Resisting the Italian Single Dad

by Katrina Cudmore

  ‘Knock, knock.’

  He laughed and asked, ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Owls say.’

  ‘Owls say who?’

  Her eyes twinkling, Carly answered, ‘Yes, they do.’

  He opened the pedestrian gate from the villa chuckling, a lightness, a feeling of freedom causing him to pause on the narrow road that led into the centre of Bellagio. ‘I must remember these jokes for when Isabella is old enough to understand them.’

  They moved down the cobbled road, passing ancient ochre and umber-coloured town houses, villas covered in ancient vines. Carly’s blue eyes glittered with amusement. ‘I used to tell jokes to my Montessori pupils—there’s honestly nothing better in this world than to hear a young child laugh.’

  Dressed in a white cotton tee shirt tucked into green and navy floral trousers, her hair tied back into a ponytail, Carly smiled at him with such brightness and optimism that for a moment he felt a peace, a belief that life would be okay. A peace that allowed him to admit, ‘It feels odd to be without Isabella. Usually I’m either with her or at work.’

  The cobbles dipped downwards, and Carly, taking small steps against the steep gradient, said ‘You’ve forgotten what it is to have free time.’

  He laughed at that. ‘I don’t think I ever knew what it was to have free time in the first place.’

  Carly paused outside a store selling leather goods and asked, ‘Why do you work so hard?’

  Her tone was concerned but there also was a hint of misgiving. He had never spoken of his childhood with anyone other than Marta before...and even with Marta he had glossed over some of the detail, ashamed of the poverty and struggle he came from in comparison to her family’s vast wealth. But with Carly, knowing of her own childhood, it felt easier to be open.

  He gestured for them to move down towards the main square of the town and said as they walked, ‘I grew up seeing my mother struggle financially. Even when she was sick she had to work.’ Wincing at the memory of his ill mother, thin and frail, but with defiance flashing in her eyes when she came home from work, he admitted, ‘She developed cancer when I was in my late teens. Her employer had no sickness scheme. She worked when she could throughout her chemotherapy to support us. I wanted to leave school and then university but she refused to allow me. I had part-time jobs but not enough to support us. She said that I was her future. I guess I never want to go back to that poverty, or let her down.’

  Under a plane tree in the square, Carly stopped and considered him, her long slim neck stretching up for her to hold his gaze. ‘Your success is for her?’

  He swallowed at the gentleness of her tone, the shine of tears in her eyes. ‘Yes, and Isabella now too.’

  ‘Know when enough is enough though, Max... These are precious years with Isabella. Enjoy them when you can. I’m sure your mother would want that too.’

  He rolled his head side to side, easing out a kink at the base of his neck, remembering the hours he had spent with his mother in the hospital the day she died. She had been unable to speak, had been drifting in and out of sleep but when she’d woken her eyes had immediately searched for his, silently communicating her love. He had stayed holding her hand long after she had slipped away. Later he had gone home to their empty apartment and howled in pain.

  He had to protect Isabella from that pain by making her more tenacious and independent than even he had been as a child. Life was unpredictable and unfair and he had to arm her against its cruelty. But now was not the time to point that out to Carly Knight. He was supposed to be showing her Lake Como after all. He nodded to one of the store windows behind her. ‘That dress in the window would be ideal for the party later.’

  Carly walked over to the window. ‘It is beautiful.’

  He joined her there in the shade of the store awning. ‘It matches the colour of your eyes.’

  She shrugged at that and wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s...a bit daring though, isn’t it?’

  Max stared at the dress trying to figure out what she meant. The sapphire-coloured knee-length dress with diamantés subtly applied to the flared skirt and fitted bodice was to him elegant. But then he looked at the neckline and realised it was scooped rather low. He swallowed at the tantalising image of running a finger down Carly’s sternum, skimming between the valley of her high breasts.

  He spoke to her reflection in the store window. ‘It will look fantastic on you.’

  Carly ran a hand against her neck, touched the lobe of her ear, her gaze in the reflection shifting from him to the dress and back again. ‘Maybe I should try it on.’

  ‘Do you want my opinion? Will I go in with you?’

  She turned and looked at him. ‘I... I’m not sure that it’s appropriate that a client helps me shop.’

  Max drank in the fluttering of her thick eyelashes cloaking her amazing eyes, the pink in her high and curved cheekbones, the plumpness of her lips. He dropped his head, a delicious burn of attraction humming through him, and spoke against her ear. ‘I think we’ve moved beyond the normal client relationship, don’t you?’

  Carly arched her back, breathed out a low sigh. ‘Have we?’

  Max had to fight the urge not to fix the soft blonde hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail behind her ear. And worse still, he wanted to kiss Carly Knight. He wanted to feel her plump red lips under his. He wanted her soft body with all its curves pressed into his. Carly shifted even more to face him square on. A heavy intoxicating charge ran between them. His breathing hitched. His hand reached out, lightly fell on her waist just above the band of her trousers. His pulse upped another notch at the heat of her skin. She smelt of vanilla and citrus; he wanted to kiss her, taste her, explore her body...make love to her.

