Falling in love...
Under the Italian sun!
As a sleep consultant, Carly Knight has had many strange requests, but none quite as unusual as accompanying a client to a Lake Como wedding! Widower billionaire Max Lovato has hired her to help his daughter, yet while spending time with Max amid the champagne and confetti, Carly realizes little Isabella isn’t the only one hiding a wealth of pain. But helping to heal Max’s scarred heart means risking her own once again.
Carly’s eyes were heavy, mirroring his own need.
He lowered his head. Her eyes fluttered closed; her soft, plump mouth parted. With a groan his mouth found hers.
But then with a shaky breath, Max pulled away, knowing it was all about to get out of control. He ran a hand along his jaw. “Forgive me.” She began to protest but he shut her down. It would be easier if they both pretended that this was something he had gotten wrong, that he was the only one who wanted this kiss, this fire. He pressed on. “That was inappropriate. I would like to apologize.”
He stepped back, gestured to the villa. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
Carly removed his jacket and passed it to him. Tilting her chin she said, “There’s no need.”
She swooped down and picked up her heels.
Max watched her walk away. And closed his eyes when she went inside, a wave of frustration washing over him.
A kiss that was so wrong it shouldn’t have felt so perfect.
Dear Reader,
I began this novel wanting to tell the story of single dad Max Lovato trying to negotiate the tricky toddler years with his single-minded daughter, Isabella. As a parent who has had her share of sleepless nights, I thought there could be no better love interest for this struggling father than a sleep consultant in the form of wise and empathetic Carly Knight.
I think all new parents constantly question if they are doing right by their child, and Max embodies the fears and hopes we all experience.
This is a love story about two wounded people learning to trust others but also themselves. I love the mischievousness that plays out between Max and Carly as they fall in love. I hope you find this book to be an uplifting and heartwarming read, and one that allows you to escape to the glamour and warmth of stunning Lake Como in Italy.
Happy reading!
Katrina
Resisting the Italian Single Dad
Katrina Cudmore
A city-loving book addict, peony obsessive Katrina Cudmore lives in Cork, Ireland, with her husband, four active children and a very daft dog. A psychology graduate with an MSc in human resources, Katrina spent many years working in multinational companies and can’t believe she is lucky enough now to have a job that involves daydreaming about love and handsome men! You can visit Katrina at katrinacudmore.com.
Books by Katrina Cudmore
Harlequin Romance
Romantic Getaways
Her First-Date Honeymoon
Swept into the Rich Man’s World
The Best Man’s Guarded Heart
Their Baby Surprise
Tempted by Her Greek Tycoon
Christmas with the Duke
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
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To Harry, my night owl.
Praise for
Katrina Cudmore
“Poignant, uplifting and impossible to resist...
The Best Man’s Guarded Heart is the perfect book to lose yourself in on a lazy afternoon.... [S]killfully balances humor and warmth with pathos and powerful drama leaving the reader on the edge of her seat and eager to find out what happens next.”
—Goodreads
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM HER BROODING SCOTTISH HEIR BY ELLA HAYES
CHAPTER ONE
THE EXACT SECOND her office clock hit midday, Carly Knight grabbed her laptop bag and the yellow cardboard box jammed with the natural sleeping aids she brought to all her parent talks. She was about to leave her office when the angry blare of a car horn from the road outside had her pause by her office window to watch a taxi driver angrily weave past a silver car that had pulled in on the double yellow line.
The driver’s door slowly opened. A tall, powerfully built man climbed out. He moved to the other side of the car. Wasn’t he worried about getting a parking fine? But then, given the car he was driving, a parking fine would probably be nothing more than pocket change to him.
He came to a stop at the rear door of the car and bowed his head for the briefest of seconds before sending his gaze heavenwards. There was an aloneness, a heaviness of spirit in how he stood stock-still, his feet firmly anchored to the ground, staring upwards. The man’s lips moved briefly in speech as though he was talking to someone.
She needed to leave or she’d be late for her talk, but she couldn’t drag herself away from watching him. She moved closer to the window, placed her palm against the cool glass.
Opening the rear door, he leant into the car for a moment before reappearing with a little girl in his arms.
He kissed her forehead, tenderly smoothed her soft brown curls and attempted to place her down on the footpath. But the little girl, dressed in a yellow jacket and blue pants, and who Carly guessed was about two years of age, refused to let go.
The man shook his head and then began to pace the footpath, the little girl in his arms, glancing all the while down the street. Who was he waiting for?
