THE picture on the computer screen seemed to fill the room with humour and good cheer. It showed a young man of strikingly attractive looks, fair, shaggy hair, dark blue glowing eyes and a smile that hinted at mischief.
âOh, wow!â Jackie sighed. âJust look at him!â
Della chuckled indulgently. Her secretary was young and easily moved by male beauty. She, herself, tried to be more detached.
âHeâs not bad,â she conceded.
âNot bad?â Jackie echoed, scandalised. âHeâs a dream.â
âBut I need more than a pretty face. I need a man who really knows his stuff, preferably one whoâs already made a name for himself.â
âDella, this is a TV series youâre producing. It matters how he looks.â
âYes, it matters that he looks like a serious expert and not a mere boy. Carlo Rinucci canât be more than about twenty-five.â
âAccording to his data heâs thirty,â Jackie said, thumbing through papers. âAnd he has a big reputation in ruins and bones and things like that.â
âBut heâs Italian. I canât have him fronting an English television series.â
âSome of which will be based in Italy. Besides, it says here that he speaks perfect English, and youâve said yourself that you have to sell the series internationally if itâs to make any money.â
This was true. In the world of television Della was a big shot, with her own production company and a brilliant reputation. Her programmes were in great demand. Even so, she had to consider the practicalities.
She studied Carlo Rinucciâs face again, and had to admit that he had a lot going for him. He wasnât merely handsome. His grin had a touch of delightful wickedness, as though heâd discovered a secret hidden from the rest of the world.
âI had an uncle once,â Jackie said. âHe was a travelling salesman with a girl in every town and a line in flattery that would charm the birds off the trees. And no matter what he did everyone forgave him, just for the sake of his smile. Dad used to say Uncle Joe hadnât just eaten the Apple of Life, heâd gone to live in the tree.â
âAnd you think heâs the same?â Della mused, scrutinising Carloâs laughing face.
âIâd take a bet on it.â
Privately Della agreed, but she kept that thought to herself. Her hard-won caution was warning her not to go overboard for this young man just because he looked good. Very good. Marvellous.
His resumé was certainly impressive. George Franklin, her assistant, who was helping to research this series, had e-mailed her.
Donât be misled by his youth. Carlo Rinucci is the up-and-coming man in his field. Heâs done some impressive work and written a couple of books that have attracted attention. His opinions are often unorthodox, but his work is sound.
Heâd added a few notes about Carlo Rinucciâs current project at Pompeii, the little town just south of Naples, buried long ago in the lava of the erupting volcano Vesuvius, and heâd finished with the words: Believe me, heâs worth investigating.
âWorth investigating,â Della murmured.
âIâll investigate him for you,â Jackie said eagerly. âI could get the next plane to Naples, look him over and report back.â
âNice try,â Della said, amused.
âYou mean youâve already bagged him for yourself?â
âI mean,â Della said severely, âthat I shall consider all the options in a serious and practical way, make my evaluation, and decide what is best for the programme.â
âThatâs what I said. Youâve bagged him for yourself.â
Della laughed and dropped her formal tone.
âWell, there has to be some advantage in being the boss,â she said.
âNo kidding! If you use him the ratings will go through the roof. Every country will want to buy the programme. Youâll have a great reputation.â
âSome people think I already have a reputation,â Della said in mock offence.