The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi (15 page)

‘Well, hey, Vienna’s practically the capital of the cake world,’ she teased back. ‘And you know the saying. When in Vienna …’

He gave her a speaking look. ‘It’s “when in Rome”.’

She grinned. ‘It works for Vienna, too.’

They lingered in the gift-shop, and Rico noticed that she looked closely at a replica of the Sisi star. Interesting. But he also noticed that she didn’t buy it.

When they’d left the palace, they wandered through the city centre, window-shopping. Rico still couldn’t get the diamond stars out of his head. ‘You don’t wear much jewellery, do you?’ He glanced at her. ‘Just a watch. And your ears aren’t pierced.’

‘I’m too chicken to have my ears pierced, and clip-on earrings just aren’t comfortable. I do sometimes wear a necklace, but jewellery just gets in the way when I’m working.’

A necklace. He spotted a replica of the Sisi star, made into a choker, in one of the seriously expensive jewellery shops. Something like the one in the palace gift shop, only using real gemstones rather than being costume jewellery. He could just imagine Ella wearing nothing but the choker, and his temperature spiked.

‘Time for Sachertorte, I think,’ he said, and took her to the famous café. ‘Excuse me for a second?’ he said after they’d ordered.

‘Sure.’

With any luck, she’d think he’d gone to the loo and there was a queue. Making sure she didn’t see him leave the café, he made a swift exit, returned to the jeweller’s and bought the star choker. He stowed the box in his pocket, where she wouldn’t notice it, and came back to join her, all smiles.

‘I was beginning to wonder if you’d got lost,’ she said. ‘Your coffee must be almost cold by now.’

‘Which is how Italians drink their coffee anyway,’ he reminded her, and promptly downed his espresso in one.

As they walked back through the streets she insisted on stopping at one of the chocolate shops. ‘Ju’s almost
as much of a chocolate fiend as you are. I’d like to bring something back for her.’

He looked in the window. ‘It says here that this used to be one of the imperial court confectioners, so they must be good.’

‘Give me two minutes.’

He knew from Rome that she wasn’t one for dragging round the shops, and was happy to browse through the displays while she picked what she wanted.

He held her hand all the way home to London. Back at her flat, she handed him a bag from the confectioner’s they’d browsed in.

‘For me? I thought you were buying chocolate for Julia?’

‘I did. But I bought some for you, too. I know you love the stuff.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not much. Just a token, really. But I wanted to say thank you, and let you know I appreciate how much you spoiled me today.’

‘
Bellezza
, you didn’t have to give me anything. But thank you.’ It touched him that she’d thought of him. And she’d bought him a gift that he really appreciated, the tiny Lilliput chocolates that were a speciality of the confectioner’s. None of his exes would’ve done that; he was more used to being taken for granted.

‘Since you’ve just given me a present—I have one for you, too.’ He took the box from his pocket and handed it to her.

Ella stared at the beautifully wrapped box, and her heart skipped a beat for a moment. It was clearly from a jeweller’s. But of course it wouldn’t be a ring. Neither of them had said how they felt about each other; and anyway the box was too big.

She undid the ribbon and opened the box to see a beautiful silver star, a replica of the ones that the empress had
worn in her hair; it was a choker on a black chiffon ribbon. She’d almost bought one of these in the gift shop, and with Rico being so observant he’d clearly noticed. And he’d remembered that she didn’t wear bracelets or a watch for work. He’d bought her the perfect piece of jewellery. She had absolutely no idea when he’d managed to buy it, but she was thrilled that he’d bought her something so beautiful.

‘Thank you. It’s gorgeous.’ She kissed him.

And this was definitely a kind of declaration from him. A ring was out of the question as it was too symbolic; but she knew he was telling her that, for him, she was as beautiful as that long-ago empress. And maybe, just maybe, he was telling her that he was ready to start opening up to her. Letting her close. Making this more than just being acquaintances with benefits.

‘It’s been the perfect day.’ She held him closer. ‘And I’m not ready for it to end, yet. Will you stay tonight, Rico?’

Stay.

He never stayed the night with anyone. It meant letting someone too close. He’d been tempted several times to break his rule for Ella, but he’d held himself back. Just. Though he, too, wasn’t ready for the day to end just yet. And one night wouldn’t hurt, would it?

‘And your alarm goes off when, exactly?’ he asked, feigning a coolness he definitely didn’t feel.

