Second Chances in Chianti (Escape to Tuscany Book 2) by T.A. Williams (online e reader .TXT) 📕

biceps, it looked as though he had been working out. She was relieved and delighted for him – and, if she was totally honest, she maybe even began to feel that same original spark of attraction for him resurface. That was something she hadn’t been expecting, not least while her live-in boyfriend was at her side.

‘Richie, hi, this is David. Hey, you look great, really great.’ She really meant it.

He jumped the last few steps and came over to shake David’s hand. Then he hugged her tightly to his unexpectedly muscular body, which confirmed her suspicion that he had been hitting the gym. Unlike the last time she had seen him, all of five years ago, his touch no longer made her feel uncomfortable – quite the opposite, in fact. She glanced guiltily across at David, but her boyfriend was still gawping goggle-eyed at the grandeur of their surroundings.

Richie stepped back, still holding her shoulders. ‘Don’t sound so surprised. I tell you what, Al, you’re looking absolutely fantastic, stunning… amazing!’

Alice had to remind herself that she was once more in the world of Hollywood-speak, where nothing was ‘nice’ or ‘good’, but had to be ‘wonderful’ or ‘fantastic’. Hyperbole in these circles was the rule, not the exception. She was back in the land of superlatives. She gave him an even bigger smile.

‘If I sound surprised, it’s because I heard some stuff about you a few years back that had me worried. You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you looking so good.’

‘Well, if it helps, I was expecting to see you in scruffy jeans and a T-shirt after all these years as a student, and just look at you. You haven’t changed a bit. As for me… yeah, I went through a rough patch, and it took me a bit of time to get myself together. My analyst told me it was all down to the way things turned so sour at the end of Pals. Anyway, it’s all good now.’ She saw his eyes flick across to David. ‘Are you guys together?’

‘That’s right. As of a couple of years now.’

Richie gave no response and led them up the steps. ‘You and I are the first of the bunch to arrive, but they tell me the others will be here later tonight.’

‘Who’s “they”? And what is this place?’

‘This is one of Conrad Chesterfield’s holiday homes. The word on the street is that he also owns an island in the Caribbean and half a ski resort in the Rockies.’ He lowered his voice, although there was nobody else to be seen. ‘I rather think he bought it with the profits we made for him with Pals.’

‘Wow, it’s quite some place.’ And it was. As she and David followed Richie inside, Alice found herself in a charming wide entrance hall with marble tiles on the floor, gold-framed mirrors on the walls and a domed ceiling high above. The ceiling was totally covered by a magnificent fresco of nymphs, angels and what were probably saints, all floating around amid the clouds. Alice’s art historian instincts were immediately aroused. It looked almost like Michelangelo might have come here for a bit of practice before heading south to the Sistine Chapel. It was stunning. She was still standing there, open-mouthed, when she heard an all-too familiar voice.

‘Alice, my dear, you look lovely.’

Her heart sank as she turned and found herself confronted by none other than the formidable figure of Zoë. As she did so, she registered that it looked as though Millie’s theory that their unpopular director might not be involved in the new project was going to prove to be wrong. Still, swallowing her disappointment and drawing upon what vestiges of thespian skill she could still master, she treated her former tormentor to a beaming smile.

‘Zoë, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘And why would my presence come as a surprise to you?’ The smile of welcome had already slipped, as Zoë reverted to her trademark barbed tones.

But this time Alice had resolved not to be intimidated. The very fact that Zoë was here made her own decision to participate in the new series distinctly less likely, so she stood her ground and fired a shot across the director’s bows. After all, she reminded herself, the best form of defence is attack.

‘Oh, I don’t know, I thought you might have retired by now.’

As Zoë was still in her fifties, this was a low blow, but Alice was determined to fight fire with fire. At her side, she felt Richie’s fingers catch hold of and grip her arm in shock. She saw a cloud pass across Zoë’s face but then was surprised to see it move on, to be replaced by an attempt at another smile – albeit about as warm as the plates of congealed lasagne they had often had to pick at with their forks for hours on end during filming of meal scenes for Pals.

‘There’s still life in me yet, Alice. And what about you? Failed your exams?’ There was a distinct sneer to be heard in her voice. ‘I presume the fact that you’re here means your academic career hasn’t worked out.’

Alice was steeling herself to launch a vituperative counter-attack when the cavalry arrived.

‘Alice, sweetie, you look simply wonderful. Many, many congratulations on doing so well at college. Is it true we have to call you Doctor Butler now?’

Emerging from a side corridor came Antonia, the head of light entertainment at AAATV. They had always got on well, and Alice was genuinely happy to be on the receiving end of a warm hug and real kisses to her cheeks, not just the routine air kisses into the middle distance.

‘Antonia, hi. It’s so good to see you again. I’ve been hoping I’d see you here. And yes, thanks, I got my doctorate. I’m so pleased to see you looking as wonderful as ever.’

‘Just getting older, dear.’ Antonia was probably in her early sixties, but she had