  Thrown, he stepped away. That was not going to happen. He wasn’t going to open up the potential of Carly being hurt again after all the hurt and rejection she’d experienced in the past. And he certainly didn’t need added guilt and complications in his life. He could see the confusion in her expression at his abrupt movement. He nodded towards the boutique window again. ‘Can I buy the dress for you?’

  Carly’s eyebrows slammed together. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because...because...’ She stopped and asked angrily, ‘Why would you want to buy it for me?’

  Why was she so angry? Because he had almost kissed her or because he wanted to buy her the dress? ‘As a thank you for coming to Lake Como, of course.’ They eyed each other unhappily for a few seconds. But then once again he was drawn in by her soft mouth, by the constant chemistry swirling between them. He stepped back towards her and said, ‘As a thank you for agreeing to come to the party later.’ His voice dropped another notch as fire slowly licked along his veins. ‘For being a good listener. For staying up so late last night with Isabella. As an apology for scaring you this morning. For making me laugh for the first time in years.’

  Her eyes widened, she touched a hand to her neck again, her skin now the colour of a cream rose brushed lightly with pink. ‘I’m glad I came, Max... I’m enjoying getting to know you and Isabella. There’s no need to thank me or want to buy me things.’ Pausing, she gave him a tentative smile. ‘Seeing you relax and connect with Isabella is enough reward.’ Turning, she opened the door to the store. He called out to her the name of the restaurant he would meet her at after she was finished shopping.

  Max swung around and closed his eyes, taken aback by just how much he wanted Carly Knight in his arms...in his bed. For a moment he looked about the square, disorientated, but then the colourful summertime dresses in the window of a children’s clothes store across the square reminded him that it was his daughter he should be thinking of, not his attraction to her sleep consultant.

  * * *

  Carly moved across the restaurant terrace, trying to act nonchalant, which wasn’t easy when Max Lovato’s gorgeous gaze followed
your every step. It was a gaze so disturbing that it took her a while to realise he was on his phone, yet again. Carly’s heart skipped a beat when she recalled how intoxicating it had been when they had stood close together outside the boutique earlier, his scent, the heat from his body, the low timbre of his voice all making her light-headed...and forgetful of her pledges to keep her distance, protect herself from him. They had almost kissed, for crying out loud.

  He ended his call and stood as she approached the table. Their table was directly in front of the lake with unrestricted views of the glistening water. Overhead, heavy vines on a pergola gave them shade from the intensity of the early afternoon sun.

  Max held out a chair for her, and nodded to the pink suit bag she was carrying. ‘Did you buy the dress in the window?’

  Carly nodded yes. The dress had fitted her perfectly. She was still a little unsure about how low cut it was but the store assistant had assured her it was entirely appropriate for Giulio’s flamboyant birthday party, which apparently was the talk of the town with so many Italian politicians and high-profile screen and sporting stars about to descend on the town later today.

  Max called a waiter and asked that special care be taken of the suit bag.

  It was only then that Carly spotted a white package wrapped in a blue ribbon sitting on the plate before her. She lifted it up. ‘Is this for me?’

  When Max nodded she opened the present, hoping that there was nothing expensive inside. All the memories of her stepfather’s presents that were bought to impress but with little thought for what the receiver actually wanted made her stomach churn.

  Her hand went to her mouth. She giggled—with relief and delight. Without stopping to think what she was doing, she leant across the table and kissed Max on the cheek. Flustered, she sat back down, trying not to react to his surprised expression and then the quiet smile that grew on his lips. ‘A box of English tea! Exactly what I needed. Thank you.’

  Softly Max muttered, ‘Prego.’

  Around them people chattered in an international blend of languages and accents.

  The water gently lapped against the quayside.

  Carly shifted in her seat, searching for something to say, but touching Max’s skin had dulled her brain.

  ‘I called Valentina. Isabella is out happily exploring the gardens with her grandfather and Hilda, apparently.’

  Carly smiled to know that Isabella was happy but also at the bewilderment in Max’s voice. ‘How fantastic for her to spend time with them. And as she grows older that bond will become stronger and stronger.’

  Max shrugged at that and the arrival of the waiter meant they had to focus for a while on deciding what they would order.

  Once they had ordered and the waiter had poured them the white wine they had both agreed upon, Carly sipped the crisp lemon-scented wine and asked, ‘Why are you so reluctant to accept any support from the Ghiraldinis?’

  Max picked up a bread roll from the basket the waiter had left on the table and broke it in two. For a long while he said nothing but then he quietly said, ‘Growing up, the area where I lived, you had to be strong, determined. Many of my friends got involved in crime, became addicted to alcohol and drugs. I knew I had to get away. My mother was of the same mind. She wanted more for me. I spent my weekends and holidays working in the hotel where she worked. After school she expected me to study and would test me for hours when she came home from work. She constantly told me that I would only ever be able to rely on myself in life, that only I had the power to better my life.’

  Carly watched Max’s long fingers tear at the soft dough as he broke the still-uneaten roll into ever smaller pieces. ‘Your mum obviously was a very strong and determined woman. But the downside of that is not accepting how sometimes we do need support. We need to be part of a wider community. We can’t live in isolation.’