Carly soon had her answer when a petite, dark-haired woman, holding hands with a similarly dark-haired boy of four or five, rushed towards him. She hugged the man warmly, stroked the little girl’s cheek. They were a beautiful family. Carly’s heart tightened at their intimacy. But then the man attempted to pass the little girl to her mother, but she clung to him, refusing to let go. In the end, he was forced to remove her baby stroller from the boot of his car one-handed, refusing the mother’s offer of help. When he lowered the little girl into the stroller, Carly could hear her cries of protest. Kneeling before the stroller, the man stroked the little girl’s curls, but her leg smacked against his forearm and pushed him away.
The woman said something to him and hugged him again before rushing off with both children.
Fists tightly bunched at his side, the man stared after his family for a long while before turning in the direction of Carly’s building. Carly’s head jerked back at the desolation etched on his face. She stepped back from the window, out of his view, feeling like an intruder on his suffering.
Should she go down and ask him if everything was okay?
The man’s chest rose heavily and when he exhaled, the torment in his eyes disappeared. An aloof, guarded expression took its place. He removed his phone from his pocket, answered a call and strode in the direction of her office block.
Carly frowned. Could this be Mr Lovato? Her client who was supposed to have been here half an hour ago? But why didn’t his wife come in with him?
Locking the office door
behind her, she went out onto the stairwell and was on the turn of the stairs when the door to the reception area burst open.
A blur of dark wavy hair, a phone pressed to hard jawbone, an expensive grey suit, the jacket spilling backwards as he climbed the stairs two at a time, raced towards her.
Carly’s heart lurched; it was rather disconcerting to be faced with such male perfection on a Tuesday lunchtime on the concrete stairs of an office block desperately in need of refurbishing.
Light, misty green eyes flicked in her direction as he passed her by.
Turning, she saw that he had already reached the turn in the stairs. ‘Mr Lovato?’
He came to a stop and looked down towards her. Standing still, he was even more devastatingly handsome than when he had been in motion. He considered her through a serious gaze, his mouth shaped like a soft wave, turning ever so slightly downwards at the corners.
He rolled his impressively wide shoulders and gave a nod.
‘I’m Carly Knight, the sleep consultant you made the appointment with. Is everything okay?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
There was a defensiveness to his tone that had Carly wavering. She wanted to ask if she could somehow help in whatever had been troubling him outside, but the proud tilt of his head told her he would not welcome her intrusion.
Instead she climbed the stairs to stand a few steps below him. ‘I’m sorry but I have another appointment that I have to leave for. If you speak to Nina on reception she will schedule another appointment for you.’
He considered her for a moment, the ever so slight tightening of his jaw the only indicator of his unhappiness. ‘I apologise for my lateness. I promise I won’t delay you for more than ten minutes.’
His voice was deep and—okay, so she’d admit it—really sexy. Where was his accent from? His surname, Lovato, was that Italian or Spanish? His smooth tanned skin and dark hair suggested long, sun-kissed Mediterranean days in whitewashed villages with views of a glistening sea.
For a moment, a deep longing for some sunshine and freedom washed through Carly. After a long icy winter, spring in London had proved to be cold and miserable. And it felt as though she hadn’t seen daylight for years thanks to the ongoing task of establishing her fledgling sleep consultancy business, which entailed working late into the night on far too many evenings.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Lovato, I really have to leave for another appointment.’
‘It’s important that I meet with you now.’
Carly attempted to give him a sympathetic smile, but in truth her earlier irritation with Mr Lovato, which had temporarily disappeared in the face of his upset, was quickly reappearing at his insistent tone. Only this morning, he had somehow managed to sweet-talk an appointment with Nina, the office-block receptionist who provided a diary booking service for all the tenants, despite the fact that Carly’s diary was already full for the day. Nina usually guarded the diaries like a Rottweiler on steroids.
When Carly had questioned Nina on why she had given him an appointment, Nina had given her a soppy smile that was alarming in itself and said he had been referred by Dr Segal, a paediatrician who was increasingly referring patients to Carly, and that she hadn’t had the heart to turn him away; that he had sounded so lovely and sincere and such a concerned dad for his daughter who wouldn’t sleep at night. Tough-as-nails Nina had obviously fallen for that deeply accented voice that no doubt had the potential to melt granite.
‘It’s now close to ten minutes past twelve, you’re over half an hour late for your appointment,’ Carly pointed out. From his expensive suit, glistening black leather shoes and a car even her stepfather couldn’t afford, Carly guessed that Mr Lovato was rich. Seriously rich. And no doubt used to getting his own way. But not now. Not with her. She had spent her teenage years being manipulated by a stepfather who had used his wealth to get his own way regardless of the consequences to others. If Mr Lovato was anything like her stepfather he would have no problem in making Carly late for her appointment with a group of other parents, as long as his own needs were met. Money talked for some people and it gave them an inflated sense of entitlement. ‘My receptionist shouldn’t have given you an appointment today. My diary was full. She tried calling you back to make alternative arrangements but you didn’t answer her calls.’
