Rome in Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

had in weeks.”
    “Was she pretty?” Max asked.
    “Her wet hair stuck to her head, and her cheeks were smudged with mascara,” Philip mused, eating a slice of bacon. “But she had beautiful brown eyes and the sexiest knees I’ve ever seen.”
    “You saw her knees?” Max raised his eyebrow.
    “Her uniform was soaked so I lent her a shirt,” Philip explained. “She’s a maid at the Hassler.”
    Philip tossed the last piece of bacon in the garbage and put the orange juice in the fridge. “Nothing happened and I’ll probably never see her again.”
    “Adam sent me to photograph the press conference at the Hassler. There were fifty female journalists and a buffet of oysters and lobster ravioli and lamb medallions.” Max reached for his camera and clicked through the photos. “Look at that ice sculpture and see the woman behind it. She’s a reporter for Paris Match . Five foot eight inches of blond hair and long legs and pouty lips. I tried to get her phone number but she said something rude in French.”
    Philip glanced at the photo and saw a familiar figure in the background. She had glossy brown hair and large brown eyes and wore a diamond pendant around her neck.
    “Give me that.” Philip took the camera and studied it carefully.
    “You can’t have Francoise,” Max replied. “But I met a cute redheaded reporter from London.”
    “That’s her.” Philip pointed to the screen. “That’s the girl in the taxi.”
    Max peered at the camera and frowned. “That’s Amelia Tate, the star of Roman Holiday . She’s the new It girl, the press conference was in her honor.”
    “I’d recognize those eyes anywhere,” Philip insisted. “They belong on a young deer.”
    Max took the camera and grinned. “Maybe you fell harder for the maid than you think but that’s definitely not her. She wore a pink satin ball gown and a diamond pendant that cost more than a Fiat.”
    Philip shrugged and walked to his laptop. He stared at his empty inbox and rubbed his forehead.
    “We’re having a poker game tonight at Canova.” Max stood up. “You should join us.”
    “I don’t have any money.” Philip shook his head.
    “I’ll lend you ten euros.” Max reached into his pocket and handed him a ten-euro note.
    “Why would you lend me money to play poker?” Philip asked.
    “Because you’re the only person broker than I am.” Max grinned, walking to the door. “It makes me feel better to see you lose.”
    *   *   *
    Philip looked around the lobby of the Grand Hotel, feeling as nervous as a schoolboy. He glanced in the gilt mirror and straightened his tie and smoothed his hair. He crossed the black and white marble and approached a man with gray hair and an angular nose.
    “Nice suit, Dad.” He held out his hand. “It matches your eyes.”
    John Hamilton brushed the jacket of his gray herringbone suit. He shook Philip’s hand and motioned him to sit in a red velvet chair.
    “I stopped in London to see my tailor.” John placed his glass on a cocktail napkin. “Will you join me in a dry martini? The Grand makes the best martinis, with just the right amount of vermouth.”
    “No thanks, I can’t afford to drink before six P.M. ,” Philip gazed at the crystal chandeliers and plush velvet furniture. The walls were covered with ornate tapestries and the ceiling was inlaid with gold mosaic. A harp stood in the corner and crystal vases were filled with white and yellow tulips. “So what brings you to Rome?”
    “I came to see you.” John scooped a handful of macadamia nuts from the silver dish. He had steel gray hair and gray eyes and a cleft on his chin. He wore a white silk shirt and a yellow tie and black tasseled shoes.
    “I thought maybe you were here to add to your Renaissance art collection.” Philip shrugged, feeling suddenly hot under his blue blazer.
    “I’ve chosen your secretary,” John mused. “Edna is retiring but she recommended her niece. I thought you could have the office on