  ‘Maybe it would be easier if we did.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  His gaze shifted away to look over her shoulder at something out on the lake. ‘Losing someone...losing someone you trusted, someone you had mapped out your life with...’

  His gaze moved back to hers. Carly’s heart missed a beat to see the pain etched on his face. ‘You miss Marta terribly.’

  His jaw worked but then he dropped heavily back into his chair and said softly, ‘It’s not as awful as it was. But... I worry about Isabella.’

  ‘You are doing a good job, Max...yes, I think there are areas you could improve on, like asking for more support. But you are only human. Don’t put unrealistic expectations on yourself.’

  His mouth curved upwards. ‘You really aren’t the cynic you like to think you are, are you?’

  Carly’s heart kicked at the sight of him smiling. ‘I try to be tough, not as easily taken in or hurt as I once was.’

  Finally eating some of his roll, which he first dipped into some olive oil, Max said, ‘Working hard at being a cynic—is that your motto?’

  Carly laughed at the playfulness twinkling in his eyes. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Be true to yourself. Don’t change or try to be something other than yourself because others have hurt you. Trust in yourself, in how incredible you are.’

  Carly was about to argue that she was being true to herself but doubt had her pause.

  Max picked up a fresh roll from the basket and, breaking it in two, dipped one piece in the olive oil and handed it to her. ‘You should try this. The oil is incredible.’

  She took a bite, the oil smooth at first, kicking hard against her throat when she swallowed. Her eyes watered.

  ‘Buona?’

  Her answer was to dip her remaining roll in the oil. She bit into the roll with relish, licking her fingers as the golden oil dripped down. Patting her lips with her napkin, she paused when she saw Max staring at her, his darkened eyes sending a delicious wave of warmth through her body.

  ‘Were you in love with your ex?’

  She blinked at his question, at the tightness in his jaw. ‘Robert—yes, I did love him. I loved him but I don’t think I was in love with him. We were really compatible—it was an easy relationship: we liked the same food, the same TV programmes, we both dreamt of living near the sea one day. He was kind and gentle. But deep down I think I knew he was holding part of himself back. I never really knew the true him. I patched things over, which was wrong.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Carly really didn’t want to get into any of this. ‘I shouldn’t be dumping this on you.’

  Max held off until the waiter who had arrived with their starters had left before speaking. ‘You said earlier that you like getting to know me better. Well, the same goes for me wanting to know you.’

  Carly’s insides melted at his softly spoken words. ‘Is that wise...is any of this wise?’

  ‘Maybe this is a weekend we both need...to process the past.’ Max paused, his misty green eyes holding a tender hopefulness. ‘To enable us to move on.’

  Carly speared one of her ravioli pieces blindly trying to force her heart to calm down. She made an attempt to raise her fork to her mouth but knew there was no way she was capable of eating right now. She dropped the fork. ‘Do you want to move on?’

  Max shrugged and ate some of his raviolini before asking, ‘What did you mean when you said that patching things over with your ex was wrong?’

  Carly picked up her fork again, dipped the ravioli into the oil and pepper at the bottom of her bowl, trying to ignore how defeated she felt by Max not answering her question about moving on. ‘I patched things over for selfish reasons. I wanted love, my own family. I kidded myself that all was well with Robert, ignoring the feeling of disconnect.’ Carly paused and, reddening, she admitted, ‘That passion that should be there when you’re in love.’

  ‘Do you still want love, a family?’

  Carly ate some of her pasta, the sweetness of
the pumpkin popping in her mouth. ‘Maybe...if I ever manage to find the right person.’ She speared another piece of pasta, moved it about her bowl, before staring straight into Max’s gaze. ‘But this time I’m going to make sure that it is an absolute and mutual true love, for us both.’

  Something ticced at the side of Max’s cheek. He shifted his gaze away, took a drink of his wine. ‘Your parents’ marriage hasn’t put you off?’

  ‘I was oblivious to the problems in their marriage. They protected me from it all. I grew up happy and adored by them both. When they divorced that all fell apart. I guess I’m looking for that again. Being part of a family, knowing you belong and that they will be there for you regardless—my friends have that with their families, so I know it exists. I just have to find it—but not at any cost.’ Carly paused as the waiter cleared their plates before adding, ‘I’m tired of being second best. I was second best to Robert, second best to my stepfather.’ She held Max’s gaze and said with a defiance that came from deep inside herself, ‘It’s not going to happen again. When we first met, my stepfather said to me, in front of my mother and his daughters, that he wasn’t sure if he had room in his life for yet another female. He pretended it was a joke, but even as an eleven-year-old I knew he was being serious.’

  Looking horrified, Max asked, ‘What did your mother say?’

  ‘She laughed it off...which made it all the harder to deal with. I felt I couldn’t say anything.’

  ‘You were a child—how could he be so callous?’

  ‘Alan likes to have the upper hand in any situation, for people to defer to him. I tried to indulge him, I so wanted to fit into my new family, but I was also angry and confused and sometimes I stood up to him. He didn’t like that.’

  Max shook his head. ‘In my experience people like Alan, bullies, people with misplaced egos, often are hiding some deep feeling of inadequacy within themselves.’