hand over her notepad, but what choice did she have if she wanted to stay in his good graces? She glanced down at the scratched-out spot and squinted. She could still see his name—all fourteen letters. But that was because she knew it was there. She ran the pen over it a few more times.
With great hesitation, she handed over the legal pad. Angelo’s acute gaze skimmed over the page. Her palms grew moist. He took his time reading, but he paused as he reached the bottom. That was where she’d vigorously scratched out his name, almost wearing a hole in the page.
“I’m guessing that you’ve ruled out this idea?” He gestured to the blob of ink.
“Most definitely. It wouldn’t have worked.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you should tell me what it was, and then we can see if there’s any value in pursuing it?” He sent her an expectant look.
“Honestly, it’s not worth the effort. I was totally off the mark with it.” A man like Angelo, who could have a gorgeous model or movie star on each arm, would never be interested in someone as plain and boring as herself.
He let the subject go and turned back to her notes while she sat there realizing just how “off the mark” her imagination had wandered. No way was she going down that romantic path again, even if it was paved with rose petals. All it’d do was lead her into making a commitment—having a family—everything she’d left behind in Paradise. She wanted to be different—she wanted to be professionally successful. She needed to show everyone back in her hometown that she’d made her dreams come true.
And then Angelo’s gaze lifted to meet hers. She should glance away but the intensity of his gaze held her captive. Her heart raced. He didn’t say anything, which was just as well, because she doubted she could have strung two words together. Had he figured out what she’d scribbled on the page? Please, not that. But then again, he didn’t look upset. Instead, he looked like—like what? The breath hitched in her throat. Was he interested in her?
He glanced away and shook his head. “Sorry about that. Something you wrote down gave me an idea for the campaign, but then it slipped away.”
Silly girl. What made her think he’d ever look at her that way? And why would she want him to? It’d be the beginning of the end of her rising career—her dream.
Get a grip, Kayla.
“No problem.” She held out her hand, willing it not to shake. “If you let me have the pad back, I’ll work on getting my thoughts more organized. Maybe we can discuss them as soon as we get situated in Italy.” She wasn’t quite sure where their accommodations would be since Angelo had personally handled the travel arrangements, but she was certain they would be nice.
“Sounds good. Just because we’re out of town doesn’t mean we should fall behind on our work. I don’t plan to be here long—just long enough to take care of some personal business. If we’re lucky, perhaps I can wrap it up in a day or two.”
What had happened to a week—maybe two? Disappointment assailed her. But it would be for the best. After all, it’d get her home sooner to make sure the ICL fund-raiser was moving along without