The Echoes of Love by Hannah Fielding

Author:Hannah Fielding
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Kindle, Mills and Boon, Mills and Boon Modern, Mills and Boon Desire, Mills & Boon, Mills & Boon Modern, Mills & Boon Desire, Harlequin, Harlequin presents, Harlequin Desire, Entangled Indulgence, Entangled Brazen, Entangled Bliss, Contemporary romance, Contemporary Romance Kindle, Contemporary Romance novels, Billionaire Romance, Billionaire Romance Kindle, Billionaire Romance novels, Millionaire Romance, Millionaire Romance Kindle, Millionaire Romance novels, Amnesia romance, Amnesia Romance Kindle, Amnesia Romance novels, Italian romance, Italian Romance Kindle, Italian Romance novels, Italian billionaire romance, Italian Millionaire romance, Alpha romance, Alpha male romance, Alpha Male dominant Romance, Alpha male romance adult, Alpha male books, Alpha males, Venice fiction, The Billionaire’s Obsession, Penny Jordan, Penny Jordan Kindle Books, Penny Jordan Mills and Boon, Penny Jordan Modern, Penny Jordan books, Lynne Graham, Lynne Graham Kindle Books, Lynne Graham mills and book kindle, Lynne Graham a bride for a Billionaire, Lynne Graham Challenging Dante, Lynne Graham billionaire, Penny Vincenzi kindle books, Penny Vincenzi latest book, Penny Vincenzi new book, Penny Vincenzi 2013, Danielle Steel Kindle books, Danielle Steel new releases 2013, Danielle Steel new releases 2014, Barbara Taylor Bradford, Barbara T Bradford, Barbara Taylor Bradford Kindle Books, Barbara Freethy, Barbara Freethy Kindle books, Barbara Freethy Deception series, Bella Andre, Bella Andre Kindle books, Bella Andre Sullivan series, Jennifer Probst, Jennifer Probst kindle books, Jennifer Probst marriage to a billionaire series, Jennifer probst millionaire series, JS Scott, JS Scott kindle books, JS Scott billionaire, Ruth Cardello, Ruth Cardello Kindle Books, Ruth Cardello billionaire series, The Santina Crown, Coretti Dynasty, The Corettis
Publisher: London Wall Publishing
Published: 2013-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Paolo took Venetia to lunch at a small restaurant in a picturesque resort village called Baia Delle Onde Mormoranti, along the coast outside Porto Santo Stefano. Notched into the rocks, its curiously shaped houses leaning together stood at the head of a little creek filled with sailing and fishing boats, all of which blended perfectly together with the low rocks, the vineyards, olive groves and the pine trees on the headlands.

La Mezza Luna was a tiny restaurant of whitewashed stone and red tiles set on the pale gold sandy beach, surrounded by palm trees and overlooking water that glittered in the sunshine like wet cobalt paint. A lean-to loggia adjoined the building, with a bamboo matting roof providing shade from the hot afternoon sun. Grape vines were trained from large earthenware pots up each corner post, their green tendrils reaching through the bamboo, and eight tables with green checked tablecloths and bamboo armchairs with round green cushions stood underneath.

The friendly owner, who to Venetia looked as if he had stepped out of a Sergio Leone spaghetti western, greeted Paolo effusively. It was almost three o’clock and most of the customers had gone, but he assured them that there would be no problem conjuring up one of his specialities for the pretty signorina and for his friend, Paolo.

‘Just settle yourselves at a table and pronto, I will bring you some antipasti and a bottle of vino Ernestinato, our very special house wine, while you wait for your lunch.’

They sat down at one of the little tables overlooking the bay, its deeply etched coves rimmed by sheer cliffs. Far off, lay the harbour of Porto Santo Stefano bathed in syrupy golden light with hundreds of sailboats dozing in their slips under the luminous blue Tuscan sky.

Venetia wrinkled her nose slightly and smiled. ‘How do you dig out these quaint places?’ she asked Paolo once the restaurateur had disappeared into the kitchen at the back of the restaurant.

Paolo grinned. ‘Simple – I like to eat well. Do you cook, Venetia?’ He made the question sound somehow intimate in a way she found confusing. Sitting to the side of her, rather than opposite, his nearness was disarming.

‘Yes, but I don’t have the opportunity to do much cooking nowadays. I live alone and I usually grab something to eat in town before going home in the evenings, or I go out for dinner with friends.’ She always filled her life with work and nearly said so, but now it felt uncomfortable to admit it.

He gave her a quizzical look, as though he was going to ask a question, but the owner of La Mezza Luna was already coming back with a bottle of wine, a bottle of sparkling water, a loaf of ciabatta bread and a delicious-looking plate of what he announced to Venetia as Caponata a la Siciliana.

‘É completamente diversa da qualsiasi altra caponata servita in Italia, it is completely different from any other caponata served in Italy. It is the king of caponata, the original Sicilian recipe which was handed down from my great-grandmother.

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