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Her flawless pronunciation of his company name would have been enough to grab his attention. Her lithe curves, intriguing smile, and blonde hair did nothing to dissuade his interest.“Buongiorno,” she said.“Good Morning,” he replied, standing. “We speak English, yes?”She looked up from his chest and met his blue eyes. Smiling to cover herself, she said, “How's Florence?”“As beautiful as always. Have you been?”She hadn't yet. “Non ancora, ma l'ho sempre voluto.”“With such good Italian, you'll enjoy it when you do.”As the elevator doors pinged open on the twentieth floor, she led the head of Italy's largest insurer to John's office and returned to her own, her bottom aching on her chair whichever way she sat. Wrapping up with Riccardo at the conference table in his office, John said, “Would you like lunch?”“That would be lovely. Your assistant speaks excellent Italian and has impeccable manners.”“She's full of surprises,” John smiled, unsurprised to learn this significant fact about his. I had met her four or five times at Mike's office parties, she had been his secretary for about five years or so but she and I had hardly ever spoken. I always called Mike on his mobile rather than go through his office phone. I couldn't think of any reason she would need to call me like this. I showered quickly, dressed and headed downstairs for coffee and aspirin. By eleven thirty I was on my way to town, my headache was just about clear by now. I found the restaurant and parked, flipping down the sun visor I checked myself in the mirror, I looked rough, last night's party hadn't finished until two, I hadn't got to bed until nearly four. Getting in without waking Mike up wasn't easy, fortunately we had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for about six months. At first when he had a bad cold, somehow we just seemed to have kept it up since then, he claimed he was sleeping better and god knows I didn't miss his snoring. I got my sunglasses out of the glove box, they hid the worst of.
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