She grimaced. ‘Half-past five. Sorry.’

He smiled. ‘I’m not usually up
quite
that early but, for you … Yes.’ He kissed her. ‘I’ll stay.’

L
ATER
in the week, on impulse, Ella texted Rico.
Taste-tester required
.

It took a while for him to reply, but he eventually came back with,
Happy to interview. Where and when?

She smiled.
My kitchen, when you’ve finished today. Arrive hungry
.

And she knew full well he’d have more than one interpretation for that.

Her phone beeped at six.
On way. **Starving**
.

By the time Rico knocked on the door, the cakes were cooled and iced.

He kissed her hello. ‘Something smells gorgeous.’

‘I hope you’re hungry.’

‘Very.’ He kissed her again, this time more lingeringly.

‘Take a seat.’ She set three cupcakes before him, a bowl of lemon sorbet and a glass of iced water.

‘What’s this for?’ he asked, indicating the sorbet.

‘Cleansing your palate, so you can distinguish between the flavours properly.’

He took a bite of the first one. ‘Mmm. That’s gorgeous. And the cake’s different.’

‘The base is hummingbird cake rather than vanilla,’ she told him.

He smiled. ‘You said in Vienna that you’d make me a hummingbird cake if I was good.’

‘And I will, if you are,’ she said, smiling back. ‘What about the icing?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Orange. Yes, it works.’

‘It should do, because that’s the traditional cream cheese frosting that goes with the cake. Eat some lemon sorbet, now.’

He looked pained. ‘Don’t I get to eat the rest of the cake? Especially as it’s only a small one?’

‘Later. You’re taste-testing, first.’

He ate a spoonful of the sorbet, then sipped the water. ‘OK. Cake two.’ He took a bite. ‘I like this one more. That’s lime in the topping, isn’t it? There’s more of a zing than the orange one.’

She made a note. ‘OK. Third one?’

After more sorbet and more water, he tried the third. ‘No. Too sweet.’

‘That’s vanilla buttercream. I thought it might be wrong with the cake. But I wanted a taste-tester’s opinion.’ She smiled at him. ‘From someone I happen to know is a real foodie and would be honest with me.’

‘It needs a proper zing. My vote’s for the second, the lime one.’

‘Noted. Now I know what I’m doing.’

He looked at her. ‘So that was it? Just three?’

‘Well, I didn’t want to overwhelm you with flavours.’

He looked disappointed. ‘And there was I, thinking I had a whole plateful of cakes to try. Like the ones with the pretty icing you did for your launch.’

‘The two-tone ones, you mean?’

‘Though I guess they’re complicated.’

‘On the contrary. They’re dead easy.’ She smiled at him. ‘Give me a few minutes, and you can ice your own.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘It only takes five minutes to whip up a batch of cupcakes. But you’re going to get messy,’ she warned. She looked at him. ‘That white shirt has to go.’

‘What?’

‘That white shirt has to go,’ she repeated. ‘Especially if we’re doing coloured icing. I’m not sure your laundry service would be able to get the colour out.’

‘So what does that make me, the Naked Baker?’ he asked, laughing.

She laughed back. ‘Semi. And you can have an apron, if you want.’

‘An apron?’ He gave her a disgusted look. ‘I don’t think so.’ He took his shirt off. ‘Where do I put this?’

‘I’ll deal with it.’ She hung it up out of the way, and smiled. ‘Mmm. Nice pecs, Signor Rossi.’

‘You could take your shirt off, too,’ he said, looking hopeful.

‘Ha, you wish. But we’re making cake.’

Five minutes later, she had the ingredients and a set of scales on the worktop in front of him, and had him mixing up the batter for the cupcakes and then spooning it into cake cases.

He looked at her and smiled. ‘This is actually quite fun. I can see why you enjoy it. So what do we do while the cakes are cooking?’ he asked as she put the cakes in the oven.

‘Trust you to be thinking two steps ahead. We make the icing.’

‘And there was I, thinking we’d have time out.’

‘Not unless you want the cakes to burn. Focus, man,
focus
.’

He laughed. ‘You’re so bossy, Ella.’

‘Says you,’ she shot back, but she was laughing as well.

She talked him through making the icing, step by step, and took the cakes out of the oven to cool. Then she handed him a paintbrush.

‘What’s this for?’

