Sarah was disconcerted to see him beside her as they strolled along the tiled entrance hall of the hotel that she had chosen for her three-day business trip and stay in Turin. A business associate had let her down at the last minute, succumbing to unseasonal flu. As a result, she had endured an exhausting day not helped by the unseasonally warm weather. Now, she wanted to find a restaurant where she could enjoy a drink and savour local cuisine but not overdo it.
Her interior design company, Ballard Art and Interiors, had developed a reputation for its discerning choice of modern artwork that was to be found when she scoured the best annual art fairs in France and Italy. She searched for unusual creations that were vibrant in colour and engaging in content, many works bought after moments of often fierce negotiation. She would then arrange for safe shipping to her art boutique in London.
"We spoke only a few words at the gallery," he chose to remind her with unmistakable interest to be seen in his look upon her. "My name is Luca Casserini..."
She felt prompted to give him her name before acknowledging that she remembered him from the last exhibition of the day. It had been but a short walk from there to her hotel.
"Yes, there was so much to take in, the quality of the pictures and who the artist was, and so little time to do that," she answered.
Luca heard what she said as being the lead-in that he wanted so that he could engage the woman before him in conversation. It seemed that they were alone, each in their search for modern works on show; landscapes, abstracts with their florid colours and shapes, even some works in the style of Rubens; also paintings of men kissing, women embracing, small sculptures in fired clay and bronze; a myriad of works in differing styles that the artists sought to sell.
"I travel from Rome to see the art shows...they are different...and it is not my first time here in the city. Is it for you?" His English was heavily accented. "If it is, I can show you where to go for a drink after a busy day...Sarah."
She was taken by his pronunciation of her name, the loss of the 'aitch' making it sound harsh. But hearing it spoken by the attractive, well-dressed Italian man before her, she decided to talk for a while longer with him.
Luca had confidence and flair, the mute pea green linen fabric of his summer suit worn with a white shirt that he had not fully buttoned up, thus revealing his chest hair; the patterned silk handkerchief flopping over the edge of the jacket's breast pocket lending him a foppish, play boyish, appearance. Luca had unmistakable confidence, even arrogance, in the interest that he now showed in her. It came as something of a shock for her to realise that.
Sarah stopped when they came to the front door that kept out the noisy rumble of passing traffic in the one-way street beyond. She gazed back down the hallway, admiring the marble columns that were set along its length until the hallway ended at the foot of the wide staircase with its ornate, nineteenth-century, railings.
"You certainly have a rich architectural heritage here, in your country, don't you?"
Luca followed her gaze, glad that they had something to talk about as they started to learn a little more about each other.
"It is of its time, Sarah. It informs me but does not persuade me to follow these ways in my work. I am an architect...build in modern styles or adapt old ones to the present."
"So, you do respect the heritage?"
"Si," he smiled, "so, you read me well...already."
"As far as I need to. Now, I want to find a place for supper...that's if you'll let me?"
"Yes, I'll let you do that but would rather not." He smiled on saying it and even as he met her determined look that signalled their exchange was likely to be coming to an end. "I could help you with that...finding a bistro or restaurant."
"You could if that was what I wanted."
Her words and haughty look did not deter him in his pursuit of the woman before him. They now stood on the pavement outside the hotel and had to close the space between them to be able to talk.
Luca still saw the beauty of her youth in Sarah's face, the grace of her slender nose, neatly plucked eyebrows and how her hair, parted at the centre and with its blonde, ginger and light brown strands framed her face, the billowy cut sweeping her neck. Pendant earrings swayed whenever she turned to look his way. He was captivated by her all over again but heard the hesitancy in Sarah's ways of speaking to him. Was she wavering and that the appeal of having company was becoming stronger with every moment that passed?
"Let's walk and I'll take you to where the best places are," he now suggested, making sure that she walked beside him.
He knew just the place to begin his pursuit of her, to draw in the smartly dressed woman who had not let her standards slip after what would have been a tiring day.
She felt Luca's touch to her arm for a moment, the sleeve of her dress preventing any contact with her skin that Luca undoubtedly wished. She was already having to deal with the thought of his interest in her, of wanting to take her to bed.
The unmistakable drift of his eyes over her was something that she could no longer ignore, and her encounter with him would not have happened if her art curator friend, Lizzie Talbot had not cried off, sick.
♥
The Po River meanders in a big loop past the red pantile-roofed buildings nearby and the terrace restaurant and bar, that he has chosen, makes the most of the location.
"We are early, so I recommend we go upstairs to the terrace dining area...have a drink and enjoy the views of the hills and the river."
She begins to feel uneasy as she takes in the quality of the décor, the crisp whiteness of the tablecloths, and the gleaming glassware set out on the tables in the main restaurant.
"I'm not sure I want to, or can, pay the price of dining here, Luca. It's more than I bargained for, even if the walk through the old city to get here was special."
"I pay, Sarah," he replies in calm reassurance. "It was my idea and I am pleased to have your company."
"I cannot understand the name of where you have taken me, so translate it into English, would you please?" A waiter snaps open the folded napkin set out before her and she looks up to thank him. "Well, Luca...?
"Always Hopeful, is the loose translation, I think..." He had ordered a favourite Italian wine and had sought her agreement to it being served. They waited for that to happen before they were alone again, the other guests seated at tables nearby sufficiently far away to offer them privacy. "I did not have time to change out of my suit and now I see you in a blue dress that suits you...that goes so well with the colour of your hair. I drink to that and you...Sarah."
"Well!" she laughed softly out of embarrassment to be flattered so easily. She had changed out of the slacks and loose-fitting blouse that she always wore for days tramping around art fairs. She had freshened up and had chosen to wear a floaty shirt dress with the sleeves fastened just below her elbows. They revealed her slender arms, round clunky bracelets sliding down onto her wrists whenever she raised her glass to sip at her wine. She would often meet his appraising glances upon her, overt and suggestive, and knew what lay behind them. There was no mistaking his interest in her, in how her dress shaped the rounded fullness of her breasts and still slender body, but concealed from view the soft roundness of her tummy.
