Her Roman Holiday Read Online Free PDF Page B

and he turned away.   “I will leave you for now.   Take what time you need to rest and freshen up.   Larissa will call you for afternoon coffee at around five o’clock.”
    Calia frowned as she watched him stride towards the doors.   “Gio!”
    He stopped, but it was several moments before he turned to face her, every inch the aloof businessman.   His gaze looked beyond her, as if his mind had already moved on to worthier subjects.   “What is it?”
    She scrambled for a response, her courage suddenly fleeing, along with her certainty that he too had felt the thronging current of sexuality between them.   “Um… Will you be around later?   I thought Larissa mentioned something about a reception.”
    “I have no plans on being there very long.   But I will likely have dinner in town beforehand.”
    She nodded.   “Right.”
    “Until later, then.”   He inclined his head briefly, then turned and left, pulling the doors closed behind him.
    Calia walked over to the bed and let out a low groan as she flopped across it.   With him gone, she suddenly felt every minute of her sleepless night and the roller coaster of a morning that had followed.
    The next sound she heard was a quiet knocking.   She blinked and sat up, momentarily disoriented.   Then, as the full recollection filtered back, she groaned again, looking around the room.   The shadows had shifted, and the sunlight had mellowed into the rich gold of early evening.
    The knock came again.
    Calia pushed the hair out of her face and scrambled off the bed.   “I’ll be right there!” she called as she strode across the room.   She opened the door.
    Larissa’s concerned expression softened into a smile.   “Ah, la povereta!   You slept well, yes?”
    “Yes, thanks Larissa.   I must really have been exhausted.”
    “Is okay.   I will be serving afternoon coffee in about twenty minutes.”
    Calia let out a puff of air.   “Okay, great.   I’ll be down by then.”
    “If you want to wash up or anything, there should be towels in the top drawer of the dressing table.”
    “And where’s the shower?”
    Larissa gestured in its general direction.   “Is two doors down on your right.”
    “Thanks again, Larissa.   I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
    “ Sì, sì.   Take your time.   We can wait a little.   Is no problem.”
    Seventeen minutes later, Calia stood before the mirror in her room, surveying herself with a critical eye.   She had taken a quick shower and managed to dig up one of the several lightweight, crease-resistant summer dresses she had packed.   This particular one was in bold fuschia — all romantic softness and flowing fabric that clung to just the right curves.   The colour made her dark brown hair seem almost black, as well as contrasting nicely with the pale gold tinge her skin had acquired after a week of sightseeing.   She wore the sandals she had bought on a splurge in Paris, whose straps consisted of ribbons that crisscrossed up her calves.
    She didn’t have time to dry her hair, so she had clipped it into a tidy twist.   By the time it began to dry, several tendrils would have worked their way loose to curl gently around her face, softening the look.   She applied a quick sweep of makeup to her eyes and lips.  
    Then, she smoothed the silken fabric of the dress over her curves, trying to quell her nervousness.   After seeing her at her worst — and she still wasn’t sure what he had made of that — how would Gio respond to her now?   She knew that her designer knockoff dress — bought on sale, no less — and simple makeup wouldn’t stand up for a moment against the kind of elegant women he normally encountered.   Would he think these little attempts at sophistication were silly — or worse, pathetically ineffective?
    Calia hesitated, poised to fling the dress aside and climb back into her jeans and a clean t-shirt.   But something stopped her from removing the garment.   Why should she