‘I’m teaching you my secret. Two-tone icing is the easiest thing in the world.’

She dropped a nozzle with a rounded star tip into a disposable icing bag, and took the top off the pot of one of the coloured icing pastes she used.

‘That looks like ink,’ he said, peering at it.

‘You’re not far off, but it’s edible. What you do now is dip the brush in, and draw a line inside the bag. Don’t get it on your hands.’

He frowned. ‘I thought you said it was edible?’

‘It is, but if you really want to explain to your colleagues why your hands are bright purple tomorrow morning …’

‘Got it.’

‘Now spread the line with the paintbrush. Any way you like.’

He looked speculatively at the brush, then at her. ‘Now, if this was melted chocolate …’

What he was thinking was, oh, so obvious. She laughed. ‘This is a professional kitchen, Rico. No painting of body parts. It’s against all the hygiene regulations, and you know it.’

‘Spoilsport,’ he said. ‘I’m very tempted to try and change your mind.’

And it wouldn’t take much for him to do it. She sucked in a breath and willed herself to stay professional. ‘I’m teaching you to do the icing—on your request. So pay attention.’

He gave her an insolent salute.
‘Sì, signorina.’

‘Now press the bag together so the colour’s spread evenly.’

He did so, then lifted it up and inspected it. ‘It doesn’t look as if there’s any colour in there.’

‘There’s enough. You’ll see in a moment.’ She took the brush from him, then spooned the buttercream into the bag.

‘I see it now,’ he said, as the rich, deep purple spread against the ivory-coloured buttercream.

‘And now,’ she said, ‘you simply pipe out the icing until the colour starts to show on the edges.’ She demonstrated. ‘
Voilà
, two-tone icing. And then all you do is start in the middle of the cake and pipe a spiral, slightly overlapping the icing as you go.’ She handed him the bag, then fetched one of the cakes and set it on a plate. ‘Go for it.’

He tried. ‘Nothing’s coming out of the bag.’

‘Because you’re not holding the bag right—you need to grip it between your forefinger and thumb.’

‘I am.’

She came to stand behind him, and moved his hands. ‘Try now. Push downwards, keeping your finger and thumb jammed flat together so the icing can’t escape through it.’

‘Problem,’ he said.

‘What?’

He turned round to face her. ‘You just took a step back. It was much nicer when you had your arms round me.’

‘I’m going to get in your way when you’re icing the cake.’

‘No, you’re not.’ He gave her a speculative look. ‘And, as I said earlier, you could lose your shirt. You, me, and nothing in between.’

Oh, the pictures that put in her head. Skin to skin with Rico. ‘
Not
in my kitchen.’ Though it was a real effort not to follow through on his suggestion; right now she was seriously aroused. If he touched her, she’d be lost. And she had to sit on her own hands to stop herself touching him.

He proceeded to pipe a perfect spiral on the cake.

She blinked. ‘Either you’ve done this before, or you’re a natural.’

He looked at her. ‘I know that movement.’ He moistened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. ‘Only not on a cake.’

She frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’

He gave her a wolfish smile. ‘Then let me demonstrate,
bellezza
.’ He put the icing bag down. Before she realised what he was going to do, he’d hiked her skirt up, his hand was inside her knickers, and his thumb was working in a spiral on her clitoris.

‘Oh-h-h.’ The word was a moan of pure pleasure.

‘You’re wet for me,
bellezza
,’ he murmured.

‘Yes,’ she admitted, her voice husky.

‘Let me take your shirt off now,’ he said softly. ‘And I don’t give a damn about hygiene regulations. I want you. Right here, right now.’ His thumb moved again, sending another wave of pleasure through her.

Part of her really wanted to go with this.

But
.

‘Rico, the blind’s up,’ she whispered.

He stopped as her words registered. ‘So anyone could see in.’

‘Uh-huh. And while you being topless isn’t a problem, me being topless—or people working out where your hand is right now …’ She bit her lip.

‘Close your eyes,
bellezza
.’

She did so, and felt coolness against her skin as he moved away from her. Then she heard the sound of the blind being wound down.

‘Problem solved,’ he said softly, and jammed his mouth over hers. The next thing she knew, he’d lifted her onto the worktop—still kissing her—and her skirt was right up
round her waist. A couple of seconds later, he’d removed her shirt and her bra, and his body was easing into hers.