LITMIR.BIZ

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actually,’ Gio corrected, lifting his head and looking his cousin in the eye. ‘Stop stirring.’

      ‘As late as seven?’ Ric pantomimed amazement. ‘Fran, you’ve just earned yourself a zillion brownie points with Angela. And…’ Ric glanced at his watch. ‘Yep. You’ve got him out of the office a good hour earlier than usual. Make that two zillion points.’

      ‘Don’t you dare report this,’ Gio said.

      ‘Too late,’Alison told him with a wink. ‘I’ve already texted Jude. But we’ll leave you in peace now.’

      ‘In peace? Chance would be a fine thing,’ Gio grumbled, but he smiled.

      ‘Happy anniversary,’ Fran said.

      ‘Thanks.’Alison tucked her arm through Ric’s. ‘Now stop annoying your poor cousin and let him have his romantic dinner out. Which is what we’re supposed to be doing, too,’ she reminded her husband. ‘See you later, Fran—Gio.’

      ‘I’m so sorry about my family,’ Gio said when his cousins had returned to their own table. ‘They just…take over. They’ll be impossible at the party. You won’t get a second’s peace.’ He shook his head. ‘OK. This is what we do. I’ll tell a white lie on the night and say you weren’t able to come because you have a migraine.’

      Fran smiled. ‘It won’t alter a thing. They’ll all drop in to Charlotte Street, the same way your mum did, to check me out. One after another. It’s probably easier to get it all over with in one go.’

      ‘Are you sure about this?’ Gio asked.

      ‘I just told your cousins I was your girlfriend,’ she pointed out. ‘So it’s a bit too late to back out, now.’

      ‘I could kiss you,’ Gio said, his tone heartfelt.

      She had to drag her gaze away from his mouth. Because it was all too easy to imagine what it would feel like if Gio kissed her. His lips would be warm and sweet and teasing, coaxing a response from her until heat flared between them.

      Until they couldn’t stand any more barriers between them and had to be skin to skin.

      The ultimate in closeness.

      His body sliding into hers.

      Oh, lord. She was going to start hyperventilating in a minute.

      ‘Have I told you lately that you’re wonderful?’ he asked.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Well, you are. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.’

      ‘Just as long as nobody gets hurt,’ she warned.

      ‘They won’t. OK, we’re not telling the truth, but it’s for a good reason. It’s to stop Nonna getting hurt in the first place.’ He topped up their jasmine tea and lifted his bowl. ‘Well, here’s to us.’

      ‘To us,’ she echoed.

      On Friday morning, while Gio was at the coffee supplier’s, Fran intended to make a few phone calls. But Gio’s mother beat her to the first one.

      By the time she came off the phone, after promising to go over for Sunday lunch, she was beginning to wonder quite what she’d let herself in for. But she wasn’t going to renege on her promise to help him. It didn’t take her long to sort out the rest of the arrangements. And, best of all, absolutely everyone agreed to be sworn to secrecy.

      This, she thought, was going to be Gio’s best birthday in years.

      Gio picked her up on Sunday morning at eleven. ‘Are you sure you’re up to this, Fran? I’ll do my best to protect you, but I think you’re in for a grilling.’

      ‘Relax. I’ve already met your mum.’ And plotted something with her—not that she was going to let Gio know about that yet. That was a delicious secret she was going to keep to herself. ‘It’s going to be fine.’

      Though the butterflies in her stomach were stomping rather than dancing when Gio parked outside his parents’ house.

      Relax. This isn’t for real, she reminded herself. It doesn’t matter if they decide you’re not good enough for Gio, because it’s not as if you’re planning to get married. This is just temporary. Acting a part.

      And then they were right in the thick of things—in a houseful of people. Gio started on the introductions. ‘Fran, you already know my mum. This is my dad, Giovanni Mazetti the elder.’

      ‘Less of this “elder” business,’ Giovanni said, giving his son a pained look. ‘I’m not a pensioner yet.’

      ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Mazetti,’ Fran said politely.

      ‘Giovanni,’ he corrected, ignoring her outstretched hand and hugging her warmly. ‘It’s good to meet you too, piccolina.’

      ‘My sisters, Giuditta, Isabella and Marcella—known as Jude, Bella and Marcie,’ Gio said, introducing her to the three younger women Fran recognised from the photograph. They, too, hugged her in welcome.

      ‘And my nonna, Isabella Mazetti.’

      ‘Let me look at you, child.’ Isabella—who was even shorter than Fran, with grey hair tucked into a bun and deep brown eyes—placed her hands on Fran’s shoulders and peered up at her. ‘So you are the bella ragazza who’s made my Giovanni so happy. Bene,’ she pronounced, and hugged Fran.

      ‘It’s nice to meet the woman I’ve heard so much about, Signora Mazetti,’ Fran said.

      ‘Call me Nonna. Everyone calls me Nonna,’ Isabella said. ‘Now, come and sit down and tell me all about yourself. Gio, don’t just stand there, get the girl a drink.’

      Fran didn’t get the chance to ask if there was anything she could do to help prepare lunch. Just as Gio had predicted, she was in for a grilling. And by the time Gio appeared with a cup of coffee, Isabella knew just about everything there was to know about her.

      ‘Nonna, dolcezza, give Fran a break.’ Gio set the mug of coffee on the side, scooped Fran out of the chair and sat in her place, drawing her on to his lap.

      For a moment, Fran stiffened; he hadn’t warned her he was intending to do that. But then again, Gio’s family was incredibly tactile. Whenever one of them talked to you, there would be a hand on your arm, a gesture, a smile, a patted shoulder. And she was meant to be Gio’s girlfriend. Of course they’d expect her to sit on his lap.

      So she relaxed back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arms were wrapped round her waist, holding her close, and she was acutely aware of the warmth of his body. His strength. His clean scent. The steady, even beat of his heart.

      And then it hit her.

      This was exactly what she wanted.

      Being smack in the middle of a big, warm, noisy family. Accepted as one of them. With a strong, handsome man holding her protectively.

      Oh, lord. If she’d known it would be like this, she would never have agreed to this pretend-girlfriend thing. Because right now she was setting herself up for a broken heart. This wasn’t for real, and there was no chance it would turn out that way either—Gio had already told her he didn’t want to settle down.

      As if he sensed the sudden tension in her, his arms tightened round her, a private signal that everything was going to be fine. No doubt he thought she was just a bit worried about whether his family would believe their story; and that was fine by her. Better than him guessing what she was really thinking.

      Lunch was a noisy affair, with everyone chattering and laughing, the clink of glass and the tinkling of cutlery against crockery. A typical Italian Sunday lunch, with a steaming tureen of minestrone followed by beef with crispy-edged fluffy roast potatoes, roasted peppers and aubergines, cavalo nero and all the trimmings.

      And

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