‘I was working from home today—between taking care of my daughter and client calls I never managed to call Nina back.’ He shrugged, gave her a hint of an apologetic smile. ‘When it was time to leave I couldn’t find my daughter’s shoes. And when we were finally on our way I realised that I had left her changing bag in the hallway so I had to turn around. You know how it is when you have children—time seems to disappear into a void of chasing your own shadow.’
Carly cleared her throat, ignoring the nudge of pain in her chest at his not unexpected but incorrect assumption she had children of her own. It was a common assumption many clients made. ‘I don’t have any children of my own but from working with them for the last decade I agree that you have to be very organised around them.’
His gaze narrowed. Carly pressed on, knowing she had to leave for her meeting despite a nagging feeling that she should give Mr Lovato some time. ‘Nina should be able to schedule you in for some time next week, after the bank holiday.’
Moving down the steps towards her, he came to a stop directly in front of her. Carly tilted her head to meet his gaze. He was tall. Very tall. At least six feet four, and over eight inches taller than herself.
He carried himself with a smooth ease, which, combined with his prominent angular features and soul-searching eyes, had the effect of making you forget all that you were thinking, and everything you were about to say.
‘I want us to speak now.’
Carly blinked at the smoothness of his tone, at the bluntness of his words. ‘That’s not possible. I’m giving a talk to a parent group in Kilburn at one. I have to leave now or I’m going to be late.’
His eyes narrowed but did not move from hers for a moment. Carly had to force herself not to look away, hating the heat that was growing on her skin at his nearness, the strange feeling of undoing that was unravelling in her insides.
‘How are you getting there?’
Carly frowned. ‘The underground.’
‘I’ll drive you.’
Carly stared after him as he moved to the reception doors. He held one of the scruffy blue doors in need of a repaint open for her. Carly followed him down. ‘That’s not necessary, Mr Lovato.’
His beguiling mouth curved upwards into a hint of a smile. ‘My name is Maximiliano but you can call me Max. We can talk on the journey there. It’s the least I can do considering my lateness for our meeting. Can I carry your box out to the car for you?’
Irritated, Carly shook her head. ‘No...and I don’t think it’s appropriate you driving me. After all, we have just met.’
To this he let out an amused exhalation before saying, ‘I’m a seriously sleep-deprived father. I can assure you that you have nothing to fear from me.’ He looked towards reception where Nina was staring in their direction and added in a teasing tone, ‘Nina, I’m driving Ms Knight to her appointment in Kilburn. Should anything happen to her you have my address and telephone number, which you can pass onto the police.’
Unbelievably, Nina giggled at this. Carly eyed her with exasperation but Nina was too busy ogling their visitor to catch her annoyance.
‘I really don’t think—’
Before she could add anything else, Max interrupted her, his voice low, the intensity of his proud gaze flipping her stomach. ‘I urgently need your help, Ms Knight...as does my daughter.’
* * *
Carly Knight’s cornflower-blue eyes disappeared in a slow blink behind her long and lush eyelashes as she considered his words.
Max wanted to walk away. He hated asking for help.
It wasn’t in his nature. He found it degrading—a sign of weakness. He valued his privacy, disliked having to expose himself and his family to the scrutiny of an outsider. From a young age he had understood the importance of self-reliance. His mother, a strict disciplinarian, had constantly told him that to be dependent on others made you weak. And growing up in a tough suburban neighbourhood of Rome, he had quickly learned that to survive he had to be strong, resilient and, most important of all, never show weakness.
Carly Knight was not what he had expected. When he had reluctantly called the number his paediatrician had given him, he had imagined meeting an older woman, a grandmother perhaps, with sensible hair and sensible shoes to match her sensible personality. A woman with years of experience dealing with strong-willed toddlers hell-bent on testing their parents.
He hadn’t expected a woman who hadn’t experienced first-hand the exhausting reality of parenting. He hadn’t expected sparkling white trainers under ankle-length faded blue jeans, a white blouse covered in red stars. He hadn’t expected tumbling blonde hair or creamy skin so smooth he wanted to touch his thumb against her high cheekbones. He hadn’t expected the attitude that said he was an inconvenience in her life.
He wanted to walk away; to tell her he didn’t want her help after all. But that would be a lie. He did need her help. And so did Isabella, his beautiful, inspiring, contrary-as-a-hungry-goat daughter. They could not go on as they were. As much as he hated to admit it, they were both miserable. He clenched his jaw as the constant slow burn of guilt for failing his family intensified under Carly Knight’s critical gaze.
Her brow wrinkled but then something softened in her eyes. She let out a deep breath. ‘Okay, I’ll take the lift.’
Torn between the relief that she had said yes and the deep wish that he had never needed to ask for her help in the first place, he took hold of her box, which she released reluctantly, and guided her out to his car.
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